#apologies for coming in and dropping this

[sleeplessdove]

— bubble pop electric !

♡ perv!dealer! e. williams x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re at the drive in with your new dealer, what could go wrong?

a/n: just a writing warm up im sorry

warnings: not proofread we die like laura palmer, dealer ellie, weed usage, heavy intoxication kink, perv behavior, stalking somewhat, public sex, degrading, praising, pet names, toxic ellie my beloved, dubious consent, fingering (r! receiving), loser ass ellie, sorta scent kink i guess, manipulation, sex while intoxicated, mentions of further sex lol maybe a pt 2 is coming, probably lots more so proceed with caution !!!

wc: 5k

The sound of your ringtone echoed through your bedroom, making you perk up from where you were seated on your bed. 

She’s right on time, 7:30 on the dot ! 

You hadn’t been expecting her to show up when she had said she would, as your friends that bought their weed supply from Ellie often complained that she showed up whenever she wanted. Then again, she also swore she didn’t do drop offs for anyone and yet she had immediately offered to stop by your place to deliver everything you had asked for. 

She had joked with you over text that it was only because you were a first time customer, she had to make a good impression after all. 

Either way, you weren’t one to question good things so you quickly scrambled out of your bed before texting her that you would be out in a second. 

You tucked your cash into your waistband with shaking fingers, your nerves tingling as you made your way towards the front door with long strides. 

Fuck, why were you so nervous? It’s not like you were doing anything inherently wrong— you just wanted to relax and stop bumming off your other friends' joints by ensuring you had your own stuff to smoke. 

Maybe it was Ellie’s reputation, as you had barely interacted with her besides the small nod she’d give you when she spotted you at parties of mutual friends. She kept to herself for the most part, but that didn’t stop you from hearing about how she was fucking half the girls at the college you both attended. 

And from what you heard, she was good at what she did with those other women. It wasn’t at all hard to believe, as she had a certain way about her that drew you in and you were sure many others felt the same. When she texted you back, even just asking you to specify what exactly you wanted to buy from her, you found yourself smiling at your phone. 

It was the little nicknames, the way she seemed genuinely interested in giving you the best experience possible as a first time buyer. But you had to reason with yourself, reminding yourself that she was just trying to make a sale so of course she was going to be a little sweet on you. 

Even with a rational mind, you couldn’t help but take in a shaky breath as you stepped out into the cool air of the night, spotting Ellie’s car not too far away. You gave a small nervous wave as you walked towards your car before you silently cursed yourself for the embarrassing gesture. 

Despite it, you opened the passenger door of her car and got in, just as she had told you to do over text. Immediately, you picked up on the scent of weed— good weed clinging to the air along with the warm scent of whatever expensive cologne she was wearing. The smell seemed to calm your nerves enough that you were able to give a soft smile. 

“Hey, thanks for coming by. I fucked up my tires last week and you know how expensive that is so I’ve just been—“ you begin to ramble due to how anxious you feel, but when your eyes flicker towards her amused expression you quickly cut yourself off. 

“Sorry” you say with a small laugh, placing your hands on your lap and smoothing out the material of your skirt to soothe yourself. Ellie is quick to shake her head, offering you a smile that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle ever so slightly . 

“What’re you apologizing for, sweet girl?” she questions, all too relaxed. The pet name alone had you feeling dizzy with unexpected emotions. You only give a slight shrug of your shoulders, attempting to appear just as relaxed as Ellie does. “Uhm– I just, I mean you don’t care about that stuff” you mutter with a sheepish smile, fumbling with your skirt for a moment before you pull out the cash you had been saving for this very occasion. 

You hold it out to her as if it were some sort of peace offering, but Ellie lightly shakes her head and pushes your hand away gently, rejecting the money you had saved up for weeks. “You think I don’t care?” she questions, blatantly ignoring the fact that she was  supposed to be your dealer and nothing more. The odd question makes you falter for a moment, unsure of how you’re meant to respond. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just don’t think you wanna hear me rambling on” you mutter, your voice far softer than intended. Although it seems as if you picked the correct answer, as Ellie’s grin only seems to widen. “It’s important for me to care about my customers, isn’t it?” she jokes, pleased with herself as she watches you relax in the slightest bit from her playful tone. “I guess so” you say with a breathy laugh, feeling the tension in your body slowly melting away. 

“Is this not enough or…?” you begin, looking down at the money that was still held loosely in your hand, as if you were expecting her to tell you that her prices had suddenly gone up. “First time customer means you get it for free” she says smoothly, reaching into the backseat to grab the baggy she had made just for you. An assortment of homemade edibles and prerolls filled the baby pink baggie she had placed them in, although you had only requested prerolls. 

Your eyes were wide as you looked between her and the goods she had prepared just for you, as if you were a deer with headlights staring back at you. From what you had heard, Ellie didn’t fuck around when it came to her money. She wanted on time payments or even payments in advance, she was a business woman after all. It was hard for you to fathom such a concept, as you were unused to such kindness, especially from someone with her reputation. 

But despite your lack of knowledge of her, Ellie knew all about you. She had spent months slowly befriending your friends just so you would feel comfortable enough to buy from her. Not that she liked selling to any of your friends, but she would do anything to get closer to you. There was no rhyme or reason for her infatuation, and she chose not to question the way she felt about you. 

“I couldn’t– I mean, I can’t” you begin, shaking your head but Ellie is quick to cut you off. “I just want you to test it out, don’t worry about it” she says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. You wanted to object, but you knew there was no point at all. So you simply tuck the cash back in your waistband, offering her a bright smile. 

“You’re not like people say you are” you say without even thinking, inwardly cringing at your choice of words the second you register what you had said to her. She doesn’t seem offended, although she raised a curious brow. “What do people say I’m like?” she questions, not at all seeming offended. 

Ellie knew she had a rather harsh personality with others, but she hadn’t expected that information to reach you. It was as if her plot was falling apart right before her eyes, and yet she had to keep up her laid back facade. “Mm, I don’t know. You’re just– different than what they say” you respond, not really wanting to explain to her that everyone called her a bitch and those who didn’t only spoke highly of her because they had slept with her. 

She doesn’t press the issue, nodding a bit and thanking god that you weren’t threatened by her presence like you used to be. Before you even get the chance to pluck the baggie from her hands, she speaks up once more. 

“You got someone to smoke this with? S’ pretty strong… and if you need someone to make sure you don’t go overboard or anything–” she begins, and you could swear for a moment her voice cracks from nerves. She is so concerned with your wellbeing and for whatever reason it made you blush, your face growing warmer with each passing second. “My place is kind of a mess right now” you tell her in a somewhat disappointed voice, as some part of you ached to be alone with her for a while longer, even if it was just because she didn’t want you to end up greening out. 

“Well we could go to that shitty drive-in downtown, just so you don’t have to be alone” she offers, her fingers lightly tapping against her thigh in a rhythmic manner. “But no pressure, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but I don’t mean it like that” she lies through her teeth, knowing damn well she had spent the last few weeks fucking herself with her eyes squeezed shut, the image of you held tightly in her mind. 

But you didn’t know that, so who cares? 

You nod quickly, trying to pretend you weren’t discouraged by her comment, as some part of you wanted her to take you to the drive-in with the intention of getting in your pants. “I know, I know. But yeah, why not? I heard they’re playing the original Romeo and Juliet tonight” you say, buckling your seatbelt as she starts up the engine. Ellie couldn’t care less about what they’re playing tonight, all she cares about is getting you alone. 

Ellie had placed the baggie of goods onto your lap before she began driving, to ensure that you didn’t think she was trying to withhold it from you. You kept it grasped tightly in your hands, as if it were a lifeline as your mind raced at a mile a minute. Her music played faintly, some old rap you recognized but made no comment on since the silence between the two of you was comfortable enough. 

All the while, Ellie was trying to collect her own thoughts, as she couldn’t afford to fuck this up after she had worked so hard just to get here. But based on how you were humming along to the music ever so softly, she could tell you weren’t as apprehensive about her as you once were and that helped put her mind to rest. 

Ellie refuses to let you pay even when she has to get the tickets for the movie and you try not to make a fuss about it, doing your best to accept her acts of kindness. By the time the two of you reached the drive-in, the movie was already halfway through but fortunately there was barely anyone else there so Ellie quickly found a spot to park. As she shifted the parking gear into place, she let out a relaxed sigh and glances over to you. 

She takes a moment to simply analyze your delicate features, the way your lips part in awe as the tragic film plays out before you, your attention already on the screen despite only being there for a few moments. With a light nudge, she managed to get your attention back on her so that she could speak to you directly. 

“We should get in the backseat, just so no one sees us smoking n’ it’s more comfortable, so you can enjoy your movie” she states as if it were basic knowledge, and before you can even think her words over, your body begins to move on its own as you step out of the car only to open the back door and slide in there instead. You can’t help but think of how thoughtful she is, how kind she is. This was enough for you to reason that she had no other intentions other than ensuring your safety, although your heart continued to pound in your chest as she settled in the backseat with you. 

She already had a lighter ready, gripped tightly in one hand before she extended her free hand to you, silently prompting you to give her one of the prerolls she had made just for you. You open up the baggie, marveling at the soft baby pink color of the rolling paper she had used for your order. 

As you give it to her, your hands brush against each other and you can feel just how warm she is, a stark contrast to your cool skin. You have to make an effort to not shiver at the contact, the simple act making your mind grow a bit fuzzy.. It was either that or the fact that the scent of weed was already thick in the air the second she lit it for you, along with a hint of something else that took you a moment to put your finger on. 

“Is that lavender?” you question, your head tilting with curiosity as you watch Ellie take a small puff of the joint to make sure it would burn properly before she held it out for you to take. “Smells good, hm? Makes it a little easier to smoke when you roll with lavender, smoother to smoke, at least I think so” she mutters with a slight shrug, trying to ignore the way just watching you take a shaky inhale makes her need for you grow stronger. 

She knew you had smoked before, but not enough to really be a regular at it. This was shown in the way you let out a weak cough, your cheeks growing rosy in the slightest bit. Often, Ellie would dread smoking with inexperienced people but with you, she was in heaven. “S’ good, really good” you huff between your coughs and your voice was truthful despite it all. Lavender was one of the most soothing scents to you, and it helped you relax before taking a few more hits. 

You think for a moment that as good as the smoke is, you’re not really feeling a high that was different from anything else you were used to. That was until you tried to hand Ellie the joint, and you realized your hand was trembling to the point where she had to wrap a firm hand around your wrist so that she could steady you enough to take it from you. 

You have to bury the burning sensation of embarrassment, as you hadn’t taken her warning seriously when she had told you just how strong her stuff was. But the feel of her strong hand wrapping around your wrist only seems to add to the dizzy feeling blossoming within your mind, a pleased sigh falling from your lips as her touch grounds you as much as it possibly can, considering you’re already out of it. 

“Poor baby” she coos in an all too sweet tone that only muddles your mind further. She takes a few hits with ease, her lungs being adjusted to the aching burn that would spread throughout her lungs. You can only watch her with hazy eyes, the realization that you’re alone with someone you had kept in the back of your mind for months suddenly making you feel overwhelmed. Your eyes flicker back towards the movie that continues to play, the smoke bleeding through the windows since Ellie had opened them just enough to make sure she didn’t completely hot box her car. 

Ellie can sense your anxiousness and it makes her heart ache in the most pathetic way. You were completely gone, but Ellie needed you to be a little more pliant if she wanted to be able to get what she wanted. So she brought the joint to your lips, her own hand steady and calm. 

“Just a few more hits for me, sweet girl. You can do it, can’t you?” she asks in a warm tone, easing you into the idea of following her every command. Some part of her is worried she is asking for too much too fast, but you eagerly wrap your lips around the filter of the joint without the slightest bit of hesitation. 

Even with your scrambled mind, you knew that you wanted to please Ellie. You needed to make her proud of you, although you’re unsure why this is such a necessity. But in the midst of your high, you don’t think to question it at all. To you, she is simply being kind and considerate, such a far cry from the other people you knew. 

The fresh hits burn even more, and Ellie is quick to soothe your coughing fit by gently rubbing circles on your back. The smallest touch had goosebumps rising on your skin and you desperately craved more contact, yet you were too fearful to ask for it. So you remain as still as a statue, praying that this isn’t some weed induced hallucination. 

Your muscles begin to relax and Ellie begrudgingly pulls her hand away, not wanting to overwhelm you further. But the moment her warmth is gone, you let out a pitiful whine. It’s breathy and sounds borderline pornographic, as if she had just pulled her fucking strap out of you or something. 

It was a simple touch, and yet it was all that mattered to you in that moment. For the first time ever, Ellie is unsure of what move to make next. She has to play her cards right, lest she scare you off. So she simply watches the way you sway in your seat, your eyes red and half lidded as you look at her with a heartbroken expression due to her no longer touching you. 

“Look at you, so dumb n’ sweet” she coos, her voice making a mockery of the affection she felt towards you. The tone she uses with you is so gentle that you don’t even recognize the degrading words, simply shivering with pleasure as she blows smoke straight into your face before stubbing out the small bit of the joint that is left into an ashtray she had in the car for her cigarette habit. 

Some part of your brain knows that you are too out of it, the world around you spinning far too fast for your liking. And yet, there is nowhere in the world you’d rather be. “You think m’ sweet?” you question, a soft laugh tumbling from your lips. 

Ellie can’t believe that you had chosen to focus on that part of her sentence when she had just called you dumb without any remorse. God, you were everything she wanted and more. 

She nods her head slightly, the weed making her heart beat faster than usual as she slowly inched closer to you in the backseat. The sound of the movie acted as background noise, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt Ellie’s breath fanning against your neck in the slightest. 

Her breathing pattern had changed, short inhales with longer exhales as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that you had willingly smoked over the limit you were comfortable with just to please her. “Course’ I do. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever met in this god forsaken town” she mutters, pressing a feather light kiss to your neck. 

It was enough to make you shiver, a lazy grin on your lips because in your confused mind, you were the luckiest person in the world. Free weed and the hottest girl at your college was worshipping you as if you were something holy was not how you expected your usual Friday night to play out, yet here you were. 

Ellie was choosing to take her time with you, her senses heightened enough that she can pick up on every bit of your perfume. The intoxicating scent of lavender, jasmine, and vanilla swirled in her mind and left her desperate to be as close to you as possible. 

Her strong hand grips your waist, pulling you closer to her own body until you can feel her rapid heartbeat fluttering beneath her skin due to your bodies being flush tight against one another. “Just relax, baby. No need to think when m’ here, alright? Let all those thoughts fade away n’ focus on being here with me” she whispers, her other hand sliding down your body until she can ease it between your thighs. 

She thanks whatever higher power there is that you aren’t wearing any shorts under your little skirt, her fingers coming into contact with your panties that were embarrassingly wet. Ellie uses two fingers to trace the damp patch on the cotton material, soft curses falling from her rosy lips as she watched your brows knit with a mix of confusion and pleasure. 

“Doing so good for me, aren’t you? I knew you’d be so well behaved” she hums, her voice shaky and breathless as she eases her fingers upwards until she can feel your puffy clit through your panties. 

With slow, almost reverent motions, she rubs your aching bud through the soft material. The sensation enveloped your entire body, leaving you to moan weakly as she pushes your thighs apart a bit further just to see how willing you are. 

She is pleased to find that you let her manhandle you into the position she wants without question, your hazy mind far more focused on what your cunt wants. As much as she loves watching your expression of ecstasy, she needs to taste you on her tongue, to memorize every last inch of your mouth so that no one knows you as well as she does. 

As her fingers continue to move against your panties, she captures your lips in a kiss that reflects the need she has been harboring for months. It’s not rough, slower than her usual method of kissing. It is as if she is praising your body through the way she touches you, her tongue as smooth as velvet as it dances along your own. 

With you so lost in the kiss, she uses the opportunity to push the thin material of your panties to the side so she can properly rub your aching clit. It’s filthy how wer you are, her fingers sticky with your arousal after a few seconds of her intimate touch. As much as you are relieved by the contact, it also feels like it is consuming you completely. 

You can’t help but whine against her lips, your shaky hand weakly grasping her wrist in an attempt to pull her hand away from your dripping cunt. But Ellie refuses to yield, unbothered by your pleas for her to slow down. 

“I’m going easy on you, silly girl. It must be all that weed getting in your head, making you imagine things” she muses. She was practically blaming you for how worked up you were, as if she wasn’t the one rubbing your clit at a maddeningly slow pace. 

The sick part was that you truly believed her, you genuinely thought that someone like Ellie knew more than you did. You were the one who had smoked so much and you wanted her touch, so what right did you have to complain about it? 

“More” you plead breathlessly, tears welling in your reddened eyes and quickly spilling down your soft cheeks. It was as if you had no control over your body, and it was running based on pure primal instinct. 

The sight of your tears only turns Ellie on more, her own cunt aching for stimulation. But all she cares about is getting you off, so she shushes you ever so gently before easing one of her fingers into your pussy. 

Your body tenses from the intrusion, hiccups leaving your parted lips as she sinks her finger into your gooey, pliant cunt. Your walls are slick with arousal and Ellie wishes with every fiber of her being that she could sink her strap into you and give you what you really wanted but her fingers would have to do for now. 

“Thaaaat’s it. Look at this pretty little cunt, taking me so well” she praises, kissing the corner of your lips before easing a few kisses down your jaw. Her dirty words seem so romantic when you’re in such a fuzzy state of mind and you are just so pleased that she is giving you so much attention. 

Your hands are restless, tugging at Ellie’s shirt— although you’re unsure if you’re trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Can’t do it, can’t!” you cry, only for her to add a second finger into your slick hole. She pumps her fingers at a slow pace, not feeling the need to be rough because she knows the feeling is intense enough as is. 

You are left to squeeze your thighs together, the pleasure bordering on pain due to how quickly everything is happening. “But you’re doing so well, angel. You wanted more, didn’t you? Did you lie to me, hm?” she questions, questioning you as if she wasn’t the perv who was fucking some sweet girl in the back of her car. 

The question makes you shake your head feverishly, not wanting her to think lowly of you. “No, I promise. S’ just a lot, never ever— mm fuck, never felt like this before” you whisper, your voice unsteady. Her fingers stretched you open perfectly, her thumb still focusing on tracing small circles over your clit. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. No one has ever taken care of you properly, huh? Those stupid girls you sleep with don’t know how to please a precious thing like you” she says in a syrupy sweet tone that only serves to dumb you down further. 

You nod your head, unsure what you’re even saying anymore. You couldn’t care less, not when she’s curling her fingers inside you just enough to hit the perfect spot. Her fingers thrust against the spongy spot, her own cunt clenching around nothing as she watches you rut against her hand. 

“Gonna cum, gonna— mmf” you try to warn her, as you were not used to finishing so quickly. But your warning doesn’t cause her to slow down in the slightest, she simply keeps her pace as she licks a long stripe up your neck before connecting your lips to hers once more. 

She swallows every single one of your cries as your cream gathers at the base of her fingers, a lewd white ring of your essence marking her as yours. Ellie can feel her ego grow three sizes as she feels your cunt clamp down on her fingers like a silken vice, evidence of your release all over her hand. 

Ellie helps you ride out your orgasm, lazily pumping her fingers deep into your cunt until you pull away from the kiss just to whine that you can’t go any further. Since she had gotten what she wanted, she finally eases her fingers out of you and brings them to her lips instead. 

She keeps her eyes focused on your fucked out expression, watching your chest heave as she sucks her fingers clean. The taste of you leaves her moaning, as it was saccharine and everything she had imagined it to be. 

You are still lost in the haze of your high, your nerve endings seeming to tingle all over as you try to even out your breathing. The effects of the weed haven’t eased up and so you give Ellie a bashful grin, still so shy in her presence despite what had happened. 

The sight of you still behaving so sweetly pleases her in a way she can’t describe, as the purity of your heart seems to only draw her closer. Without missing a beat, she tugs your underwear back in place and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“You wanna make me feel good too, don’t you?” she asks softly, her fingers absentmindedly toying with your hair. It’s not a demand at all, as she simply wants to see what state of mind you’re in. 

Much to her satisfaction, you slowly nod your head after you take a moment to register her words. “Wanna make you feel good” you babble, repeating her words as if you were nothing more than a mindless doll. 

“Atta’ girl” she praises instantly, using gentle movements to help you sit up properly but letting you remain close to her. “How bout’ we go back to my place, just for a bit. We can smoke a bit more once we’re there and then I’ll let you touch me for a bit” she offers, acting casual about it so that you remained in your pliant headspace. 

The offer of being able to go to your house causes you to instinctively nod your head, an eager grin on your lips as you take notice of the windows that were fogged up despite being opened up just a bit. “Pretty please” you beg in a voice that makes Ellie’s heat stutter for a moment or two because she knew she was about to spend the rest of the night either rubbing your slick cunts together or simply letting you eat her out so that you can learn how to properly please her. 

Maybe both if you were awake long enough, although she was sure that after another round the weed would have you out like a light. 

As the credits of the movie begin to roll, she helps you get back into the passenger seat, even buckling your seatbelt for you and giving you one last gentle kiss before she got in the driver's seat. You were still in a daze and thanks to how strong the weed was, Ellie knew she would have you all to herself for the rest of the night. 

[bombshellsandbluebells]

(didn't even get to the part where Ford comes in, but I loved the idea of a sentient Mystery Shack that grows to love Stan - mostly because Stan ends up treating the place more like a home than Ford ever did and goes through all those years alone with him and wrote a drabble)

At some point, Stan realizes he should clean the house. The epiphany comes around the same time he realizes he should also take care of himself—eat, probably, since he can't recall when he last did that. Shower now that he has access to one—even though the thought of using Ford's shower because the man himself can't makes his skin crawl so much he wants to peel it off.

He'll start with the house, then. It feels less like stealing a space that shouldn't be his if he convinces himself it's for Ford's sake—tidying the books and washing out the mugs growing their own ecosystems as some kind of apology. 

As soon as he starts cleaning, though, the mess seems endless. He wonders again at the state his brother had been in—at the barbed wire and panic, at the blood stains in the bathroom—and he wonders if the fear had come from Ford knowing what was beyond the portal, if he'd known the nightmare Stan was dooming him to, if he was even still—

He loses a few hours cleaning the kitchen, scrubbing everything from the floors to the inside of the fridge, but that's a few hours not spent tearing his hair out over the portal, and it feels nice to succeed at something for once. Even the house seems to breathe a little easier in the space he clears—though he can't really explain what he means by that. 

It's just a building, obviously, but it seems…happier. Like it's proud of the changes he made. Whatever, grief is weird, he knows that—their Ma had hit denial so badly after their Bubbe passed it took a full two months for her to even admit she'd died. If he feels better because he tells himself Ford's house is happy he cleaned it up, who cares.

 At least it will help him get out of bed tomorrow. 

-------

About two months in, Stan realizes there are probably bills of some sort he's ignoring. He's never owned a place of his own, but he remembers the whole song and dance with his parents, pouring over electricity and water bills at the kitchen table and debating which ones would be easier to argue—arguing with each other about who had dropped the ball on making enough sales that month.

Considering his new business is based out of the house, he can't risk losing power, which leaves him hunting around Ford's stuff for old utility bills—with no luck. His brother is probably the least organized person he knows, and it looks like that hasn't changed much. Somehow the man can keep up a meticulous system for his bookcase that doesn't make sense to anyone else but can't keep important documents in a folder somewhere. Hell, Stan would take a messy drawer.

He practically tears the house apart but can't find anything, getting increasingly pissed with every upturned cabinet—pissed at Ford for not taking better care of his house, pissed that he's not even here to deal with this, pissed that Stan's now actively seeking out bills to pay like some kind of lunatic. By the time he finally finds a number for Gravity Falls' one electricity company in the yellow pages, he's mad enough to curse out the employee on the other end when he informs him they have no record of an account for Stanford Pines.

"Then how the hell do I have power?!" he yells before realizing it's probably in his best interest to not reveal the fact that Ford has somehow slipped through the cracks and ended up with free power this whole time.

When the guy tries to talk Stan into setting up a new account, he quickly hangs up. 

So it's a mistake, probably—one actually working out in Stan's favor. Or Ford set up a generator somewhere he's yet to find. Either way, he just has to hope whatever's keeping the lights on doesn't decide to crap out on him soon; he could use the extra money he'd waste on bills right now. The Hut isn't that successful.

"Please," he says weakly, not quite sure who or what he's talking to. The concept of electricity itself, maybe. "Just—don't go out."

Maybe it's just his imagination, but the light above him seems to burn a little brighter in response.

Whatever. Grief works in weird ways.

–

It becomes harder to shake it off as just grief. 

Sometimes when the endless slog of the portal is getting to him, the lights burn brighter. Despite never paying a gas bill of any kind, the house stays warm around him. He never seems to lose anything, either—no matter how many times he misplaces something, it turns up right when he needs it. Sometimes it's not even something he's looking for: painkillers on the kitchen table after he smashes his fingers, Around the World in Eighty Days sitting innocently on his bed just when he starts thinking he needs to take his mind off of things for a bit. Once, he mentions missing the ocean out loud and turns the corner to see a painting of just that where he knows it wasn't before.

Terrifyingly, the first thing he thinks of are ghosts. Maybe Ford hadn't even made it to whatever lay on the other side of that portal. Maybe he'd just stuck around where Stan couldn't see him anymore.

He dares to ask one night, sitting in the kitchen where he'd first felt the feeling of not being alone, almost too scared to get an answer. The room ripples around him in reply. The light above him flickers. Stan watches it, trying to swallow down the sudden dryness in his mouth.

"Blink once for yes, twice for no," he says.

No, the house flickers.

He drops his head into his arms and just breathes. Squeezes his eyes shut so they stop feeling so wet. "Okay," he says. "Not the weirdest thing I've seen, I guess."

The way the light flares feels almost like a laugh.

Sentient Mystery Shack, who is really biased towards Stan, so when Ford tells Stan he has to give it back after the summer it’s on sight.

Ford keeps tripping over nothing, nothing is where it's supposed to be and somehow he keeps running into closets when he tries to go outside.

But the worst part, the WORST part is that Ford's lightbulb just won't. Work. No matter what he does it keeps flickering and exploding.

Ford is spiraling. 

There is no reason why it shoudln’t work. All his trial runs work perfectly. He’s already checked the Shacks wiring three times and relearned this dimensions science from the ground up. 

Nothing works.

The Rift? Bill? The impending apocalypse? Eating? Sleep? Who cares about that. 

WHY. WONT. THE. LIGHTBULB. WORK???

It doesn’t help that Stan keeps laughing at him.

“Then you do it!” Ford eventually snaps at Stan.

Stan shrugs and with a little song under his breath screws his own lightbulb in. It works perfectly.

Stanford screams.

[kawhh]

luke would lowkey be the opposite he’s asking you to hide ur stuffies to turn around the peanut jelly cat, he feels self conscious

Everything was going well for him until he looked up.

Please be gentle with me, I haven't written for him before.

He hasn't been in your room before. You've both been taking it slow with each other - little kisses here and there, cuddles in the dark together where he can feel safe with no pressure. Dragging his soft hands under your shirt, resting them on your stomach. Feeling him gulp, slowly testing both of your limits.

You broke his mind tonight, feeling him freeze as you take it further. Dragging his hands up your body, holding his hands over your bra, feeling his fingers twitch with the restraint he needs not to squeeze your pretty tits. He's physically and emotionally overwhelmed, whining as he buries his face against your shirt, nuzzling into you.

He's forcing your hands into his curls, needing you to ground him. To reassure him that you're fine with him taking this further. Needing your consent before he lets himself go.

The minute he gets the go ahead, he's scrambling to dig his fingers into your thighs, needing you to be wrapped around him, whimpering as he pulls them around his body, pushing them further around, needing you to squeeze him.

Using his strength to lift off the couch with you, wrapping his hands around your back to support you. He won't drop you. Even if he's already tit drunk. Moaning into you like your tits hold all the answers, like he needs them to breathe.

Clumsily carrying you up the stairs, accidentally hitting your side, whispering apologies into your skin. Sliding the hands on your back under your shirt on the way, clawing at your skin, dipping the pads of his fingers under the waistband of your shorts, hesitantly digging into the skin of your ass, too nervous to fully grab you.

As soon as he gets you in your room safe, falling on the bed with you, he can't resist getting more skin contact. Lifting your shirt, dragging his mouth up your stomach, following the revealed skin. Mouthing at you like he's whispering a prayer, compliments flowing from his mouth the minute he reaches your bra covered tits, before he makes his mistake.

He looks up. Stopping in his tracks, his face flooding with heat. You can feel the sudden warmth on your skin. He's just staring above your head, your calls of his name going unheard.

There's.. there's stuffies. There's stuffies all over your bed. They're just.. watching him. He feels like he's being judged. Burying his head back into your stomach, hiding under your shirt.

"Baby.. can't. I'm being watched, feel like they're gonna lock m' up in jail."

He's whining into you, embarrassed that it's such a problem for him. Embarrassed that he doesn't even feel like he can kiss you.

"Baby you gotta.. you gotta put them outside. I can't.."

Even as you lift off the bed to throw them outside the bedroom door, holding in your laughs, you can hear him speaking apologises into the bed covers, hiding his face. He can't look at you, can't believe that he ruined this for you.

You can feel him gulp, feel his breathing quicken when you come back to him, laying down over his back, burying your hands in his curls, reassuring him that it's okay. Not wanting to poke fun at this problem with him, wanting him comfortable. You can tell when he's in the mood for it and when he's not.

Kissing the back of his neck as you massage his scalp, murmuring praises into his skin, calling him your good boy, making sure he knows he did good. That you're proud of him.

@hughesinthebox I was gonna wait.. but.

[chrissv4mp]

♱ shoot your shot. . .

you never found any interest in sports. ever since you were a little kid, you never felt attracted to the idea of dribbling down a court or kicking a ball into a goal just for the feeling of fulfillment. but you never judged anyone who did.

especially not billie.

she was the star player—the one who carried the girls' varsity basketball team for the school, the one who was always making three-pointers and swiftly stealing the ball from the opposing team just to drive it all the way down the court and make the lay-up.

so, now, you found yourself sitting on the bleachers in the gym, watching as billie played with all of the boys who tried too hard and a couple of girls who were on junior varsity.

billie always played softer whenever she was going against the jv girls. you noticed that after your third time watching her play. it made your crush on her just that little bit stronger.

you were so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn't even heard the loud calls of your name or the sight of a basketball flying straight at you until it hit you square in the face, flinging your glasses off of your face and making you double over in pain.

"oh shit." you knew who was coming up to you almost immediately upon hearing her voice.

of course, billie was the first one to jog over and snatch your glasses off the dusty gym floor and kneel at your feet, reaching over to grab the basketball from under the bleachers before finally looking up at you.

"i'm so sorry, i should've run over to grab the ball instead of jus' standin' there like an idiot." billie apologizes, sighing softly as she holds out her hand for you to take the glasses.

your fingers brush against her palm during the exchange, and even that small interaction making your stomach flip.

"no, don't worry, i should've seen it com—" you stammer, but billie cuts you off before you can defend her.

"dude, your nose is bleeding like hell, don't try to defend me." billie scoffs, voice playful yet stern at the same time. she gets up from off her knee before passing the ball to one of the girls.

she grabs your hand before you can even process what's happening, her fingers interlacing in yours as she carefully leads you out into the hall and down to the restrooms.

billie grabs a few paper towels and rushes you into the girls' restroom, having you sit on the countertop between the two small sinks as she begins to dab at the blood dripping down your lips and chin before it gets to your clothes.

her actions are gentle, touch featherlight as she tilts your head back to slow the bleeding before she has you grab a few paper towels and hold them to your nose.

"pinch the bridge of your nose, it'll help to slow down the blood." billie instructs, voice soft and quiet as she watches you do as she says, eyes on yours.

she starts giggling softly after a few minutes of silence, and you're quick to tilt your head back down to see what she's laughing at. when you see that her eyes are on you, your face flushes red instantly.

her laughter only gets louder at your dumbfounded face, biting her lip so that she can speak without laughing, "no, no, i'm not laughing at you. jus'... it's funny that the first time we're alone together is when i gave you a bloody nose."

it's not supposed to be funny, but billie's laugh is contagious and you can't stop the smile that begins to curl on your lips. billie steps closer without even realizing, one of her hands coming to rest on your forearm when she doubles over in laughter.

"i would've never thought our star varisty player was such a goofball," you tease, sniffling and pulling back the bloody paper towel from your nose, noticing the blood is pretty much gone.

billie straightens up at your words, cocking an eyebrow and dropping her jaw in faux offense, "really? you're sayin' you thought i was boring?" billie scoffs, lips curling into a small smile.

you shrug at her words, a smug smirk still on your face, "well i wouldn't say boring. i think i thought you were like the boys, but hot. much hotter." you say quietly, your heart beating rapidly.

it seemed like the perfect time to shoot your shot—you just hoped it wasn't an airball, you knew she had standards.

billie's smirk grows wider at your flirty words, stepping closer, standing between your legs now as she looks up at you. she's careful not to go too far with her touches, her hands gently creeping up to grab your hands.

"y'know, i thought the same about you." she murmurs, eyes flicking down to your upturned lips, "but i'd add that i thought you were pretty, confident, and look crazy beautiful each time you go up on that stage to give your little speeches."

your cheeks flush even brighter, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering faster and faster. she was so close now, her face only inches away from yours.

"especially when you give me that sweet little smile of yours when you call my name to come up," billie adds, voice quiet now.

her feelings about you are clear now, and you can't help but lean even closer, "perks of being apart of leadership is we can call whoever we want for the games and activities."

"i guess now you know why you're always my first pick." you mutter before finally closing the—

"billie! dude, get your ass back on the court, we're getting our asses beat out here!"

guess you just have to take your time on the next shot.

LETTERS. this is lowkey bad, anyway here's this little trope that i love but can't write for the life of me 💔

TAGS. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @stonerfromlesbos @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @bambifemme @mybluebossanova @sturnsmia @moralesluvr @justtr @greenbttrflyy @natbelovasblog @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @meliciousmel13

[squiddyfics]

bad day

daeho x f!reader

description: you take (really good) care of your boyfriend after he's had a hard day at work. (au; no mention of the games)

18+ minors dni

warnings: nsfw, piv (no mention of protection), oral (m!receiving), daeho discovers he’s a sub

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You hum softly to yourself as you cook dinner for two. Your boyfriend will be home any minute, and you want it to be ready for him when he arrives.

Typically, you and Daeho alternate who cooks dinner each night. Considering you were lucky enough to have the day off, and he was called in for a grueling twelve-hour shift, you figure it's only fair for you to take on the duty of cooking today.

You're just turning off the stove when you hear him walk through the door. He usually announces his presence with an, "I'm home!" Today, though, he's silent.

Moments later, you feel a pair of strong arms slide around your waist. Daeho drops his chin onto your shoulder.

"Hi, my love," you greet him. You turn around in his arms so you're facing him. "How was work?"

He kisses you, then pulls back and sighs. "I don't want to complain to you, but... it wasn't great."

"You can always complain to me; I don't mind." You cup his cheek in your hand. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Honestly, no. I'd rather just forget that it even happened, if that's alright with you. Dinner smells amazing, by the way."

"Thank you. Go sit down and I'll get it ready for us, okay?"

You plate the food and bring it over to the table. You enjoy the meal, but Daeho, who typically eats enough to feed an army, hardly touches his dinner. He apologizes, stating that he doesn't have much of an appetite, and most of his serving goes uneaten.

Once you both finish, you clean up the dishes and pack the leftovers away in the fridge. Meanwhile, Daeho remains seated, rubbing his forehead. Just by looking at him, you can tell how physically and emotionally exhausted he is. When you're done tidying up, you return to him, planting a kiss on his head.

You tilt his face up so he's looking at you and say, "I'm sorry you're having a rough day."

"It's okay," he says, reaching out to grab your waist. "You make it a lot easier."

"Would a shower help you feel better?"

He gives you a cheeky grin. "Only if you come with me."

"Okay," you say. "Let's go, then."

Daeho raises his eyebrows, apparently shocked at your willingness to take him up on his request. He's not going to question it, though; he's silent as he follows you to the bathroom.

You turn on the water, and while it's heating up, you guide Daeho to sit down on the edge of the tub. You stand across from him and slowly begin to strip off your clothes.

He tries to reach up to pull at your waistband, but you push his hand down. "Not so fast. Just watch me, baby."

He raises his eyebrows, and his eyes remain fixed on your body as you take off the rest of your clothing at an excruciatingly slow pace. When you unfasten your bra and let it fall to the floor, he sucks in a sharp breath.

"Fuck, you're beautiful."

You kiss him chastely before stepping into the shower. "What are you waiting for? Come and join me."

You pull the shower curtain closed and begin to lather up. On the other side of the curtain, you hear the sounds of Daeho undressing. Moments later, he's stepping in with you.

You rake your eyes over his body, smiling in self-satisfaction when you see that his cock is hard already. You decide to ignore it for the time being, though, instead reaching up to wash his hair. His eyes roll back when you massage his scalp; you can tell he needed the attention.

You pour body wash into your hands and begin to work your way down Daeho's body, starting with his neck and shoulders. You massage him as you go, pressing the pads of your fingers into his biceps and causing him to sigh deeply.

When you reach his chest, Daeho grabs your arms and wraps them around his torso, pulling you in close as he kisses you. He rolls his hips against you and grabs your breasts, kneading them in his large hands.

As much as you enjoy what he's doing to you, you push his hands down once more and break away from the kiss. "Don't try to make this about me, babe. You've been working so hard; I want to take care of you tonight."

"My god," he says. "You really are perfect."

"Says you."

Your hands, still slick with soap, finally travel down to Daeho's erection. Your lips find his again as you stroke him with both hands. Your thumb circles the head of his cock while your other hand moves up and down his length. He moans against your lips.

"Does that feel good?" you ask softly.

"So good," he says, practically whining. "You're so fucking good."

He reaches down and runs two fingers across your slit, which is now dripping wet. He rubs circles on your clit. You throw your head back in response to his touch, and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck.

"Ah—Daeho, stop," you say reluctantly. You remove your hands from his shaft. "Let's go dry off."

"No, don't stop. I'm sorry, I won't do that anymore. Please keep touching me."

"Don't worry," you say, enjoying the desperation in his voice. "I'm not done with you yet."

You turn off the water. After you both get out and dry off, you head to the bedroom, where you instruct him to lay down on his stomach. You proceed to massage his back and legs, working out the tension in his muscles and feeling him relax underneath you. You apply lots of pressure, just the way he likes it.

"You're amazing at this," he mumbles.

You continue for a while longer until he pulls you off of him. You land on your back on the bed, and he climbs on top of you. "As much as I was enjoying that, I really want to make love to you."

"Hm, I don't think so," you say with a smirk. "Get on your back."

"What? Why?" He looks shocked, but does what you say regardless.

"I'm going to make love to you."

You straddle Daeho, grinding against him as you kiss him. He places his hands on your hips, but you grab his wrists and pin them down on either side of his head. To your surprise, this earns a loud moan from him.

"You like that, huh?" you ask.

"I—I think so," he stammers, flustered.

"You just lay back and let me be in charge, baby."

Keeping your hands on Daeho's wrists, you let the tip of his cock enter you; it always takes you a while to get accustomed to his size. You moan at the sensation of him inside you.

You move up and down on top of him, allowing him to get deeper each time. Daeho bites his lip, watching you ride him.

"Please let me put my hands on your ass," he begs.

"I told you, you're not lifting a finger tonight," you say, trying to maintain an air of power in your breathy voice.

"I won't try anything," he says. "I just really want to touch you, please."

"Fine." You guide his hands onto you, and he grabs your ass. He's even gentler than usual; he seems to accept that you're in control this time, and he's acting accordingly.

You feel the pleasure building, and rub your clit to bring yourself closer to orgasm. Daeho tries to replace your hand with his own, but you move it back roughly, determined not to let him do any of the work. He's moaning more than he ever has before, and the sounds that fall from his lips are driving you wild.

It isn't long before your own moans become louder, and soon, a tremor courses through your whole body as you reach your high on his cock.

Your body stills, becoming too sensitive to ride him any longer. You lean down to kiss him, then drop your head into the crook of his neck. After regaining your senses, you begin kissing his neck, feeling his breath quicken.

You slide off of him and travel downward, leaving kisses down his torso until you reach his erection. You run your tongue up his shaft before putting the tip of his cock in your mouth.

"Oh my god," Daeho moans, and you look up to see him running a hand over his flushed face and through his hair.

You begin to bob your head up and down rhythmically, using both hands to stroke him at the same time. He's a gasping, panting mess underneath you, mumbling incoherently about how good you make him feel.

He places his hands onto your head and begins to guide your movements. You immediately take your mouth off of him, though you continue to pump him with your hands.

"Hands off," you order. He complies instantly, letting his hands fall onto the bed. "Good boy."

His breath hitches in his throat at your words, and you feel his cock twitch in your hands, a drop of precum leaking out. You lick it, looking up to see him gripping the sheets. Though Daeho has always been crazy about you, you've never seen him respond quite this strongly to you before, and you're enjoying every second of it.

You put his cock back in your mouth and continue at a steady pace, spurred on by his desperate moans. "Oh, fuck. Keep going, baby. Please don't stop, please."

You lift your mouth off of him again, quickly replacing it with your hand at the same speed so he won't lose the sensation. You can tell how close he's getting, and you want to watch his face when he climaxes.

"Be a good boy and cum for me."

"Oh my god, I'm—ah—" Daeho cuts himself off with a moan as the first spurt of cum shoots from his dick, landing on your lips.

You quickly wrap your lips around the head of his cock, and he rides out the rest of his orgasm in your mouth, his body practically convulsing with pleasure.

Once you've completely drained him, you sit up, using your finger to wipe his cum from your lips. He watches you intently as you suck your finger clean, pulling you into his chest.

"How are you real?" he asks breathlessly.

"I'm just trying to treat you right," you say with a giggle. "You deserved a night all about you. Plus, I think I learned something new about you."

"I think I learned something new about myself."

"Who knew you liked being called a good boy?" you tease, ruffling his hair.

Daeho blushes, covering his face with his hands. "Stop it."

"You're cute," you say. "Anyway, I know you had a shitty day, so I hope this helped."

"Definitely," he replies. "I should have bad days more often."

[danaan13]

After the doctors had left for the evening, and the only ones around were the night nurses, I leaned to the side to peer out of the room door. No one in sight. I burrowed down under my covers and cupped my hands together. Inside the bowl shape my hands made, a tiny magic light bloomed. I let the spell go. And I settled back in bed with a very thoughtful frown.

I could still do magic. What the hell?

When I'd said something about it to the doctor earlier, he ordered tests to check my senses and my brain. He suggested that I'd probably just been eating some wild plant that gave me hallucinations.

I looked at the clawed scars on my right arm. No. Pretty sure I hadn't been hallucinating. What the hell?

I rubbed my eyes. I wasn't sure what to do. Could I go back to being normal after this?

When I dropped my hand back to my lap and opened my eyes, there was a tiny old man sitting in a chair next to my bed. I yelped in surprise and he just smiled. "My apologies. But please... remain calm. We don't want the nurses getting suspicious."

I frowned and said. "Who are you? How did... Where did you come from? That chair was not here before!"

The man nodded. "And it won't be here when I'm gone. My name is Francis. I'm from the Narnoona Association. As for the how... Magic. Like what you just hid under the blanket a minute ago."

I scowled at him and muttered, "Narnia? Really?"

He laughed. "Narn-oo-na. Similar. But not the same. C.S. Lewis had some pretty similar ideas. But no. We're been around longer."

The man crossed his legs and smiled quietly again. "In short, we're a group that tracks and maintains access to portions of our world, where magic coalesces and thrives. I'm sure you're imaginative enough to know how wrecked modern society would be if magic got out. Especially uncontrolled."

I scowled a bit more. "You mean how wrecked capitalism would be."

The man grimaced then and nodded. "Well... that too. I was actually referring to the part where people who shouldn't have power would use it to make things worse for those who are too tired to fight back, because of current socio-economic circumstances."

He looked up at me then, eyes seeming to read right through me. "Though, based on your statement, perhaps you're more suited for our sister organization. Yes... I think so."

He stood up then and tapped the chair. Which then completely disappeared, as if it had never been there at all. He smiled at me again. "Expect a visitor in the morning. She'll introduce herself as your Aunt Katy. Go along with it. You won't regret it."

He winked and then turned around. And disappeared. Like the chair.

What the hell?

I fumed and ruminated on this for a bit. Until exhaustion won and I fell asleep. I told no one, when the next morning came around. It's not like they'd believe me.

And surely enough, about midmorning, a nurse bounced right into my room with a bright smile. "Guess what! We found a member of your family! Your Aunt Katy is here to take you home!"

Behind the nurse, a tall amazon of a woman strode in. She wore the sharpest, sleekest black suit dress I'd ever seen walk off an Armani runway. Perfectly pinned hair, bright red lipstick, and a vibe that screamed Professional.

Professional what? Hell, if I know. But I felt that everyone must believe every word that ever came out of her mouth.

I put on a quick smile. "Aunt Katy? Wow... That was fast!"

Katy somehow became motherly, as she swept forward and hugged me. "Oh it's really you! We were so worried. Well... don't you fear. We'll have you home and sorted today. I promise!"

The nurse beamed and said, "I'll go start the paperwork!"

And then we were alone. The aura of masks seemed to slip from Katy just a little. Her smile relaxed. "I'm Katherine, from The Odyssey Corps. Francis notified me that you'd be a fit for us. He also mentioned he didn't really explain anything. Don't worry. He's just a mischievous fucker like that. I'll read you in once we're somewhere secure. But for now... Trust me. It's not as bad as you think. If you're even half as powerful as Francis said, we'll finally be able to move on certain figures."

I just nodded.

At this point, the nurse came back with a clipboard for "Aunt Katy". She looked it over and then signed it. "Alright, sweetheart. Let's get you home!" she chirped, before handing me a bag with clean clothes.

Very expensive clean clothes. I quickly smiled and went to get dressed.

Why did the island with the demons seem less scary now?

What the hell?

You're in a hospital after surviving for 3 years in the wilderness. What a way to find out that plane crash didn't isekai you. Once everything settles down, you begin to wonder... If this wasn't another world, how are you able to use magic now, and why did that island have demon beasts?

[imsofreakingtired]

HI. sorry for dropping this bomb on you all right after what i said about being less active in the future BuT. i'm deleting this old fic of mine from ao3 because i'm just not interested in it anymore... but i'm kinda proud of the first chapter so i revised it to be an x reader (it was originally sevika x oc) and i'm gonna just drop it here. pls don't come at me i'm so sorry guys 🙏

"i can hear the sound of a heartbeat (before it goes out)"

content warning(s)!! graphic descriptions of injury, mentions of surgical procedure, heavy angst, hurt/comfort(?)

summary: you are the brilliant young apprentice of the undercity apothecary. after Powder's explosion, Sevika is brought into your care. notes: i wrote this like a month ago? soon after watching arcane for the first time and i started hyperfixating on who the hell performed sevika's amputation if singed was also caught in the explosion and what the process of recovery must have been like for her and oh...my baby 😞 kind of a character study more than anything. disclaimer: i'm not a doctor or even a med student. apologies for any and all inaccuracies wc: 4.7k

~~~~

What she remembered: 

A blue flash. No; she recalled earlier than that. There was the acrid smell of something foreign and metallic. Something strangely human, even though she knew there was nothing human that night. Not the desperate rage in Vi’s eyes. Not the monster she was ousted by to fight in her stead. Not the pink rivers in expanding skin. Not the smoke rising lazily from the forges. Not the gleam of Silco’s glass eye, not the muscles seizing in her arms. 

There was the smell; there was the impossible, cartoonish noise. Wood splintering and bodies hitting a distant floor. And then all thought gathered into one concentrated bundle of instinct, in which nothing existed, nothing in the past, present, or future��nothing mattered except leaping in the way of the blast, which Silco was standing directly in front of. 

She didn’t know if he made it out of the explosion, or if he took the fall anyway. For one glorious, enormous second, her eyes were dazzled by a light so pure it felt like looking into the face of love itself. The light, blue and benign, innocent in its enormity, seared her vision and sizzled into every nerve of her brain. She was aware of a pain so distant it seemed to be happening to someone else far away from her. She was making a beautiful arc in space. She was saving a cause, she was somebody else. She was making the greatest sacrifice. She was everything that existed, from her first infant cry to this senseless blue light. And now the arc was falling. Clockwork stopping. A choking sound in the back of a scorched throat, a name dropped in the void. She was forgotten. She never mattered at all. 

And then she hit the ground, and remembered nothing more. 

~~~

“Is she alive?”

“She’s breathing, sir.” 

“Bring her, then. See if we can save her. She’s valuable to us. Singed will handle her.” 

“Sir, we found Singed in his lab. He’s not moving. Must’ve been caught in the explosion.” 

“Shit.” 

(Pause.) 

“Just pick her up, Locke.” 

(Fire. Unbearable heat everywhere. Sour smell of sweat and bitter tang of blood. And the sweet, simmering, ever-pervasive stench of Shimmer.) 

(Then, a child’s weeping.) 

“Hello, little girl.” 

(Rain on skin. Rain, the drops feeling like acid. Makes the smell of everything worse.)

“Where is your sister?” 

“She left me.” (Weeping.) “She is not my sister anymore.” 

(The sounds leave. The welcome smoke of sleep curls into her brain. Her eyes close. She thinks her body is in fragments, and no one can see or touch her anymore. Before everything goes blissfully dark, she sees the Shimmer-veined mass that was and was not Vander. Is he really gone? Is she really here? Perhaps…perhaps that was not what happened at all. Perhaps they were both dead. Perhaps they would be walking side by side again soon, the way they did before everything went bad, when they were only kids, with him making jabs at her habit of drifting from one woman to another, and her countering by asking about the shifting thing he had going on with a gentle, intelligent Silco both had long stopped knowing.) 

~~~

You were in the back room, mixing powders. Behind you hung a wall of carefully collected and sterilized surgical tools. The Apothecary disapproved of such tools. She had a firm belief in the old remedies, that anything short of death could be cured with a good potion and a drop or two of strong liquor. As her assistant, you could only defer to her opinions and gather the few good weeds you could find at the riverbank, make trips to Topside for the more expensive ingredients if there was a dire need. The people on the other side of the river had found out a substance with a numbing ability. They were performing amputations, open-heart operations. You felt like you were trying to breathe underwater every time you heard of such achievements. The people of the undercity were dying by the hundreds from inadequate medical means, their only hopes of surviving the pestilence in their lungs or infected flesh wounds some sham apothecary who gave them a snake oil potion and then drank away her earnings. 

So you slipped away when you could. Under the pretense of gathering roots to grind into powder, you made your way across the bridge and hung around the medicine stores of Piltover. You eavesdropped on the conversations of medical scholars. You stole books from the libraries of reputable doctors and alchemists. You devoured information on the inner workings of the body, its fragility and beautiful net of nerves and cells. By degrees, you came to know everything there was to know about operating on a human body. You knew the procedures of a liver transplant in your sleep. You knew the exact place to tie a tourniquet to stem the flow of blood. 

The bell chimed. Not a lick of wind had made them ring as urgently as they did now—the Apothecary’s reputation had soured as word about the uselessness of her potions went around the Lanes. 

You looked up from your work, listening for the Apothecary’s steps but knowing damn well she wasn’t going to answer the call. More likely than not she was sleeping off the effects of last night’s drink. The bell chimed again, louder. 

Sighing, you went to the door yourself. You slid open the window and found yourself staring into the enormous, pierced, tattooed face of a man you recognized to be Locke, a formidable henchman of Silco’s. 

“We don’t want your Shimmer samples,” you snapped. “Go find another test bunny.” 

That was when he stepped back, and you saw the unconscious woman in his arms. 

“She ain’t got much time,” Locke said. “An’ for shit’s sake, she’s no bag of feathers.” 

Even in the sparse light, you could see the woman was an inch away from death. Beneath the soot her tone was ashen. You could smell the charred skin from where you were standing. 

Without another word, you swung open the door and led him into the shop. 

There was nowhere to lay the woman. You spotted the table you had been working on, and swept everything off it to the floor with a deafening clatter of metal bowls and spilled dried roots. You pointed to the table. Locke laid the woman down, then stood uncertainly. 

“Out,” you ordered him. “Come back when I send word.” 

Not bothering to hide his relief, he disappeared. You then turned to the task at hand. 

You adjusted the overhead lamp, turned it on so that the light fell brilliantly on your first ever patient. 

You were not a person to turn sick easily. From a young age the things that made other kids squeamish fascinated you, enchanted you. You spent hours picking apart dead animals you found in the streets, taking as much delight in observing the small ragged caves of their rib cages, the limp softness of their organs, as other kids did in playing with toys and dolls.  

But when you saw the woman you felt a small failing in your heart, a drop in your pulse. 

It was the kind of burn you had only ever read about. Every inch of skin on the woman’s left arm was scorched to the bone. You could see without touching her that you could slide a knife into the flesh without the woman ever feeling it: every nerve was burned away. The left side of her face wasn’t in much better condition. You could only guess at what might have caused such a great burn as this—maybe the woman had been in a fire, or an explosion. 

You closed her eyes, opened them again. Took a breath. Then the nausea passed, and left only a grim excitement. You went to the door and locked it. Then you went back to the table, with renewed resolve, to better examine the woman. 

The arm would have to come off, that was certain. It was beyond saving. If she had been taken somewhere sooner—right after sustaining the burns—the arm might have been saved. But by now the flesh was eaten raw. You took a pair of shears and carefully cut the woman’s clothing away from her skin. The fabric clung to burned flesh, ripped it away, despite your caution. The woman stirred slightly but did not wake. For the first time you looked at her face. 

She was handsome, with a strong jaw and dark brows. She couldn’t have been more than thirty-five. She was so tall that her boots hung over the edge of the long table.

You forced your gaze away. There was no time to lose, and you had to be meticulously careful. This was your first real operation.

You went to the cupboard and took a dose of caffeine. It steeled you, cleared your brain. You filled a syringe with the anesthetic you had swiped from the alchemist in Piltover and wiped the woman’s good arm with antiseptic before injecting it into her strong, raised vein. 

Janna in Heaven, the woman was built like a god. 

You were made to think rationally, scientifically. You knew the arm would have to come off, the damaged tissue rendered it useless. But it was almost tragic to think that such a substantial part of the woman would be lost, an arm that once mirrored the perfect art of its surviving counterpart, with the veins and scars and ropes of muscle telling of astounding strength. 

You waited until the woman’s  pulse slowed, until her breathing grew even, until you knew the woman would be far enough away from the pain to survive the loss of her left arm. Then you got to work. 

~~~

Sevika saw first another bright light and thought, oh, fuck, here we go again. 

She then discovered that she could not move her body. She was one tangled mass of tightness. Every fiber of her body seemed to be knotted up in another. She had the childish fear that if she made a movement she would tear apart at the seams, like a cloth left to freeze in the winter air. 

She then waited—waited for the second blast, waited for the sure and swift hand of death, waited for anything, really—a fucking change—anything better than this hellish state of immobility. 

The sound of metal striking metal jolted through her senses. Instinct caused her to start up, hands curled into fists. 

That was when the pain hit. 

She hadn’t actually moved—her body was still too sluggish for that—but the seizing of her muscles set every single cursed remaining nerve in her screaming. She couldn’t yet register what had really happened, where the sound came from, why she had tried to move so quickly. She could barely even think of who she was, her own name, why she was lying flat and shirtless on her back on a table in a chill dark room with a lamp in her face. All she could do was breathe hard and slow, trying to fight back the yell rising in her throat. 

Then there was a person hovering over her. Cool hands touching her face, which she hadn’t realized until right that instant was burning like hellfire. 

A voice drifting above her, like sweet rain, like mist by the river. 

“You’re okay. It’s okay. Breathe. It’s over.” 

What’s over? Who are you? Where am I? What did you do to me? 

“Mom?” Was the only question that actually made it through Sevika’s cracked lips. 

“Drink. Slow. It’s okay.” 

A rim of a cup was now at her lips, and instinctively she jerked her head away. The water splashed over her cheek, a blaze of cold fire. She winced and gasped, “No.” 

“Drink,” the voice repeated. “Or the shock will kill you.” 

The cool fingers rested firmly on Sevika’s jaw, guiding her mouth back to the cup full of fire and glass. This woman was going to kill her. This woman had her locked in a room tied to a table and now she was trying to kill her with a cup of poison. 

“Drink,” you said again. Your voice was too soft, too deep for a murderer. But Sevika had long learned not to trust any kind of exterior. 

Her lips parted, nearly against her will. As if they moved in response to a thirst she wasn’t aware of herself. And then the taste of sweet, cold water on her tongue. It shocked her. Never had she tasted pure water—the filth of the river and sewage water had everyone drinking liquor or getting by on fish guts. She got over the initial shock, then reached hungrily for the rim. It was drawn cruelly away from her. 

“Swallow,” you instructed her, like she was a small child. “You’ve inhaled a lot of smoke.”

She didn’t even care about the burn as the water went down. Her only thought was the cold sweetness on her tongue. 

“Good, isn’t it?” you said. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff pilties drink up there. Filtered water on the top of the list.” 

Slowly, Sevika inhaled the water in short breaths until the cup was empty. She could feel it clear her head, move the blood in her veins. Her vision cleared until she was aware of the ring of light above her, see the outline of odd instruments hanging on the walls. And she could feel the pain coursing through her in sharp, acute waves, with nothing now to take her mind from it. 

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything to help with the pain,” you said. “The only painkilling potion we have here was recently marked down by about twenty clients as utterly useless.” Sevika could see you moving around the room, fixing up something here, cleaning something in the sink. 

“Who are you?” Sevika rasped out. The movement of her voice in her throat felt like the grating of metal. 

You turned to face her. Sevika could make out a young, serious face. You smiled slightly, and your exhaustion showed in the rings under your eyes. “I’m a doctor.”

It was then that Sevika realized her hands were still curled into fists. With an effort she freed the fingers of her right hand. When she moved to do the same with her left, she discovered that she could not. She turned her face to look at her left hand. It was not there. 

The anesthesia was wearing off by the second, and everything was becoming bright and hot and terrifying. She could not see her left hand, but everything else began to move, as if something restraining her had suddenly broken loose and all her limbs were freed at once. Sevika struggled into a sitting position. This time she let out a ragged scream. 

“Easy, easy, easy.” Your hand on her right shoulder, the other braced against the back of her neck. “Easy,” you said again in a low voice. 

“What did you do, what—what the hell did you do?” Sevika gasped. “What did you do?” 

“Don’t move like that. You’ll mess up the tissue.” 

“What did you do what did you do what did you do?” Somewhere above her senses, even in a situation like this, Sevika was ashamed of the wild fear she knew was showing in her eyes. The crack in her voice, hinging on madness. She felt like a trapped beast waking out of a tranquilizer, looking for the first time into the eyes of its captor. 

“Stay still. I’ll get you another cup of—”

Sevika’s right hand reached up and tried to close around your throat, but by then the strength had drained out of her. You calmly detached Sevika’s fingers from your neck and held her hand tightly in both your own. 

“You need to calm down. I know how much pain you must be in right now, but panicking won’t help anything.” 

“Woman.” Sevika’s voice was too weak for yelling, and in a whisper it sounded even more dangerous. “What. Did you do. To me.”

“It had to be done,” you said quietly. “It was beyond saving. I’m sorry.” 

She didn’t want to look at it. She felt the vast absence, the great emptiness, the wide arc of space filled only by the mind-bending pain. She didn’t want to see her right hand in your grip, not when she knew she couldn’t see the left safely at her side. She closed her eyes and tried to will it all away. This was some mad dream she was in. One drink too many. Any minute now she would wake up and face a warning from Silco for drinking on the job. Any minute now this pain would all fade to a funny misunderstanding, a trick of her subconscious. 

Still it pulsed on, as hot and alive as a separate being. Sevika opened her eyes and looked down at the left side of her body. Her torso was wrapped in white bandages. A million needles of light danced between her bandaged shoulder and the empty drop beneath it. 

Then the tears came. 

She would be embarrassed later. She would be violent later. She would make the ridiculous, childish demands later—demands for her arm back, refusing to believe she had really lost it, cursing everything and everyone and every single fucking force in the universe that had allowed this to happen. She would hate later. She would be angry later. 

For now she just wept. And her head was buried in the crook of your shoulder and she could feel you holding her, rubbing circles into her back like her mother did when she was too small to know herself properly. She cried like a child who had just lost her mother. She cried as if she had lost a close friend. 

“It’s okay,” you kept saying. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” 

The word lost its meaning, but it was strangely comforting to hear it. She was lost in a world of pain, and the word with all its nonsensical certainty was gratifying to cling to, like a rope. 

She thought she felt your hand against her forehead, the brush of whispered words against her ear. She fell into a troubled sleep. 

~~~

Sevika (by now you had wrenched at least that bit of information from your patient) had been in your care for several days when Silco himself came by. He spoke through the window in the door, and you did not invite him in. 

“How soon can she return to work?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “She just lost her fucking arm. How soon do you think?” 

He stared back, and his glass eye twitched slightly. It seemed to be a challenge of its own. She lost her arm, I lost my eye. Do you think that ever stopped us? Do you dare underestimate us?

“What is her condition?” Silco asked.

You thought back to the morning. Sevika had tried to rip the bandages off her shoulder, saying she would attach the arm back on herself or die trying. 

“Furious,” you said. 

“So.” 

“She’s recovering. You need to give her time.” 

Silco studied you through the door. “You look terribly young for someone to perform an operation so serious.” 

“And you look awfully old for someone making the judgments you are now.” 

Silco seemed taken aback at this, but didn’t reply immediately. He looked down—even smiled. You watched the deep scars in his face shift as his lips moved, and thought unintentionally of the healing wounds on Sevika’s face, the burn scars settling into a curious web of tissue that glowed—inexplicably—a pale blue. 

“Tell her I came by,” Silco said. “Can you at least do that?” 

“Yes,” you said. “Nice seeing you, Silco.” 

“You’re not afraid of anything, are you?” 

“Can’t afford to be, you know, in the undercity.” 

He stayed a moment longer, watching you as if trying to extract a secret. You met his gaze unblinkingly. Then he turned and walked away.

You walked up the stairs into the room you had made as some kind of makeshift wing for Sevika, with a bed that hadn’t been occupied in god only knew how long and a basin for washing. It was littered now with rolls of gauze and bottles of ointment, whatever you could swipe from Piltover shelves. You didn’t like to leave Sevika long. The damned woman was filled with a dangerous restlessness. You had resorted to giving her strong doses of whiskey to knock her out for a few hours while you made the trip up and down the bridge. 

When awake and sober, Sevika was calm, almost cordial. She denied that she was in much pain, even apologized for taking up so much of your time and energy. She didn’t eat much, asked only for an occasional smoke to calm her nerves. It was when she was drunk, or half-awake, when the pain seemed to trigger a primal rage in her, when the pain made her dangerous. She would cry storms of tears that quickly turned into fury against whatever lay in her line of vision. She would throw whatever she could grab with her right arm, as if trying to prove the functionality of that remaining limb. She swore at you, accusing you of mutilating her on purpose. You did not fight, did not raise your voice. You kept heavy objects out of Sevika’s reach and were careful not to hurt her even when you were forced to immobilize Sevika for your own self-defense. 

It was when Sevika was asleep that tore at your heart. It was the helpless thin cries that rose from her lips, the cries for her mother, names of people you had never heard of who must have been close to Sevika once, long ago. When you changed the bandages, bathed the shoulder with pungent medicine to keep it from getting inflamed, Sevika looked so pitiful and small in her agony that your chest seized. 

You would not get attached. You would stay professional. Human sympathy, that was all it was, you told yourself. It was a hard thing, losing a limb. You have seen countless people die from it. Sevika was lucky to be alive, considering everything. That was it. Basic human sympathy. You knew nothing about Sevika. If anything, you knew enough about Sevika to know you would be glad when she was fully recovered and out of your hands. 

But still there were moments. You had seen her scared, you had seen her crying. Sevika knew this. Mostly it embarrassed her—all of it—and she was more than willing to pretend no such thing had ever happened. Other times, she seemed to give it all up. Abandon herself to her vulnerability. She would sit quietly and let you wash her hair. She would tell you about her dreams for the free nation of Zaun. 

You didn’t care for these airheaded political ideas. You thought there was enough to do on the ground without shooting for the stars. But you still loved, with a grudging and reluctant rapture, to listen to Sevika speak. She didn’t speak like a leader—her words were too short, her feelings too strong. But she spoke what was true to her, and you knew how rare it was to come across a person like that. 

~~~

Dusk was falling. You were lighting a cigarette for Sevika as she stood at the window, watching the light fall from the city rooftops. Standing so close to her, you had the urge to rest your head on Sevika’s right arm. She wore a tank top and from this angle she stood as tall and strong as a guardian angel of some sort, watching over the city and its million workings of fear and hope. The amputated shoulder was healing nicely. The burns on her skin had faded into thin veins of scarring, like cracks in the surface of a lovely broken marble statue. 

Sevika turned to you, and looked down at you through the cigarette smoke as if seeing you for the first time. You rearranged your features into indifferent serenity. Sevika had caught you off-guard; you had been watching the perfect curve of her nose, the ridges of her lips, her short lashes. Now you stood as guilty as a kid caught shoplifting. You waited for whatever Sevika was going to say, or do. You waited for something without expecting anything. You wanted nothing from Sevika. You wanted nothing and everything and then some. 

“Has…have you heard from Silco?” 

You looked up. Sevika had turned her gaze away. She was staring at the cigarette between her fingers, knocking the ash out the window. Funny, you thought suddenly, how her eyes seemed to change color between a matter of seconds. 

“I have,” you said. “He dropped by a week ago.” 

“A week?” Sevika echoed. She kept her eyes down. 

You thought of a soldier awaiting orders. Even if the order was for self-destruction, you realized Sevika would not hesitate to carry it out. Oh god, you thought. Oh god oh god oh god. 

“I waited to tell you. I didn’t want to upset you while you were still recovering.”

“Am I done for?” Sevika asked. Her voice was quiet. “Tell me. Was it a week's notice, or am I fired immediately?” 

You stared at her, unable to understand. Sevika looked at you. 

“He wanted to know when you could return to work,” you said. 

Then something changed in Sevika’s expression. She didn’t smile, nor did she scowl. A lightness came into her grey eyes, a hope, a lifting of a heavy weight that had been in her features all through the time she was with you. She took a long pull from the cigarette. Blew out the smoke in one long curl before speaking. 

“I’m ready tomorrow.” 

“What?”

“I would have gone back sooner,” Sevika explained, not quite to you, not quite to herself, “if I knew he wanted me back.” 

“You’re not serious,” you said. “You’re not serious, are you? You’re not actually going back?” 

“Not like this, I’m not,” Sevika said. “I need a new arm. Something better. Make up for the one I lost.” 

“Sevika, he’s the reason you nearly fucking died.” 

“I was doing my job.” The grey eyes cut you like a blade. “You don’t understand.” 

She was right. You did not understand. You did not understand the long nights sitting by Sevika’s side, pinching yourself awake, watching like a hawk for a trace of fever, a hint of infection. You did not understand the bouts of violent grief in which you held Sevika and listened to her tears until you yourself began to weep. You did not understand the hours of shifting daylight, changing bandages and lifting from stores in Piltover and running from enforcers and brewing calming potions and doing everything you could to keep Sevika from destroying herself. You did not understand anything but the empty sense of loss, a dislodgement in your world. You did not understand how you had been so blind. In the past weeks, Sevika has been everything to you. 

“You did so much for me,” Sevika said, and her words clouded into one another so that she already sounded as if she spoke from a great distance. “I won’t forget you.” 

You will, you thought. You already are.

~~~

You were sleeping when Sevika left. It was in the early hours of morning, and everything was ready. You had given the name and address of a well known mechanic in the undercity. You couldn’t be sure if Smeech was still in business, but Sevika had said it was good enough for her. Then there was nothing left to do. An awkward pause had settled. You muttered something about letting her get enough rest for tomorrow. Told her not to forget to take the medicine you packed for her to help the phantom pains. Then you went to your own room, shut the door, and sat without moving or making a sound until it got dark. 

You could hear your door open, and you could see through one half-opened eye that Sevika stood in the doorway. You did not get up. You feigned sleep, keeping your breaths even. You saw Sevika’s hesitation, you saw it in the uncertain way she stood. You watched Sevika raise her right hand and touch the door frame, as tenderly as if it was alive. Then she went away. You listened to her receding footsteps until a door somewhere closed and you knew for certain that Sevika had gone.

~~~

additional a/n: if you made it this far... um... pls accept my sincerest apologies🙏 ik i used the same title as my other sevika angst fic, that song breaks my heart every time i hear it. i don't know why i do this to myself. i am in tears.

[kaxserlvr]

Toxicbf!kaiser who always puts soccer above you. He doesn’t think twice cancelling dates for training or matches if it would mean becoming the best.“You should’ve known what you were getting into”

Toxicbf!kaiser who avoids serious discussions. He hates emotional confrontations, can’t handle them and will dodge it or dismiss it completely. “We’re doing fine, why ruin the atmosphere?”

Toxicbf!Kaiser whose ego is his biggest flaw. He will constantly prioritise himself and make you an afterthought not an equal completely disregarding your feelings . May even seem like he’s looking down on you. “You should feel lucky you’re with me”

Toxicbf!kaiser who doesn’t apologise. Even when he knows he’s in the wrong(which is rare lol) he’d prefer to straight up ignore it or buy expensive gifts in hopes you’ll forget. He hates the feeling of being vulnerable.

Toxicbf!Kaiser when you start to pull away from him will act like it doesn’t bother him(it does). He thinks you’re just trying to get a reaction from him, he’d call it “cute” He fully thinks you’ll come back(until you dont)

Toxicbf!Kaiser who feels something disgusting stir in him when he sees you talking to someone with a smile you no longer show him. He suddenly has a strong urge to be near you to show you’re his glaring at the person.” Are they bothering you,hm?”

Toxicbf!kaiser who starts to panic when he realises you’re genuinely getting tired of him. He’ll try to act like it doesn’t bother him but starts to notice how you don’t wait up for him at night, you dont try to start small chats, you no longer look at him,you no longer send him cute messages on how he’s doing. He’s starting to sound desperate.”Talk to me” “where are you?”

Toxicbf!kaiser who uses anger as a defence. He’ll try to blame you for his issues since it’s hard for him to take the fault. Truth is beneath all the anger is fear-fear of losing the one person that makes him feel something. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna give up on me?”

Toxicbf!kaiser who finally breaks and apologies. Seeing you slip away for good causes him to drop the act. No more looking down,no more games. He looks desperate and his usual cocky voice is replaced by something quieter “I’ve never done this…I- I don’t know how to be…I don’t want to loose you..” hed swallow his pride and admit he’s wrong if it means not losing you “I know I messed up and should’ve treated you better..I’m sorry”

Toxicbf!Kaiser who’d give you space but still be available. Texting you so he can remember you’re still here “have you eaten?” “What did you do today?”

If you choose to leave him for good …he’d take it hard and he wouldn’t be the same. Hed spend most of his time on soccer to try forget everything and his emptiness. It does pay off as he improves even more and becoming the best of the best but when he scores the winning goal and everyone cheers for him he instinctively looks for you in the crowd-to see your not there-he realises how bad he lost

But if you choose to give him a chance…you can see he’s nervous he will mess up again by the way he fidgets more around you. You two would have a talk and Kaiser would open up about his fears and insecurities he’s had and hed promise to work on himself and you promise to help communicate more so you guys can grow from this for the future.

[nobodysnowhere]

Studying in Ramshackle (or trying to)

A How-To Guide, to driving your reasonable friends crazy with your constant chaos

Summary: After finally convincing your friends to form a study group, you meet up at Ramshackle, to do as study groups do… Cause an unimaginable amount of mischief, shenanigans, and maybe do something productive on the side.

Cast: First years, gn reader

Notes: Studying hits hard, Procrastination hits harder. This can be read as a continuation of Time sensitive cram session, but it does have to be

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

Ramshackle Lounge was surprisingly quiet for once, considering how many people were currently there. The only thing you can hear is the scratching of pens on paper, the ticking of the grandfather clock, and surprisingly quiet circuitry, that’s letting Ortho function as he does.

That quiet thought is interrupted too soon as Ace lets out a frustrated groan and drops his head on top of his work material.

“That’s it. I give up. For how long do you guys think Riddle will collar me when I inevitably fail?” he says, letting his frustration seep into his voice.

“We barely started studying though?” you look at the clock, it has barely even been an hour. “Don’t forget we still have to read through the books both Riddle and Vil left for us to review.”

“That’s why I started with those, this way I can prove that I studied.” Epel adds as he lifts the book he’s currently taking notes on.

“Can’t we at least take a little break? It’s not like it’ll set us back by much.” Ace continues to complain, while simultaneously slumping deeper onto the desk.

At this Grim decides to join the conversation in agreement with Ace, as he too slumps over his notes.

Deuce seems to agree with the duo

“If all you INDOLENT FOOLS can do is complain feel free to leave, but let the rest of us study in peace.” Sebek loudly announces. Making you all flinch at his sudden addition to the discussion.

“How about we leave it up to a vote then?” you offer, hoping to keep some semblance of peace before this ends in a screaming match, or worse a battle within the Lounge.

Sebek looks like he wants to complain, but before he can Ortho buts in and adds his two cents. “Research proves that taking purposeful breaks every once in a while increases your energy, productivity, and your ability to focus.”

You all look expectantly at Sebek. He takes a moment to think about it before he stiffly nods. „Fine. We‘ll vote on it.“

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

In the end everyone but Sebek voted for the brake.

Sebek stares at Jack in quiet disbelief. „Out of everyone here, I would have expected you to agree with me. They won’t get any studying done if all they do is laze around.“

Jack nods in agreement. „That is true but the way they are now they wouldn’t get anything done either. It is important to acknowledge the usefulness of brakes in moderation.“

A little miffed Sebek finally concedes and puts his pen to rest.

As if coming back alive, Ace practically jumps out of his seat and closes his book with a little too much force, startling you so much that you end up falling off your chair.

„Dude, a warning would have been nice.“ you complain, as you pull yourself back up, by the edge of the desk.

As you sit back down in your chair you look at Ace waiting on him to apologize.

Quite frankly, you should have known better than to expect him to apologize, because as soon as you look at him burst out into laughter, but not only him. No, no. That would have been easier to cope with. Instead, almost everyone looks about ready to join him.

So of course like the mature person you are, you take the high road…

Of also making Ace fall off his chair.

As he falls he tries to grab at anything to catch his fall with, sadly for him, everything seems just a smidgen out of reach so he ends up looking like an idiot, flailing around with his arms for no apparent reason.

Ace lands on the floor with a thud, that seems to open the floodgates to everyone starting to snicker at his misery.

„What was that for? Just because you’re clumsy doesn’t mean you need to punish me for it.“ Ace yelps in pain as he rubs his side to soothe the ache.

„What was what for? I didn’t do anything.“ you answer innocently. Raising your arms in faux surrender, while holding back a smug grin.

Ace looks around for support.

Grim is full-on laughing at Ace, dibbling over because of how much he is, even pointing at him as while continues to laugh his heart out.

Deuce at least covers his chuckling with a hand over his mouth. He shakes his head, denying having seen you pushing Ace off his chair.

Epel doesn’t seem to be fairing any better. Grinning at his quick downfall. „Don’t look at me. I didn’t see anyone do anything.“

“They literally pushed me! How could none of you have seen it?!” Ace throws his arms up in exasperation.

„I have to agree with Epel on this one.“ you hear Ortho chirp up. He, not unlike Grim, isn’t trying to hide his laughter, though he isn’t as extreme as the little Monsters.

With utter disbelief Ace looks towards where both Jack and Sebek are sitting, giving them a pleading glance.

Jack shakes his head, he‘s a lot better at hiding his expression in comparison to the others, but you can clearly see that he too finds this amusing. „I wasn’t paying attention.“ is all he has to say.

Sebek tsks once, rolling his eyes before looking away from Ace. „I‘m not involving myself in this senseless squabble between humans.“, he says as if he isn’t holding back a small smirk himself.

„I hate all of you.“ Ace says before pulling himself back onto his chair.

“Apparently not enough to stop hanging out with us.” is all you have to reply with before the group descends into mindless chatter.

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

You nod your head, growing more tired by the minute, halfheartedly listening to Sebek ramble, as he continues going on a tangent about how amazing Fae are and how great Malleus is.

Ace pokes you with his elbow to get your attention. You lean closer to him to let him whisper into your ear.

“For how long exactly has he been going on for now? Doesn’t he ever get tired?”

You take a quick glance at Sebek who is still very much in his own world of admiration for his young master. “I don’t think he minds all that much.” you reply in the same way.

You continue listening to Sebek fanboy about his young master until you’re hit with a sudden burst of inspiration. “I think I have a fun Idea. Should I do it?” you ask Ace.

He nods at you. “Anything to get him to stop talking about how amazing his young master is for even a couple of minutes.”

You smirk at him. Not elaborating on what you’re trying to say.

Before he could stop you, you right yourself back up again and interrupt Sebeks’ never-ending speech.

“Did you guys know that most of the third years have a fan club? It’s quite entertaining to watch when they inevitably start fighting each other.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Sebek looks at you confused and insulted that you would interrupt him for no apparent reason.

“Oh, I’ve heard of that. Weren’t a bunch of them sent to detention because a fight broke out in the courtyard?” Deuce joins in. Tilting his head as he tries to remember what started the fight.

“They were fighting about which Housewarden was the best Leader. It got heated pretty quickly.” Epel helpfully points out.

“I’m surprised none of you three were involved.” Grim points at Jack, Sebek, and Epel.

“Pah, as if I would waste my time on such flimsy squabbles. At that time I was training with Silver. So I had no time to join.” he loudly proclaims.

Jack shrugs his shoulders. “I know who I think is the best leader, so I don’t care what other’s opinions are.”

Epel scoffs at the insinuation. “You wouldn’t catch me participating in something like that. I respect Vil but I know he can fight his own battles.”

“I wasn’t referring to Vil but if you say so.” Grim says as he shakes his head at the boy.

He seemingly starts thinking about something before he excitedly looks at you. “Do you think the great Grim has his own fan club?”

You think for a bit. Considering the different outcomes you could cause depending on what you say. After thoroughly considering your options you nod.

“Yeah. I don’t see why you wouldn’t have one.” you smile at him. You for one think that you and the Ghosts of Ramshackle count as a great fanclub.

Deuce looks at you a little befuddled, before disregarding your weird statement as you not wanting to hurt Grims' feelings. “Whose club do you think is the largest?

“It’s obviously my young masters.” Sebek proudly declares.

The table lets out a collective sigh of exasperation. Some things will never change you guess.

“Actually, it’s my brother.” Ortho says while shaking his head at Sebek.

“WHAT?! How?” the entire table erupts in shock. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“His fan club has a great online presence. It’s the best way to measure the size of something like this. My brother’s fans for one don’t like face-to-face confrontations.” he argues.

You nod your head in agreement. It does make sense. You’ve seen some of the threads Idia fans posted to defend him against some uneducated people.

“Shouldn’t it be Vil then? He’s the only one really famous outside of NRC.” Grim says. Unknowingly starting a fandom war inside Ramshackles Lounge.

Weren’t you guys supposed to be studying?

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

Somehow the fighting stopped and you were able to continue studying. You pass Deuce some notes for the history of magic before he thanks you for them.

“Seriously. I’m so glad we can exchange study guides without needing to owe someone any slimy favors.” Deuce shudders at the memory, Ace and Grim following suit.

“Nobody forced you three into signing a one-sided contract with Azul of all people.” Jack interjects, voicing his disapproval of their reckless action.

“Well, it’s not our fault this place is filled with scammers.” Grim replied, miffed at being reminded of that tortures week.

“Wait don’t tell me you guys actually fell for that.” Epel joins, bewildered at how they could fall for something like that. “I remember Vil cryptically warning us about that. When I first heard about it I almost immediately figured out that it was a scam.”

“Well not everyone is that lucky.” Ace snips back. Annoyed about that coming back to bite him.

“Does that mean you three were running around doing the legwork for Azul for an entire week? Ohh how I wish I could have seen that.” Ortho chuckles at the thought.

“Did you also have those sea anemones on top of your head?” he adds.

“Oh, my seven please tell me you took a picture of them like that.” Epel excitedly asks you.

You chuckle as you pull out the Ghost camera. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

But before you could show him you were quickly tackled by a very frantic trio.

Grim hopped onto your lap taking the camera out of your hands, Ace stopped you from going after the Beast as he went to Deuce to delete any and all of the incriminating photos.

“Hey. Give that back.” “In one second. Once everything’s been cleaned out.”

While the trio is so focused on keeping you from reaching your camera, Jack shows the rest a picture he took on his phone.

The three on the other side of the table start laughing, which gets the trio’s attention.

They slowly look over to them. “What are you guys laughing at?” one of them asks while slowly walking towards the other side of the table.

“Oh, nothing really. Just some funny sea jokes.” One of them replies while the group of them walks in the other direction.

They all start to circle the desk before suddenly starting a sprint out of the lounge, closely followed by the trio.

Your camera lies abandoned on the ground. You pick it up again. They did indeed delete the pictures of themselves with the sea anemones, luckily for you and unlucky for them, you have your favorites backed up on your phone.

You look outside where the guys are chasing after each other. “So much to piling through with studying.”

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

The results of the midterms were finally announced. Somehow. By the grace of the grate Seven. You all passed.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim celebrate their barely passing scores.

You watch on as your friends one by one get pulled into the celebrations. Regardless of how enthusiastic they were about joining you for studying, it’s clear that they all enjoyed spending that time together.

[jaysbaefie]

noona | sjy

synopsis: in which your little brothers best friend can’t keep his feelings and true intentions a secret anymore.

genre: brothers best friend to lovers? (not really lovers)

pairing: little brothers best friend! jake x older afab reader

warnings: non-con/dub-con, reader is sunghoons older sister, perv! jake, older!reader, age gap of 4 years, panty theif! jake, jake corners reader, tit fondling, nipple play, grinding, slight gagging?, hair pulling, oral (f. rec), fingering, kind of face fucking?

wc: 2.2k+

a/n: shorter fic i got to lazy to come up with a longer plot. hope you enjoy <33 if you have suggestions for fic ideas you can drop them in the comments or anonymously in my inbox !

──── ୨୧ ────

the longing stares and lingering touches didn't go unnoticed by you, but you didn't have the heart to tell your baby brother. i mean what would you tell him? that his best friend, to simply put it, was a perv?

you noticed how he'd make sure to brush himself up against you everytime he walked past you. how his touch would linger everytime you'd pass him something, or how his grip was firm around your waist when you gave a friendly hug—stroking your sides in an almost sexual manner.

on multiple occasions you saw him peer down your shirt, his tongue jutting out of his mouth to wet his lips before smirking at you. god forbid you wore shorts or a skirt around him, his eyes were glued to the soft plush of your thighs.

you didn't want to ruin their friendship, so you kept your mouth shut.

jake and sunghoon had been friends since elementary school, the two of them were inseparable growing up—and you had started seeing jake as another sunghoon.

you treated them alike, making sure the both of them were fed when they were at home, helping with assignments, giving them advice and being a shoulder for them to cry on.

it never crossed your mind that maybe jake didn't reciprocate that feeling of platonic love back until recently.

"jake!" you exclaimed, your eyes widening at the sight in front of you. jake was in the laundry room, holding a pair of your baby pink panties to his nose. your face grew hot at the scene, to your surprise, instead of apologizing and running away—he smirks.

"noona, i was just looking for you," he says calmly, bringing his hand down to stuff your panties into his pocket. you stare at him incredulously, your eyes dropping to the pocket where your intimate belonging was now hidden.

"noona! don't be a perv, you're staring!" he gasps mockingly, covering his bulge as if you were staring there. you were not staring at his bulge, well you were, but not on purpose.

"w-what..no! i wasn't staring! you too-" you tried to explain yourself but jake took matters into his own hands before the commotion caught sunghoons attention. 

he moves forward, covering your mouth with his hand as he gives you a smug look, "keep it down, noona. you don't want sunghoon to come down here? do you?"

taking advantage of your submissive state, jake lets his hand wonder to your ass—giving it a light squeeze. you gasp behind his hand, shocked at his bold actions.

you shake your head, mumbling a soft 'no' against his hand. he smirks at your obedience, "good girl," he almost purrs, enjoying how close he was to you. he could smell the soft scent of lavender wafting off of you, the same scent he has gotten so accustomed to over the years.

your eyes wide and your cheeks flush at the praise, avoiding eye contact as you were at loss for words. jake grins, "c'mon noona, sunghoon's probably waiting for us upstairs," and with that he's dragging you out of the laundry room with your panties still stuffed into his pocket.

──── ୨୧ ────

after you caught him in the laundry room, jake only got bolder.

"m-mgh, jake n-no," you whine when you feel him pinch your nipples through your shirt. his breath was warm against your ear, his pants coming out in a ragged manner as he grinds into your lower back.

"don't worry, noona. sunghoon won't be home for another hour, we won't be caught," he murmurs, kissing your temple as he continues to fondle and pinch your breasts. 

you had gotten off work and headed straight home to prepare dinner. you're parents had been on a work trip for the last week which meant you were in charge of feeding both yourself and sunghoon. you were cutting up some vegetables when you heard the door open, sunghoon wasn't supposed to be home for another hour.

"sunghoon?" you yell, as you peeled an onion—not bothering to look behind you. "are you home already? i just started making dinner so you're going to have to w-" "hi noona," a voice purrs right by your ear making you flinch—dropping the knife.

you try to turn around but a body pins you against the counter, a pair of familiar hands making there way around your waist.

jake.

"jake," you began carefully, "what are you doing here? sunghoon isn't home yet."

it wasn't unusual for jake to show up unannounced, he was practically family and he would be at your home instead of his own over half of the time.

he had shown up to your home when sunghoon wasn't home before too, but that was before you had noticed his change in behaviour.

"i know, that's why i came, noona," his grip on your waist tightening momentarily as he plants his nose in the crook of your neck. you stifle a moan when you feel his tongue lick up the side of your neck up to your jaw.

"j-jake, this is wrong you need to stop," you began, trying to push his wandering hands off of you. "why is it wrong, noona?", his actions becoming more bold as his hands cup the underside of your tits making you let out a small squeal. you try to elbow him but he wraps one of his arms around your frame, leaving you helpless as his other hand continues his assault.

you don't respond, to caught up in trying to wiggle free of his grasp. "tell me noona, why is it wrong?" he asks again, this time in a firmer tone before he bites down in the junction between your neck and shoulder—a squeal leaving your mouth.

"b-because, i'm older than you," you managed to get out, holding in the moans trying to leave you when jake squeezes your breast particularly hard.

jake scoffs, "so? 4 years isn't anything, noona," he brushes off. "how about you try again, i know the age gap isn't what's bothering you."

"you're my little b-brothers best friend, jake. i've treated you like a brother my whole life," you stammer, his actions getting slightly more aggressive when you refer to him as your brother.

"well i haven't treated you like a sister, so it doesn't matter," he mutters harshly before he's yanking down the neckline of your top along with your bra so one of your tits pop out. you gasp at his actions, trying to shimmy yourself out of his grasp only to feel something thick poke against your lower back.

"ngh, don't move like that again, noona. unless you want me to bend you over and  fuck your cunt raw," he groans, moving his hips into your butt as you try to stop yourself from moving. you whine at his dirty words, which only eggs jake on.

bringing two of his fingers up to your mouth, he makes you open up. he forces his fingers past your plush lips and down your throat, making you gag. "shit, look at that. you take my fingers so well down your pretty throat," he grins, pulling them out before he brings them down to your tits—rubbing his saliva coated fingers on your sensitive nipples.

you writhe against him, "j-jake," you moan, feeling his dick twitch against your back when you say his name.

"you sound so pretty when you say my name, noona," he groans before pulling your other tit out of your bra, letting go of your arms so he could use both hands to squish and twist.

before you could protest with your new freedom, he turns you around so your face to face with him. you've never seen jake look so needy in your life, pupils dilated and his skin glossy as he stares down at you and your tits with pure need.

he bends his head down to capture one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting as he plays with the other one. you run your hands through his hair, occasionally yanking at his dark locks—as he grins against you.

"noona," jake says, capturing your attention as you daze out from the feeling of red hot pleasure.

you hum mindlessly, still pulling away whenever his grip on you loosens for a second. instead of answering he smirks at you, dropping down to his knees before you. you gasp, trying to make a run for it but jake holds onto your legs firmly, his fingers digging into your thighs.

today was the wrong day to wear a skirt, jake grins before he's disappearing under the flowy material. "jake no!" you exclaim trying to wiggle out of his grip which now moved to your ass.

jake doesn't responded, to mesmerized by the view in front of him. he had dreamt of this moment for countless years and here he was—face to face with it. you were wearing a pair of white cotton panties, something only you could make look so sexy. you gasp when you feel jake flatten his tongue over your underwear clad clit.

he repeats the action a few more times before he's pulling the fabric down from you, your cunt displayed in front of him as he takes a moment to take all of you in.

he forces one of your legs over his shoulder so he could get better access, immediately attacking your cunt with his tongue.

loud moans leave your mouth as you grip onto the kitchen counter as support, your head tilting back against the cabinets. "j-jake this is so wrong."

paying your words no mind, jake continues, sucking on your sensitive bud harshly before putting his entire mouth on you to lick up and down your slit. you feel his finger poke at your entrance, whining when you feel two of his thick fingers stretch you out.

"fuck, noona," he groans against you, feeling your walls flutter against his digits as he fucks them in and out of you. jake moans at your taste, his dick straining against his pants painfully, but this was about you—not him.

he had fantasized about this moment thousands of time, wondering what you'd taste and feel like against his tongue and fingers—your stolen panties not providing him the same relief as this moment was.

he feels you tug at his hair as he licks at your clit harder, drawing a figure '8' on it repeatedly. your legs began to shake from pleasure, unconsciously bucking your hips against his face—smothering him.

jake was in heaven, the woman who he had a crush on for all of his life was fucking his face while he was knuckle deep in her cunt. jake hooks his fingers, moving them in a 'come here' motion inside you.

you squirm uncontrollably as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, ashamed that jake was the reason behind it.

jake could tell you were close, you were grinding against his face uncontrollably and your walls were tight against his fingers. "gonna cum, noona?" he says against your sopping cunt.

you whine in response, your grip on his hair tightening. "cum for me, let go for me, noona. cum all over my face," he groans and just like that you saw stars. your hips stuttered as jake helps you ride out your high, his fingers moving slowly in and out of you as he kisses your clit—almost as if he was making out with it. unfortunately, your high was short lived.

the click of the handle and the squeak of your front door breaks you out of your trance.

"noona, i'm home!" sunghoon yells, his footsteps nearing the kitchen. quickly, jake makes his way out of your skirt—helping you step out of your panties as you look at him dazed.

he takes the white material and stuffs it into his pocket, a keepsake. he pops his fingers into his mouth, smirking at you when you watch him in disbelief. he licks his lips to get your lingering taste before using his sleeve to wipe any remnants of your juice off of his mouth and chin.

jake smirks, putting his pointer finger to his lips—signalling for you to keep your mouth quiet about what had happened. you nod shakily, swallowing harshly as you fix your shirt and flatten out your hair.

"dinners being prepared," jake yells back as he quickly walks to one of the drawers to pull out an apron, he needed to cover his boner before his friend noticed.

sunghoon walks into the kitchen, confused to why he heard his friends voice from the kitchen. as he walks in he spots you chopping vegetables and jake pouring broth into a pot. "jake?"

jake turns around, giving his friend a smile before he goes to give him a hug. "what're you doing here?"

"i got into a fight with my parents, i thought you were home but it was just noona preparing dinner. so i stayed and helped her out. right, noona?", jake asks innocently.

you swallow, forcing a smile onto your face, "jake's a great helper."

"this fool is helping you cook? no way," sunghoon says in disbelief, setting his keys and wallet down onto the island table.

"what can i say, i've been told i'm good with my hands and i'm a great taste tester. isn't that right, noona?"

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[invaderzia1]

modern au Eddie Munson x Alt!Reader

the first time Eddie hears about metalheads not dating alternative girls, he thinks someone is lying to him.

no seriously, refuses to believe that guys like him aren’t also dating girls like you. because in his mind, there’s no other women to date when you listen and like the things he does, it goes hand in hand. so when he makes a joke about having to fight off other metalheads and you brush him off saying “I’m not really their type”, he fucking laughs. legit thinks you are being self conscious and tries to reassure you that you are a smoking hot babe and men would be groveling at your feet if he let them. except, you roll your eyes and say pretty confidently, “no really, I’m not their type.”

Eddie drops it, but it doesn’t really leave his brain, so the next time he practices with the band, he brings it up. he kinda expects them to also laugh it off, say you’ve gone crazy. instead, they get quiet and give him a look. awkwardly, they shoot each other a look, not wanting to be the one to respond first. unfortunately for Garreth, he’s the first to break the ice.

“Eddie, have you never noticed??” Garreth asks, a little taken aback that Eddie is now questioning this.

that night, Eddie spends most of his night ignoring homework and looking over all his favorite bands and who they date. and wouldn’t you know it, everyone else was right. he sees playboy bunnies and those same girls who never gave him the time of the day in high school cuddled up to his favorite bands.

from that point on, he starts to notice the other bands he’s played with on Instagram and their girlfriends. and 9 times outta ten, they are dating some girl who definitely doesn’t look like she listens to metal, and a quick look at her page confirms that everytime. he starts to feel like a crazy person going through all these profiles, lowkey stalking these pages.

so the next time he sees you, he basically beat hugs you and traps you in bed. can’t stop apologizing that metal heads are apparently stupid and you waited so long for your Prince Charming to come, which makes you laugh and cringe at his wording.

“its fine, us alternative girls aren’t completely ignored.” You joke, giving him a teasing smile.

“wait, what?” Eddie says, now seeing the first layer of the onion beginning to peel back before him.

“Blue collar boys go crazy for girls like me.”

and just like that, you opened up a can of worms. Eddie doesn’t have to worry about another metal head stealing his girl, but instead some nice mechanic stealing you or a carpenter flirting with you.

[ivanille]

Rafayel × Reader × Sylus | Navigating relationship. Fluff. Poly.

Rafayel doesn't know how he ended up forming a bond with a law abiding hunter and a fellow wanted criminal.

He was drunk, a couple of bottles of wine reducing him to a slurring, needy mess. He was draped all over [Name], who was cuddling him warmly, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she cradled his head. It was such a comfortable position that he almost fell asleep right there and then.

But fate had other tricks up it's sleeve, because just when he was about to doze off, he appeared.

One thing led to another and before he knew it, both he and Sylus were sandwiching [Name] in her bed, drifting closer to each other as much as possible.

He thought Sylus was going to get possessive, such was the nature of a dragon, never forgiving. He himself was a little jealous when he witnessed how he handled his starfish, with so much gentleness and longing... something that no matter how much her tried, he would never do.

Maybe it was wishful thinking talking, but he wondered how they knew each other so intimately. He wondered, and wondered and wondered, until after months of tiptoeing around each other, he found his answers.

Heartbreaking.

He wished he never asked, he wished the man before him, who was always so imposing and frustratingly annoying, to stop looking as if the world has burned him out.

He wished [Name] would never remember what she had to go through. He wished her kind heart would remain untainted, and so he shouldered that secret for her, knowing that her soul will always remember despite the lack of memories.

He could see it with they way she clung to Sylus every time she said goodbye, with the way her gaze lingered on him with desperation at the most random of times.

He saw it every time she showered himself with affection, so much so, every single day, as if she was regretting not doing so earlier.

Yes, the soul remembers.

"Come here," he told the taller man one night at his house, lounging at the couch with [Name] sprawled over his chest.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a teasing tilt already forming on his lips. "Oh? What is this? You want me to join you in your nightly adventures, fishy?"

Rafayel actually scoffed out a genuine laugh, shaking his head, beckoning him over with a bend of his fingers. "We both felt a little lonely earlier."

There, he'd done it. Sylus crimson eyes flickered, and he looked like he couldn't move for a second. His gaze went from him to her and back again, until his shoulders dropped in relief.

"My apologies," he chuckled, shedding his leather jacket and his boots, leaving him with his usual black t-shirt. "I hope my absence wasn't that difficult for you two to deal with."

"Hmm... it was," [Name] mumbled as she snuggled closer to Rafayel's chest, cracking an eye open when she felt the cushion dipping. She watched with soft eyes as Sylus laid his head on Rafayel's stomach, right besides hers. She gave him a small smile when he turned to face her, and she couldn't help herself when she placed a adoring kiss on his lips.

"Welcome home, Sy."

Rafayel hummed, his hand launching on those soft silver traces, his other hand preoccupied with rubbing circles comfortably on her back. "Welcome back, handsome."

Sylus looked at them with unusual gentle eyes, before he closed them, leaning his forehead into hers, indulging in the sensation of the lemurian's touch. "Mm, right there..." he sighed, wrapping an arm around [Name], hugging Rafayel too by default.

It will take some time to get used to that, Rafayel thought with fondness, his own eyes closing, and the murmur of the tv lulling him to sleep warmly between his partners.

[tashism]

hiiiiiiiiiiii surprise but not really massive (tashi heavy) bot drop as an apology for being kinda m.i.a :3 okay ily baby angels!!!!!

tashi bots ⋆˙⟡ᝰ

⋮ ⌗ ┆her best pet (re-release)

genre 𓂃 divorcee!tashi, 2019!tashi, sugar mommy!tashi

“ you’re obsessed with her, but who isn’t? you’re just lucky enough to be able to show it, to be the kiss ass you were destined to be when you met her. luckily for you, tashi loves it. her praise makes you the happiest little thing in the world, her criticism sends you spiraling. you’re like an experiment — just how dependent can she get you? ”

⋮ ⌗ ┆new wave

genre 𓂃 mermaid!tashi

“ it’s too lonely down there for her, coming up surface is the only solace she kind find — you’re the only solace that she can find. she’ll do anything to keep you there, right on the shore with her. she’s starting to wonder if she’d do anything to get you into the water, to keep you in the water. ”

⋮ ⌗ ┆change of plans

genre 𓂃 divorcee!tashi, 2019!tashi, older gf!tashi

“ she swore she’d sooner go in the front lines than get back into a relationship. she doesn’t need it, lily doesn’t need it, no one needs it. she knew she’d be able to ignore any guy that came her way — she was practically ignoring her own husband for months. you, however, she wasn’t prepared to meet, let alone ignore. all she can do is pray for something to let up, something to take you away before she loses herself in you. ”

⋮ ⌗ ┆tin can

genre 𓂃 trailer park!tashi, washed up!tashi

“ she’s nothing short of disgusted for herself, even if the injury wasn’t her fault. what she’s disgusted by is her lack of determination, her recklessness, her life. dive bars aren’t where d1 athletes come unless they’re washed up, and tashi’s too tired to keep trying on the court — darts seem more her speed, anyway. ”

⋮ ⌗ ┆ honors student

genre 𓂃 2019!tashi, professor!tashi

“ she makes you feel like prey, she makes everyone feel like prey. sometimes you wonder if all her scowling and annoyance is some sort of sadistic game, but you’re too scared to even think about it. you’ve dedicated the last two months to kissing her ass, and you’re just praying it finally pays off this one time. ”

art bots ⋆˙⟡ᝰ

⋮ ⌗ ┆crown jewel

genre 𓂃 prince!art

" the last thing he wants is to be married off. it's the bane of every young royals existence, and it's far worse when one has already fallen in love. that's why art refuses to, refuses to let himself even look at a girl for too long. but you — god, you — he's starting to think he'll never be able to look away. "

⋮ ⌗ ┆peer tutor

genre 𓂃 nerd!art, stanford!art

" he really wants out of the friend zone. actually, he wants out of the sit-behind-you-and-wonder-how-your-hair-smells zone, and into the friend zone. god forbid he went about that the normal way. he doesn't know where to start with you, but he does know you're shit at science and he's great at it. all he can do is pray he can 10 things i hate about you this whole tutor session, even if biology isn't as romantic as french. "

⋮ ⌗ ┆velcro dog

genre 𓂃 intern!art, puppy!art

" he was hoping to hate this internship. he wanted to get in and out, all while saving enough money to help keep his grandma in the home she's in. he's sweet, too sweet. you want to eat him alive, in all honesty, and art is fearfully intrigued by that. so much so that he won't leave your side, let alone let his eyes leave your pretty face. patrick would kill him for trying to stay at the firm for good, but you're starting to drown out any voice of reason in his life. "

patrick bots ⋆˙⟡ᝰ

⋮ ⌗ ┆one on one

genre 𓂃 washed up!patrick, coach!patrick, 2019!patrick

" if he played mean, he'd coach mean. he almost feels bad for the people who funnel money into his account, all for them to run suicides and get screamed at by some random in a scruffy beard. so what if he didn't make it in the big leagues? he's determined to make it in some capacity, and you're more than willing to be his trojan horse. "

⋮ ⌗ ┆happy hour

genre 𓂃 washed up!patrick, bartender!patrick

" patrick never learned his lesson from all the girls who slapped him across the face for being a dick — he'll never learn any lesson until he fucks around to find out. as much as he bugs you, he knows you'd never tell him off, not at work, but that's getting boring. he's becoming more and more determined to get on your every last nerve, and you're starting to think he just might. "

⋮ ⌗ ┆the estate

genre 𓂃 2006!patrick, saltburn au

" he's almost too easy to use. it's funny, really, the way he thinks he can outsmart almost anyone. as irritating as that can be, you'd never say anything about it, you'd never screw yourself over — that's his thing. for some reason between self sabotage and intrigue, he invited you to the zweig estate for the summer. it's rude to turn down such hospitality, no? "

[puck-luck]

baby boy hughes (1) | beaquinn

saturday, july 13, 2024 12:17 A.M.

“If you had a baby right now, what would you name it?” Bea asks.

Quinn snuffles out a little laugh. “‘It,’” he repeats. He blinks his eyes open, looking at Bea the way he does only in bed together, late at night or early in the morning. It’s the most special look ever and no one has seen it– not Honey, not Quinn’s brothers, not anyone. Bea kind of wants to shout out from the rooftops that Quinn likes to look at her like she’s an angel, but it sounds crazy and she doesn’t really want to share it. She wants his fond little regard to stay special.

“Sorry,” Bea apologizes. “Not ‘it.’”

Quinn smiles. “It’s okay, baby. I know what you meant. I’m just teasing.”

Bea pats his chest and he catches her hand, holding her wrist so her palm is pressed against his skin, fingers splayed over his heart. 

“If I had a baby boy right now, I’d name him after Luke,” Quinn says. “We have a system– I name my son after Luke, Luke names his after Jack, and Jack names his after me. Then the other brother will be the godfather. So Jack would be the godfather of my son, and I would be the godfather for Luke’s, and Luke would be Jack’s son’s godfather.”

“Sounds like you guys have thought this out,” Bea says. 

“We had to,” Quinn says. “I want to name my son after my brothers, but if Jack was my son’s middle name, Jack would throw a tantrum. He always wants to be the number one pick. Going first in the draft really sent his ego through the roof.”

“But you would rather use Luke as a first name,” Bea says.

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees. “Luke is really special to me. I love them both, but Luke looks up to me a lot and always has. Sometimes I feel like I can’t fulfill his expectations of me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t treat him as well as I should. Ever since I was a kid, I was trying to be the best role model for Luke. He was like my first kid, in a way. He wanted to be just like me, the same way I wanted to be just like Dad.”

saturday, march 1, 2031 10:42 P.M.

“Is he here yet?” Quinn asks frantically, dropping the two duffelbags in his hands on the chair in the corner of the hospital room. “Did I miss it?”

“Do you see a baby in this room?” Bea snaps. “Seventeen hours later and this gremlin won’t get out of me.” She directs her cutting tone towards her stomach. “Get out! Get out!” 

“Sweet Bea, don’t yell at the baby,” Quinn chides softly, grabbing the water from Bea’s bedside table and bringing the straw to her lips. “You don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”

Bea takes a sip of the water, then raises her hands to tuck a few strands of hair back into her braided pigtails. “I am going to lord this behavior over my child’s head for as long as I want,” Bea replies, tone grave. “He is taking his time, so much so that I have not eaten in twelve hours, because that’s how long I’ve been in active labor. Our doctor said that he would probably be here around seven and you managed to play an entire hockey game in the time since seven.” She tilts her head towards Quinn’s and glares menacingly. “I want him out.”

Quinn leans forward and plants a kiss on her lips. “I can’t take him out for you, babe. He’ll come when he comes. Do you want to try walking around a bit, see if you can loosen up?”

Bea narrows her eyes. “Conveniently, I already did that. I spent the entire second intermission and third period pacing around this room and all I got out of it was one lousy centimeter.”

“Okay, Crab-Bea,” Quinn says with a chuckle. His use of the nickname is warranted. Bea is being crabby. Seventeen hours of labor will do that to you. “Do you want some good news?”

“I’m dying for some.”

“Jack and Luke got special permission to fly out a day early and Mom and Dad are already on the way too,” Quinn says, kissing Bea’s cheek. “So you get to see Luke’s reaction in person.”

“If the baby even comes by then,” Bea grumbles. “You never know, he might still be in there by the time the ‘Hughes Bowl’ is over.” Her voice adopts a mocking tone when she quotes the media-given name to the Canucks/Devils game, eyes rolling. She really loves the Hughes Bowl, but not when there’s a baby stubbornly camping out in her uterus.

“He’ll be here by then,” Quinn assures her. “I bet he’ll be here by midnight. Now, scoot forward. Let me give you a back massage. It’s the least I can do.”

Bea scoots forward as best she can, providing Quinn enough room to climb onto the bed and situate Bea between his thighs. “The least you can do is right,” Bea agrees. “It’s your fault we’re in this mess.”

Quinn laughs. His hands fit over Bea’s shoulders and his thumbs dig into the tense space at the top of her spine. He massages the area and Bea feels herself relax immediately. The skin on her neck rises when Quinn fits his lips next to her earlobe and reminds her, “You were there too. I seem to remember you begging for your husband to fill you up.”

sunday, march 2, 2031 2:15 P.M.

A knock sounds at the door. Quinn peeks his head in the room, finding Bea on the bed with their little boy on her chest. “Are you ready for some guests?” he asks, grinning at Bea. 

She’s in a much better mood than she was last night, having finally birthed their first child and gotten some food  in her system. Little Luke is fed, changed, and is having a nap on her chest. One of his hands is balled up in the spaghetti strap of Bea’s tank top, holding her close. He’s been cuddling with Bea for over an hour and a half now, so he should be waking up any minute. Bea nods, biting her bottom lip and beaming at Quinn, trying not to jostle the baby too much.

Quinn retreats from the doorway and pushes the door open, letting his family walk in ahead of him. Ellen is first, eyes already teary, and she presses a hand to her mouth when she sees Bea with the baby on her chest. The hormones catch up with Bea and she tears up too, her lower lip pouting slightly even as she smiles.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ellen murmurs, coming to Bea’s bedside and touching her hairline daintily, brushing a kiss on her forehead. “You did it.”

Not for the first time in this whole process, Bea wishes her mom was here. Her entire family is trying to plan a trip out to Vancouver over the next few months, staggering their arrivals so that Bea always has someone helping her with the baby until Quinn’s season ends, but she would love it if her mom was able to be here right now. They’d called the McLeans earlier to introduce little Luke to his Mimi and Poppop, but it wasn’t the same. Having Ellen’s presence isn’t the same either, but it’s just as comforting– Bea has always been accepted as one of the Hugheses, even before she and Quinn were officially together.

“It took him long enough,” Bea jokes, both laughing and welling up further at the same time. God, the post-partum rollercoaster of emotions is no joke. “It was eighteen hours of labor before I reached ten centimeters.”

“The first one is always the hardest,” Ellen tells Bea, cradling her face in both hands and kissing her forehead again before her attention turns to the tiny little human nestled against Bea’s skin. Ellen’s smile softens and her head tilts. “Oh, Bea, he’s beautiful.”

“Do you want to hold him?” Bea asks, already bringing her hand to the back of little Luke’s head and gently changing his position so that she can hand him off. She has to pry his fingers off of her shirt, which unsettles the boy and makes him twitch, although he stays asleep. 

“You gotta wash your hands first,” Quinn interjects, tugging his mom away and guiding her towards the sink in the room. 

Jim claps Bea’s shoulder and squeezes. “Good job, Bea. We’re so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Jim,” Bea replies. She tilts Luke’s body so that Jim can look down at him. “I thought you’d walk in here with a stick or something.”

Jim lets out a little chuckle, speaking under his breath like he’s sharing a secret with Bea. “Between you and me, it’s in the back of the car. You’ve got the number one pick of the 2049 draft in your hands there.” He winks and heads to the chair in the corner of the room, making himself comfortable and lacing his hands over his stomach.

Jack sits at the foot of Bea’s bed. “I brought the little guy a present,” he says, holding up a small gift bag. “Go ahead and open it.” He balances the gift bag precariously on Bea’s knees, his eyes darting to Ellen as she comes back to Bea’s side and carefully takes the baby in her arms, cooing and shushing him gently as he reacts to the transition and lets out a short wail.

Bea reaches for the present and pulls at the wrapping inside. A tiny black beanie falls on her lap when she pulls the tissue from the bag and Bea has a feeling she’s going to start laughing as soon as she turns it over. Her eyes go to Quinn as she picks up the beanie and flips it in her palm. She looks down and finds the Devils logo branded on the cuff of the article and releases a honk of laughter. 

“We thought he could wear it to the game tomorrow,” Luke adds with a crooked grin, standing at the end of Bea’s bed and patting her shin over the covers. “Show his support for the winning team, right?”

Bea holds up the beanie for Quinn to see and continues giggling as his face morphs into an angry frown. “Absolutely not,” Quinn says. “He’s already got gear for the ‘winning team.’ Boes got him a Canucks onesie that looks like Fin.”

“Yeah, and I don’t know if we’re going to the game,” Bea says. “I’m probably going to have to stay home with him. He’s less than a day old, Jack.”

“What’s his name?” Jim asks, tapping at his phone. His reading glasses are balanced precariously on the tip of his nose. “I want to add his birthday to my calendar.”

Bea and Quinn share a look. Bea presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow quickly, signaling for Quinn to go ahead.

“His name is Luke,” Quinn reveals, his face glowing with pride. “Luke Charles Hughes.”

Bea almost starts crying again when Uncle Luke’s eyebrows knit together and he whips his head from Bea to Quinn, then back to Bea. He looks at the baby in his mother’s arms, then back to Quinn. “What?” he asks. “Are you serious?”

Ellen clicks her tongue, her face crumpling a bit at the reveal. She touches baby Luke’s face, then wipes her thumb beneath her eyes. 

“We had a deal,” Quinn says with a laugh. 

Luke takes about two strides across the room and crashes into his oldest brother, wrapping him in a hug. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it, are you kidding? He’s actually named Luke?” Luke releases Quinn and makes his way to Bea, his arms surrounding her tightly and robbing her of some of her breath.

“Yes, actually,” Bea says when he pulls away. “Luke, after you, and Charles, after Honey.”

“That’s awesome, guys,” Jack says. He pinches the soft spot under Bea’s knee between his thumb and forefinger. “Really. That’s so great.”

Luke touches Bea’s arm. “I can hold him, right?”

Bea laughs. “Yeah, bud, you can hold him,” she tells Luke. “He’s going to look so tiny when you do, I want a picture.”

Quinn pulls Luke to the sink before he can reach Ellen, who has stood and is now bouncing the baby slightly. When she turns to look out the window in the room, Bea can see baby Luke’s squinty eyes blinking open and peering out at the room around him, only the top half of his head visible since he’s mostly resting on Ellen’s shoulder and unable to hold his head up on his own, being only 14 hours old.

Luke is gentle when he takes his nephew and cradles him in his palms for the first time. “He’s so little,” Luke marvels. 

“Seven pounds, ten ounces,” Quinn brags. “21 inches tall.”

“We gotta get this guy bulking,” Jack jokes with a big grin, standing up and looking at the boy in Luke’s arms. He touches baby Luke’s little foot through the onesie, gently moving the appendage back and forth and whispering a quiet, “Hi, Little Lukey.”

Quinn grins next to his brothers, hand on Luke’s shoulder and smiling down at his first son. 

Bea’s careful to stay quiet as she reaches for her phone– so she doesn’t break the moment– and snaps a picture of the brothers together, all of their attentions rapt on the newest member of their family.

[rottenpumpkin13]

If Angeal, Sephiroth, Genesis, and Zack were to go attend to jury duty, would they go and how would they behave?

Sephiroth: He shows up, but only because Angeal was on his ass about "honoring his civic duty." Sephiroth does not want to be here. He sits down—after security rudely confiscated Masamune and three people darted out of his way. During voir dire, when asked if he can be impartial, he says "I have no personal connection to the defendant, nor do I possess any emotional investment in this case. I would like to leave at the earliest convenience."

Then the case details are revealed: child neglect. His eye twitches visibly, the temperature in the room drops 20 degrees. "You left your child alone for three days to attend a CHOCOBO RACING TOURNAMENT?" Has to be physically restrained from summoning Ifrit right there in the courtroom. Is escorted out.

Zack: He's actually kind of excited. "Jury duty? Cool! Feels like something adults do!" He shows up wearing a snazzy suit, looking sharp, and brings a giant coffee and a bag of snacks that crinkle way too loud. He also befriends everyone, ends up swapping stories with a grandma knitting beside him and shares his chips with a guy named Steve. When asked if he can remain impartial, Zack says: "Sure! Unless the dude looks really guilty. Kidding! Uh...unless I'm not supposed to kid? Wait, what's the right answer here?" Is later escorted out because the case details are revealed, he's indignant, and keeps screaming "objection!" like that's going to do anything.

Genesis: He arrives late, sunglasses on, scarf fashionably draped. "Apologies," he announces to no one in particular: "the muse struck at an inopportune hour." (he overslept). He sits, pulls out the novel he's currently reading, and ignores his surroundings. He starts quoting Act III, comparing the defendant's plight to the hero's tragic downfall.

The defendant, a rather handsome young man accused of theft, catches Genesis' dramatic hand gestures and poetic waxing, interpreting it as flirtation. He starts winking back, clearly thinking he's secured a sympathetic juror. Genesis notices and plays along. Unfortunately for the defendant, Genesis is the foreperson and lives for petty drama. He announces the guilty verdict, relishing in the defendant's shocked betrayal.

Angeal: He'd make a big show of honoring his civic duties and show up extra early to it. He's such a goody-goody that he never wears suits, but to jury duty he wears the finest pressed three piece, sits up front, hands folded, ready to judge. Angeal's already read the entire juror handbook twice, underlined key points, and added notes in the margins.

He then maintains direct eye contact with the defendant. The defendant squirms. And then the case details come out. Turns out the defendant stole from a charity for orphans. Angeal's entire demeanor hardens. Someone tries to suggest. "Well, we should consider—" Angeal slams his palm on the table and screams "GUILTY". The jurors jump. Pens scatter. Coffee spills. "Little kids went hungry while he—DON'T YOU LOOK AWAY FROM ME!" Angeal's climbing over the jury box now. Security arrives. Angeal doesn't fight—because he respects authority.

[daysoftheyears]

Heyy! I sent you a request of Hamzah wearing the black mesh mask and it can smut if you feel comfortable or it could be a heat up argument which ever makes u comfortable!

Thank you!

I LOVE YOU

This is a great request soo i decided to do an argument and smut in one! hope yall like it

TW: This story contains smut and arguing (p in v, kissing, fingering) It also contains descriptions of alcohol, proceed with caution.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your boyfriend Hamzah, invited you to a party that him and Martin would be wearing black mesh pantyhose masks. He didn’t really explain why but you figured it was for some sort of content. You were wearing a sexy mini dress with some heels. You were in the car with Hamzah, dancing in your seat to the music being played. You pulled up to the party and inside there was already drinking, smoking and people making out on couches. 

You split from Hamzah and Martin to go hangout with some friends you saw. Music blasting through the house you could feel the floor and walls shaking. Feeling a bit tipsy, you decided you needed some air you pushed through the crowd to go outside. You finally made it through and was about to go outside, and that's when you saw him. 

Hamzah was talking to another girl.

You were pissed. You normally don't get jealous like this, but the drinks you've had made you a different person. You walked straight up to Hamzah and pushed his shoulder slightly.  

“You can find someone else to ride home with! I'm calling an uber.” Your finger was in his face and he was confused as ever. He put your hand down and waved off his friend. 

“Babe, what's wrong?” Your hand is still in his down by your side as he talks to you. His voice is calm trying not to make a bigger scene than you already have. You scoff in his face and reply with,

“Don't act like you don’t know. Talking to other bitches huh?” He dropped his shoulders and rolled his eyes. 

“It's not even like that baby, she's just a friend, I promise.”

Hearing this you wanted to cry. I mean, you were his friend once and now you're his girlfriend. 

“Hamzah take me home.” He sighs and nods his head. You walk out to the car and Hamzah takes a minute to come out because of fans wanting a picture and him saying bye to Martin.

The drive home was silent. Tension bubbling. You were coming to your senses and wanted to apologize, but given the vibe you chose not to. Looking out the window you can feel Hamzah put his hand on your thigh. You smirk a little bit. 

“Hamzah get your hand off me.” 

“But why tho? Like I promise she was just a friend.” 

You finally turn to look at him and he's still wearing that stupid black mesh mash. Making him look funny, you giggle to yourself. 

“I'm not kidding like she really was. I would never do that to you-”

He started rambling but you weren't listening. Still focused on the fact he had his mask on. You sat up straight in your seat and turned towards him. Watching his mouth move inside his mask. “Hamzaaah!” You say in a teasing tone.

He stopped talking and pulled into the driveway. He turned his head to you.

“What?” 

“You still have your dumb mask on.” You laugh. You can see him realize and try to pull it off. By impulse your hands grab his hands while he tries to take it off. He drops his hand, 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Let me take it off for you.” Your hands grab the fabric on his face and pull it over his head. You look into his eyes  and lean in. Practically mouth to mouth, you give him a quick peck on the lips and get out the car, leaving him stunned from the quick action. You run into the house into the bedroom knowing he would follow. 

Just as you thought, Hamzah comes rushing in. You smile as he walks towards you.

“Girl you cant just tease me like that!” He says as he leans down into your face. Kissing you softly.  You break the kiss making him yet again confused.

“Or what?” You squint your eyes a little. He looks at you for a moment before smashing his lips into yours. You take a second, but you kiss back. The kiss starts to heat up and you picks you up and lays you on the bed. Your back laying on the soft mattress, you run your hands through his hair and down to his neck. He pulls from the kiss and goes for your neck. Kissing up and down leaving marks.

“Take your dress off.” 

“What do you say?”

“Please.” You shimmy your dress off. Leaving you exposed and hungry for more. You asked Hamzah to take off his clothes as well. In his boxers he rubs you through your underwear. 

“Fuck-Hamzah.” You jolt your hips up under his touch. He smirks and takes this as a sign to continue. He keeps going, sliding your panties to the side and slips a finger in your pussy. You squirm and moan. His fingers going in and out at a steady pace, you yearn for something bigger.

“Hamzah-”

“Yes baby?”

“Please-fuck me!” You moan out. 

“Yes ma’am” He replies. He's already hard as a rock as he pulls his boxers down. His dick springing up and slapping his stomach. He teases your folds before pushing in halfway. Hearing your gasp he waits a second to know your okay. You nod at him and he slowly goes in all the way. 

Thrusting in and out in missionary, moans and skin slapping together fills up the room.

“Fuck Hamzah im gonna-”

“Cum for me baby.”

 His fast pace movement slows down as he leans in to kiss you while you finish. 

“No girl could ever compare to you my love.” 

“I love you hamzah.” 

The next morning you woke up with a slight headache. You turned in the bed and next to you was Hamzah. Remembering the night you had, you think to yourself, I can't believe I got jealous. He's obviously mine.