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sunnysidevans · 1 month ago

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Someone Like You - J.Seresin

Summary: Being best friends with a naval aviator was hard, being best friends and in love with the Jake "Hangman" Seresin was even harder.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Medic!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, there is a small bit of angst, jake kind of bein douche, best friends to lovers troupe because top tier, oblivous by both parties.(if i missed any lemme know)

The request: If you're open to requests, I have one for you! It could be about Tyler, Jake, or Glen—whichever you prefer. The story would revolve around them being very close friends, but he’s always surrounded by girls. The reader begins to pull away, feeling inadequate or thinking she's not pretty enough, believing he could never see her as more than just a friend. I’d love for it to have a sweet, fluffy ending!

authors note: to the anon who requested this, thank you! I hope i have done justice to what you envisioned! - I really love getting requests because ya'll got some great ideas! If you have requested something, I promise i will get to it!! love, em. <333

The sun was sat snugly high in the blue sky. Sitting under the rays, you watched the group of aviators run through the sand covered in sweat. Sitting perched on the towel and sunglasses on your nose.

You never expected this to be your life after moving from your hometown to be a field medic with a group of aviators.

“You done sunbathing?” you look up behind the aviators to the man above you, blocking the sun from your eyes.

Jake Seresin in all his glory, hands on his hips.

“Can I help you?” pulling the sunglasses down your nose, you look at him over the rims with a raised brow. He chuckles, pushing the hair that was sticking to his forehead back.

He has been on leave for the last two weeks, letting his hair grow out of regs. "Are you done crisping like a chicken and gonna come play a game?” He holds his hand to you, which you take happily and he pulls you from the sand with a grunt.

“I don’t know if I should” you push the bridge of the sunglasses back up your nose. “What?! You are playing c’mon” he encourages you over, jogging ahead of you in the sand.

You watch as the rest of the the dagger squad who has been nothing but kind to you, encourage you. Then there's the group of aviators who were glued to the squad, more so Jake than others.

They giggle between themselves. You never knew joining the Navy was gonna have the same effects of highschool.

“(y/n)!” Jake’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, a grin on his face. “C’mon! One game!?” he pouts, hands on his hips. You sigh and make your way down the sand, pulling the shorts on your body to cover your bikini bottoms.

The dagger squad was your adopted family. You met them all in your time on the ships as a field medic but as well as at base when Jake made his way into your office quite often to get ‘looked at’.

“Dude! I had no idea you were this good at this” Phoenix wraps her arm around your shoulders as you walk back to your things with a giggle. “I blame Hangman for hiding you from us” you smile, grabbing your towel and bag of items and standing back to your full height.

Turning to say something, your thoughts run short as the girls again circle around Jake, hands on his arms as they all giggle.

He did have the million dollar smile.

“You coming to the hard deck with us?” Bradley asks, standing beside phoenix. You turn to the taller man, smiling up at him as you shake your head. “I return back to work tomorrow unlike some people” you chuckle, nudging him gently.

He nods, hands held up in defense as you smile. “See you soon though?” he asks as you are walking up the sand, you grin. “Of course! Someones bound to get hurt” you wink, making your way back to your own vehicle.

“Sweetheart!” you sigh, the southern drawl was almost like a vice around your brain. Setting your items in the back of your Jeep, you turn to face him. “You aren’t coming?” he asks, stopping in front of you,panting to catch his breath. You shake your head, “I have to work tomorrow captain”. He smirks, pushing a hair out of your face gently.

“Not even for one drink?” he asks as you shake your head. “No but I will be up to pick you up if you need me” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he jogs over to his truck.

Ally, another pilot in Top gun standing at the passenger side was waiting for him. “See you later sweetheart!” he waves.

Sighing heavily you climb into your jeep, immediately turning the radio up loudly and driving away.

You knew you were not the only woman in Jake’s life. He was charming with his green eyes and winning smile but everytime you would do anything with him, the woman gravitated to him like he was the opposite end of their magnets.

Driving through the city, your heart hurt a bit. You knew how childish it seemed.

How childish it was to be upset that he had the female gaze, he was tall, tan and kind under his hundred layers of ego. As you made your way into your home, the phone in your hand vibrated.

Jake: Let’s get together this week for dinner? Drinks?

you smile sadly at the text. You knew he enjoyed your company. You replied.

you: Sure Jake, sounds good

The text bubble appeared but you chose for your own mental state it was best to mute the conversation for the time being.

3am on the dot your phone rang.

You knew who was on the other line. Reaching over, you grab the phone off the nightstand. “Hello?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes. “(y/n)” you sigh at the sound of Bradleys voice.

“Hey roo” you mumble, eyes closed as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “I think you should come get Jake… maybe me too?” he questions as you chuckle softly. “Be there shortly” you hang up and climb out of bed.

Grabbing the closest sweatshirt to you and make your way outside and down to the hard deck. Dressed in your pajamas, you make your way inside the bar, still roaring with life even on a Sunday night.

Jake and Bradley sat at the bar with Penny who grins at your arrival. “Cute” she mumbles as you shake your head, making your way to them.

“Let’s go boys” you pat both of their shoulders, encouraging them out the door. “Is that my sweatshirt?” Jake questions as you look down at the hoodie on your body.

“Yes it is, let's go” you motion to the door. “Jakey!” Ally gasps, running to Jake at the door. You can’t help the way you cringe, pulling some cash out of your pocket. “How much do the two of them owe?” you ask Penny who shakes her head.

“They’ll both come and pay tomorrow, I trust it” you sigh, smiling at her. “I gotta go” you can hear the faint slur in Jake’s voice. “But i thought we were gonna have some fun” she bites her lip, looking up at him through her lashes, in her drunken state attempting to look as sexy and sultry as possible.

Jake shakes his head and makes his way out the door. You follow both men out to your parked Jeep as Lindsey stares daggers into your back.

The car ride is silent except for the wind. You pulled into Bradleys apartment first, parking right by the steps, he climbs out.

“Thanks love, you’re the best” he reaches in to kiss your cheek as he makes his way up the steps. “Hey!” Jake scolds him as Bradley smirks and makes his way to his apartment. “Can I move to the front now?” Jake asks childishly. “Yes Jakob” you sigh with a smile.

He climbs out and makes his way into the front seat beside you as you pull out of the parking lot and make your way down the road to Jake’s apartment. “Thanks for coming to get me honey” he whispers, his slur is almost gone at this point. “You’re welcome” you mumble, rubbing your eyes with a yawn.

“I’m sorry I did this to you” he mumbles as you shake your head. “I’d rather you be safe” you mumble.

“Why don’t you like to come get drinks with me anymore?” his drunk words flow out of him like vomit.

“I just don’t enjoy it much anymore, J” he nods slowly.

He knew you were lying but chose not to pry anymore while you were tired. “Can I come home with you?” he asks. Jake was quite needy in his semi-drunken state.

He did live down the road from you and did frequent your guest room often, hence his hoodie laying around your home. “I guess” you smirk, making the turn to your own home over Jakes.

He stumbles inside once the vehicle is parked. He was mostly sobered up as he made his way to the guest room. “See you in a few hours” he mumbles as you shake your head and make your way to your own bedroom.

The guest bedroom door opens, Jake makes his way out in a pair of black sweatpants he had left in the dresser drawer. "Sweetheart?" he questions as he yawns, making his way down the steps. He stops at the end of the stairs, looking around.

He notices the fresh smell of coffee and the few dishes in the sink. He jogs back up the stairs to see your bedroom door open, looking around its then he notices the pink note stuck to his door. Pulling it off the door, he sighs.

off to work, lock up on your way out.

The hard deck jukebox could be heard from streets away, it left you grinning. You pull into the parking lot, The Eagles “Life in the fastlane” playing through the speakers.

You don’t know how Rooster and Phoenix talked you into this but you climbed out and made your way inside. Dressed in a tank top and pair of denim shorts you look through the crowd for your favorite aviators.

“Sweetheart!” Jake’s voice yells for you, you look up at the sound of his voice. He pushes through the crowd of people to get to you.

He's singing to you as he approaches, "and she was terminally pretty" he grins, looking you up and down, “I didn’t know you were coming,” he smiles.

You looked so beautiful.

“Uh-yeah rooster and nat invited me” you smile up at him and move past him to your friends. Phoenix was aware of your feelings for Jake.

How hard it was to be out with him as he was always surround by woman, not once looking your way with them around. “Roo” you smile, patting his shoulder as he pulls you into his side for a hug.

“There's my favorite medic!” he grins as you chuckle. Jake makes his way back over to the group, sitting down as Ally makes her way to him, climbing in his lap.

He doesn’t hesitate to let her, adjusting in the seat to accommodate her. You sigh, turning to face Phoenix and Rooster.

“I don’t get it” you raise a brow, looking up from the table at the sound of Phoenix's voice. “What’s that?” you ask, crossing your leg over the other and arms over your chest.

“He acts like he wants to be around you so badly and then acts like that” she motions over to Jake, sitting back in his chair arm around Ally's waist, her group of friends around the two of them. You shrug, “not my problem anymore” you mumble, fishing out a few bills from your back pocket.

“I'm sorry to be a buzzkill but, thanks for inviting me guys but I think I’m gonna head home” you hand them the money to cover your drink and stand from the booth. Rooster stands, hands on your shoulders. “You don’t deserve him” he mumbles, giving your shoulder a squeeze and pulling you into a hug.

You hug him back and sigh heavily. “I guess I just have to get under a guy, they say that's the best way to get over one” you mumble against his chest as he laughs.

“See, that's the spirit” he grins, smiling at you. “Let us know if you need anything” he encourages as you smile.

It had been a week since your night at the hard deck with rooster and phoenix

a week before you decided it was best to put your distance between you and Jake.

The phone beside you began ringing. You knew exactly who it was. Reaching over you ignore the call for the second time and

Within seconds the phone rings again. You reach over and turn the phone off completely.

You did not have the energy to go and pick him up once again.

Maybe you would get over the man that is Jake Seresin.

rolling over and burying yourself deeper in the sheets of your bed, tears in your lash line as you sniffle to avoid them from falling.

You felt silly being this upset about a man who was not yours to be upset about.

You knew that he was a charming man when the two of you became friends, you also knew he looked at you as just that, a friend.

You shake your head and close your eyes.

The next morning as you turned your phone back on, the text messages piled in.

24 missed calls and 45 text messages.

You sigh and choose to delete the text messages and mute the conversation you have with him once again.

The drive to base was peaceful as you pulled into your designated parking lot. You were not gonna let this affect your work. “(y/n)!” you look over at Coyote waving to you,smiling, you wave back and mock salute to him.

He smiles, saluting back to you as he makes his way inside. Making your way to your office, you ignore the urge to turn and go down the hall to where you knew the dagger squad was meeting.

Jake sits down beside Rooster and Phoenix.

If looks could kill the two of them would be long gone.

“Can I help you?” Phoenix speaks first, arms crossed. “Spill” he adjusts in the seat, elbows resting on his knees as he looks between the two of them. “Spill what Hangman?” Rooster asks,looking over at him from his phone.

“Why won’t (y/n) talk to me” he mumbles, looking between them again. “Isn’t that a question for her?” Phoenix asks with a raised brow.

“I tried, I called her over a hundred times last night with no response” he defends as Phoenix shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you Hangman” Rooster nods in agreement with his girlfriend and Jake sighs heavily and stands from the chair.

“(y/l/n)” turning at the sound of your name,clipboard in hand you raise your brow. “Yes ma’am” you set the clipboard down and approach your commanding officer. “We are going to need you to go out and assist in the atlantic” you nod quickly, “of course ma’am” she grins, reaching out to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“I know you don’t love being tied down to one place too long” she smirks, heading to the door, “you will be heading out in the morning” you nod eagerly, ”and a car will be picking you up” she smiles with a nod and walks out the door.

You take a deep breath and wipe your once sweaty palms on your pants. You knew you needed to tell the dagger squad.

With a deep breath you head down the hall to the common room.

“Hangman, where are you?!” you can hear Fanboys voice over the comms. You knock gently on the door, Coyote,Phoenix,Rooster and Bob all turn to you.

“Hi” you wave as you make your way into them, sitting down beside Phoenix. Her face is full of concern, “what is it?” she asks as you turn to your closest friends.

“I’m being sent out tomorrow morning, they need additional medics out in the atlantic, of course I don’t know the full extent” you look at them, not seeing Jake standing in the doorway, panting.

“You’re leaving?” your eyes snap to Jake.

He’s still in his flight suit, the top half around his waist with his black tank top sticking to his skin. You turn from his eye back to Phoenix and Bob.

The two of them smile, nodding slowly. “We should go to the hard deck and have a send off party!” Coyote tries to lighten the mood, immediately noticing the tension in the room.

“I agree” Rooster chimes in, looking over at you. You smile sadly, “if you guys want I suppose” they cheer as you stand.

Jake hasn’t moved from the doorway, watching you. He watched the way you avoided his eye.

Walking out of the room, you brush Jake’s shoulder as you begin to walk down the hall to your office. You bit your lip as you heard his boots follow, you knew you couldn’t escape him anymore.

“(y/n)!” he reaches out, grabbing your shoulder to stop your movements. “What Jake?” you ask, turning to face him tilting your head. “What do you mean what?!” he defends, looking at you.

“You haven’t talked to me in days!” He throws his hands up, “not even days, weeks! You won’t answer my calls, you won't answer my text messages, you ignore me when you see me at work or even out in public!” he defends as his hands fall at his sides.

“Explain it to me!” he adds, hands on his hips as he looks over your face. “I’ve not been ignoring you” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes, “bullshit” he sits.

You sigh, hands on your own hips as you see conference room doors open and close. You knew his voice was traveling through the base.

“Not here Jake” you sigh softly, walking down the hall towards your office. “Explain it to me here (y/n)!” he yells.

You close your eyes, feeling the tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

You knew you shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your place of employment. You can hear his boots approaching, you snap.

“Because I love you!” you yell back to face him, face red with tears. “I love you and I know you wouldn’t love someone like me!” you point to your chest looking at him as the tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

“I am not them!” you point out the window to Ally and the rest of the new top gun recruits on the tarmac. “I am not tall and sexy and-” Jake stands there, shocked at your reaction.

“You wouldn’t love someone like me! You-You- I am not Jake Seresin material and I can’t take you staying in my house anymore and I can’t take you being around me anymore because I knew” you sob, looking away from him.

“Distancing myself was going to help my heart get over you” you whisper turning around from him.

“This time away may be best for me” Jake's boots squeak along the concrete floors. “(y/n)” he whispers, he’s directly behind you now. Your shoulders shake, months of tension falling off your shoulders.

He reaches out, grabbing your shoulder to gently turn you back to face him, cupping your cheek to gently bring your eyes back to him. He’s also got tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Someone like you?” he whispers, looking over your face. “Someone who I have seen devote her life to others? Someone who I absolutely adore, who would spring to help anyone even at 3am after a drunk night at the bar. Someone like you” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m not them Jake” you whisper as he shakes head, “and that’s what makes you so special” he reaches over and wipes your cheeks with his thumb.

“I love you (y/n)” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you couldn’t see it” he chuckles as you look at him.

“Me!?” you defend as he grins. “I adore you, I fell in love with you years ago sweetheart” he watches the look in your eye, watching as you look at him, looking into the green eyes that brought you so much comfort.

“Y-You love me?” you look over his face for any signs of a joke, he chuckles. “I love you, not them other girls, not anyone but you” he smiles, leaning down to connect your lips.

It takes you a moment to register what is happening by the time you are reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer to you.

He pulls away slowly after a few minutes, nose nudging yours as his eyes close. “I can’t believe you” he whispers, “thinking I couldn’t love someone like you” your eyes close, a small smile on your lips.

“I am not someone you’d go for J” you whisper with a smile as he shakes his head, pulling you into his chest. Wrapping your arms around his waist you sniffle against his black tank top.

“This is horrible timing” you mumble.

“I’ll be here when you get back sweetheart” he whispers against your hairline.

The helicopter ride was quiet. The voices in your mind were louder.

You smile as the base comes into view, “we’re almost home” the pilot, Maria grins at you through her aviators.

You were off base for three months, sharing letters and as many zoom phone calls as possible with Jake and the rest of the dagger squad.

The tarmac is laid out as the helicopter begins its descent. You pull the headset off and stand, leaning out the side of the helicopter, hands holding the handles. The smell of the ocean brought you a sense of comfort.

You knew the minute you laid eyes on Jake and your family, you would be home. You can hear cheering from the ground as the chopper finally lands. Climbing down, you stand on the pavement and take a deep breath.

You were home.

The doors opened and the dagger squad all rushed out. “She’s home!” Rooster yells with a smile on his face. You grin, standing on the big x. This was your family.

Ally and her group of friends follow Jake out of the doors.

Your eyes fall to each other as she continues to attempt to grab onto his arm. “Scuse me” he moves from her and begins his jog to you.

You meet him halfway and he grabs you by the waist and spins your around, holding you close to his body. You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. “My girl is home!” he grins, setting you to your feet.

“Welcome home sweet girl he grins, leaning down to connect your lips.

Maybe someone like you deserves someone like him.

if you enjoyed this fic, you can find more fics in the library, here!

as always, if you enjoyed this fic, likes reblogs & comments are always welcomed! - remember, please do not repost any of my work on other media platforms!!!

ps. i knew I would get something out! thanks for always being patient with me I swear theres alot going on in this brain of mine!!

#glen powell #jake seresin #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman fluff #hangman angst #hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin request #fic request #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction

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bellflower-goat · 2 years ago

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>:/

#the fuck do ya mean bitches in the us look down on the most important workers in any damn city/park?#ya'll really gonna pay 7 bucks + tax for a stupid ass drink?? If they weren't racist as fuck they'd be able to enjoy the lovely taste of #those puestos that sell drinks for like a dollar. Maybe two if they're big big #Like man! Why??#The best part of ending a long day doing shit is going out w friends to buy those drinks that literally cost less than a buck #Perfect cause all of us are poor as fuck but we can group up enough cash to buy like. 6 #That señor that sells em is godsent really like #so many people buy from his little stall n he still had prices so dam cheap! I hope that guy specifically has it good

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gothgoblinbabe · 1 month ago

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『Obsessed』

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!fem reader

A/N: haiiiiiii I take forever to write im so sorry but I'm real proud of this one and I hope ya'll like it because there is a criminal lack of sub!Logan content

Warnings: NSFW//18+, swearing, sub!logan x dom!fem reader, friends to lovers, mutual pining, Logan’s a lil perverted in this one (steals your underwear), unprotected sex (pls dont do that), oral (F receiving), Handjob, uuuh cum eating sorry not sorry this ones a lil’ nasty, and if I missed any please let me know! ps I only proof read this once so pls forgive me for any mistakes

Summary: You and Logan are left alone for the weekend to supervise the kids while everyones out, but he can't help himself from going a step too far with his infatuation with you

Word Count: 12K

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Logan didn’t like the word ‘obsessed��. He thought it made him sound like a creep - which, maybe he was, at this point.

He preferred terms like ‘infatuated’ or ‘bewitched’. Those sounded like much better words to describe what he felt for you. It was so overpowering that it may have even been considered something more than an obsession. Everything about you was intoxicating; you put him under your influence and kept him wrapped around your finger. You had him from the moment he saw you for the first time, you just had no idea. He remembered seeing you enter the room and lock eyes with him. He never believed in love at first sight, it was total bullshit. Total bullshit, until he felt it with you.

He did everything he could to conceal it, though, knowing he was not immune to rejection.

You considered Logan one of your closest and best friends. He was always playfully teasing you, sometimes to the point where your face became warm. It actually only took a couple weeks for him to be positive that he was head over heels for you. He started calling you things like ‘princess’ and ‘pretty girl’, as if they were your first name. He liked to see your gorgeous smile when he joked with you and hear your laugh that sounded like music to his ears. You were the first thing he thought about when he woke up in the morning and his last thought before bed. He couldn’t escape his feelings for you if he tried. Months of admiring you under the guise of strictly friendship was starting to eat away at his self-discipline, though. It became harder to leave you alone.

His attempts to be close to you in any way possible were becoming bolder. Playfully swinging an arm around your shoulder so he could be close to you and smell your shampoo. Offering his hoodie when he could see you were cold so that he could fall asleep with his face in it after you gave it back. Even Logan himself understood he bordered on being a total creep, balancing on the thin line between that and what he understood to be infatuation. He’d still let you push him over into either side, regardless.

Things got so much worse - or better? - for Logan when you both found out you’d be in the mansion, alone, for the weekend. Someone had to stay back and help with the kids while the others completed a mission and you were always quick to volunteer your free time to help - another thing he loved about you. He volunteered the second you did, of course, earning an amused eye roll from Scott. It didn’t take a genius to see he liked you - you were just blinded by the idea that he couldn’t possibly see you as more than a friend and colleague.

“So, what are we thinkin’ for this weekend? Mario kart tournament? Guitar Hero battle? We’ve got to think of something to keep the little creatures entertained,” you chatted with Logan as you walked side by side down the corridor. He always found it amusing when you called them that.

“Maybe we can give ‘em each a gameboy and just lock ‘em in their rooms for the weekend.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice? Oh, maybe we can trick them into cleaning something.”

“You want to try to trick a group of kids with mutant abilities? You know some of them are telepathic, right?”

“Well,” you realized he was right and tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, “there goes that idea.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

He wanted to give helpful input or ideas, he really did, but he couldn’t get the idea of being alone with you out of his mind. You’d been alone together, yeah - on missions, errands, doing whatever - but never at home. Never in a place where you both had bedrooms - where there was even a possibility of anything.

In order for there to even begin to be a possibility that something would come out of being alone with you, though, he reminded himself he actually had to be able to confess his feelings to you first.

He was lost in thought, so much so that he didn’t notice you had asked him something until you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to get his attention.

“Earth to Howlett,” you giggled, “anybody there?”

“Hm? Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

“Didn’t hear what I said?”

He pursed his lips and you understood that to be an answer before he even opened his mouth.

“I asked you to go gather some of the kids and figure out if they have any ideas for something to do.”

“Got it.”

A little while later, you met with him in the living room. You each had a gaggle of children behind you.

“Okay, everybody sit,” Logan instructed, but they were all chatting far too loud with each other to even hear him.

“Sit!” you yelled.

Instantly, every child in the room found a seat and went completely silent with their attention to you.

“Thank you,” you sighed, “alright, who wants to go with me?”

About half the room raised their hands.

“Okay, who wants to go with Logan?”

The other half of the room raised their hands.

“I guess that works out,” Logan shrugged.

He let the kids drag him off to do whatever it was they would decide on while you stayed with yours.

After maybe fifteen minutes of back and forth amongst the children, the majority decided on baking treats.

“Really?” you were a little surprised when they told you because of how simple you assumed the task would be, “Awesome! Everybody in the kitchen.”

You thought you’d give the kids the box mixes of muffins and cupcakes as well as a couple of logs of frozen cookie dough and they’d take it from there. Unfortunately, that was not what happened.

Ten minutes into the activity, you were already having to clean cake batter off the walls and flour off the floor.

“Oh, nope - no, no raw egg, I already told you that! Spit it out, spit, go,” you scolded one of the kids and directed him to the sink when you saw him crack an egg directly into his mouth.

“Dear god,” you muttered under your breath.

Another little girl yelled your name and you turned around. One of the bowls of raw batter was in the air.

You sighed and rubbed your temples.

“Teddy. Put it down, now” you knew exactly which one of them was the troublemaker.

The child in question was smiling wide.

“If you say so, miss.”

The bowl instantly dropped with a loud echo and its contents splattered everywhere.

You wiped a glob of batter off of your cheek.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, “Teddy, you’re going to clean all of that up or you’re spending the weekend in your room. Everyone else, if you pull anything like that, you’re doing the same. Got it?”

The children nodded and agreed in synchronization.

“Good.”

From then on, things seemingly went pretty smoothly.

You were chatting with a group of girls and helping them ice some of the cupcakes when one of them insisted she had to ask you a question.

“What do you do when you like somebody? Like…really like someone.”

She was one of the older girls, Alice, who was probably around seventeen. She looked away nervously and you smiled.

“Why? Do you really like somebody?” you lightly teased. You didn’t want to embarrass her, of course, but you thought it was cute that she came to you to ask.

“Yes!” one of the younger girls answered for her, leaning in to whisper to the group, “she likes Teddy.”

“Shut up!” Alice hissed, throwing one of the plastic whisks in her direction without actually lifting a finger, “I do not!”

“You write ‘A+T’ on everything!” the younger girl retorted, snickering.

“Okay, okay - leave her be,” you instructed, turning your attention back to the girl beside you, “I think when you really like somebody, you should tell them. It’s easier said than done, but you’ll feel so much better after you’ve done something about it instead of bottling up your feelings.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Trust me, anything worth doing is scary. The worst thing that can happen is that they don’t feel the same way, and if that’s the case - there's plenty of people you’ll love in your lifetime.”

Alice nodded and exchanged amused expressions with her friend that sat on the other side of her.

“What?” you asked, laughing a little and looking between the two of them.

“So, is that what you did with Professor Logan?”

The both of them raised their eyebrows and giggled.

“W- um,” you cleared your throat, “what?”

“Oh, come on!” Alice rolled her eyes, “we may be kids, but we’re not blind.”

You narrowed your eyes at them and bit the inside of your cheek with your hand on your hip. After a moment of thought, you leaned down and spoke in a whisper.

“Not a word to him, understand? I swear, I’ll fail you both.”

“He likes you, you know,” Alice said, wiggling her eyebrows, “we can definitely tell.”

“Sure, he does,” you replied in a sarcastic tone and scoffed.

You’d had feelings for Logan for so long that you thought you’d learned to hide it well. Apparently not.

You considered him to be one of your closest friends. He playfully teased you on a regular basis, stayed up late to talk with you for hours, even held you when you cried - things good friends do. But his touch lingered when you brushed hands, you often caught him staring and he always stood so close to you - all little signs that made you feel as though there could possibly be something more. You figured that you were so close that if he really felt anything for you, though, he would’ve been direct and honest with you.

If only these two girls knew how you felt, you weren’t too nervous about it getting back to him. Kids started rumors all the time, you knew he’d take it with a grain of salt if one of them was bold enough to tell him.

You hadn’t considered how quick kids could be, though.

Logan was outside with his gaggle of kids, passing around a basketball with some of them while the others occupied themselves in the grass. The hot sun beating down on them was enough to make them sweat on its own but combined with the physical activity, it wasn’t long before everyone needed a break.

Logan sat on the grass to catch his breath, leaning back on his hands. Almost as soon as he sat down, one of the boys who had been playing sat across from him with two of his other friends.

“Hey,” he greeted them, squinting in the sun.

“I’ve got a question,” one of them said directly. He was probably about nine or ten.

“Alright,” he nodded, “shoot.”

“What do you do if you really like a girl?”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“You like a girl?”

“I never said that.”

“He does,” one of the boy’s friends interjected, “he’s always teasing her.”

“Shut up!” he replied and punched the other boy in the arm.

“Okay, listen,” Logan started, leaning forward, “first, you can’t tease a girl just ‘cause you like her. That’s not cool. If anything, it’ll make her dislike you.”

The boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and tilted his head. He brought up your name in a curious tone.

“How come you do it to her, then? You like her and you do it.”

Logan feigned a confused expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.”

“Dude,” one of the other boys raised his eyebrows.

“Dude,” Logan mocked him, “zip it.”

“Is that a yes?”

“ ‘Yes’ to what?”

“You like her.”

“No.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Yes.”

“Kid, I’m losin’ patience,” He huffed, taking a sip from his water bottle.

The young boy shrugged, “she likes you back, you know.”

He choked on his water and coughed, taking a moment to catch his breath. One of the other boys reached over and patted him on the back.

“Just went down the wrong way,” Logan wheezed, but none of them bought the excuse. His chest felt tight when he thought about the possibility of you liking him in any capacity that was more than friends.

“Anyway,” he continued with a deep breath, “If you like a girl, you should be nice to her. Bring her flowers, tell her she’s pretty - the classic stuff.”

“Gross,” the boy cringed.

He laughed and shook his head.

“So, did you give her flowers?”

“Who?”

The boy said your name again and Logan sighed.

“Bub, we work together - it’s not like that, alright?”

“Then why do you stare at her all the time?”

He pursed his lips and one of the boys stifled a laugh.

“I think she’s pretty,” he admitted, “I can look at her, that doesn’t mean I like her like that.”

They all giggled and began singing the k-i-s-s-i-n-g rhyme with your name and Logan’s.

“Okay,” he stood, crossing his arms, “if you three don't shut your mouths, I’m gonna hang each of you from a flag pole by your underwear.”

They all shuddered and didn’t say another word.

Later in the evening, all of the kids gathered in the living room to have a movie night. They were crowded on and around the couch with some on the floor or on bean bags. The coffee table was littered with popcorn, muffins and half eaten cookies. You were tucked into the corner of the couch with Logan, a fuzzy blanket draped over both your knees. Your eyes were focused on the movie but he noticed you shiver and draped his arm around your shoulder to pull you into him.

“You cold?”

“A little bit,” you answered honestly and pulled the blanket up further but he immediately unzipped his sweatshirt and held it out for you to put on.

“Logan -”

“Sh,” he held the sweatshirt open for you to put your arms through the sleeves, “take it.”

You sighed and obeyed, turning so you could do as he asked and shrug it on. When he saw you looking so cozy in his sweatshirt, he couldn’t help but tug you back into his side with his arm around you. He could hear your heart beat faster than it had before and he smiled to himself. Sometimes he thought you could feel the same way he did, but never wanted to get his hopes up. Neither you nor Logan could take your own advice that you’d given to the kids.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie, you positioned yourself to lay on your back with your legs over his lap and a pillow tucked under your head. By the time the film ended, you were fast asleep. Logan instructed the kids to take themselves to bed and they dispersed to do as they were told. A couple of them snickered as they passed by, seeing your legs on his lap while you snored softly.

When they had all disappeared from the room, he couldn’t help himself from taking a moment to just admire you. You looked so peaceful with your lips slightly parted and your eyes closed. You had the blanket tucked up to your chin with the sleeves of his sweatshirt covering your hands. He hesitantly reached over to swipe a strand of hair from your forehead and let his hand softly graze your cheek. He leaned down and tenderly planted a gentle kiss on your cheek, becoming enamored with the smell of your perfume that overwhelmed his senses.

“I really do wish I could tell you how much I love you,” he whispered as quietly as possible when he pulled away from you. He sighed and hooked one arm under your knees and the other around your back so he could stand with you against his chest. He began to walk with you to the stairs, pressing his lips into the top of your head every now and then. You sleepily mumbled nonsense into his shirt, pressing your face into his chest and softly giggling from the pleasant feeling of the warm cotton.

“You’re real tired, huh, darlin’?” he whispered as he climbed up the stairs with you in his arms, but you were silent again. When he finally got to your room, he opened the door and laid you gently into your bed. You immediately made yourself comfortable with your knees curled up to your chest. He tucked your comforter over you and you began to snore again, indicating you were probably out for good. It wasn’t a surprise that handling rowdy kids all day had made you exhausted.

Again, he stood for a second to watch you. He wanted so badly to just crawl into bed with you, wrap his arms around you and hold you to his chest while you both fell asleep. Your room smelled so much like you that he imagined your bed probably smelled even more heavenly. He wanted to bury his face in your pillows and be nearly sedated from the fragrance of your hair. He wanted to be surrounded and swallowed by you.

Well aware that his behavior of watching you sleep was weird at best, he turned to leave your room. As he did, though, his eyes caught something that made his palms start to sweat. Directly on top of your dirty laundry basket, like a cherry on top of a sundae, was a red, lacy pair of panties.

He knew it was wrong. He knew it was perverted. Would you notice if they were gone? Would you suspect him at all? Still, he couldn’t help himself.

He picked up the soft fabric and looked back to be sure you were still asleep. Knowing you were, he held the garment up and suppressed a moan. They were nearly see-through. He pressed the gusset of the panties up to his nose and thought his knees might give out. He knew it was bad, so bad, and yet, he folded them and shoved them into his back pocket. He went back to give you another gentle kiss on the forehead and left your room, shutting the door behind him.

When he got out into the hallway, he could already feel himself stiffening in his jeans. He got to his room as quickly as he could, locked the door and instantly kicked his shoes off and undid his belt. He took your panties out of his pocket, tossed them onto his sheets and shucked off his jeans. He crawled into bed and picked the garment back up, pressing his nose to the fabric so he could smell you again. He could already feel himself leaking in his boxers from just smelling you. He imagined what you’d taste like if you let him have you, if you let him trace every inch of you with his tongue until you were begging him for more. The image of your head thrown back in ecstasy while you squished his face between your thighs filled his mind and his eyes fluttered closed. He reached down with his other hand to stroke himself over the fabric of his boxers for a second of relief. He got so hard when he thought of you that it almost became painful at times.

When he thought he’d teased himself enough, he finally dragged his boxers down his thighs so that his hard cock could slap onto his stomach. He swore under his breath at the relief of being free from the confines of his underwear. With your panties in his other hand, he had an ingenious idea.

He wrapped the soft red fabric around the base of his cock while his hand guided it up and down. He was enraptured by the idea that by fucking a pair of your worn panties and brushing his cock along the same fabric that had been soaked with your slick, it was like being able to be with you in some way. He told himself that when he arranged the gusset of the panties to sit right on the head of his cock, his hips twitching up to press himself into the fabric with a groan. It was maybe the closest he’d ever get to the real thing. He imagined the soft fabric he was pressing himself into was your cunt, that you were dragging your wet folds along the length of him. He imagined what it might feel like to run his hands over your soft skin and be able to touch you how he wanted. He began to pump himself again with the panties in his fist, messily fucking into his hand and leaking on to the same fabric he knew you had been in. He panted while he continued his movements, squeezing his eyes shut so he could picture you with your hands on his chest as you rode him. He could see your messy hair framing your gorgeous face and your tits bouncing above him while he jerked his hips up into you eagerly. The repeated movement was intoxicating. He was nearly drooling from how rapidly his mind was racing with thoughts of you - spread out in his bed or sitting in his lap or up against a wall - anything about you spurred him on. It took less than five minutes for him to be spilling all over his hand and stomach with a growl, the fabric of your panties damp with his release.

He groaned in frustration at the mess he made, taking off his shirt to clean himself off and tucking the panties under his pillow. He really did feel guilty - maybe he could get them in the wash without you noticing so he could plant them somewhere back in your room. For now, though, he was definitely keeping them. He ended up falling asleep that night with the fabric balled up in his fist.

The next day - to avoid a repeat of the overwhelming mess you had to clean yesterday - you assigned some of the older kids to help keep an eye on the younger ones. You meant to wake up early to do so but you’d clearly slept in, standing barefoot in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in your hand. You were still in your pajama pants and Logan’s sweatshirt.

He couldn’t help but smile when he came down and saw you wearing it, the gray sleeves hanging off your shoulders.

“I’m never gonna get that back, huh?”

His voice caught your attention and you turned around, smiling wide when you saw him step into the kitchen. He was already dressed in his tank and blue jeans.

“Oh, did you want it back?” you raised your eyebrows, “ ‘cause you're definitely not gettin’ it.”

You shot him a mischievous smile and his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. He felt a pang of guilt seeing your beautiful face while knowing he did such filthy things to the thought of you.

When you turned back around to look at the group of kids, half of them were whispering behind their hands and giggling while looking between the two of you.

“What?” you laughed a little and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing!” a few of them shouted in unison and you narrowed your eyes.

One of the younger boys, the one who talked to Logan the day before, raised his hand. He had a smug expression on his face when he made eye contact with him. Logan figured he knew what he was up to almost instantly.

“I know what it is!” the boy waved.

“Oh?” you looked at him expectantly.

Some of the other kids around him snickered.

“Professor Logan said he thinks you're pretty.”

You immediately turned to Logan, who was adorably red in the face - you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anger, though. You were biting down a smile, your face warm from the compliment.

“Well,” you cleared your throat and spoke under your breath to Logan, “thank you.”

You were grinning uncontrollably now and the kids started to giggle again when they took notice.

“Okay, alright, enough - any ideas of what we wanna do today?” you finally asked.

Much to your surprise, they all shouted the same thing in unison.

“Pool!”

You and Logan exchanged amused looks.

“Alright,” you nodded, “that was weirdly easy.”

“Get ready and meet back here in twenty minutes,” Logan instructed, “not a single one of you leaves without us, understood?”

They nodded and mumbled in agreement before excitedly running in different directions.

“So,” you were the first one to address the elephant left in the room, “you think I’m pretty, huh?”

“I, uh-“ he stuttered, trying to think if it was better to be honest or blame it on a rumor, “yeah, ‘course.”

He replied as if the answer was obvious. His face was sincere and you resented how much your face obviously showed you were giddy.

You laughed a little and the sound was replaced with silence. You chewed the inside of your cheek before speaking, unsure if you should even bring up what you were about to say.

“You know, one of the girls told me something kind of funny yesterday,” you chuckled nervously and kept your gaze on the counter before you spoke again, “I don’t know why, but I guess some of the kids have it in their heads that you and I have a thing for each other or something.”

He froze where he stood. Well, telling the kids he thought you were pretty certainly wasn’t going to quell that theory.

“Uh, I - yeah, really weird, no idea where that came from,” he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, me neither - me neither. I just - it was funny, is all.”

“Yeah, you know, kids love stories,” he nodded, “I’m, uh - I’m gonna go change.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Go ahead, I’ll meet you back here.”

That interaction bordered on being painful.

You finished the rest of your coffee and went upstairs to your room to change. You picked out a two piece bathing suit and put shorts and a loose shirt over it before heading back down.

You waited patiently for the kids - and Logan - to come down and they were all ready within fifteen minutes.

“Okay,” you fixed your sunglasses atop your head and clapped your hands together, “some ground rules before we go - no pushing, no running, no diving and if one of you drains the pool again, we’re all going back inside. Everybody got it?”

They agreed and you were laying in the sun minutes later, trying your best to keep an eye on everyone at once.

“Are you gonna go in?” you asked Logan, nodding towards the pool of kids playing Marco Polo.

He shrugged, looking down at his swim trunks.

“Maybe, but not until there’s at least less than fifteen of ‘em in there at once.”

You laughed and nodded, standing up from your chair.

“Well, I’m sweatin’ my ass off - I’m going in,” you explained and pulled your shirt over your head.

He sighed and watched you kick off your shorts. The swimsuit you were in was appropriate, of course - you were supervising kids - but just seeing so much of your skin made his mouth water. He thought about undoing the little ties on the side of your hips. He thought about your thighs, too - how soft they looked, how good he knew he could make you feel. He felt like he’d been blessed by luck just from looking at you, like it was a privilege to even stare.

His eyes followed your legs as you made your way to the edge of the pool. You jumped in and emerged from the surface of the water in seconds with your wet hair clinging to your face. He knew his staring was obvious but he just couldn’t help himself. Preoccupied with staring, he never saw the inflatable beach ball coming before it hit him in the side of his face.

“Get in the pool!” one of the boys shouted at him and Logan picked up the inflatable ball, throwing it back into the water.

“Not feelin’ it right now.”

“Chicken!”

A couple of the boys started chanting the nickname and pumping their fists in the air.

“Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!”

He rolled his eyes and stood from his seat. The boys cheered as he took off his shirt.

You heard a couple of the older girls near you gasp and giggle excitedly. You followed their gaze to see Logan taking off his shirt and you laughed at their reaction - as if you didn’t feel the same way internally. One of them groaned and turned to you.

“You’re so lucky.”

“Lucky?”

A couple of the girls around you nodded.

“Yes!” she spoke again, “he stares at you, like, all the time.”

You rolled your eyes, “again with this? Guys, I don’t know what you think is happening but Logan’s my coworker - we’re friends.”

“Mhm,” one of them hummed suspiciously with a smirk, “sure, you are.”

“He was literally just staring at you,” another pointed out, nodding towards him.

He was already in the pool when you turned back to look at him, his wet hair dripping in front of his face. He was laughing with one of the younger kids sitting on his shoulders.

“I think you girls see what you want to,” you insisted and shook your head, “hey, if he ever tells me he likes me like that, I’ll let you skip your end of year test.”

The girls chattered excitedly amongst each other at your promise and eventually forgot about the subject.

You finally got out of the pool for good after about an hour or two, wrapping yourself in a towel and sitting back in your chair. Logan followed suit shortly after. You tried your best to keep your eyes off his body but god was it hard when he was dripping wet and looked so damn good. The trail of hair that started under his navel and went all the way down into the front of his shorts made you want to bang your head against a wall. Not to mention that when you looked at the front of his wet shorts, you could see the outline of his-

“Damn.”

You brought your attention back to his face when he spoke and followed his gaze to the ground. The shirt he had been wearing was completely soaked - collateral damage from a water gun battle.

“I can run in and get you another shirt,” you shrugged and stood from your chair, slipping your shorts over your legs.

“I can go -“

“Logan, it’s okay,” you insisted, “I have to grab a couple more towels anyway, just keep an eye on the kids while I’m gone.”

He put his hands up in defeat and slumped back into his chair, “they’re in the second drawer in my dresser.”

You simply nodded and slipped on your sandals, walking away.

When you finally got back inside, you trudged up the stairs and down the hall to Logan’s room. You smiled to yourself when you cracked the door open. The whole room smelled just like his cologne. You found his dresser and immediately took notice of the little trinkets on top. One you recognized was a tiny plastic toy you’d taken out of your McDonalds happy meal months and months ago. You remembered giggling and handing it over to him, saying it was his early Christmas gift.

Another was a strip of photos you had taken in a booth on a field trip with the kids to the zoo. You picked it up and flipped it around, only to read your name and the date scribbled in Logan’s handwriting. Underneath was ‘It’ll always be you.’, written in black ink. You furrowed your eyebrows and flipped the photo strip back around. The first couple photos you remembered well - Logan’s arm around your shoulder in one, your tongues sticking out in another, but the last photo stuck out to you more than you remembered.

You were beaming at the camera, your shoulders tensed up while you leaned on him. Logan, though, wasn’t looking towards the camera. His eyes were on you, a small smile stuck on his face. Something about it made your chest hurt.

You sighed and put the photo strip down, remembering what you were here for. You opened the drawer he told you his shirts would be in and grabbed one before promptly pushing it shut. As you turned to leave, though, something in his bed caught your eye. You stopped in your tracks. There was a piece of red, lacy fabric sticking out from under his pillow. You really shouldn’t look through anything of his, you knew that, but you still couldn’t help yourself. The pattern of lace looked oddly familiar. You timidly lifted the pillow and your heart stopped. It was a pair of panties.

The lace looked familiar because they were your panties.

You picked them up and held them in disbelief. You remembered them being on top of your laundry when you saw them last. When you woke up this morning, though, you didn’t remember seeing them at all. Meaning, when he carried you up to your room last night, he must have pocketed them.

You felt the fabric between your fingers and recognized what had dried into it.

“No way,” you gasped, a shocked but amused smile on your face, “no fucking way. No way.”

You were giggling uncontrollably and staring at the garment in your hands.

“No way,” you repeated, whispering to yourself under your breath, “he jacked off in my fucking underwear.”

You probably should’ve been disgusted or creeped out or both, you knew that, but finding out a guy you had feelings for had been jacking off - assumably to you - with your panties felt like a win. Now that you’d put two and two together - the writing on the back of the photo and your panties hidden under his pillow - you figured you’d have to make some sort of plan to approach him about it. You stuffed them into your pocket and returned to the pool with more towels and Logan’s t-shirt. It was nearly impossible to pretend for the rest of the day that you’d never found what you did.

Once everyone had finished dinner that night and dispersed to get themselves ready for bed, you were left alone in the hallway with him.

“Today was fun,” you admitted, “even if my hair stinks like chlorine.”

“It doesn’t smell too bad,” he insisted and pressed his nose to the top of your head without a second thought, “just like summer.”

You found yourself feeling warm when he was so close to you. You cleared your throat nervously and found yourself staring up at him in silence when he pulled away.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna go take a shower,” he mumbled with his eyes still locked on yours, “but I had a lot of fun today, too. I liked hangin’ out with you so much this weekend.”

“Me too,” you replied instantly, “we’ll have to spend more time together soon.”

There was a flirtatious tone to your voice that made him sweat, but he figured he was looking too much into it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.

“See you tomorrow, bub,” you giggled a little, turning on your heel and walking to your room.

He sighed and watched you walk away. When he finally went off to his room, he decided his shower was definitely going to be a cold one.

You were pacing in your room as he got to his, your arms crossed as you tried to think of what the hell to do. You had to do something to make some kind of move. You were stuck until your last conversation with him replayed in your mind.

I’m gonna go take a shower.

You stopped pacing and got into your own shower as fast as you could. You threw on a pair of sweatpants and the sweatshirt you had borrowed from Logan the night before - except you wore nothing underneath.

You were knocking on his door minutes later, nervously rocking back and forth on your heels.

When he answered the door, he had only a towel around his waist.

“Uh,” your eyes immediately fell to his torso, “hi.”

“Hey,” he laughed a little when he noticed you weren’t looking him in the eye, “you need somethin’?”

You swallowed hard.

“Just wanna talk to you for a sec,” you answered.

He stepped aside to let you in and closed his bedroom door behind you.

“One minute,” he told you, stepping back into his bathroom and closing the door to get dressed. When he disappeared out of view, you reached behind you to click the lock on his doorknob.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help smiling at the nickname, your stomach erupting in butterflies as he reemerged in sweatpants and no shirt.

“Uh, yeah, everythings great - I just had a question.”

You reminded yourself you had to be confident when you approached him. He sat on the edge of his bed and you tentatively stepped forward to stand in front of his open legs. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. You could tell that he seemed a little nervous.

“Logan,” you bit down a smile, “if I asked you something, you’d be honest with me - wouldn’t you?”

He shot you a confused look but nodded anyway.

“Yeah, of course I would.”

“Mhm,” you hummed and reached into the pocket of your sweatshirt, “so, why did I find these under your pillow?”

You dangled the piece of red lacy fabric in front of his face and he went pale and wide eyed.

“Shit.”

You were smiling like you’d won the lottery.

“I- I can explain, uh, about that -“ he was stuttering but you cut him short.

“Can you? Because what it looks like is that you took my panties out of my laundry.”

He was surprised you didn’t sound mad or disgusted. You were smiling, like this was entertaining.

“Uh…” his words caught in his throat and he coughed, “I, um, I wasn’t…I wasn’t-“

“Baby,” you said softly, leaning down and putting a hand on his knee, “it’s okay.”

You could feel his muscles tense under your touch and his eyes darted from yours to your hand and then back up again. He felt lightheaded.

“If you wanted these so bad, you could’ve said something, you know,” you muttered, still dangling the fabric in front of him.

“Yeah, right,” he said sarcastically and scoffed in an attempt to play cool, “ ‘cause you would’ve just given ‘em to me.��

“Well,” you stood straight again and held the panties in front of you so you could feign that you were inspecting them, “I would’ve let you do a lot more than jack off into my underwear.”

He looked absolutely mortified in a way you’d never seen before at the realization that you figured out exactly what he did with them.

“Aw, don’t be shy, sweetheart, it’s okay,” you cooed and got down on your knees in front of him, resting your elbows on his lap, “you just wanted me so bad that you thought fucking my panties was all you’d ever get, huh? Am I right?”

Your near mocking tone already had him growing hard underneath his sweatpants. He was almost sure he was having a wet dream.

Still, he found himself slowly nodding in agreement.

“Wanted you so bad,” he finally admitted. His breathing was shaky.

“Do you still want me?” you asked, but he was nodding again before you even finished the question. Your chest swelled with pride and you were more than confident now in your approach. You gently held his face in your hands and you could see he was quickly turning red.

“Logan.”

“Hm?”

He was far too enraptured by you to actually say anything.

“Kiss me.”

His lips parted in surprise, thinking he must’ve misheard you. You dominantly held his chin when he didn’t move.

“I said kiss me,” you repeated in a firm voice and he groaned and gave in to temptation, hungrily mashing his lips against yours. It was loving and needy at the same time. He was eager to get his tongue in your mouth but his lips were soft and he was so gentle with you. He cradled your face in his hands just as you had done. It was a good while before either of you pulled away, too lost in the feeling of each other.

“What’d you think about when you did it?” you asked when you disconnected your lips. You cradled the back of his neck with your hands and he was practically melting from your touch.

“Hm?” Logan was so overwhelmed in the best way possible that he hadn’t even heard you speak - he was still reeling just from realizing you weren’t going to scold him for what he’d done and actually seemed to like it so much that you kissed him.

“What did you think about when you touched yourself for me?”

He couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips from hearing you talk to him like that.

You giggled a little, amused by how little it took to have him half hard already.

“Thought about - thought about bein’ able to fuck you,” he inhaled deeply, “thought about you on top of me and how beautiful you are.”

His complete honesty and the genuine compliment made your heart flutter.

“Oh, so you’d want me on top?” you inquired and slowly inched a hand from his knee towards the top of his thigh.

“Uh,” he closed his eyes and took another deep breath, as if he was imagining it at that very moment, “god, yeah.”

You were smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt. You had a wicked idea that had you wet just thinking it.

“Show me what you did with them.”

You dropped the panties directly onto the growing bulge under his sweatpants. He parted his lips in surprise and you sat back on your heels, waiting patiently.

“You - you wanna watch while…fuck,” he was panting and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

You nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He felt like he was on fire.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you mercifully placed a hand over the front of his sweatpants and his hips instinctively ground towards your touch, “for me?”

He nodded frantically, eagerly hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his pants and boxers as he lifted his hips so he could pull them down his thighs. When his cock sprung free from the confines of his clothing, your mouth started to water - he was huge. You had to remind yourself not to just give in - that you wanted to make him work for it.

“Here,” you dangled the pair of parties that had fallen to the floor in front of him.

He excitedly wrapped the fabric around his cock, closing his fist over it to pump himself. You watched in awe as he whined and whimpered from barely touching himself, his eyes never leaving yours. He was stroking himself at a slow pace, beads of precum forming at the tip and dribbling over his hand. As dirty as his actions were, you thought he looked like he could be the subject of a painting in a museum - head thrown back in bliss, his features painted by the golden yellow light of the lamp on his nightstand and his chest heaving as he panted.

“So good for me,” you said in a low volume and he groaned, “does it feel good, baby?”

He twitched in his fist and you could tell that your praise had him making a mess in his hand.

“Feels really fucking good,” he moaned and you had to resist the urge to nudge his hand away and replace it with yours. You wanted to taste him, even if it was just one swipe of your tongue over the head of his cock. You imagined that he tasted like his kiss.

“I thought about you too, you know,” you cocked your head and wet your lips.

“You did?”

He seemed genuinely surprised, the motion of his hand only faltering a little.

“Of course,” you smirked, “Do you wanna know what I thought about?”

“Please,” he pleaded instantly, “I wanna know.”

“I thought about your pretty face, how good I think you’d fuck me.”

He groaned and leaned back on the elbow of his other arm.

“I think about you all the time,” you admitted with your eyes flickering between his face and his hand, “I think about riding you with your hands on my ass. I think about how much I’d love the scratchiness of your beard on my thighs if you ate me out.”

He was panting and whining every time you made a confession. You could see how desperate he was becoming and it turned you on beyond belief. With his eyes still on you, you began to unzip the front of your - his - sweatshirt at an agonizingly slow pace. The further you pulled the zipper down, the more he realized there was nothing underneath.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he loudly groaned before you even opened the front of the garment.

“I love how easy it is to rile you up,” you said truthfully.

“ ‘s not gonna be hard. I’ve been obsessed with you for a while.”

That was the first time he’d said it out loud - that he even liked you, yes, but it was the first time he’d used the word obsessed to describe what it was he felt for you.

“Obsessed with me, huh?” you asked softly as you began to shrug off the sweatshirt, “I can tell.”

You thought he was nearly going to finish just from seeing your bare chest. His hips jerked towards his hand and he squeezed his eyes shut while his jaw hung open. He moaned your name and you felt like you’d heard an angel sing.

“So - you’re so perfect,” he stuttered, opening his eyes and raking them up and down your body.

“You think so?”

You really just loved to hear him talk in between grunting and moaning your name.

“ ‘Course,” He nodded frantically, “I stare at you all the time, can’t take my eyes off you.”

That, you knew, but again - you still loved to hear him say it aloud.

“Love your voice, your hair,” he continued and nodded towards the sweatshirt that was now loosely hanging from your arms, “I gave you my sweatshirt so it’d smell like you when ya’ gave it back.”

“Really?” you slowly stood and he sat up straight, “I borrow them because they smell like you.”

It was the honest truth and you noticed his thigh start to shake the second the words slipped out of your mouth. Standing in front of him as he sat on the bed made him eye level with your chest and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You held his face in your hands and he looked up into your eyes like he saw the world in them.

“Do you wanna touch ‘em, sweetheart?” you asked in a soft voice and he nodded, “go ahead.”

The second you said the word ‘go’, he already had his free hand on the small of your back, holding you closer while he latched his mouth onto one of your nipples.

You let out a small whimper and he growled into your flesh, his tongue swirling and sucking.

“Logan,” you sighed his name and threaded your fingers through his hair.

“F-mm, fuck, can’t - can’t go sayin’ my name like that,” he swallowed hard and buried his face in your chest.

“You like it when I say your name, Logan?”

He groaned loudly, leaving wet open mouthed kisses. You could see the drool gathering in the counter of his mouth. He was moaning and whimpering into the soft flesh, feeling himself get closer and closer to the edge.

“ ‘m gonna come too fast if you fuckin’ do that again,” he tried to warn you but you swiped some hair out of his face.

Maybe it wasn’t a good time to say it, but the three words that had been unspoken for so long threatened to escape your mouth when you had him like this. You tilted his head so he had to look you in the eyes.

“I love you, Logan.”

He growled animalistically, almost instantly cumming in his fist and making a mess of his lap and stomach while he rambled on.

“Love you - I love you so fuckin’ much,” he admitted, burying his face in your chest. He may have been embarrassed about coming so fast, but you were more than pleased that you made him finish so soon.

“Hey, maybe next time, you show me?” you asked and he raised his eyebrows.

“Next time? Oh, no,” his eyes were wide, like a kid in a candy store, “get on the bed.”

You almost told him to remember who was in charge, who made the demands, but you were far too excited to just be with him. You shrugged off his sweatshirt and laid on his bed. He crawled over to you after he cleaned himself up and pulled you in to kiss again. The warmth of your chest on his was intoxicating for him. His hands eagerly explored all the expanses of soft skin he had dreamed of touching, eventually stopping to rest one at the front of your sweatpants. Without hesitation, his fingers breached the elastic and he slid his hand down, only to realize you weren’t wearing anything underneath the sweatpants either.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?” he warned.

You playfully grinned, all the way up until you felt him drag two fingers right through your folds, sliding them up and down at a slow and steady pace.

“Logan,” you sighed, “fuck.”

He dragged the waistband of your sweatpants down and you kicked them off, leaving you as bare as he was. He sat back on his heels so he could take a good look at you. It was a tender moment in between passionate frenzies of hands and mouths.

“You’re everythin’ I ever dreamed of, you know,” he sighed and you could’ve cried from how sweet he was.

“Really?”

You were still enamored with each other, basking in the warmth of newly exposed skin. The air in the room was much different than it had been before, though. What felt like built up tension dissipated and was replaced by the excitement of getting to finally be with each other.

“Yes, really,” Logan replied in disbelief, as if even asking that was crazy, “you’re fucking beautiful.”

Even while he was sitting back on his heels, his thighs spread and his semi hard cock on full display, he still made you bashful with every compliment.

“You’re fucking hot, c’mere,” you eagerly reached up to press your lips to his and bring him down on top of you with your arms around his neck.

He moaned into your mouth and let you pull him down, reveling in the sensation of your hands moving to tug at his hair.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he mumbled against your lips in between kisses while his hands kneaded the widest part of your thighs.

“You do,” you replied instantly, but he shook his head and pulled away a little.

“Uh-uh, I mean like this.”

Two of his fingers slipped between your folds again and found your clit instantly. He started lightly tracing circles around the bundle of nerves. Your back arched and you gasped, spreading your legs wider in an impossible attempt to somehow get more of him.

“Is that good?” he asked, eyes flickering from your face to your pussy and back again.

“It - ah - ‘s really good, you’re doing such a good job, baby,” you replied, whimpering when he started to trace his fingers even further down so that they could slip into you.

“You’re so fucking wet, Jesus,” he groaned, looking like he was going to faint just from the sight of his fingers becoming soaked when he thrusted them in and back out again. He moved himself a little further down the mattress to settle his face in between your thighs while he laid on his stomach. He wanted to watch you clench around his fingers up close and get a taste of what he’d been fantasizing about for so long.

“Logan,” you moaned softly when he curled his fingers, “think you - you’d feel so fucking good in me.”

He could feel himself already growing hard again against the mattress just from the words spilling from your lips. He was leaving hungry, open mouthed kisses from the inside of your thighs right up until his breath was fanning your aching cunt.

“Such a good boy,” you managed to pant while his fingers still worked at a relentless pace. His eyes were glued to where you were taking him, mesmerized by how wet you were and the noises you were making.

You arched your back and whimpered when he pulled his fingers from you so he could spread your slick all the way up to your clit and circle around it.

“I know you wanna taste it, baby,” you noticed his intense stare, “go ahead.”

He retracted his fingers so he could spread you open with his thumbs, lay his tongue flat and lick you.

“Fucking Christ,” you swore when you felt the warm, wet heat of his tongue.

He moaned into you, grinding his hips down on the mattress for any sort of relief.

“Taste even better than I imagined,” he took a deep breath, “I think about this all the time.”

You couldn’t help the smug grin on your face, broken every now and then when a moan escaped your mouth.

“You get off thinking about eating my pussy?”

He hummed with his tongue still swiping up your cunt.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” you sighed, “what else do you think about, babe?”

Even just hearing the nickname from you was still enough to make his cock twitch.

“Like lookin’ at your legs,” he spoke in between licking and sucking, “thinkin’ about how soft your thighs would be around my head.”

You were turned on beyond belief when he confessed those things to you. Something about his devotion, how he’d do seemingly anything for you, ignited some kind of fire in the pit of your stomach. He even noticed how you immediately started to get even wetter.

“You like when I tell you stuff like that?”

Your eyes were closed and your hips rolled forward to push yourself even further onto his fingers, even if he was already knuckle deep. You nodded in response, too distracted by the pleasure of having Logan’s tongue and fingers at the same time.

“I love watchin’ your hips when you walk” he muttered against you, “thinkin’ about getting to hold ‘em while you ride me.”

There was no way you could be turned on any more than you were. You were moaning and whimpering into a pillow when you started to get so loud that you feared someone would hear you. Logan looked up and smiled to himself, satisfied that he could touch you so right that you had to muffle the sound of your moans.

“I look at your tits a lot when you talk to me,” he started again, knowing how much you seemed to like it, “can’t help it, always thinkin’ about gettin’ to touch ‘em and put ‘em in my mouth.”

“I - fuck - I wear low cut stuff on purpose so you’ll stare,” you gasped, “wanted you to think about me.”

“God, I do, all the time,” he groaned before making obscene wet noises while he buried his face in your pussy.

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you confessed, “need to feel you inside me.”

He growled into you and muttered his response.

“I wanna make you cum on my face, first. I’ve been dreaming about it forever. After, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Mhm.”

Your head was swimming with all the ideas of what you could do to him. It pushed you even further towards your orgasm.

Logan was curling his fingers to repeatedly hit the same spot inside you and your legs started to shake. He could feel you tighten around his fingers, pulsing around him.

“Fuck, are you close? Please, c’mon, cum for me,” he pleaded in a desperate voice, still mumbling against your throbbing pussy.

Hearing his voice beg for your release was enough for it to come, crashing over you in waves while you tugged on his hair to angle his mouth.

“Love you, I love how you touch me,” you confessed while catching your breath, “I’ve never been with anyone who’s been able to make me cum like that.”

Unfortunately, it was the truth. You’d been eaten out before, of course, but no one you had been with had actually thought about your needs in that way and if they did, they lick everywhere but where you wanted them. Logan was a different story. He’d eat you like you were the last thing he’d ever taste in his life. He buried his face in your pussy till you squirmed, as if he was starving. He worshiped the spot between your thighs - it was a privilege to even see you, never mind taste you. Tasting you on his tongue was something he’d been craving for so long.

“I love you,” he replied when he finally detached his mouth from your cunt, his chin and cheeks covered in you, “no one’s ever done that for you before?”

“Not till I came, no,” you answered kind of sheepishly.

He crawled up so he was above you again and kissed you, swirling his tongue in your mouth so you could taste yourself.

“Get used to it,” he smiled and held himself up on his forearms, “I wanna do that every night.”

Your pussy was already throbbing again when he presented the idea. You were immediately lost in thought, imagining him between your thighs all over again, maybe while you’re sitting on your desk or riding his pretty face. You were brought back to reality when you felt the weight of Logan’s hard, leaking cock on your thigh. You looked down and raised your eyebrows.

“How are you hard again? Not that I mind.”

He laughed a little.

“Uh, you know the regenerative thing? It applies to all of me.”

“Wow,” you whispered unintentionally, “holy shit, am I lucky.”

“Nah,” he replied immediately, tenderly holding your face in one hand, “I’m the lucky one. I got the girl of my dreams in my bed.”

The more he sweet talked, the more you wanted to absolutely fuck him till you broke the bed frame.

“Logan?”

“Mhm.”

“Remember when you said you’d let me do whatever I want to you?”

He took a deep breath and nodded his head, almost shaking from the anticipation of being your toy.

“Lay on your back,” you commanded and he did so immediately.

You caught the way his hard cock twitched when you swung your legs over his and straddled his hips, your cunt right behind where he needed you. You rolled your hips the slightest bit, moving yourself forward to graze his balls first. His hips jerked when you did and his hands instantly came to your hips and waist, kneading the flesh and gripping you so hard he might leave fingerprint bruises, ones you’d love to have because they were his. His hands slithered all around your body - your thighs, hips, waist, tits, neck, face, arms - in an attempt to memorize every bit of you. His favorite part of your body, if he was really forced to choose, would probably be your hips, tummy, and thighs. He loved how soft you were to the touch, how he could use your thighs or hips as something to grab onto. Still, this felt unreal to both of you. You never would’ve thought Logan would ever see you as more than a friend, so finding your panties in his room was like a fantasy come to life.

You inched yourself up a little further to finally settle yourself at the base of Logan’s cock, granting him the littlest bit of relief.

“You’re gonna feel so good inside of me,” you told him. He was so big that you were sure he probably wouldn’t have to put in much effort to have you cumming around him again. You almost drooled thinking of how it would feel to sink down on him for the first time, how amazing it would feel for him to stretch you out and fill you completely.

He looked like he was in a daze, his eyes glued to you.

“I wanna make you cum again,” he confessed, “I don’t even care if I don’t, I fuckin’ love getting you off.”

That sentence alone could have had you leaking onto him before he even got himself in you.

“You’ll cum,” you promised, “I’ll be sure of it.”

He inhaled sharply and watched you grind your hips up to finally slide yourself up the length of his cock. He whined, a sound that was music to your ears, and used his grip on your hips to eagerly push and pull you back and forth.

“Careful, Kitty,” you cooed, “you’re gonna finish before we even start if you keep doing that.

He groaned, loud, so loud it almost startled you.

“Oh,” you held a smug grin, “you like when I call you that, don’t you?”

He ground his hips up into you and you gasped when he slid you over the tip of his cock and back again.

“Yeah, yeah,” he panted, “please, fuck me, please.”

You leaned down with your hands holding you up on either side of his head.

“Do you think you’ve been good enough to deserve it?”

He nodded frantically. You almost thought you saw tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

“I’ll - I’ll do fucking anything, need you so bad,” he begged and you couldn’t resist him when he looked so gorgeous underneath you - a tall, brooding, muscular guy like him absolutely pussy drunk the second he saw you naked.

You reached down to line him up with your entrance, keeping your eyes locked on his. His hands slid up and down your thighs and hips as you started to sink down onto him. Barely even in you, you could see Logan was practically trembling.

He slid his hands to the back of your neck so he could pull you down for a kiss, slow and passionate in a way that made your heart feel like it would burst. With his lips still on yours, you lowered your hips. He gasped into your mouth and his head rolled back before you’d even taken half of him.

“You’re so perfect,” you told him truthfully, whimpering when he bucked his hips up to push himself further into you.

“Look who’s talkin’,” he flashed a slight grin, his eyes trailing down your body.

You followed his gaze and realized he was staring at where he was almost completely filling you. You forcefully sunk yourself down to take the last few inches of him and his breathing became heavy.

“Feels good?” you asked and used a hand to hold his chin so he was forced to look at you.

“More than that,” he panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “fucking amazing.”

“Open, look at me.”

He obeyed, hazel eyes glued to your features.

“Be a good boy for me, hm? Don’t cum until I say you can,” you instructed and started to slowly work your hips up and down.

He groaned loudly, whimpering and squeezing his eyes shut again.

“What’d I say?,” you grabbed his face again, “I said look at me, didn’t I?”

“F- mhm, you-you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he heaved, opening his eyes and gnawing in his bottom lip to try and keep them open. He wanted to stare, study and memorize every movement you made on top of him, but he knew watching you would only make it harder for him to keep himself from cumming.

You started working up a steady pace while he kept his grip on your thighs. Logan was pushing his hips up every time yours came down, grunting and moaning.

“You feel so fucking good,” you told him truthfully, rolling your hips when he was fully inside you so that his patch of curly, short dark hair created friction against your swollen clit, “fill me up so well, baby.”

He could only let out a guttural moan, an intoxicating sound that matched the rhythm of his headboard hitting the wall. His mouth was hung open as he watched himself disappear inside of you over and over again.

“Aw, pretty kitty,” you delicately moved his hands above his head so you could interlace your fingers and hold his hands down, “you already look fucked out of your mind.”

His face and chest were flushed, sweat starting to dampen his hair. He watched your every move with a loving gaze. You both knew he could resist your attempt to hold him down easily - he just didn’t want to. It was the perfect angle, one where he could see your gorgeous face with your jaw hung open and your eyes on him.

“ ‘m yours, you know. Always - always have been,” he muttered between gasps as you sped up your pace.

“I’m yours too, Logan - you know that, right?” your smile was sweet, even while you were on top of him like that.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore - the combination of your filthy words and beautiful body was going to send him over the edge if he didn’t try to concentrate on keeping himself from spilling into you.

“Ah, m-mhm,” he whined as a response.

You suddenly lifted your hips and let him slip out of you.

“Words, baby,” you reminded him, “you have to a good boy for me if you want me to keep fucking you.”

His eyebrows were knitted together and his mouth opened as if he was almost in pain from not being inside you anymore.

“ ‘m good, i’m good, please - need to,” he was breathing hard and kneading your thighs.

“Need to what, baby?”

You knew exactly what you were doing and so did he. You wanted to hear him say it, hear him beg.

“Need to be in you,” he sighed, trying to catch his breath.

“I think I should make you work for it,” you told him, instantly having an idea of how he’d do it.

“Anything, I’ll do anything.”

“I know, sweetheart,” you were as smug as you could be “switch with me.”

You climbed off him and laid on your back, but not before you had a look at what a mess you’d made. The trimmed hair around his cock was clearly soaked, so much so that you could see the shine of what you left behind on his lower stomach - on that nice trail of hair that runs down into the front of his pants all the time.

“Fuck,” Logan swore under his breath when he saw what you had.

“Don’t get too worked up, kitty,” you held a mischievous smile and he tentatively crawled on top of you, his waist between your legs as he held himself up on his forearms.

He grunted, “you’re still gonna call me that when I’m slammin’ into you?”

That sentence alone evoked a tingling feeling in the bottom of your stomach.

“Maybe once or twice,” you caught your bottom lip between his teeth, “but if you’re fucking me and I can still speak, you’ve gotta go harder.”

“Ugh,” he couldn’t help groaning - not out of disgust or annoyance, more so an expression of frustration for how badly he wanted to do that to you. He wanted to fuck you till you were speechless, maybe do so well for you that you’d leave a nice white ring around the base of his cock.

You reached down between your bodies to align him again and he slipped in immediately. Even with how wet you were, it was still a stretch. You locked your ankles at the small of his back, maybe out of instinct or to push him further into you - you weren’t sure. He tried to delicately fill you again, fearful that too much too soon could hurt you, but you pushed some of his sweat soaked hair off of his forehead and lovingly held his face in your hands.

“Go ahead, Logan, it’s okay,” you told him, knowing how much he loved to hear you say his name, “you’re not gonna hurt me.”

When he was fully inside of you, his hips flush with the inside of your thighs, he practically had you pinned to the mattress with his lower body. He buried his head in your neck while he slowly started to rock his hips. He was leaving wet kisses below your ear, biting and sucking your soft skin. You couldn’t help gasping and squirming, something that had encouraged Logan to pick up his pace.

“I-I don’t heal like you do,” you warned, “ those are gonna leave a mark.”

“Good,” he muttered against your neck.

You had your hands tangled in his disheveled hair and used your grip to tug his head up, hard enough to make him moan but not enough to really hurt him.

You were practically nose to nose while your hot breaths fanned each other’s faces.

“You wanna mark me up ‘cause I’m yours, huh?”

He hated how well you could read him. It may have been a blessing in disguise, though.

He growled and his nostrils flared, something you discovered you found incredibly hot. His eyebrows were furrowed and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked pissed. Except the noises he made for you proved just about the opposite.

“Mhm,” he heaved, “mine, all mine.”

That definitely built up the pressure in your stomach. You liked being the dominant one, but it was undeniably sexy when he took control.

“ ‘m yours,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck so you could kiss him. First, you actually kissed his cheek - you were so sweet sometimes that he felt like he would melt into you - then you pressed your lips to his. It was another hungry kiss, the kind that had your lips covered in each other's spit and left a string of saliva connecting your mouths when he pulled himself up. It was as if you were starving to eat each other.

“I love you,” he sighed, his hand grazing your cheek affectionately, “wanna be like this forever.”

“I - I love you too,” you choked out between whines and gasps for air as he knocked it out of you, “you feel even better that I thought you would.”

“Really?” he asked, kissing along your jaw, “you thought about that before?”

“So many times,” you admitted, “I figured you were big but Jesus.”

He groaned into your skin and held himself up again so he could look at your pretty face. You stared back, eyes traveling down his face and to the silver dog tags that hung around his neck. They swung back and forth with every snap of his hips. You wondered if he’d let you wear them some time so you could have his name around your neck and maybe have it dangle in his face the next time you were on top.

Logan kept his steady pace but it quickened when he could feel you using your legs around him to try and push him further into you. You knew the inside of your thighs would certainly be bruised from his hips slamming against you and it pushed you even closer to coming undone. He wrapped an arm under you as you were gasping his name and clawing at his back. He growled and cursed under his breath from hearing your pretty voice say his name over and over again. He had to make you cum first and soon because he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

He sat back on his knees and took you with him, using a firm grip to drag you down the mattress a bit and keep your legs on either side of him, all without slipping out of you. He kept the bottom half of your body laid on his lap, fucking you from a new angle that had your legs shaking. He hit that perfect spot inside of you over and over again when he thrusted his hips, feeling proud when he saw just how much you were enjoying it.You were gripping the sheets so hard that your fingernails were digging into your palms.

“Fuck, you like that? ‘s good?” He slurred, his sweat making his irresistible body shine like he was a Greek fucking god.

You were speechless from how hard he was fucking you, pulling back and ramming his cock into you so hard that the headboard was slamming against the wall.

“I-mhm,” you really did try to say something, anything, but all that came out was a high pitched moan.

“Guess ‘m doing it right then, if ya’ can’t talk” he muttered with a short laugh, referring to what you’d told him earlier.

“M-mhm,” you hummed, eyes squeezed shut.

He started to trace slow circles around your clit, staring in awe at your swollen pussy. He leaned back a little and spat on it so he could spread his saliva all over your cunt.

“Oh, my god, L-Logan,” you gasped, feeling the pressure in your stomach build higher and higher.

“Need ya’ to cum on me,” he panted, his mouth hanging open as he watched your tits bounce with every thrust, “gotta feel it.”

“ ‘m gonna -“

“C’mon, baby, c’mon, please,” he begged, desperate to see you pulse around him.

His pleading words pushed you over the edge and you grabbed his arms, digging crescent shapes into his skin that disappeared in seconds. Your back arched and your eyes started to water as he worked you through your orgasm, his fingers staying exactly where they were.

“ ‘s too much, too - ah,” you whined and gasped while you weakly tried to push his hand away, but he only shook his head.

“Uh-uh, baby,” he told you, “jus’ one more - just wanna get one more outta you.”

You could feel a warm tear fall down the side of your face from the overstimulation. You were cumming again after a few swipes of his fingers.

His thrusts became sloppier with every whimper of yours that echoed in the room and he came with a loud groan when he felt you spasm around him, leaning down to bury his face in your neck as he spilled into you.

“Love you so much,” he sighed into your skin, breathing heavily.

“I love you too,” you exhaled, pressing an innocent kiss to his cheek.

He sat up and slowly pulled himself out, watching a mix of his cum and yours drip out of you and onto the sheets.

“C’mere,” he panted, laying on his stomach and dragging your thighs to lock around his head.

“Logan, what are you d-”

Before you could ask what exactly he was doing, he shoved his tongue as far as he could inside of you, dragging it up and around your pussy, even the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck - ah,” you gasped and grabbed his hair, tugging every time he grazed your clit.

When he finally pulled himself off you, he wiped his cheeks and chin with the palm of his hand so he could lick it clean.

“Jesus christ,” you let out a short laugh.

“Just wanted to clean you up,” he explained, crawling back onto the bed to wrap his arms around you.

You were both starting to nod off, much too exhausted to get dressed or clean the mess you’d made of his sheets. He kissed your shoulder, the back of your neck and the side of your face, pulling you as close as possible. Before you let exhaustion overtake you completely, you felt Logan mumble into your hair.

“I Iove you, sweetheart.”

You smiled wide, laying your arm over his.

“I love you, too.”

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

A/N: Thank you sm for reading!! pls like and reblog if u enjoyed :3 also, as always, I am still working on inbox requests <3

#wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #logan howlet smut #logan wolverine #logan howlet x reader

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absolutebl · 12 days ago

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This Week in BL - Some Surprises

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

NOV 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Fourever You (Thai Thurs YT) ep 5 of 16 - I love this show, but I absolutely hate the main couple's communication style. Or complete lack of communication style. I really hope the other couples are not gonna be this bad and it’s just because this one is leaning into the worst of BL archetypes. But I’m not confident. Poor Ter dating Hill put a big old target on his back. Earth being a dramatic stressed gay queen was peak comedy tho. Apparently the good kisses are only on WeTV (I am annoyed) so props to the giffers who keep me supplied. You're doing the BL gods work.

I suddenly realized, after the bullying sequence, that one of the reasons I’m liking this so much is it reminds me of early Japanese yaoi. There’s something about the dynamics of the characters and the way they're reacting to situations that’s not very Thai BL feeling. And if I think of this is more JBL, I forgive it. Or maybe that’s just why I’m liking it so much despite its flaws? Difficult to understand my own feels about this show.

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - I don’t like this new evil-bonkers rich kid character and whatever is going on with Jack and Rose and that whole story. It’s boring. And then my brain short circuited. No further thoughts... just War in a wife beater.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 7 of 15 - Phun's bitch face really is epically wonderful. I kinda enjoy everybody ribbing the two of them because they have no idea what’s actually going on. I'm chronicling my experience with 2024 as compared to 2014 here.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 9 of 12 - Omg cutest boyfriends EVER. I don’t even mind how cheesy their bf era is. Does this lull jive with the rest of the story? Nope. But ya know that’s GMMTV’s thing these days, flailing during the final act.

Perfect 10 Liners (Thai Sun YouTube?) ep 1 of 24 - Pretty standard Thai BL university fair. I am hoping it’s better than ForceBook’s previous offering. Yet another sniff test. Is this the trope of the year? Meanwhile, they also deployed the crash into me trope in episode one. Who do they think they are? Taiwan?

New is directing this uni BL with a massive cast + massive run time. It's an endurance test ya'll - we will be watching this until APRIL of 2025! Su su na.

Every You Every Me (Thai Mon Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - I really like that they had the bandwidth to give us a little side couple with this installment. Fun crumbs. Meanwhile, the thing with the shirt in front of the mirror was extremely sexy. This installment was very sad though. And, of course, I’m not happy about it. To top it all off, next week is musical themed, so you know I’m disgruntled about it.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 3 of 13 - Aw spoiled neglected rich boy wants to be cared for and spoiled honestly. I do love them. Also tiny idiot syndrome is spreading.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 6 of ? - The side couple (teacher student, hyung romance but he’s using em) interesting. Not sure how I feel about them. The subs are so bad it’s largely incomprehensible but I’m still enjoying it for no defensible reason.

My Damn Business (Korea Sat YT) eps 5 of 7 - I love that our uke can be such a little shit. I love it when a tsundere has some serious snark and attitude to back his petulance up. Also liquid courage. At least we got to the root of the tsundere. Also neck kisses and cuddles!

Eccentric Romance (Korea Weds Viki) eps 7-8 of 12 - Oooo, cute kiss. Drunken but adorable. I do like it when they use older Korean actors in KBL, they actually know how to kiss. Has the kiss saved this show? Possibly. I’m shallow.

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 7 of 10 eps - Our con man is such a good little homemaker. And it’s sexy yukata time! Love this trope.

Love in the Air: Koi no Yokan (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Same plot as the Thai original, only from Japan. Very similar so far. I hope Rei is a bit more smart and Arashi is a bit less of a sleaze. I still get too much secondhand embarrassment and my mame alert is blaring. I'm wary.

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China Sun iQIYI) eps 1-2 - Triggers for child abuse, alcoholism. Two artists, one an abused rich kid and the other a tough scrappy poor kid, in the same art prep school. I of course adore the side couple of the much younger kid and the older teacher. Oh, I do like it. But it's CBL, I'm very scared as to where it might go.

Bad to Bed (Taiwan Sat YouTube) ep 1 of 10 - Influencer Wan Xiong suffers from insomnia, it’s a physical and mental battle. As he tried to find a solution, he encounters five boys along the way. I'm putting this on the list because it's airing and I just found out about it but I didn't have time to watch it yet. I hear it's v weird.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) 10 eps - Supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - I DNF'd at ep 7, I couldn't make it. I am weak. Life is hard enough right now, this show is making it harder. It’s not what I want from my entertainment.

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Korea Thurs Gaga) eps 4 of 8 - I put this one on pause. It's too heavy for me right now. I'll wait to know if the ending is hard fought happy (and then watch) or not (and won't finish). Sorry all, rough times this side of the screen.

Random I watched it

Vending Machine Sabi Koi AKA Can I Buy Your Love From A Vending Machine AKA Sono Koi, Jihanki de Kaemasu ka? (Japan 2023) - This show is utterly adorable, impossibly awkward, and kinda old fashioned. About a cute nerdy little office worker (he's out!) who has a big'ol crush on the tall hulking vending machine guy. They fall in love. And that’s it. And it’s charming. There’s some first name eroticism, because Japan, and there's emphasis on communication, which is so not Japan, but turns this into an organically loving and talkative relationship. There’s a bit of an age gap, and our office cutie may or may not have a muscles fetish (the hot bod not the shellfish) because (if I’ve told you once I’ve told you 1 million times) Japan always goes kinky. And you know what, I loved it. 9/10

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

November BL:

11/4 Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu (Japan Mon Gaga?) 11 eps - Minase was an exemplary high school student who hates Hirukawa, head bully and top delinquent. But then Minase uncovers Hirukawa’s secret and the two get intimate.

11/15 Caged Again (Thai Fri WeTV) 10 eps - Penguin escapes zoo by turning into a human. Gets trapped again and a panther falls in love with him.

11/17 Your Sky (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - Due to an unforeseen situation, a naive freshman and the campus’s popular senior agree to pretend to be a couple - but their fake deal begins to generate real feelings.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Honor the crumbs indeed. This pair is so much crumbs it's practically dust. (Love Sick 2014)

God he is so stupidly in love.

(lask week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

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earthnashes · 4 months ago

Text

Melon didn't stand a chance.

One moment he's staring the end of their journey over the horizon, and the next he's sent plummeting into the awaiting maw of the trench he stood over by a hearty smack of a claw.

He yelps as he tumbles, twisting in the air for a heartstopping moment before his back meets a crag. Mario's cries are muted by rushing wind as he slips again, falling falling falling--

A heavy thud echoes as he collides--bounces-- off another rock face. His ears rings with the rattling in his skull---

A sharp thwack of his head hitting a jutting ledge, and suddenly Melon doesn't hear-- or feel-- much of anything the rest of the way down.

A metal tang coats his tongue red, and the sting of the air bites against his bruises.

No weight on his back anymore--

Everything hurts.

--the boy...Mario. Where's Mario? D-did he fall too--

Can't move.

--he needs to get up. His human cub, he could be hurt o-or--- get up--

Stay down.

--get up get up GET UP--

Melon stays down, can't muster the strength to listen to the mantra in his head. Instead, all he hears is the desperate wails of Mario, and it's enough to force his eyes open just a sliver. He blearily looks up.

At the edge of the cliff he tumbled from stands the silhouettes he can only barely make out; three huge, three smaller, all laughing and pointing and grinning toothily at the heap of him. The leader- and he must be, with how he leers cockily over the ledge-- sneers down at him.

"Thank ye for the delivery, lad! We've been lookin' all over for this little bastard," he says, and without a care he swings a hollering Mario over the ledge by the scruff. The boy twists precariously in his grip --one slip from falling-- and reaches out for Melon with terrified tears in his eyes. He wails some semblance of his name, and Melon feels his gut twist.

"Come now, lad, I see that long face from here; ye nothin' to worry about! Brat may've been a pain in the arse to get, but it'll be worth it in the end. Pirate's Honor: we'll take real good care of 'em," The leader gloats, ugly grin stretching wider as he flicks the boy's nose with a sharp claw. "Just like we have his snivellin' flake of a brother. They'll fetch a fine cut yet."

No no no give him back

"I reckon ye wanna say g'bye at least, aye? I could grant that much, bein' a frog of honor and wot-not." The captain holds Mario high above his head, like an angler would his prized catch, and grins down at Melon from his spot above.

"Go on then. Tell 'em 'afore I change me mind."

Something twisted and ugly clogs Melon's throat with bile and copper. He bares his teeth and tries tries tries to bark, to roar, anything to demand his human cub back to him.

GIVE HIM BACK, his mind screetches. But all that crawls out of his mouth is a rattling, broken whimper. It drags his strength with it by the scruff, spilling in a tiny puddle of spittle and grime and blood as his vision begins to waver. His eyes glaze over and fall closed against his will.

And within the canopy of booming laughs and grating cackles, the last thing Melon hear is Mario's cries.

--------------------------------------------

AND HERE IT IS.

Part 10 of Melon's Adventure, FINALLY COMPLETE, and with it Arc 1 of this story has come to a close!

I'm glad I managed to finish this arc even with it being forced into a hiatus alongside my burnout months back; I had an absolute blast revisiting my childhood and telling the story in a way I've always imagined it as a kid.

Now, given that it's been a while since the last part, I've taken the liberty to compile all of Melon's Adventure into the #melon's adventure tag for ease of access if you'd like to read it back from the beginning!

Despite this marking the end of Arc 1, I'm hoping to make this the start of me delving back into my Super Mario AU, albeit in a slightly different way. There's still plenty of stories there I'd love to share with ya'll. :>

In fact, in related news: I'm actually planning on opening an online store, and my first planned launch will be themed on Melon's Adventure! More information to come on that relatively soon as more work is done.

At any rate, I hope ya'll enjoyed this story! More to come soon! owo

#super mario #yoshi's island #melon's adventure #yoshi #wart #8 bits #baby mario #my art #my stuff #headcanon #nintendo headcanon

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trippinsorrows · 3 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + thirteen

authors note: welp. the gala is finally here, friends! i hope you enjoy. well, the enjoyable parts.

ya'll remember that promo where kevin and sami tried to jump roman and he was furious, throwing shit out the ring, yelling at solo to position sami for the spear? that's how angry our collective favorite grump gets in this one...

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of torture, fighting violence, language, angst, fluff, livid roman, and discussion regarding family loss.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 11k

“Guys, is this really necessary?”

Truth be told, Solana already knows how both of her friends are going to respond. Bayley, however, is the one who briefly rips her focus from finding an x-large size in the top to the matching bottoms she’s picked out for Solana.

“It absolutely is necessary.” She takes a second to gesture to Solana’s outfit for the day. “You’ve come so far in so many ways, including not hiding your body as much, so we have to keep that going.”

“Exactly,” Naomi chimes as she reaches yet another dress to Solana, adding it to the pile of clothes she already has stacked on her arm. “Besides, who doesn’t love shopping with other people’s money?”

Other people would be Roman. Despite her horror at the totals every time Bayley and Naomi sucker her into these outrageous shopping trips, her husband never seems to bat an eye. It’s not unsurprising. She knows he’s filthy rich. But still, just the thought of spending so much money on clothes is a struggle.

And as Bayley adds the two piece suit to her arm, Solana starts to notice there’s a theme in the items they’re picking for her. A lot of bathing suits. Sun dresses. Shorts and thin sleeved tops. All appropriate for summer, of course. But, something else.

Like a trip.

Curious, Solana suddenly asks, “why are we getting so many vacation type outfits?”

Naomi looks at her with the perfect confused expression. “What?” She laughs, picking up a bright orange top with a low neckline. “Girl, it’s summer. These are summer clothes.”

“But all these bathing suits—”

“Because we finally got you to embrace a two-piece, so now we need to make sure you have plenty of em’ whenever you and Roman decide to go for a swim.” Her wink makes Solana look away to hide her blush. She doesn’t regret opening up about trying to eventually consummate her marriage, but the way Naomi and Bayley never waste a chance to crack an innuendo can be….a lot at times.

“I’m gonna go bring these up front.” Solana gestures to the heavy stack of clothes that she’s holding. The second, or maybe third, stack they’ve accumulated for her. There’s always a check-in regarding if Solana likes it or not, which she appreciates. Even if they’ve become exceptionally good at distinguishing whether she doesn’t like something because it’s just not her style or whether she doesn’t like it because of insecurity. And when it’s the second one, they never hesitate to invoke their veto powers, instructing the cashier to ring it up.

Solana finds the sales girl from earlier up at the register, messing around on her phone as the line is non-existent. Her emerald green eyes dart up from the screen and an almost crooked smile falls on her young looking face. Solana would guess she’s either in her late teens or early twenties.

“Got more for me?”

Solana giggles. “Just a little.”

The girl also laughs, accepting the new pile and adding it with the others. She turns back around with a bit of skeptical look. “Hey, uh, can I ask you something?”

Curious, Solana nods. “Sure.”

She leans over the counter, red hair sprinkling past her freckled shoulders. “How did you meet your husband?” Eyes widening a bit, Solana’s surprise at the question must show. “I’ve seen you come in here a couple times now over the past few months, and every time you spend more than what my parents probably make in a month combined. And your ring is so beautiful. I guess I’m just kind of wondering how I can get lucky too. Cause your husband clearly loves you a lot to spoil you so much.”

Love…..

Not until this very moment has Solana ever thought about Roman and the word love in the same sentence. Hell, in the same universe.

He’s….he’s done so much for her. Changed her life, for the better, in almost every way. And she’s gathered that he must care for her to some extent. Why else would he do the things he’s done? But love….that’s such a strong word.

Too strong.

Not to mention, he’d made clear to her the first time he came to visit her at her job that he could never love her. He was very honest about that, and in a weird way, she appreciated it.

But…..but he also said that she was a business arrangement, and nothing about the way he treats her feels like a business obligation.

So…..

It’s such a big thing, a big thing she’s not sure she wants to tackle in public, let alone while standing in front of a complete stranger.

“He’s really great.” That’s the answer nonanswer that she settles on. “I just….I got really lucky with him.” Because she did. God knows she did.

“Fair,” the girl laughs. “Well, if he has any younger brothers who are kind and generous like him, I’m single.”

Solana smiles a bit when her attention lands on the word brothers. Siblings. Family.

It takes her back to a few months earlier, the night he rushed off because of conflict with this Cody Rhodes person. The night he shared with her he also lost his mother at the age of ten.

But…..but there was more.

Brief glimpses, flashbacks almost of a different night. Her body pressed against his. His strong arms around her. Comforting her almost.

“....all of my siblings….”

“.....only one…..”

“....alone….”

And though she can’t make out everything, can’t remember verbatim what he’d shared with her that evening. there’s enough bits and pieces that she’s able to string together a coherent, heartbreaking realization.

It wasn’t just Roman’s mom he lost that night.

He lost his entire family.

He was the only one who made it out alive.

There’s a crushing, cumbersome weight Solana feels in the back of her throat as well as the pit of her stomach. She knows better than most how devastating the loss of family can be, but to lose your entire immediate family in one night. As a child?

That’s a pain she can’t even imagine.

Roman makes a lot more sense now, his coldness, the constant aloof disposition. The way he always has his guard up. Beyond just his title as Tribal Chief. How can one not lose trust in most and all things with a loss like that?

How can one love after a loss like that?

Realizing her epiphany is unfolding behind the sales girl, Solana manages to murmur out a, “I’ll keep that in mind” before excusing herself. She just needs some space. Needs some—

“Solana?”

The woman in question is close to the entrance of the story when a voice, both new and familiar, calls her name, forcing her to turn around. And it’s when she does so that Solana realizes why it’s familiar.

“Dom?”

It’s been years since she’s seen him, and he looks both the same yet different. Facial hair that seems uneven and unconnected with a hairstyle to match, bangs almost entirely obscuring his bushy eyebrows. He’s dressed in all black, clothes draped over his still slim build. Once upon a time, she would grow nervous around him, insecure of herself in comparison to someone she thought was so much more attractive than he actually was. Now though, she just wants to pretend this unexpected encounter never happened.

“What are you—”

“Did you get bigger?”

And there it goes. One simple question asked with almost a hint of a mocking smile, Solana is briefly reverted back to those days of deep rooted insecurity. Where she’d hold her stomach in around him and always only order salad the few times he took her out.

For a second, she’s tempted to cross her arms, suddenly regretting the top that doesn’t entirely connect with her high waisted shorts, exposing a strip of skin.

“Damn. I really thought you would have gotten yourself together by now.” He scoffs, crossing his arms as he tilts his head. “You still not putting out? Cause your tits are actually not that—”

“Shut up.”

Solana isn’t sure who’s more surprised by her interruption. Him or her. Perhaps him, because his smile is dropped, replaced with an almost scowl.

“What the hell did you say to me, mami?”

But instead of cowering, instead of her anxiety growing at him, a man, moving closer to her. Trying to intimidate her. Solana doesn’t back down.

She doesn’t back down because she’s not scared.

Chin lifted, she keeps her voice firm and unwavering. “You don’t get to talk about me anymore. Not my weight. Not my body. None of it.” Seeing the shock in his eyes at her actually standing up for herself, not allowing him to talk down on her like he always would, makes Solana’s assertiveness that much more fulfilling. “Now leave me alone.”

She turns to walk away when she hears footsteps behind her. “Where do you think—”

Call it the result of her training or the fact that she’s still very much in her feelings and head about her heartbreaking realization regarding Roman, Solana hasn’t a clue just what leads her to spin around and connect her fist directly with Dom’s nose. However, as soon as she does it, sees him stumbling back into a rack, she slaps her hands over her mouth.

“Oh my….” But instead of apologizing, instead of feeling terrible for hitting another human being, she finds herself almost laughing. A shocked, amused smile hidden underneath her palms. Her first is hurting a bit, but that sting is dulled by the satisfaction of his dumbfounded facial expression.

It’s a bit short lived though as he straightens up and starts to stalk toward her. “What the hell? You crazy puta—”

“What the fuck did you just call her?”

Solana turns to see Bayley and Naomi. It’s hard to distinguish who looks more pissed. Who looks more ready to commit murder.

Naomi steps forward. “I know you did not just call her a bitch.” She turns to Bayley. “That’s what puta means in Spanish, right?”

“It sure does.” Bayley answers, coming to stand beside Solana. Protectively. “He called her a crazy bitch at that.” She scoffs, dressing him up and down. “Everyone knows you’re an idiot, Dom, but I didn’t think you were that stupid. Who the hell do you think you are talking to her like that?”

“He’s my ex.” Solana answers, partially unsure why she would let slip a piece of information that could only make the situation worse.

Naomi’s mouth drops open, one thumb gesturing to him. “Dirty Dumbass Dom is your ex?” Her eyes widen even more. “The one who said—oh hell no, Solana. We’re kicking his ass.”

Bayley lifts her hand, effectively stopping Naomi as she moves forward, no doubt ready to lay into him. Head tilted to the side, she smiles. “No….I have a much better idea.” Solana is understandably confused as Bayley tells Naomi, “I still have my stuff in my trunk.”

Naomi’s eyes light up. “Oh, this just got so much better.” She turns towards the sales associate who’s been watching everything unfold from a distance like it was a TikTok storytime. “Hold the items, please. We’ll be back in a little bit.”

Solana turns around to see the girl just give a thumbs up and shrug. “Do what you gotta do.”

Dom groaning in pain is what makes Solana turn her attention back to him, only to see him doubled over, holding his crotch as Naomi hits him in his back and starts guiding him out the store. “Get walking. Now.”

“I’m not going any—-” He cries out once again when Bayley kicks him in his face.

“Shut your bitch ass up!” She curses in Spanish, motioning for Solana to follow them. “Come on, girl.”

Confused but following suit, Solana asks, “what are we doing?”

Naomi answers with intentional vagueness. “Having a lil’ fun.”

Something tells Solana they have different definitions of fun.

But she remains silent as her two friends quite literally drag Dom out of the store, through the rest of the stores until they reach the parking lot. She’s again surprised when they take him over to Bayley’s car. She unlocks it and opens the trunk, pulling out a black bag that she hands to Solana. Solana starts to peek inside when something else catches her attention.

Bats.

Metal bats.

She has two. One of which she reaches to Solana.

“I—just what are we doing?”

Bayley’s smile is nothing but mischievous. “Having some fun.”

Naomi suddenly pulls out a knife and presses it to his throat. “Take us to your car. Now.”

Dom is quieter than she’s ever known him to be as he follows Naomi’s directive, leading them to his fancy pickup truck that Solana, even with her limited knowledge about cars, can tell is worth a pretty penny.

They make him unlock it to ensure it's actually his truck before Bayley starts to circle it. She nods, as if impressed. “Nice. Can tell you’ve put a bunch of upgrades in.” Solana’s mouth drops open as Bayley takes her key and slides it along the truck as she walks. “Might need a paint job though.”

“What the hell! You—” He’s silenced by Naomi kicking him in his back, forcing him to the ground, knife still pressed against his throat. “You’re all fucking crazy!”

That only makes Bayley smile as she directs Solana to lay the bag on the ground, bending over and pulling out a portable bluetooth speaker. It’s only when seeing the glitter, paint, and glue that Solana starts to put two and two together.

“Are we—”

“Uh huh.”

She gasps. “But, we can’t—-we…..” And suddenly, she’s trailing off, thoughts of all of the cruel, unkind things Dom would say to her, the way he would put her down, fat shame her, bringing her to tears. The memories help her tune to change a bit. “C—can we?”

Bayley stands up and places a hand on her shoulder. “Solana…..you are Solana fucking Reigns. Wife of Roman Reigns, the Tribal Chief, the Head of the Table.” Out of the corner of her eye, Solana can see Dom’s eyes go wide as saucers. He clearly wasn’t aware of this. Of her marriage. Of just who she calls husband these days. “You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

Bayley’s hype is effective as she pulls out her phone, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker. A small smile falls on Solana’s face as she hears the familiar and oh-so fitting song.

Right now,

He's probably slow dancing with a bleach blonde tramp

And she's probably getting frisky

Right now,

He's probably buying her some fruity little drink

'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

Bayley gestures for Solana to move closer to the truck. “Your ex. First hit is yours.”

“Solana, wait, please. I—I didn’t know you were with him.” Dom’s pleading and begging is desperate and embarrassing. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

For some reason, that word has never made her feel so irritated.

“No, you’re not.” And without a second of hesitation, she takes the bat and swings it against his passenger window, effectively shattering it. On the side, Bayley and Naomi cheer her on, Solana not even needing encouragement as she moves around to the other side, doing the same to the driver’s window.

Bayley howls out, “let’s fuckin’go!” She takes the bat and brings it against the rest of the truck, creating dents, scratches, and anything else that can desecrate what she’s sure makes up for other deficits.

Solana just took out the mirror on the passenger side when she hears Naomi aggressively yell at him not to ‘fucking move.” And Dom doesn’t, just watches helplessly as she moves over to the bag, pulling out the glue and glitter. She smirks in his direction, lifting the materials of destruction. “Time to glow, bitch.”

Solana laughs as Naomi rips open the door and starts pouring the deadly combination of glue and glitter all over the interior.

I dug my key into the side of his pretty

little suped up four wheel drive

Carved my name into his leather seats

Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights

Slashed a hole in all four tires

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

The ironic and iconic lyrics serve as a manual and guiding force for Solana as she catches the tossed keys from Bayley who’s on the hood of the truck going HAM on the roof with the metal bat. Solana finds herself feeling almost giddy as she effectively slashes all four of his tires.

This is the last thing she ever saw herself doing: completely destroying her ex’s car without a care in the world, but it’s also exactly what’s happening.

And she can’t even say that she feels any regret about it.

Doesn’t feel bad about it.

Why should she? He never felt bad about any of the shit he did to her.

And she especially doesn’t feel bad as she finds herself carving her name not only in his leather seats but the outside of the truck as well.

Naomi looks over at Dom who is now actually crying and laughs. “Look at it this way, Dom. We’re only doing this to your truck. Imagine what he’s going to do to you once he finds out what you did to his wife.” It brings her a great sense of satisfaction to see the terror in his eyes.

It also makes her send out the brief video she recorded of Bayley and Solana beating the shit out of the truck with bats to her group chat with the men.

Naomi: Just doing hot girl shit. 💅🏿

Their replies start coming in only minutes later.

Jimmy: Idk what’s going on, but I’m turned tf on.

Jey: Why ya’ll females always go after our cars and shit?

Roman: Why the fuck is it everytime you two take my wife out, it’s always some shit?

Roman: What the fuck is going on?

Naomi: Because you all asked so nicely 😐, turns out Solana used to date Dom back in the day.

Jimmy: Rey’s boy? The fuck? She too damn fine for that weasel. He could never handle all that ass.

Roman: One more time, Jimmy. Just one more time.

Jey: Naomi, please give us the rest of the story before Roman make your ass a widow.

Naomi: 🥴 Anyway, she told us some of the stuff he used to say to and about her, and honestly….even more trash than we thought.

Roman: Like?

Naomi: We promised Solana we wouldn’t say anything. Just know he was mean to her. So I guess she ran into him and he said some out of pocket shit, she got upset and PUNCHED him!!!!!!!

Jimmy: Soso HIT someone?!?

Naomi: Sure did!

Jey: Damn! Our Soso growing up on us!

Roman: I wanna know what the fuck he said to her.

Naomi: Ask her when you get home. 🙄

Naomi: So we’re fucking up his truck while he watches helplessly. 😊

Roman: The dead don’t need cars anyway.

Roman’s chilly response is both given and, in her opinion, well overdue. She’s never heard anything nice or good about Mysterio’s boy, so she can only imagine the full extent of what he put Solana through.

It’s why she’s mostly pleased by how Solana allows herself to let loose, to get her receipt. She deserves it.

As Solana and Bayley pour glitter in his gas tank, Naomi casually calls out, “what should we get to eat after this?”

________

“I committed assault and vandalism in one day. One.”

Roman smiles as he adjusts his tie, partially thankful his clearly distressed wife is unable to see his humored response to her frantic worrying.

“That bitch got what he deserved, Solana.” Part of it. But, Solana doesn’t need to know Roman absolutely plans on making sure she never has to run into that alelo ever again. No one will. “You shouldn’t feel bad.”

She really shouldn’t, because he can only imagine what was said to her, the treatment she received from that piece of shit. None of which she deserved. All of which makes him want to say fuck the gala and get straight to torturing the fucker.

Through the mirror attached to his dresser, he watches the bathroom door open, Solana stepping out, a robe only partially covering the length of her red dress. Leaning against the door, she crosses her arms, clearly in her head over what he partially wishes he could have been present for.

He would have taken the metal bats to Dom himself versus the truck.

But, he’s also him, and she is her.

Two very different people.

Roman moves across the room, pulling her against him as her hands lay on his chest. “You really mean to tell me you didn’t feel the least bit good at fucking his shit up?”

And he sees it, the way she’s fighting back the agreement. He reminds, hands moving to undo her robe. “You’re not ever required to be nice to people who are cruel to you, Solana. You owe them nothing.” She seems to be mulling over his words as he pushes her robe off her shoulders, watching it fall to the floor. “Fuck….” She always looks good, but there’s something about seeing her in the red, the way the dress hugs her curves, taunting him, testing his resolve, that has them wanting to ditch the gala for an entirely different reason. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Her smile is bashful, but he’s pleased to see her not look away, to maintain eye contact as she murmurs a quiet ‘thank you’. She gasps a bit, informing, “Oh, I noticed earlier you were running low on your medicine, so I called it in and picked it up for you.”

That takes him off guard. It was on his to-do list. Somewhere on there, he’s certain. But for her to go out of her way to take care of it for him, it makes him feel something he can’t really explain.

Solana’s smile dims a bit as she gently reminds, “you’ve gotta stay on top of that. It’s—it’s important, Roman.”

“Yeah…” It’s a response to her, but he’s still very much in his head over whatever this strange ass, yet somehow comforting feeling is. Fucking confusing ass shit. Clearing his throat, Roman forces himself to get his head back in the game. “Solana….” His tone is something different, something that makes her a bit nervous, that weighs down her previous smile even more.

She does her best not to reveal the alteration in her happiness level. But, she can just tell the mood is about to shift a bit. “Yes?”

To his credit, his hand moving in circles on the small of her back gives her a bit of comfort. Eases the weight of whatever he’s about to share. “Tonight..tonight I need to be on. Focused. The fucking annoying part about these things is that everyone’s there to see if they can seek out some type of soft point. Some kind of weakness.”

This confuses her. Soft point? That’s not an issue for Roman, and she points out as such. “But, but you have no weaknesses.”

Something flashes in his eyes and before she can say anything, not that she necessarily would, he’s back to explaining himself. “I don’t want you to think that I’m being cold with you. I’m not upset or avoiding you. I just—”

“You need to show them why you’re the Head of the Table.” His latter explanation provides the previously missing clarification. Reaching for his hand, she offers a gentle smile. “I understand.”

“Do you?” For a second, it almost sounds like there’s a sense of urgency to his tone. Like he needs to know that she knows it’s nothing personal against her.

And it’s not really until this moment that Solana realizes there are two sides to Roman Reigns. The side that she sees, the almost gentle, caring side. The man who always goes out of his way to ensure her comfort and safety at all times. The man who’s changed her life in ways he’ll probably never be able to fully understand.

Then there’s the other side. The side that makes his name alone strikes fear in even the strongest of men. The most violent. The most diabolical. A god among men.

Two completely different sides of the coin, but still a single coin.

This other side though, the side only she gets to see because it’s reserved for her. The side that might even be considered a form of vulnerability…..he only shows that with her, only shows it to her.

A….safe space, of sorts.

She is his safe space.

This second, or maybe third, major realization of the day only makes that love aspect so much more confusing. Though it makes her heart swell to know she can provide that for him. That she can be that for him.

Pulling from floating thoughts, Solana brings herself back to the conversation at hand. “I do.” She offers an explanation of her own. “I know I asked if you’ll stay with me the whole night, but—but, I don’t think I need that.” And before he can protest, she gives the valid reasons why. “I didn’t know Bayley and Naomi would be there. I’m fine with them. I just—I didn’t want to be alone in a room full of people I don’t know.”

“I would never leave you alone.” He brings his hand to the back of her neck, informing in a low voice. “I might not interact with you much, but that doesn’t mean I’m not watching.

“I know.” She cuts him off, again working to reassure him that he doesn’t need to be so focused on her. It’s clear there’s a task for the evening, a box that needs to be checked. And she doesn’t want to interfere in any sort of way. “I’ll be fine.” With a half smile, she reminds, “especially if there’s a bat nearby.”

A genuine smile grows on Roman’s face as he pulls her into him, Solana resting in his safe embrace. Being in his arms is starting to become one of her favorite things. “My fine ass, bat swinging wife.” She giggles against him as Roman drops his hand to her ass, giving a slap.

“Let’s go.”

________

The minute the SUV door opens and Roman climbs out first only to offer his hand as Solana steps out behind him, her gaze taking in the beautiful mansion that looks like something out of a movie premiere, her anxiety starts to rise. Taking in the scene around her, she’s met with an actual red carpet leading up the steps to the mansion that has large, glass, double doors with swirled marble intricate designs that match the stone of the building. There’s a line of cars both behind and in front of their SUV, indicating guests are still arriving.

That makes her feel at least a little bit better.

She didn’t want to make Roman late. Even if something tells her he wouldn’t care one way or the other.

It’s not missed upon her how he gives her hand an almost gentle squeeze and rubs his thumb over her knuckles all the while keeping his gaze up and focused. She sees how his light eyes subtly survey the perimeter as he leads them up the steps. She stills when two large men dressed in black suits wearing earpieces, guards clearly, stop them with a raised hand.

“Please walk through—-”

“Do I look fucking stupid?” Roman’s question needs no answer as he motions for Solana to walk ahead of him through the metal detectors that separate attendees from entering. Slowly, with a bit of anxiety at somehow setting them off even though there’s no way for her to, she does so without incident. Roman does the same looking every bit annoyed as he feels, but it makes her feel a bit better when he takes hand in his again.

“No weapons allowed.” Is all he says. Calmly. Simply. Without anything else. She nods, figuring as such, but a brief sideways glance at her husband, and she wonders how beneficial that actually is when he, himself, is a walking weapon.

She’s more than certain he’s killed before with his bare hands. Not a weapon needed.

Solana takes in the setting before her. Circular tables litter the first and second levels of the beautiful building, intricate, opulent centerpieces decorating each table. A live band plays some unfamiliar song as guests mingle about, many of which are admiring the various art pieces that occupy almost all of the walls. The lights are dimmed and the smell of lavender and honey penetrates, creating an almost calming atmosphere that starkly contrasts the fact that almost everyone in eyesight is a part of the crime underworld. Trained, brutal killers.

Including the man who continues to soothe his thumb across her knuckles.

“Come on.”

Solana stays close besides Roman as he leads them through the sea of people. Many of which, men primarily, seem to settle their gaze on her, her chest, only to travel up to see the man beside her and smartly redirect their attention literally anywhere else.

In some sort of strange way, that brings a sense of comfort to her. To know that just his presence wards off any and all unwanted attention. Makes her feel safer.

Then again, she’s not sure if any environment exists where Roman doesn’t make her feel safe.

She feels even better when she realizes where he’s led them. A table full of familiar, equally welcomed faces.

Bayley is the first to greet her. She stands up from the table, and Solana is in awe of her teal dress that hugs every curve beautifully. “You look fuckin amazing.” She reaches over, pulling Solana away from Roman and into a hug. “Aren’t you glad you went with this one?” She gestures down to the dress.

Solana laughs and nods. “Yes. I am.”

Naomi and Jimmy are also standing now, forming an almost line to hug Solana. Naomi pulls her in even tighter. ��How's the fist?”

Solana gasps as Naomi laughs only for Jimmy to crack his little joke. “I made sure ain’t no bats around just in case you get upset again, sis.”

Allowing him to hug her, Solana rolls her eyes and murmurs, “that’s not happening ever again.”

“You might wanna watch your shit, Big Dog. Soso believe in breaking shit when she gets angry.”

Feeling a bit defenseless, she grasps at straws. “It was—it wasn’t like that.”

Jey scoffs, pointing out after downing some of his wine, “girl, we saw you on that video. You was swangin the hell out of that thing.”

Cheeks flushed, Solana sits down in the seat Roman has pulled out for her. Right next to him. Bayley on her other side. She looks over at Naomi. “I can’t believe you sent it to them.”

“Are you kidding? Our sweet little Solana beating the shit out of her ex’s car with a bat? That’s Kodak worthy.”

She rolls her eyes, eager to take the attention off herself as she notices Jey’s seat beside him is empty. “Is Nicki not coming?”

Naomi answers with a chuckle. “Girl, Nicki got banned years ago after she—”

Jey quickly jumps in, depriving Solana of a story she’s certain involved some type of altercation between him and his wife. Their marriage truly does not make any sense to her whatsoever. “Aye, we don’t need to rehash the past.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Naomi leans over and whispers, “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Solana hopes she follows through on that. Roman asks the twins something in Samona, the three of them starting a dialogue in a language only they can understand. And judging by the serious expressions on all of their faces, she surmises that it’s business related.

Especially when Solo and Paul join the table. It’s almost like the ladies don’t exist after that, but it doesn’t bother Solana. It can’t when Roman already made it clear what tonight would be like.

It’s nothing personal.

Just business.

Bored and kind of eager to explore what seems like one of a kind masterpieces, she turns to Bayley and asks, “can we go look at the art?”

Bayley scoffs. “Hell yeah.” Standing up and adjusting her dress, she remarks, “it’s better than sitting here doing nothing.” Glancing at Naomi, she asks, “you wanna come with us?”

Naomi sucks her teeth. “Girl, you don’t even have to ask.”

Solana smiles, grateful for their attendance and companionship.

Roman’s deep voice cuts through with a simple two word command. “Watch her.”

She looks back at him, offering a small smile she hopes will settle any concern he may have about her. He doesn’t need to worry about that. Just needs to focus on himself.

Linking arms with the other ladies, they move through the crowd, starting with the art near the entrance and making their way around. Solana seems to be the most intrigued by the pieces selected, trying to detect a theme in each one. Naomi and Bayley, however, seem to settle for a combination of roasting and admiring. More of the first than the latter.

“Oh fuck, I was hoping they didn’t show up.” Solana is in the midst of deciphering a piece of abstract art when Bayley’s almost steel exclamation pulls her from her focus.

Confused, she asks, “who?”

Naomi answers, subtly gesturing across the room. “Don’t stare. It’ll draw attention to us.”

Solana does her best, but it’s hard not to when she sees a set of new arrivals, most of which are absolute strangers, faces unseen prior to this very moment.

But one is not.

One is a face she saw, a person she spoke to, just days prior.

Brandi.

She’s holding hands with a tall man, striking blue eyes Solana can see from nearly across the room, bleached blonde hair that somehow compliments his tanned skin. There’s a boyish look about him that Solana would guess is a facade, something that deceives people, cleverly hiding the fact that he’s just as much a killer as the guests around them.

Before she can ask who he is though, Bayley offers introductions. “That is Cody Rhodes. And the pretty lady on his arm is his wife, Brandi.”

And just like that, Solana’s stomach drops. Her mouth feels dry. “Wife?” Solana looks back and forth between the couple. “Brandi is Cody’s wife?”

This just got a lot more confusing and complicated. The kind woman whose young daughter Solana ‘rescued’ is married to Roman’s greatest enemy? The man he hates most?

And suddenly Solana is thinking about her interaction with Solo after she mentioned Brandi’s name.

He knew.

So, why didn’t he say anything to her?

Why didn’t he say anything to Roman?

________

Roman ignoring Solana for the majority of the night ends up being a lot easier than she anticipated.

It’s quelled by the fact that she’s had one hell of a day, several major revelations clogging up her mental space.

Remembering what Roman told her about his family.

Trying to figure out if she’s in love with Roman.

Trying to figure out if Roman could ever love her.

Accidentally helping out his sworn enemy’s wife.

Her personal guard being aware of this last piece of information yet saying nothing to her or her husband.

Even though she’s sworn off alcohol after the last drunken disaster, there’s a burning temptation to walk over to the open bar and request something that can at least take the edge off.

Something to help her clear her head.

It’s after dinner, and Roman, Paul, and the twins are moving around, briefly speaking with various guests. Roman and Paul, in particular, seem to keep the conversations perfunctory before moving onto the next one. Clearly checking off certain, necessary boxes.

Solana again is viewing artwork, doing whatever she can to distract herself when someone unexpected comes up to her.

“Hey.” She looks to her side to see no one other than Solo. He looks almost….nervous. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Does she want to talk to him at this current moment in time? Not really. But, something tells her she needs to.

“Yes.”

Solo guides them to a corner that’s as close to secluded as they’re gonna get at the crowded event.

“Listen, I…..I wanted to apologize to you.”

Solana’s eyes widen. The surprises just keep coming. “Wh–what?”

“I know….I know I’ve been ass.” She wouldn’t necessarily use that word to describe his behavior and disposition, but it’s not exactly an inaccurate usage either. “It’s just….before you came around, I was just getting my chance to show Roman I deserve a seat at the table with him and my brothers. Then he assigns me to you, and I just feel like I’m not proving myself no more.”

Solana started to figure as such. Guessed that maybe he resented her to a certain extent because he’d essentially been assigned as her adult babysitter. That would probably annoy anyone.

“But, at the end of the day, Roman is the Tribal Chief. His word is final. I have to respect that.” He sighs, shrugging. “And as his wife, I gotta respect you too, which I ain’t been doing, so I apologize.”

Solana has never really been one to be on the receiving end of apologies from people. It’s still an uncomfortable experience as she murmurs an ‘it’s okay’ followed up with her question about his omission. “Why didn’t you tell me who Brandi was? Or tell Roman?”

He sighs loudly, voice lowering a bit as he explains his actions. “You’re new to the family, so you don’t know the history between Cody and Roman. Telling him would only kick off some shit. I figured if she came around again, then that I would tell you.” His explanation makes sense, Solana nodding slowly. He too doesn’t seem to want to upset Roman if possible. “I’m sorry for that too.”

She shakes her head. “No. I—I get it, and—I’m sorry, too, that you got stuck with me.”

Solo smiles a bit. The first time she’s ever seen him do so. It feels…..odd. “You ain’t so bad.” He then asks, brow lifted a bit. “So, we cool?”

Solana swallows. What reason does she have for them not to be at this point? Everything he’s said makes perfect sense. “Of course.” Offering a small smile, she says sincerely, “thank you, Solo.”

He nods, not saying anything else as he walks off.

Left alone, blowing out a big breath, she looks around. Solana spots the hall that leads to the ladies room. Making her way through the crowd, she walks in and goes into the first open stall. Relieving her bladder is an unexpected, small but significant enough type of relief. It feels similar to the peace she now has with the whole Solo situation.

Solana walks over to the sink, pumping some soap into her hands, activating the motion sensor to shut on the water as she rinses, watching the suds empty down the drain.

“Hey, sis.”

Solana’s head snaps up the second she’s met with the voice she hasn’t heard in months. Her brown eyes, through the mirror, locking with an almost identical set of brown. The only difference being the glimpse of emotion that’s always been unfamiliar to her but a resident friend of his.

Hate.

Solana moves as quickly as she can, but it’s not fast enough, because he’s got a fist full of her hair. Wes yanks her head back and shoves her away, providing him the access he needs to bring his hand across her face, backhanding her so hard that it makes her double over in pain.

Feeling an unfamiliar wetness, she feels her cheek, only to see blood on her fingertips. A glance at Wes' hand shows that the rings on his fingers must have cut her.

But she can’t focus on that too long because his hand is wrapped around her neck as he thrusts her against the adjacent wall, searing pain shooting across her back at the violent impact.

She claws at his iron grip, his dark eyes narrowing against her. So much hate. “You dumb slut, did you really think you could hide forever?” Her eyes shut, her mind screaming Roman’s name in a way her mouth cannot. “Were you stupid enough to believe he could protect you from me?” Solana winces as he tightens his grip. “You’re a weak, stupid bitch and you always will be.”

Weak

Slut

Stupid

Dumb

Bitch

All words that she’s heard before. Cruel names she’s been called over the years in conjunction with beatings. Beatings like this that have left her bloody and broken. Feeling empty. Feeling like every hurtful thing she’s ever been called. Feeling that weak adjective that he’s always made her defining trait.

Solana closes her eyes and starts to retreat to that mental place of superficial security, bracing for what’s sure to be a beating like no other. She tries to return to that spot in her brain that’s accepted that this is her reality, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

The only problem is that that place doesn’t exist anymore.

She can’t find it.

She doesn’t feel weak or dumb or stupid. Doesn’t feel helpless and victim to his sadism.

Not even in this moment with his hand wrapped tightly around her throat.

No….

She feels something else.

Something much stronger, powerful, fueling.

Anger.

She’s pissed the fuck off.

It’s when she sees his other hand pull out a knife, that for a second, a brief moment, she hesitates. She hesitates, momentarily paralyzed by the fear and trauma that single item has brought her over the past twenty years. But, she closes her eyes and centers herself, tapping back into months of training, of sparring, of fighting.

Snarling almost, her rage and determination growing synchronously, Solana lifts up her leg with all the force she can muster, her knee coming into direct impact with Wes’s crotch area. Instantly, he releases her, dubbed over, groaning and cursing. Solana’s a bit lightheaded, but she powers through it, quickly grabbing the vase of flowers on the counter and swinging it with all her might over his head.

“Fuck!” He grunts, falling to the ground, his knife tumbling across the intricately designed tile flooring.

Rushing to grab it, he does the same, but she manages to outpace him. Her speed gives her the upperhand. And with a cry of her own, she slams it down directly into the palm of his outreaching hand.

Wes howls in pain as she rips it out and kicks him in his side, watching as he tumbles onto his back. Solana slams her heel down on his other arm, pinning it and forcing the knife through his right hand this time.

He cries out again and she backs away for a second, tempted to drive it through another part of him when he growls with all the rage and pain, “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you bitch!”

His threat, unlike countless times before, doesn’t frighten her, doesn’t make her tremble and cower in fear.

It just pisses her off even more.

“Come on.” Solana motions for him to come at her, for him to climb off the ground and fight her. “Come on!” Using the bloody knife, she takes and slices it across her dress, allowing her more freedom and fluidity with her movements. Kicking the material to the side, she crouches down, egging him on. “Hit me, you son of a bitch!”

Finally to his feet, Solana sees him ready to charge at her. Her eyes never leave him, studying every single movement of his bleeding body. And just when he’s about to slam into her, she jumps to the side, watching him slam into the wall. Solana doesn’t waste a single second as she rushes behind him, lifts her leg and kicks him in the head, intentionally trying to drive her heel into his neck. His shouts of pain further her drive as she drops her leg, snatches him by his hair and slams the knife down into his shoulder.

She jumps back as his body plops to the ground again, Wes rolling over and writhing in pain, profusely bleeding from several parts of his body, black suit staining dark, bloody red. Solana moves toward him, utilizing every bit of strength coursing through her body as she lands brutal kick after kick into his side, intentionally aiming for his chest. A kick for every broken bone, every bruise, every cut, every burn, every time he waterboarded her to the point where she was unconscious. Every fucking thing. She only stops when she hears the satisfying crack of one or several of his ribs.

But, it’s not enough. It’s not enough because all she can think about now is all the times he made her bleed, made her scream, made her flail with fear and terror. It’s his turn now.

Kicking off her heels, she grabs him by the collar of his suit jacket. “Come here, you bastard.” He’s heavy, and it’s a strain to drag him, but she does just that, pulling him into one of the stalls. Solana shoves the back of his head into the toilet and holds him down face first into the water.

Wes flails against her, but her grip is just like her spirit. Strong and unrelenting.

“How does that feel?” She taunts, tears streaming down her face because as vindicating as this moment is, it still doesn’t strip away the pain of years of abuse and torture. Yanking his head back, pleased by the way he coughs violently, gasping for air, she continues to mock him with the same taunts he always threw her way. “Say something, bitch!” Solana slams his head back down into the water. Repeating the same act of torture he utilized on her for years.

She does it until she feels her strength starting to wane, eventually releasing his clumped body down as she backs away, leaning against the counter.

Chest moving up and down from her heavy breathing, exhaust settling in as adrenaline fades out, it’s only then she turns to look at her reflection in the mirror. Face reddened, hair disheveled, red dress stained with his blood splatter, a mixture of her blood from the cut that probably wont need anything more than a liquid bandaid, and tears running down her cheek, yet she’s never felt fucking better.

This….this is liberation.

It’s freedom from shackles of fear.

Fear of the one person she never thought she wouldn’t be terrified of. And yet, that same source of so much heartache lies before her: bloody, bruised, broken.

All because of her.

Commotion outside the door and banging against it alerts her to the fact that somebody has clearly caught onto her absence. Roman, most likely.

Body suddenly very heavy, she moves over to the door, leaning back against it, eyes landing on Wes who’s coughing up blood. For a brief second, she feels a sliver of sadness, if guilt. But just as quickly as it’s there, it’s knocked out the way, replaced with pride. Roman’s words from earlier in the night returning and cementing her satisfaction.

“You’re not ever required to be nice to people who are cruel to you, Solana. You owe them nothing.”

And fewer have been crueler than the man before her.

Voice and body trembling from the weight of it all, Solana affirms with all the emotion and sincerity through her body. “I am not scared of you anymore.” She turns the lock, stepping out of the way to avoid the avalanche of bodies about to enter. “And I never will be again.”

Sure enough, it sounds like a stampede. Solana closes her eyes, stealing a moment to rest and relish in her inner peace.

“Solana.”

His voice is urgent and pressured, and seconds later, he has her in his arms, holding her against him. She breathes in his scent, comforted by his arms around her.

“I’m fine.” She knows he needs to hear it, needs to hear the words come from her mouth. Even if she knows she probably looks anything but, clothes and body splashed with her brother’s blood.

“Solo!” Roman’s voice is filled with unbridled rage that, any other time, she’d probably tremble at. But, in this moment, it’s valid as hell. And beyond that, she knows without a doubt now that he would never make her the object of his anger. “Pick him up!”

Solana sets her gaze on a barely conscious Wes as Solo drags him out of the stall.

Jimmy and Jey being present, Roman’s fury, and Solo holding him in position are all the things that alert her to what’s about to happen.

Jimmy whistles, taking in Wes' battered appearance. “Damn, she beat the hell out of you!”

“No.” Solana says it too quietly, too softly. She has to place her hand on Roman’s chest to get his eyes back on her. “No.”

“I don’t want you to kill him.” And before Roman can protest, ask her if she’s lost her fucking mind, she steps toward Wes, explaining to all parties but directing her wishes to him. “I want him to live in fear….to know what that’s like.” Eyes burning with a fresh set of tears, she emphasizes. “It’s his turn to be scared.” Head tilted, scoffing a bit at how pathetic he looks, she mocks him one last time, “who’s the bitch now?”

Without even thinking about it, Solana lifts her hand and connects her fist directly with the side of his jaw, knocking him out cold.

“Goddamn!” Jey shouts with all the amusement in the world as Roman pulls her back into him, lips pressed against her temple.

“I’m okay,” she reiterates, holding onto his sleeve. “I promise.” She is. Maybe better than she’s been in some time.

Better than she’s ever been.

Roman steps back for a second and slides his jacket off, placing it around her.

Solana reaches for his hand and gestures for the door. “Let’s go.” He still looks so angry, so furious, but she knows it’s not toward her. Nevertheless, he doesn’t need to stay in this headspace. Not with his high blood pressure. Not with his health at stake.

Roman says something to Solo in Samoan and begins to guide her out of the bathroom that’s been completely destroyed in the fight. A crowd of most of the guests has gathered around, clearly curious and wanting to know just what the hell happened. It’s fair and almost expected.

But, despite looking like everything she’s just been through, Solana doesn’t shy away from the stares and whispers. Doesn’t necessarily care. Because as ironic as it is, this might be the most confident she’s ever felt in her life.

But, it’s when she sees Cody and Brandi that Solana just knows something is about to go wrong.

Cody smirks, calling out loud enough for all to hear, Roman especially. “I guess women and children aren’t off limits after all.”

There’s more to it. There has to be more to it, because the second Roman rips his hand away from Solana and charges at Rhodes seems to take even the instigator off guard. Instantly, Jimmy and Jey are rushing toward their cousin as he lands a blow against Rhodes that sends him flat on his ass.

“Roman!” She calls out after him, moving in his direction, only to feel herself being restrained. She looks back and catches Bayley and Naomi looking with worried expressions.

“We need to get out of here!” Naomi urges, but Solana can’t seem to look away from what’s turned into an all out brawl. Jimmy and Jey struggle to hold back their irate cousin as he spits venom against Rhodes who looks just as pissed off now, blood running from his nose.

“I’m the head of the table!”

“I’ll whoop everybody’s ass around here!”

“This is my kingdom, you little bitch!”

“I can’t just leave him!” Solana pleads, trying to pull away from Bayley who clearly has no intentions on letting her go.

“He’ll be fine, Solana. But, he’s pissed the fuck off, and now Rhodes is pissed, and it’s about to be a shitshow that if he was thinking straight, he would never want you around.” Naomi explains and adds on, “the twins won’t let anything happen. I promise you that. Now let’s go.”

And despite everything in her screaming not to, to stay with him, to somehow find a way to help him calm down, there’s a logical part of her that knows the girls are right.

Even with him clearfly only seeing red as she continues to shout at Cody, the other man also being held back, barely, by his men.

“There ain’t a man alive who can touch my button. If I had one, you wouldn’t be able to locate it. Can’t no man knock me out! I’m tired of being humble! I’m tired of letting people think they got a chance! The Tribal Chief is heads and shoulders above everybody! I run this all!”

Roman is almost a different person, so consumed by his rage, no doubt most of it because of Wes, Cody just being on the receiving end but not just taking it without responding with threats of his own.

“Time and place, you narcissistic son of a bitch!”

“Not everyone is fucking scared of you, Reigns!”

“I’ll fight you any fucking day!”

Solana’s eyes briefly lock with Brandi who’s also being rushed away, and she swears, she sees what looks like an almost sympathetic expression. Like if she could, she’d apologize.

It makes Solana frown.

Naomi pulls on her again. “Let’s go, Solana.”

Security for the gala is now rushing over as some of Roman and Cody’s men are now throwing fists as well. Solana hates this. Hates how this has all played out. But, she also knows that she does nothing to help the situation by hanging around and risking getting hurt.

That’ll only upset Roman more.

So even with a tremendous amount of apprehension, she allows them to guide her out, never once not thinking about the man she’s almost certain she more than cares about at this point.

________

Solana is up and alert the minute she hears him enter their front door. In the living room, lying on the sofa, her go-to spot when waiting for his arrival, she partially expects him to walk in and meet her. The way he has several times before now, but this time is different.

Heavy footsteps don’t bring him to meet her. They instead carry him past the living room, through the kitchen, and outside the backdoor.

Instantly, she’s sitting up.

She goes to follow him when Jimmy and Jey enter the house looking every bit the night that they’ve all had.

It’s a stupid question, and she knows as such, but she can’t help but ask. “How is he?”

Jimmy is the one to answer, blowing out a breath. “Honestly? Still pretty pissed but calm enough to come back home.” He then shares, “I tried to get him to sleep it off at my place, but he wanted to come back here.

Good. Solana doesn’t say it, but she sure is thinking it. Not even from the perspective of her being uncomfortable being in this big house all by herself with just Dulce. That’s maybe a part of it, sure. But, the biggest thing is that this is their home. And if he needs something, she wants to be there to help him with whatever that is.

“It’s okay. I can watch him.”

“Solana….” Jey cuts in, stuffing his hands in his suit pocket. “You know he would never hurt you, right? I know he was definitely on one tonight, but—”

Seeing where this is going, she cuts in, calm but firm. “I’m not scared of him. I—I know he would never hurt me.”

They seem to be pleased by her answer but still a bit hesitant, Jimmy offering, “if you want, I can stay over tonight. Make sure—”

“He’s my husband.” She swallows, nothing unwavering about her reiteration. “I’ve got him.”

Jimmy and Jey still look unsure but follow her wishes. Each giving her a hug before reiterating to call them if she needs anything. She’s thankful for their support but mostly their making sure Roman made it back home safely.

Solana carries Dulce up to her shared room with Roman and closes the door to avoid any unnecessary interruptions. It’s only then she finally makes her way back downstairs, venturing through the living room and kitchen to the backdoor. Hand on the knob, Solana doesn’t hesitate to turn it, bringing her to the man she’s had on her mind nonstop the past few hours.

Roman’s hulking figure is plopped down on the edge of the patio chaise lounge. His button down shirt is discarded, his muscles stretching against the cotton of his white undershirt. Playing with the sides of one of his shirts she threw on after her shower, Solana sees there’s no need to announce her presence.

He’s already aware.

With calmness that contrasts his demeanor just hours earlier, he advises, “you should be asleep.”

His voice is hoarse, heavy, weighed down with something he seems keen on internalizing. No matter how much it wrecks him on the inside. It brings a frown to her face and a pain to her chest.

Swallowing, Solana moves closer to him, calmly countering, “you know I won’t sleep until I know you’re okay.”

“Okay….” Roman chuckles, and it’s almost bitter. An almost ironic tone as he repeats her chosen word. “Solana, nothing about tonight was okay.”

Her heart grows even heavier than it’s been following tonight’s events.

It tears Solana up to see him in this state. To see and almost feel his turmoil and not be able to do anything about it. Because he doesn’t want help. Because he’s so used to handling everything on his own, as he’s stated to her multiple times before.

But, that’s the thing. He’s not alone.

She just needs to get him to see and understand that.

Setting aside any reservations and trepidation about her next steps, she closes the distance between them, kneeling down on the patio stone directly in front of him. Naturally, his eyes lock with hers, and for a second, she sees a tremble of his nearly impenetrable wall. “Roman….” One hand on his knee, the other reaching to grab his hand. “Please….please talk to me.” His eyes briefly dart away, a sign of her words doing something to his resolve. “Whatever….whatever happened tonight, let me help you work through it.”

He sets his focus back on her, the hand under hers lifting to cup her face, thumb ghosting over the cut she cleaned, tended, and sealed with a liquid band-aid. “You got hurt tonight….”

“I don’t care about that.” Her dismissal is aggressive but slides into something soothing almost as she reiterates. “I—I care about you.”

His jaw clenches. “I lost my temper tonight.”

“I don’t care about that either.” Again, she’s dismissive, pushing aside anything that could prevent him from hearing her right now. Really hearing her. “I wasn’t scared of you. I’m—I’m never scared of you, Roman.” Swallowing, she stands up and moves herself on his lap, relieved when he wraps his arms around her. “But…I was scared for you.” She pushes back some of his hair that came out of his always neat bun during the brawl. “I just….I wish you would talk to me.”

But, she also knows that she can’t force it. Can’t make him. Even though it physically aches her to know he’s dealing with so much and won’t let her help.

Won’t let her be there for him the same way he’s been there for her.

“Cody and I grew up together. We were….good friends.” Solana isn’t sure she’s still breathing as Roman begins to explain in a low voice, his hand moving soft circles against her side. She says and does nothing, not wanting to do anything to risk deterring him from this rare occurrence of vulnerability. “We…we bonded over being groomed to take over our families legacies. His…his father was good friends with mine.”

Friends….

It feels almost impossible to imagine Roman and Cody as ever being anything more than sworn enemies. She’s not sure she’s even seen a deeper level of hatred than what she saw in their eyes tonight.

“It was my 10th birthday. We were gathered at the house to celebrate, and it was fine, until it wasn’t.” Roman grows quiet, as he clearly hesitates. She starts to tell him that he doesn’t have to, that she doesn’t want to trigger him. But, he continues. “I don’t remember everything. Just the sound of bullets, screams, and then heat from the fire that someone set.” Fire… Solana’s eyes naturally drop to his tatted arm, tribal ink covering burns he clearly received that night of pure hell. Eyes watering, she continues to listen to him relive what sounds like a night of horror. “I was the only one who survived. My parents, my aunt, uncle, and my seven brothers and sisters were all killed.”

“Oh my god….” Her heart literally breaks in that moment, hearing him confirm what she’d remembered just earlier in the day but didn’t want to actually believe. It’s just too devastating. To lose his entire family in that manner, all while celebrating his birthday of all days….it seems inconceivable.

Solana isn’t sure she’s ever felt this much sympathy towards another human being.

Roman’s voice, however, never wavers. She can see he’s doing his best to simply recall and not feel. “And it wasn’t until I was 14 that a mutual friend of ours at the time, Seth, let it slip while he was in one of his manic states, that I should talk to Cody about what really happened that night.” His voice takes on a darker, angrier tone, and she can feel him shift underneath her. “So, I did, and I found out….that his father was responsible for the hit. That he betrayed my father. And that Cody knew the whole fucking time.”

There’s understandable anger in his words. Anger at such cruel betrayal. “For four fucking years, he pretended to be my friend. Pretended like he didn’t fucking know that his father was the reason my family was all dead.” His voice dips into something low, something much darker. “I can’t tell you…much after that, because I was so angry that all I saw was my rage.”

Solana brings her hand to his chest, a comforting placement, though she’s not certain anything could comfort this level of trauma.

His expression is blank as he shares coldly. “I killed them all. His parents. His siblings. Everyone. I left him the same way his father left me: alone.” He swallows thickly, still not looking at her. “I told you before, Solana. I’m not a good man.”

“That’s not true.” She finally speaks, voice hoarse, eyes watering at the truth of it all. She had no idea he’d been through so much. Lost so much more. “I don’t think I’ve met a man better than you, Roman.”

She’s never met any man like Roman.

Moving her hands to cup his face, it settles her a bit that he’s finally looking at her again. Closed off and back to being unreadable, it’s still eye contact. And she’ll take it. She’ll take whatever she can get from him. “No one….no one can know what it’s like to lose like we’ve lost. I….I get you. And….and I think you get me too.” Sniffling, she shakes her head, never wanting to invalidate his experience. “And no, I know….I know it’s not the same, but what I do know is that I haven’t felt alone since…since being with you.” She hasn’t felt a lot of things since being with him. Hasn’t felt the same amount of depression and emptiness. Just happiness and joy. “And I don’t want you to feel alone either, because….because you have me, and….and I’m not going anywhere.” Her tone drops into a soft whisper. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

Because I love you.

But, that can’t be stated. Not aloud. Not right now. Maybe not ever. It’s not what he needs. Because it’s for selfish reasons. Because it would make her feel better to verbalize what she’s finally realized what she’s been feeling towards him. What she feels for him.

Love

“Besides….” She offers a small smile, messing with his beard, knowing the weight of this conversation might be too much for him, offering him a bit of a detour. “Who else is gonna bail me out the next time I fuck up someone’s truck?”

He cracks a small smile, and it makes her heart swell. It’s the best thing she’s seen all day. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss.”

Relieved to hear a growing lightness in his voice, she buries her head in the crook of his neck, murmuring, “guess you’re rubbing off on me….”

Roman brings his hand to her hip, tugging her closer, kissing her temple. Lips pressed against her forehead, he murmurs. “I’m proud of you.” That means so much to her. His approval. “Cause while I hate to agree with my dumbass cousin, Jimmy was right. You whooped his ass.”

Solana can’t help it. She laughs into his chest, looking up while biting down on her bottom lip. Voice quiet, she expresses both a question and agreement. “I did, didn’t I?”

He rolls his eyes but nods, bringing his hand to her cheek, thumb and index finger lightly cupping her chin. “Sure did, baby…“ He doesn’t say anything after that. He doesn’t need to. Neither does she. She just nestles closer to him as he stands up, still holding her, grip protective and firm.

Like he has no intentions of letting go.

Solana prays he never does.

Because while Roman Reigns is the last person she ever expected to end up with, to care for, to love…..that’s exactly what’s happened.

That’s exactly who she’s with.

Exactly who she cares for.

And exactly who she loves.

________

Xavier stands in front of the hospital bed, a hospital bed he was still in days prior, where his son stood before him as they schemed together to create what he thought was a foolproof plan. It’s a plan, however, that didn’t go the way he intended.

Far from it.

Wesley was always supposed to attack Solana in the bathroom, was supposed to rough her up a bit to see if Reigns would come to her rescue, the prediction being he’d move to kill Wes but Solana would interfere, would stop him.

Because his stupid second born has always been a victim to her love mentality. Would be blinded by whatever fruitless hope she still has that some part of him or his son loves her. Because they’re family.

But, that didn’t happen.

His son attacked her, yes, but the bitch fought back.

And now he watches helplessly as a brutally beaten, stabbed Wesley is laid up in the ICU yet again, but this time in a coma. Limited brain activity.

Prognosis….not well.

And it’s all because of her.

Xavier is a prideful man, but even he can admit he never saw this coming. Never anticipated Reigns would have the girl trained, never thought his weak ass daughter could be capable of something like this.

Capable of almost taking away his son. His heir.

Xavier is seething and would shoot her dead right now if he could, but he has to be smart. Especially after tonight, which wasn’t an entire loss.

He snatches his phone, sending out a text.

Xavier: I want that bitch DEAD.

Xavier: We’ll proceed with the plan.

Because while most will see Roman’s outburst as expected given Cody Rhodes was present and almost everyone knows the history there, Xavier knows better.

Xavier knows that Roman’s rage was primarily at the fact that Solana had been attacked, confirming what he suspected.

And he’ll give the bastard credit. From what he heard, Reigns did a great job masking his feelings for her, practically ignoring Solana the entire night.

Never showing his hand.

But, he did.

He does care for her.

And just that thought brings a wicked smile to Xavier’s aged face.

After all these years, the impossible has happened.

Roman Reigns finally has a weakness.

________

translation: "i'd do anything for you."

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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gilverrwrites · 1 month ago

Text

I don't fall, I fly.

⇐⇐⇐ Chapter [2/?] ⇒⇒⇒

Circus playboy [AU], Dick Grayson/Reader, 6.7K words AN: SMUT, WHOLE LOTTA SMUT! This took longer than I'd hoped, but I hope ya'll enjoy it regardless ♥︎ Anon Joey, I promise I forgot I named a character Joey in this story I swear this was not meant to be any kind of representation of you lmao Warnings: Swearing | teasing | pre-mature ejaculation | lying and manipulation | denial

Joey is a sturdy-looking guy with a skinhead and a stubbly beard. When you tell him you’re there ‘for Dick’ he licks his lips and flits his eyes between you and your bestie with a suggestive wiggle to his brows.

“You?” He grunts, pointing from behind the plexiglass. “Or them?”

“Um, me?” You’re not sure exactly what he’s asking but you presume you are the right answer.

He tears your tickets off the reel, but when you reach into the opening to take them from him, he grasps your hand in his meaty one and scrawls ‘DG’ on the back of it in black sharpie before letting you go with the orange slips.

“Shows at 6.30. You wanna head straight up that way, turn right at the main entrance, Marty will let you through the second entry. There's plenty of food carts on the way if you’re hungry but you gotta pay for 'em.” He gestures each direction with two fingers before sending you off with a wink. “Have a good night, peeps.”

“D-G? Are you like, officially a groupie now?” Your friend questions you jokingly over mouthfuls of shared candyfloss moments later. Since inviting them along you’d filled them in on the events of Tuesday afternoon.

“I guess.” You shrug, looking at the lights, breathing in the smell of popcorn, listening to the thrum of the crowd. You hadn’t been to a circus in years, so this is like a nostalgia trip. You’re enjoying yourself to much to really care about being branded with a marker. It was weird, no doubt, but a small price to pay for what would hopefully be a good show. “Hope it’s worth it.”

You’re too lost in conversation to realise it straight away but the further you walk, the smaller the crowd grows until eventually the only people around seem to be cast and crew.

“Maybe we missed it?” Your friend suggests when you finally notice.

You’re about to turn tail when you hear a familiar voice call out over the distant buzz of spectators. “Hey, it’s you!”

“Oh, hi!” Warmth immediately graces your cheeks as you watch Dick approach with long strides and open arms.

“You made it, awesome.” He grins, his hands are already on you, fingers snaking down your back to settle snuggly on your hip. He looks starkly different, but just as captivating as when you’d first met. His tight blue leotard is partly covered by an open hoodie that still shows off his shapely pecks. His hair is slicked back, and he literally sparkles under the string lights that line the big top. You’re so focused on the glitter that adorns his skin that you almost forget where you are until he prompts; “Whose your friend?”

“Oh-“ You follow his gaze, eyes strolling over his broad shoulders, along his other arm which is conveniently hanging over your bestie's shoulder. You’re almost envious as they take over introducing themselves.

Your time with Dick before the show is understandably short, but sweet. You hadn’t taken a wrong turn, as made apparent when he walks the two of you to the performer's entrance, bypassing Marty and telling you how to find your seats.

“When the lights go up, and Haly leaves the ring, come back this way and I’ll show you around backstage.” Dick tells you with a wink, dipping out before you can even consider declining his offer.

“He’s gonna show you his mini me.” Your friend laughs, wiggling their finger as you climb the steps to your seats. “Lil Dick, ya know.”

“Shut up.” You reply with a grin you can’t shake. Unable to deny that they’re probably right, and if he does, you’re most certainly not going to stop him.

“Whatever.” They continue. “Thanks for the ticket, but I’m not hanging around while you get dicked down, you good getting home alone?”

The lights come down as they ask their question, and your eyes excitedly lock onto the ring as you whisper back. “Sure, but don’t you wanna see the backstage stuff?”

“No, I don’t want to third wheel the pretence of your hookup.” They answer deadpan and though you’re a little disappointed for them, you’re mostly relieved that should anything happen between you a Dick, you won’t have to worry about ditching your bestie.

Had you actually paid to watch the show, you’d say it was worth every penny. The Ringmaster, Haly really knows how to build a show, the clowns aren’t too scary, and the whole thing is jam-packed with ‘spectacular acts’ as promised by the flyers. The firebreather in particular was memorising. The true showstopper, however, was The Flying Grayson. He sails and twists through the air, shining under the spotlights as he performs death-defying after death-defying stunt. It’s easy to see why he’s the headliner. Towards the end of his performance, Dick waves at the crowd, showboating and encouraging them to cheer louder, and finally blowing a kiss before swinging out on the trapeze.

Your friend fake swoons when they notice how you’ve leaned forward in awe to watch, and the teasing persists right up until you’re saying your goodbyes after the show.

You feel like such a rebel as you slink through the crowd, sneaking away to the performer's entrance once more, looking over your shoulders periodically until your eyes finally lock onto Dick. He doesn’t spot you straight away, eyes pensively focused on something off in the distance while he kicks his feet, and brushes the gel from his hair with his fingers, but eventually, he turns to see you and it’s like flicking on a light switch, the way his face shifts into that sunny smile. His arm easily drapes over your shoulder once more as you approach, and you just as easily melt into his side, allowing him to drag you off to God knows where.

Dick likes this bit, even the cager girls unknowingly become a little more malleable, a little star-struck after watching his routine, and you’re no exception. It’s too easy to fall under his spell, and you’re all too aware of it. No matter what wonders he shows you, or who he introduces to you, your eyes rarely leave his form, and he basks in the attention.

“This is cute.” He mentions, pulling at your skirt and stepping close enough that you can smell his sweat beneath his rich, sweet cologne.

“Thanks.” You feel flushed immediately under his roaming gaze. He’s clearly using it as a guise to get closer to you, but you have some spunk in you yet. “I like this.”

You snap the taut strap of his leotard, he fakes a yelp and a pout.

“Ouch.” His nose brushes yours, stray hairs tickling your forehead as he leans down. “You might need to kiss that better.”

You run your finger under the strap once more, pulling it aside and baring his toned muscles. You playfully hum in consideration before pulling the sleeve back into place and looking him in the eye. “Maybe later. If its bruised.”

“Later?” He quirks a brow as you step back, content to make him work a little more for it.

“Later.” You confirm. “After the tour.”

He stares you down with his deep blue eyes, and you think you might break until he finally sighs, yielding to your demands with a complacent grin.

It’s not until he’s holding your hand as he guides you through a myriad of caravans that you finally think to ask; “By the way, what is this?”

You wriggle your hand out of his to show him the Sharpie mark you’re hoping you can scrub out in the shower before your shift tomorrow morning.

“Oh, that.” He takes your hand once more, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of it, looking very nonchalant. “If I wasn’t there, it’s just to show Marty that you’re on my guest list.”

You’re not convinced. “Can’t you just have Joey write it on the tickets of something?”

“Nah.” He shrugs, but there’s a hint of mirth in his tone that has you doubting him. “Were not supposed to save seats or let people in though the performer's entrance. When you leave, you take the evidence with you.”

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

What he neglected to mention is that, of course, the entertainers’ are allowed guests and reserved seating, it’s only Dick who's on a tight lead because he does it too often.

Before you can voice your doubts, however, Dick stops in his tracks, tapping his free hand on the trailer beside him and turning his whole body to you with a coy look. “Last stop, home sweet home.”

Home sweet home is strangely whimsical for an average sized mobile home. It has lights around the roof and painting, old and new decaled onto the metal exterior. One piece in particular grabs your attention.

“The Flying Graysons? Theres more of you?” You ask earnestly and Dick steps beside you to follow your eyeline, dropping your hand in favour of stretching his arm across your shoulder and leading you to lean into his chest.

“There was.” He answers quietly, eyes remaining focused on the image even when you angle your head to watch him. “My parents. Kind of a family business, you know?”

“They must be proud of you. You’re amazing.”

He smiles as he looks down at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I hope so.” He sounds glum. Clearly, you’re not privy to something and it isn’t your place to pry so you decide not to push the subject when he moves it along. “Do you want to come inside?”

“Yes!” You’d known the invitation was coming, but you don’t think to mask your enthusiasm at all, happily following him inside, taking your shoes and socks off at the door as requested, and allowing him to hang up your jacket. “I can’t stay though, I have a shift early in the morning.”

“That’s fine.” Dick hates when they stay over anyway. “We rehearse pretty early too.”

Inside, you notice an array of protein powers along his kitchen counter, and a stack of old records piled up beside an even older-looking couch. That’s the entire extent of any interior features you have time to examine before his lips are on yours.

You gasp when you first feel his soft lips on yours. You’d expected forwardness, but damn he moves fast; almost enrapturing you with his minty-sweet lips and feather-light touches until you feel your back hit what is presumably the door to his bedroom.

“Ahhh.” You can’t help stuttering as you pull away, captivated briefly by the sensually blissed-out look on his face as he chases your lips, settling for sucking and nipping at your throat when you turn your face away from him. “Fast!”

He stops at your objection, his whole body freezing but for his fingertips which have already crept beneath the waist of your skirt to teasingly massage your lower back. “Do you want stop?” He sounds confused.

“No.” You answer decisively, shivering when you feel his breath deliberately brushing against the sweet spot in the crook of your neck, fanning the fire that’s currently simmering between your thighs. You were into it, his speed had just caught you off guard and you need a moment to collect yourself. “Just, slow down a bit. Show me around first?”

“You know this is a one-night thing, right?” He scolds himself internally for snapping, it’s not an unreasonable request. There's just something about the sweet smell of your perfume, the taste of your lips, and that damn skirt. He’s been dying to get you here all night, and you’re so close. But now you’re pouting and narrowing your eyes and while he’d love to fuck the admittedly adorable petulance out of you, he knows his chances are rapidly depleting.

“Sorry, sorry.” He lets go of you, throwing his hands up in surrender and turning on his best, most charmingly sheepish smile. “I just haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met the other day. I’m getting too excited.”

His shoulders sag. Scratching the back of his head as he steps further into his living space. He knows he’s winning you over because your expression softens.

“That’s the kitchen, and this is the living room.” He gestures to the two sides of the open space.

“That room back there was my bedroom when I was a kid, but now it’s just storage. Old suits, photos, stuff I don’t want to get rid of.” He points to the door at the other end of the trailer before turning back to the door you’re currently still resting against. “Bed and bath are through there.”

You chew your lips as you turn to look at it, fingers tracing the hard plastic until you find the handle and gently open it. Dick leads the way, stepping around you and into the small space. He fiddles with the switches on the wall until the room lights up and it is very much what you’d imagined. Mostly it’s an extension of the outside, the light source is yet another sting of lights despite the bulb that hangs from the ceiling. Posters, photos, and souvenirs from all over the world line the walls.

“I’m sorry there isn’t more to see.” He offers as you follow him in, unconsciously wrapping your arms around his waist and melting into him as you approach. There isn’t much space for the both of you to stand, almost all of it is taken up by the dresser and the bed which is lined with blue sheets, and literal notches in the wooden headboard.

“I think there’s plenty to see.” You comment, nodding at his abused bedframe and he laughs but doesn’t deny the implication.

“It’s getting late.” He points out, and you know what he’s really getting at. There’s no more to show you, it’s now or never.

Feeling bold you slide two fingers under his sleeve once more, slowly brushing it from his shoulder to expose his unblemished skin. He watches every move half-lidded and unshakingly as you press your lips to the spot you’d snapped earlier until his fingers splay across the back of your head, tilting you to face him once you’re done kissing his non-existent wound so he can draw you back to his mouth.

As if he’d taken your prior hesitations to heart, he kisses you slowly this time. Cupping you with warm hands as he tenderly works his plump lips against your own in a series of deep, ardent kisses that you hadn’t expected from him. It’s you who takes things further, quickly getting lost in his embrace. You part your lips, only half fighting for dominance before you concede and allow his tongue to explore unimpeached until he starts to paw at your hips, pulling you close to him so he can grind his compressed arousal against you.

Teasingly slow, you dust your fingers across his chest, dragging your fingertips downward along his spandex suit until he firmly takes your wrist in his hand. You pull back from the kiss to take in his heated expression. You have no idea what you’re doing to him with your blown-out eyes and open mouth. Impatiently, he directs you half a step back, until your knees give against his mattress, and you drop down. Exactly where he wants you, he releases your hand, and you continue your slow veneration of his body until you settle your hand on his bulge. Your touch sends a shockwave through his body that has him bucking his hips in an instant.

He definitely made a good choice picking you, he thinks as he takes a moment to admire your form. You’re so fucking pretty, looking up at him from the edge of his bed, biting your spit-glossed lips while he grinds against your eager hand. He’s pressing hard enough that you have to make an effort to keep your hand in place, partly from desperation, partly because the pressure is needed to be felt through his dance belt.

Not content with the current state of things, Dick is quick to start undressing. His clothes are barely around his ankles before you wrap your hand around his shaft. You’re not sure what you’d been expecting but you’re pleasantly surprised by his uncut cock and intentional hairlessness. There's already a drop of precum on his tip and your mouth practically waters as you lean forward to taste him only to feel long fingers curling into your hair.

“No no no, not yet.” Dick pleads beneath his breath, holding you still by your roots and watching you with fire in his eyes. He bites the corner of his lip, tilting his head as he thrusts languidly into your open hand. “Use your hands for a bit longer.”

This is his favourite part. The fucking is always good, and he’s hungry to find the position that will make you call his name over and over again, begging for an encore, but there’s something so erotic about this bit that drives him crazy. Doesn’t matter how many girls he brings back here, he’ll never get enough of seeing them work his cock in their marked hands. Right now, you’re already claimed by his initials, by the trail of swollen little bitemarks he’s traced down your neck, but by the time he’s done with you, you’ll be completely ruined. Inside and out, totally smothered by him.

You’re not exactly sure what’s going on in his head but damn he’s hot you think as you watch him from below. He hadn’t kept the body glitter to his just his arms. Under the warm light of his bedroom, his whole body shimmers, extenuating his toned, lean muscles. Stray pieces of dark hair fall to frame his fevered expression. His deep blue eyes are squinted intensely and he’s biting down on his tongue as he watches you work your hand along his length.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” You can’t help but speak your mind, and he looks down at you puzzled for a moment, clearly not expecting your compliment, but eventually smiling genuinely at you in response, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

No matter how much praise Dick hears, he’ll never get enough. God, and you mean it too, he can tell by your wide eyes, by that little smile you can't bite back, by how you’re watching him religiously. Fuck. He’s gonna need 5 more of you.

Another, sizable bead of precum spills from his head, it drips from his length, trickling down your arm and before either of you can process it, you dip down, not once breaking eye contact as you soak up every drop, slowly lick it up from your hand, working your way up his cock.

Neither of you see it coming, but your little show of debauched worship has Dick's whole body twitching. He tries so hard to hold it back, but as soon as your lips part over his crown to drink up any remnants of pre, he instantly starts shooting the real thing into your open mouth. Cursing through his climax, suddenly grabbing your head and holding you in place as ropes of hot, sticky cum hit your tongue.

“Shit, shit shitshitshit.” He mutters, averting his gaze when your brows raise at him in surprise. “Shit, never happened before. I’m sorry.”

His knees buckle at the intensity of his climax, causing him to lurch forward. The last of his cum dribbling directly into the back of your throat before he stops altogether. Drops of the fluid spill back out of your mouth when he wrenches back from you, the speed at which causing your body to sting with rejection as he hurries from the room, locking himself in what must be the bathroom.

“Diik- wouate.” You try to call after him, mouth still dripping with his cum. Before following you rapidly search the room for a box of tissues or a waste bin to spit into, when you find nothing, you bite the bullet and swallow, cringing at the taste and the metallicness it leaves on your tastebuds before you head over and knock on the door, once, then once again but he doesn’t answer. You can hear him moving around, hear his hushed voice presumably talking to himself. “Dick, are you okay?”

When he still doesn’t reply you continue, choosing your words carefully. “It- it’s okay. It’s normal. Could happen to anyone really.”

It’s not okay. It could happen to anyone, but not him, he’s not anyone.

“It kinda makes me feel good about myself actually.” You’re not sure if this is going to help or make things worse. “You know? Hand job so good I made you pop before… yeah.”

Your awkward laugh falls on deaf ears. Good for you, he thinks bitterly. Thankful when he hears your footsteps retract, he listens intently as you slowly make your way through his trailer. Relieved when you stop in his cramped kitchen space. He’s not ready to face you just yet, but he’s certainly not done with you either.

He’s not sure how long he spends in front of the mirror, trying to ease his embarrassment, to pep talk his cock into getting hard again, but seemingly it’s long enough that you get tired of waiting. God, this is a disaster. He has to turn this around he decides as you knock once more and announce that you’re leaving. Now, or live knowing that you’re the one who got away. If he can’t fuck you tonight, then he has to ensure you’ll come back before the show moves to its next location so he can prove himself.

“Don’t go yet.” He says as he finally opens the door, displeased to see your sock and jacket have made a return. If anybody asked, the shrillness of his voice was intentional, part of his plea to make you stay a bit longer. “We can still do other things.”

You’re sceptical, it’s evident from the frown on your face and the way your eyes flick between him and the door. Dick does not like that at all.

“Come on, girly.” He urges, turning the charm back up as he leans in closer, gathering the fabric of your top in his fist and using it to tug you the last few inches until you’re chest to chest. Already your skin is starting to tingle again, excitement curling in your guts as he brushes his cheek against yours, pressing fresh kisses to your skin as he works his way to your lips.

Deep blue eyes bore into yours, begging you for permission and you easily crack under his gaze, stretching up on your toes to initiate a kiss so heated it’s like you’d never stopped. How he turns it on and off so easily should be studied, you swear. He doesn’t tease this time, only pulling away from your lips long enough to pull your top and coat off. He unclips your bra with a speed you only possess on your best days before lifting you by your ass and hauling you the 4 feet to his bed.

Once your back hits the mattress he leans back to look at you, his hands clutching onto your thighs, causing your skirt to ride up and giving him a spectacular view of your damp panties. Instinctively your hand darts down to cover up, but he latches onto your wrist, guiding it to his mouth where he plants chaste kisses to your knuckles as he looks you up and down, over and over.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He repeats your earlier reverence, taking a few more seconds to admire your body before letting you go and dipping down to trail more kisses up your stomach, his calloused fingers cupping your breasts, squeezing as he draws closer. “We should make you the main event.”

“What a fucking line.” You quip, but the look of adoration on his face never wavers and you start to grow bashful under it. Averting your gaze until you feel his tongue on your chest.

“I mean it.” His speech is slurred as he draws circles on your bosom with his spit, you’re on edge as he grows closer and closer to your nipple but never hits the target. If that wasn’t enough to make you lightheaded, Dick pushes the weight of his thigh between your legs, eyes still trained on every little movement you make as his knee shimmies against your heat. “You’re gonna be the prettiest notch on my bedpost.”

He's so smooth, even the glib reminder that this is just casual sex makes you feel flushed.

“W… ” Your response to him is hampered when he finally fixes his mouth over one of your nipples, his hard fingers pinching down on the other until you arch your back, pressing yourself deeper into him. The inadvertent pressure on your clothed cunt making you moan aloud.

“You gonna say something, pretty girl?” He gently holds your nip between his teeth as he talks, blowing his hot breath against the sensitive bud.

“Fu- fuck you’re good at this.” You breathe, eyes rolling back as he starts to bounce his legs, eyes narrowing smugly at your praise. “W-was gonna ask where you got that sharp tongue fr-from?”

Dick smiles around your bud once more before drawing it in for once last, torturing suck and releasing it when a wet pop.

“Oh, you like it, do you?” He drags the tongue in question between the crevice of your breasts before working it leisurely up your throat and into your open mouth where you weakly knead it with your own, too focused on the way Dick has worked his knee up onto your clothed groin, pulling your panties taut between your folds in the process. It hurts, but in a way that has you desperate for more. You almost don’t notice when he retracts his mouth to murmur in your ear. “You’re already shuddering and we’re not even at the best part yet.”

“Will we get there soon?” You roll your hips, meeting the tweaking of his leg and he grins at your enthusiasm. You’d thought your skin ablaze until Dick rakes his nails down your torso, igniting more fervour in his wake until he finds the waistband of your skirt and panties.

“Oh yes.” As he speaks, he sits back on his knees, taking your clothes with him. He can’t help the way his jaw relaxes at the sight of your exposed pussy, wishing he was hard enough to plunge right into your dripping hole. But watching you, as beautifully depraved as you are, come apart even more from his hands and mouth is a more than satisfactory consolidation prize. And if he sticks the landing, he’s sure he can win you back here for a second performance. “Just stay still and lovely like you are, an’ let me make you feel real good.”

He runs his pointer finger between your folds, brushing your clit gently before delving straight for your entrance. He slips right in, down to the knuckle with no friction at all and your cover your face, mortified by the wet squelching noise your pussy makes as he twists and turns his finger inside you, tightening the coil in your centre. When he withdraws you peek through your hands, watching the wicked grin on his face as he examines the string of wetness that follows, snapping a few inches above your sex.

“You’re so messy, baby.” He purrs, dipping back in to spread your wetness around, rubbing two fingers against your clit until you start to moan aloud. “I love it.”

Gradually he teases the two fingers into your entrance, the added digit causing more stretch than the last time. You can’t help clenching and whining, especially when he uses his other hand to caress your clit once more. “Oh fuck, Dick. I think I’m gonna…”

“Already? That was easy. I haven’t even tasted you yet.” Despite his teasing, your quiet neediness is making him fucking feral on the inside. Hurrying your orgasm along, he drives a third finger into you, biting his lip, grunting and goading as he watches you come undone. “Go on then. Cum on my fingers baby, make an even bigger mess.”

As if on command you do exactly that. Dick can barely decide where to look; your preciously scrunched-up face, your chest which is jutted out and shaking due to your arched back and heavy breathing, or your greedy little pussy as its walls clasp around his digits, sucking him in as you spill onto his palm.

As soon as he’s certain he’s ridden you through your climax, he pulls his fingers from you and your whole body jolts at the resistance. He checks that you’re watching him through your foggy, post-nut daze as he proceeds to lick and suck his hand clean.

You moan at the way his loud, pornographic enjoyment of your juices revives your libido. It’s really not fair that you should be ready to go again so soon, while he’s unable. You can only imagine how good it would feel to have his cock buried inside you right now, but you don’t want to press the sore subject. Instead, you move your trembling body, enjoying the perplexed but amused look on Dicks face as you climb closer to him.

“Want to kiss you.” You inform him, startled by your own breathlessness.

“You’re cute.” Dick patronises, finishing licking up his middle finger before reaching out and clasping his moist hand around your neck. “Come kiss me then.”

He squeezes just tight enough to send a chill down your spine as he pulls you closer, locking you into a short but heated kiss, eagerly sharing the taste of your bittersweet ejaculation. When you pull back to breathe, he pushes on your chest and you fall back against his sheets once more, your eyes zeroing in on the vintage stickers that lace his ceiling as you try to calm your sudden headrush.

At the same time, Dick drops off the bed, kneeling on the floor. Just when you’re coming to, he grips your hips, pulling you to the mattress's edge until you’re close enough to feel his breath in your sensitive core.

“Not done with you yet.” He laughs, the extra air on your folds making your toes curl. “Still gotta give this sharp tongue a firsthand taste.”

Before you can protest, not that you really would if you could, Dick practically dives, mouth first into your folds. The moment his hot tongue grazes your already tender clit you jerk, bucking your lower body away from the salacious intrusion but Dick swiftly follows, not letting up for a second as his arms loop over your stomach, fingers digging into your hips and forcing you back down.

“Don’t fight it, you’re gonna feel so good.” He murmurs, tongue still working between your twitching folds, mouth twisted into a wickedly obscene version of a smile before he latches his lips around your bud. Moaning loudly and closing his eyes as he savours the taste of your slit. He’d called you messy, but within a few minutes of working you with his tongue, his chin and neck are drenched with saliva. He can’t help it, you taste so deliciously bittersweet, he can’t get enough, and the cherries on top are the beautiful, sinful little sounds you can’t choke back.

Overwhelmed and shaking, you reach down and hook your fingers in his thick dark hair, pulling it tight in an attempt to ground yourself but it does nothing to dampen the waves of pleasure that pulsate through your body. Very quickly the pull of your hips increases tenfold, your face squeezing tight, and Dick knows you’re about to cum again.

The only thing sweeter than your needy little pussy is the tortured wail you release as he shimmies down your folds, leaving your clit unstimulated in favour of stuffing his tongue into your tight hole just before you topple over the edge. At the intrusion, your walls convulse around him, forcefully throbbing around him despite the betrayed, wet-eyed look you’re giving him. Oh, you are so coming back, and he is going enjoy fucking that sullen look off your face while you milk his cock for all its worth.

“What’s that look for?” Dick asks, taking his tongue out of your folds and nuzzling into your inner thigh, intent to prologue his teasing just a little longer. You gasp when you see the collection of slick on his face, shocked and aroused by the muddle of fluids. Between that and your hopeless need for him to finish what he’d started, you can barely comprehend him speaking to you. “Do you want something, baby?”

“Please…” You start, barely able to string your words together. Feeling more and more frustrated as Dick shakes his head at you, grazing your folds with his cheek as he does so.

“Please what? Come on, you can do better than that.” His encouragement only vexes you more.

“Please let me cum, Dick! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” The look that overwhelms his handsome features should put fear into your heart, but all it really does is make you ache for his touch even more. “Will you come back here on Saturday night and let me use this pretty pussy all night long?”

“Yes!” You don’t even hesitate, anything to feel his mouth on you again. Your lack of inhibitions works though. Dick immediately compensates you by twisting his tongue into your slit again, lapping and sucking at your sweet spot, fervid and hungry. Intense blue eyes locked closely on your every move as he swiftly falls into a rhythm that has you right on the edge in no time, the denial only having heightened your sensitivity.

His grip on you remains steadfast, supporting your wild movements as your legs buckle and wrap tight around his neck, squeezing him as you wither and reel against him. He swallows every drop of your release, gulping it down, his groans of appreciation loud and explicit enough to rival your own. Goddamn. You can’t recall a time anybody ate you out with as much shameless passion and he keeps going until your body falls heavy and slack.

“How’s that for taming your pussy?” He remarks, ego pouring from every syllable but you’re too out of it to care. Body completely jellified, head empty, unable to think of a witty comeback. You lay still but for the rapid rise and fall of your chest as Dick crawl up your body, goading you once more. “Too effective?”

Again, you’re too preoccupied to care as he leans in to brush his lips along your nose. You’re vaguely aware of his arm moving beside the bed, but you’ve no thought or motivation to care as you soak in his attention, chasing him until your lips find his, joining into an equally smiley kiss that is laced in your juices.

“Here,” he says as he ends the kiss, pulling a handtowel from somewhere? And dropping it on your chest. Presumably, that’s what he’d been fiddling for. “You remember how to clean yourself, right?”

“Oh, shut up, Dick-head.” At last, you find your voice, Dick having egged you a bit too much. Playful you throw the towel back at him as he makes to stand, but he easily catches it and drops it between your legs.

“Okay, okay.” To emphasise his surrender, Dick holds his palms into the air as he backs away, you’re not expecting him to leave the room entirely however until he’s gone.

Unsure how to respond, you sit up and grab the towel, cleaning off. He isn’t gone for long though, returning a moment later with a glass of water, grabbing your discarded clothes from the floor and tossing them toward you as he approached.

“It’s getting cold out, probably.” He comments, placing the cup down beside you and beginning to rummage around in his drawers. He finds and pulls on a pair of joggers as you too begin to redress. “You wanna borrow a thicker jacket? Swap them back on Saturday?”

“Oh, about that.” His head snaps to you, brows creased. Bar the concentration on his face as he’d sailed through the air during his performance earlier, this is the closest you’ve seen him to looking serious and even though he’d clearly been trying to get rid of you only seconds ago, you feel bad for what you’re about say. “I can’t come on Saturday.”

His annoyance is evident, face falling even more as he stares at you.

“I can do tomorrow though?” You offer, but that’s no good to him. Fridays are the big night, Haly likes him to schmooze the VIPs, and he can manage that while he’s thinking about bouncing you on his cock, but it if you’re actually there the temptation to sneak off and make good on his fantasies would be too great. “Saturday night I have a thing.”

“A ‘thing’? Like a date?” Oft. Dick can hear how he sounds, totally pissed, maybe even a little jealous. He’s not. He can sympathise with the fact that you got caught up in the height of the moment, only God knows how many promises he’d made in the throes of lovemaking that he’d never intended on keeping but he was so sure he’d hooked you around his finger. He needed you to be. Need you to come back so he can finish the job.

“No, nothing like that. It’s a family thing.” Your attempt to consol might have seemed more genuine were your skirt not hiked up around your stomach. You’d redressed completely but for your underwear which you were now fruitlessly searching for.

“What time does it start?” Dick sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out across the small space to grab your hand and pull you closer.

“5.30” You answer, allowing him to pull you to him. You straddle his lap, instinctively draping your arms over his shoulders. When you’re face to face, he cracks a smile, you’re starting to recognise this specific grin, with its sparkly teeth and crinkled eye. It’s the smile he’d given you when you’d first crossed paths, and later when he’d invited you to his show. This is the smile he gives you when he wants something.

“Come to the matinee then.” He instructs, angling his knees up until you fall further into him, allowing him access to ghost soft little kisses to your already well-marked jawline, breath tickling your skin when he speaks. “Show finishes at 3.30.”

“And what time will you be finished with me?” Your voice notches up a pitch as you try to speak through your retrained giggling. Dick hums into the crook of your neck, making a show out of thinking up an answer. You’re not expecting it when he suddenly grips your rear, and it makes you yelp. He uses the globe of your ass to support your weight as he stands, carrying you through his trailer until you’re at his door.

It's decided then, it would seem. You’re leaving now and coming back on Saturday.

When he despots you onto the floor, you bend over to slip back into your shoes, swaying your butt around as Dick pulls down your skirt and presses up behind you, impishly grinding on you even as you stand up straight once more.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You remind him when he nestling his nose into the crook of your neck, sniffing your sweet, sweaty smell before you stop moving and prompt him once more. “Dick?”

“Hm?” He hums dreamily before letting out a dramatic sigh and spinning you around to face him as he finally answers. “If you’re late to your ‘thing’ because you can’t resist my charms that’s on you, pussycat.”

“Ick!” You protest to the awful nickname, both of you laughing as Dick opens his door and slowly but surely leads you out of it.

Dick rattles off a list of directions, advising you on how to get back to the main gate. He offers to walk with you, but you decline.

“Goodnight, kitten.” He jests in farewell.

“Goodnight, dick.” You reply.

He was right, it is cold. A gust of wind blows against you, reaching between your legs to your still damp centre and reminding you that you’d never found your panties, but Dick has already closed and locked the door behind you. Returning to his bedroom, he retrieves your missing underwear from where he’d kicked them under the bed and props it over the corner of his headboard for later.

If you're reading this, I wan't you to know that you are beautiful and I love you!

#nightwing x reader #nightwing #nightwing/reader #dick grayson #dick grayson/reader #dick grayson x reader #circus au #dc #f reader #nsft #reader insert #gilverrwrites #tw swearing

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callme-holly · 7 months ago

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Hii thereee!! I was wondering if you could write smth Soda related. Maybe a first date with him like a picnic maybe? Or something like that. That's all!! Hope you have a great day/night and your writing is so scrumptious omggg🙏🏽😭

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 [𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - I apologise that this isn't exact! I started off following the ask and then everything kinda took a turn and this happened... Im also on a trip for a couple of days so I won't be able to post. Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy and as always

my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 984 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none!!

The sun was hot on your skin, and the warm breeze did very little to cool you off as you sat beside Soda on the front porch of the Curtis home. He has an arm draped around your waist, holding you close despite the oppressive heat, and a can of pepsi held loosely in his free hand. His usually greased-up hair is damp with sweat and sticking up at odd angles, the product of having been run through several times that day. He looks relaxed, seemingly somewhat content with sitting beside you, his fingers tracing idle patterns into your side.

Normally, he’d be running about the front yard with the rest of the gang and a football, laughing loudly, until Darry called for them to “knock it off and come inside.” Today, though, Soda simply sits on the porch steps, watching with a grin as Two-Bit chases Pony with the hose, Steve jeering him on from the sidelines. Johnny’s standing a couple feet away, a small smile on his lips as he watches the chaos unfold before him, occasionally dodging a stray stream of water directed at him.

You lean your head against Sodapop’s shoulder, ignoring the heat and the sticky fabric of your sundress, keeping your gaze focused on the group before you. Soda takes a sip of his drink, and you can tell by the way his leg bounces that he wants nothing more than to join the fray.

A small smile tugs at the edges of your lips. You reach over and intertwine your fingers with his, his leg stilling almost immediately at your touch. He looks down at you, tilting his head much in the same way a dog might when curious, his brow furrowed.

“Everythin' okay?” His voice is impossibly soft, and you feel warmth bloom in your chest. You squeeze his hand and nod, your gaze straying over to where the gang is playing. The hose is now in possession of a very pissed-off and very wet-looking Dallas, whose blonde hair sticks to his forehead in dripping strands.

“You can go join them, you know.” Soda follows your gaze, nodding slowly.

“I know,” He turns back to you, shrugging lightly as he squeezes your hand in return. “But I promised you a date, and if I can’t give you that, then the least I can do is sit here with you, right?” He gives you a lopsided grin, pulling you in closer so that you’re practically pressed against him. You let out a soft laugh and shook your head, tucking your face into his shoulder. Soda presses a kiss on your hairline, resting his chin against the top of your head and grinning like an idiot.

The two of you were meant to go out today, taking advantage of his day off in hopes of catching a movie or taking a picnic to the lot. But the extremely hot weather meant that Darry didn’t want either of you out for too long, forcing you to spend your date out in the yard with the gang.

You watch with fond amusement as Steve tackles Two-Bit on the lawn, the both of them struggling for control over the hose, sending water spraying in all directions. A chorus of yells and laughs fills the air, and Soda fidgets beside you, clearly desperate to join in on the fun but hesitant to abandon you.

You reach over and gently pat his thigh.

“It'll be fine,” You reassure him, giving his other hand a light squeeze. “Go join 'em.” He sighs heavily and stands, reluctantly letting go of your hand to walk towards the commotion on the grass. Within seconds, he's lost amidst the throng of boys, and you're left alone on the porch, listening to them scream and laugh amongst themselves.

Occasionally, Soda turns to flash you one of those blinding smiles that you love so very much, before he's brought back to the game by Steve jumping on his back, the pair rolling about in the wet grass, mud staining their clothes.

The scene makes you chuckle, and before you know it, you find Soda bounding towards you once more, arms outstretched, his smile just as bright as always. You grimace at his soaked state, wrinkling your nose a little as he tries to wrap his arms around your waist.

“Sodapop Curtis, don't you dare.” You threaten playfully, trying to swat his hands away as best you can as he advances on you.

His grin turns mischievous. “Aw, Y/N, you're no fun.” He grins wider, grabbing one of your hands and pulling you up from the wooden porch step. You stumble, giggling as he twirls you around before encircling his arms around your waist and pressing his face into the side of your neck.

“You’re wet!” You chastise him, pushing gently against his chest, trying desperately to wriggle free. He only holds you tighter, and you eventually give in, relaxing in his hold, a content smile tugging at the corners of your lips as he peppers kisses across your neck and face.

When he finally pulls away, he’s got an impossibly bright grin on his face, his arms still slung securely around your waist.

“I'm sorry I couldn't take you on that date I promised.” He says it softly, leaning down to press his lips against yours. It's sweet and chaste, and you melt against him, your fingers running through his wet hair.

“Don’t apologise,” You mumble, pulling back slightly so you can look up at him. You brush a few stray hairs from his eyes, and he blinks lazily at you, leaning into the touch. “We have plenty of other days for dates.”

His answering smile is wide, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “Yeah?”

You give him a nod, leaning in to press another kiss on his lips. “Yeah.”

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

#sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop imagine #sodapop headcanons #sodapop x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders preferences #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders headcanons #dallas winston #johnny cade #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #the outsiders 1983

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megamindsecretlair · 10 months ago

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First of all Happy New Years and how’re you doin?? I really hope you’re doin well and thriving and your loved ones are doin the same❤️

Second of all I had a thought while high that I needa get out:

Imma mess for domestic Taine. Just takin care of his woman an shit. He likes takin care of her mental load and just truly makin her feel relaxed an shit. Which brings me to his hands….he’s so beefy wit protective ass arms and he’s just ugh🤌 like imagine you had a trash ass day (school, work, family, etc) an he just caresses and massages you, tryna soften you up so youn gotta gts upset or stressed. Lights candles, brings out ya favorite oils/lotions, he even rolls a blunt for you both. He’s givin you deep tissue booty/thigh rubs and ik for a fact his strength channeled through his fingers would make me all mushy an shit….

Along that thought, he can’t help (an youn stop him) but spread ya cheeks a bit, just ta peek at ya folds, only ta see em all gushy an shit. That was a mistake because now he reeeally can’t help himself. You’re all pliable under him and he dips his fingers into ya folds “just ta taste” he tells himself. But he’s dippin into you again…and again…and again till he just says fuck it and devours you from the back. I’m talkin the messy, droolin, beard shiny a shit typa pussy eatin. You just cease to exist cuz he feels too too good. Taine is just maneuvering/manhandling your body any which way and you’re loving it, you’re loving your man. And What were you upset bout again? It’s out the window now.

Phew, glad I got that outta my system🤭

Happy New Year! Many blessings to you and ya fam! I'm getting over Covid. That is the literal devil and I'm glad to be on the other side!

And secondly...why you aint on here writing with the rest of us? Tuh. This was hot and complete all by its lonesome, you don't need me for this one, lordt!

Re-reading and re-reading all night because I, too, want that gorgeous man's big mitts on me.

If You Please

Word Count: 691

A/N: Finally a little drabble! I still write a lot but ya'll caught me on a feral night. There's no big warnings besides oral (fem receiving) and Fontaine being a horny mess. This ask was everything. Not sure if you wanted me to add to it, but couldn't help myself! Excuse me while I go re-read and re-read and re-read.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide

And Fontaine is the type to take his time because HE wants to take his time. Because HE can't keep his hands off of you. If you had a bad day? That's okay, he'll work that shit out. Had a good day? He wants to pick you up and taste the happiness from your lips.

But a particularly bad day? Oh, he already had the bath running and candles lit while you talked to him on the way home. How you wanted him to show up with a helicopter and transport you home because you were dog tired. Tiredt!

And after your bath, he does all the work. He dries you off and lays kisses all over your face and body while he towels you down. Leads you to the bed where he lays out a fresh warm towel from the dryer. Makes you lay on your back first so he can rub lotion and smell good into your deep brown skin.

Take his time to work the body cream onto your arms, shoulders, stomach. Smooth it around your breasts because he just can't resist touching you. He rubs the top of your legs, really working his thick fingers into your thighs and finding all these tension knots you didn't know were there.

Then he asks you to flip over and you are putty in his hands. Free to mold you in his arms. To play with your hips and valleys and treasure the canvas God gave him. He rubs your back and your legs. But your ass.

Fontaine is an ass man. Nothin' sweeter than seeing those two big ol' cheeks begging to be claimed by those hands of his. It's so much he can't hold it all. But he loves trying. He loves trying to cup each cheek to see how much he can hold before your ass spills over. He loves to massage your ass.

He loves to watch the grooves and dimples he makes in your ass. The little glimpses of your pussy when he spreads your cheeks are a torture all their own. Got him bricked up and mouth droolin' just from that alone. His tongue glides over his golden grills as he can remember the last time he ate you out, just last night. How pliable and verbal you were.

One little taste won't hurt right? It's your body, he wants you to feel good all over. What better stress relief, right? He wipes his hands on the towel. He can't resist digging his fingers in and suppressing a groan at finding you wet as hell. He knew his hands on you turned you on, but not like this!

Now he really can't resist bringing your sweet essence to his lips and licking his fingers. He can't stop at one taste. Once he tasted you, he had to keep diving in for more. And more until you were sighing and moaning just the way he liked.

"Too tired," you mumbled.

"Too tired to lay there, mama?" He asked.

You couldn't argue with that logic. He didn't need anything back. He just wanted to make you feel good. Making you feel good, made him feel good. And he already got his reward. He was lifting your hips, spreading you wide, and placing his mouth against your pussy and suckling like a starving man to nectar.

He couldn't help groaning and rocking his own hips into the bed, wishing he could flip you over and fuck you. But he wasn't going to be that greedy. He could give. He could give and give until you were a shaking, trembling mess beneath his tongue. Hands splayed on your ass, spreading you open and wide for him.

His nasty little slurps filled the air. His desperate pulls for air blowing against your dripping pussy. Your weak arms grasping the pillow and pulling it close while you came in his mouth. Gushing and dripping all that succulent arousal.

Well, you weren't that tired anymore. As much as you left your job bone tired and weary, unsure how you could possibly go another day, you always found solace in 'Taine's arms.

The Secret Tyrone Files - there's always more!

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tyrone Files #Fontaine x Black!reader #Fontaine x Black reader #x Black reader #Fontaine x Fem!reader #Fontaine x Fem reader #Fontaine x plus size reader #Fontaine x you #Fontaine imagine #They Cloned Tyrone smut #They Cloned Tyrone fanfic #They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction #They Cloned Tyrone fan fic #They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction

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ask-observer-wally · 1 year ago

Text

Greetings! It seems some strange anomoly has befallen on one of the empty televisions, much to observers dismay, voices seems to be whats come about it, voices with many questions, quations he prefers to not answer

now, who is observer?

observer is a variant of the well known Wally Darling, he exists at a place know as ''Out of bounds'' and is assumed to have existed for a very longe time

his task is to observe and maintiain the multiverse, keeping the shows [also known as Variants/AUs] from ever going offscript, he is also tasked to fend of beings who may cause harm to any of these shows

he may come of as a distant grump, but bug him enough he may just become even grumpier ahah

his reference!

Bounderies and Heads up! before asks!!

I do not own Welcome home and the character Wally Darling, this is simply a multiversal AU, I have made for the sillies

I made my own set of rules for my Multiverse AU lore, so uhh if ya'll end up liking these rules you can follow em too! but please don't boss anyone around about how things should go, alright? everyone can have their own interpretation and rules for the multiverse concept.

Although this blog is mostly for the silly interactions if lore related stuff pop up, there may be a bit of spoopy stuff like horror and gore, and may be some heave stuff, maybe.

I won't be as frequent with replies, but I will try to answer them when I can ahah!

as for bounderies, I don't have much, just in General stuff of what not to do, and you know.. not be too weird pls.

--------- side note ---------

this blogs and a few wh multiverse blogs are going on a on going story which the official cast are :

disclaimer some asks post are part of the lore and some are just for fun interaction

#wttmvlore and #funinteractions will be the indicator of what will be canon to the on going story or not.

I would like to note that we're still working on the wttmv, so I hope that you all will have patience with us and at least enjoy the blogs that are currently active

#welcome home #welcome home au #welcome home puppetshow #out of bounds au #wally darling #observer wally #wh multiverse

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dreamywriter143 · 1 year ago

Text

My Dearly Detested

Status: Part Three (7 part Mini-Series, 3/7)

Genre: Enemies to Lover troupe, Angst, Rude Neteyam, Comforting Lo’ak, some fluff, Romance, violence.

Warnings: Depictions of blood, Battles and cursing. Rude Neteyam😭. Reader is older then Neteyam by 1year.

Parings: Neteyam X Y/n (Reader)

Summary: Neteyam hates Y/n. He never liked how she always bested him in everything and never once sought the praises he was accustomed to. She had no one, yet she had everyone in the palm of her hand. He despised her, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. The but happens when the RDA threat comes and Jake tasks her with watching his sons? Neteyam can’t help but grow a newfound hatred.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I hope ya'll enjoy!

_________________________________________

Y/n’s Ikran lands beside Lo’ak’s Ikran with a screech of alarm, occasionally glancing back at her rider out of concern.

The entire ride back to the base she was able to feel her rider's pain through Tsaheylu. She was able to feel her suffering and the numbness that spread throughout her. Y/n bites her lips harshly to hold back a whimper, her hand shakily reaching out to rub her Ikran in reassurance as she quickly disconnects her kuru.

She hops down from her Ikran, who nudges her head against her shaking body to help her stand. “Thank you” Y/n whispers, clenching her hands into fists to ignore the pain.

She rounds her companion stopping in her tracks as her legs wobble beneath her. Her eyes trace over to where Jake stood in front of his sons and mate, Tuk hugging her mother tightly as Kiri worriedly assessed the damage on her brother.

Y/n quietly trudges towards the group, her ears pinned against her head realizing the lecture she would be in for. She had disobeyed orders just like his sons, she was on the same boat as them.

Y/n catches how Neteyam shifted uncomfortably, and how he blinked rapidly as if to keep himself from crying.

“You're supposed to be spotters, you spot boogies and call ‘em in-from a distance! Does any of this sound familiar-get here!” Jake roars with anger, gesturing for Lo’ak to step closer. His eyes stop momentarily on Y/n, his nostrils flaring in anger. Turning back to his sons he shakes his head in disappointment.

“Jesus I let you two geniuses fly a mission and you disobey direct orders!”

Y/n looks over at Kiri who examines her brother in worry. The stinging feeling of fear settling deep within her stomach. She felt her heart sink as she noticed the traces of blood over his chest, her fault for not taking care of him. For not protecting the sons of her leader.

“Kiri, can you help your grandmother with the wounded? Please?”

Kiri reluctantly turns her attention to her father, “My brother is wounded”

Seeing Jake grow more impatient, Neteyam raises his hand in a stopping motion, his eyes still trained on the ground below him. “It's fine” Neteyam whispers, stepping away from his sister who sighs in reluctance.

“Babygirl please. Tuk go with her, go”

Kiri huffs, pulling away from her brother to head for her grandmother's tent.

Neteyam lifts his head to face his father, noting movement from his peripheral he takes note of how Y/n had joined them. Her stance wobbled as she stood near Lo’ak. He bites down the hiss that threatened to break through knowing she was getting an up close and personal view of him getting chewed up by his father. How humiliating.

“Dad-sir, I take full responsibility” Neteyam turns his attention back to his father, ignoring her gaze that he felt hot against his skin. Lo’ak who was beside Y/n turns to face her, his face contorting to look of concern seeing her face look pale as she limped to stand by his side.

“Yea you do, that's right. ‘Cause you're the older brother you gotta act like it.” Jake growls, his mate stepping forward to intervene. Neytiri stares deep into her mate, her eyes holding great disappointment, she opens her mouth to speak only to be caught off by another.

Feeling a bit of courage Y/n speaks up, her voice small compared to her leader's booming tone.

“S-sir your son is bleeding” She says softly, her concern for the male outweighing her own pain at the moment. As much as Neteyam irked her, she couldn't help but worry.

At the sound of her voice the family turns to face her, Jake glaring into her tiny figure as Neytiri and Lo’ak both scrunched their eyes in concern. She didn't look well, she could barely stand properly, and Neteyam had also taken notice. His tail flicked behind him in alert, his heart dropping when he caught how her breaths came out ragged

“And you? I gave you a task, an important mission to fight alongside Neytiri and you blew it! You disobeyed my orders and left her alone-”

“Ma’Jake” Neytiri interjects her tone dangerously low. She felt worry pang through her as she gazed at the girl in front of her.

“-What if she had gotten hurt? Huh? The point of you being there was to assist her! if you stayed at your post you could have spotted the enemy ships…. I had higher expectations for you Y/n. You've disappointed me today”

“I’m-m s-sorry sir…”

Y/n looks down, blinking rapidly to suppress her tears as well as clear eyes of the black splotches that invaded her vision. Neytiri hisses at Jake, her tail swishing behind her stiffly.

Neteyam took a tiny step forward, his heart hammering against his chest. He thought watching his father belittle Y/n would bring a sense of happiness or accomplishment through him but it did the opposite.

He felt the need to shield her from his father's eyes as she looked down at the ground, her head hung low. His eyes trail down her form, eyes blowing wide when he catches the sight of crimson that nearly stops his heart.

“Ma’Jake, what she-”

“Y/n?” Lo’ak calls in alarm, stepping closer to the wobbly girl in concern . At his tone Jake's eyes soften looking over at Y/n. He feels color drain from his face as he notices the metal piece lodged into her thigh.

A gasp escapes Neytiri as she stares at her in horror, and the pool of blood that surrounds her.

It's as if Neteyam lost control over his body for a moment when he had registered where the blood was coming from, his legs carrying him towards her with no regard to his own injuries.

“M’sorry” Y/n mumbles, her body losing all strength as her vision blacks out. She goes limp falling towards the floor. The only thing she remembered before she was sucked into the abyss was a warm pair of strong arms catching her just in time, and a sound of someone calling for her with urgency.

“Y/n!!!”

~~~~~~~~

Y/n groans, her eyes fluttering as she tries to adjust to the dimly candlelit room. She frantically looks around as the previous day's events flash across her mind.

“Y/n” Tarsem’s soft voice calls, causing her eyes to snap to him. Y/n first notices that she is in the comfort of the Tsahik’s medical tent, surrounded with helpful gear and tools Mo’at would use for healing.

“T-Tarsem?” Y/n croaks, the pain from her leg stinging like crazy. She glanced down to her bandaged up thigh, the pain had subsided greatly but she was still able to feel it. Especially the numbness around the thigh rendering her immobile.

Tarsem rushes to her side, kneeling beside her with his eyes creased in concern. Y/n tries to sit up to which he gently pushes her back into the comfort of the cot she laid upon.

“W-what happ-”

A violent fit of coughs racked her body, her throat feeling dry as she tried to speak. Tarsem pulls her up half way, bringing a cup of water to her lips which she greedily gulps down. Her breath heaving as she tried to compose herself,

“What happened?” Y/n asks as she was able to settle down, with his aid she was able to sit up, her hand reaching down to gingerly trace over the heavily bandaged wound. Her eyes dance over to the bowls that were set up beside her, rags filled with blood placed in the bowls of water, staining the blue water crimson.

“You fainted due to blood loss. The injury-the wound was terribly deep. You’ve bleed so much you…you could have died!” Tarsem winces through clenched teeth, his hands forming fists by his side. Now that Y/n was sitting up right and up to his level she was able to see the tears stain along his cheeks.

“H-how long was I out for?” Y/n whispers, noting how it was only Tarsem by her side. She cursed herself for feeling a bit saddened that Neteyam wasn't present, but who was she kidding? She knew he hated her, but why did her heart want him there?

“Two days. Mo’at wasn’t sure if you’d wake. Your wound kept bleeding and she had to change your dressings many time” he informs, making Y/n wince at the news.

“That must have been awful, I’m ashamed to have put that much burden on her” Y/n mumbles to herself. Tarsem’s eyes snap to her face, his soft eyes squinting in anger.

“Are you kidding? You are worried about Mo’at taking care of you and not over that fact you almost died Y/n? What the hell were you thinking coming onto the battlefield like that?” Tarsem growls, his brotherly instincts taking flight as he keeps glancing at the bandaged wound.

“I had to! Lo’ak and N-Neteyam were there. You know it’s our duty to-“

“No! It’s my duty! I should have done something about it. I shouldn’t have given Lo’ak that gun in the heat of the raid. If I had been more alert you wouldn’t…you wouldn’t have..” Tarsem chokes on his words.

He felt responsible for Y/n, always has. The moment she started living with his family, he knew she would become the sister he never had. When she wanted to become a warrior like him he had mixed feelings, a part of him was ecstatic to have such a devoted student. The other half was afraid of having his baby sister out there in danger.

He knew the consequences of making her a warrior, but when Y/n stressed how she wanted to respect her departed parents by becoming a strong warrior, he knew he had no room to argue.

“Tarsem, it’s not your fault” Y/n says sternly, her voice trembling under the weight of her current state. Tarsem shakes his head. It was his fault, he felt it. This wasn't becoming of him as a future powerful warrior to serve the Olo’eyktan. Mistakes were made he would make sure it would never happen again. He would protect what was important to him.

Some rustling outside the tent caused the two to turn towards the entrance. Lo’ak’s head pops into the tent, his eyes widened with happiness seeing Y/n awake and alert. He quickly rushes in followed by Kiri who is carrying a basket filled with herbs.

“Y/n, you're awake!!” Lo’ak exclaimed, he crouches down to her level, his hand reaching out to carefully stoke her cheeks. He desperately wanted to pull her in for a hug, but the guilt in his heart prevented him from doing so.

“I’m fine! I’m not that fragile, guys” Y/n teases, Kiri takes a seat on the other side to inspect her wound. She smiles to herself noticing how the blood didn’t seep through the new bandage. Proving her prayers had been answered.

“Y/n” Lo’ak calls softly, retracting his hand a to sit cross legged on the cool floor. His ears folded against his head, his tail twitching nervously knowing Tarsem was watching him like a hawk.

“I’m sorry for…everything. Neteyam wouldn’t have come after me if I didn’t disobey orders and you wouldn't have gotten involved. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt saving Neteyam,”

Y/n flushes dark purple at his words.

“H-how” Y/n stammers, her bashful eyes landing on each Na’vi who nods.

“Yes, mom saw you from the air. She saw how you put yourself in harm's way as the bomb went off. You saved Neteyam.” Kiri informs, grinding some of the herbs she had bought with her, Y/n nods, forcing a smile. She couldn’t help but wonder if Neteyam knew.

“Neteyam knows” Tarsem says quietly, making the blush on Y/n face worsen and the knot in her stomach grow. Not only did the Na’vi who hated her guts, got lectured by his father but he also knew Y/n saved him. How mortifying. Y/n sighs knowing that this would only strength his hatred towards her,

“Don’t worry about it Lo’ak. What matters is that we’re all fine and that you learned from your actions . Best not repeat them, yea?” Y/n says softly, making Lo’ak smile in appreciation.

“I won’t!”

“Good, now can you please get out, you skxawng! I need to asses her!” Kiri butts in with an unimpressed roll of her eyes. Lo’ak chuckles before placing his hand over Y/n’s resting hand over her lap, giving it a light squeeze he quickly walks out to let Kiri do what she came here to do.

“I’m glad you ok” Kiri whispers, adding the herb paste into some water, Y/n slightly cringed at the bitter smell that engulfs her senses as she passes over the cup which she reluctantly accepts.

“Thank you and Mo’at for helping me. It was stupid of me for being so careless” Y/n chuckles, her eyes landing on Tarsem who still paced around in the tent. She looks back at Kiri who acknowledges how odd Tarsem had been acting.

“Let him be, he has been worried sick over you the past few days” Kiri whispers, noting how Y/n slightly furrowed her eyebrows as she recalled the words Tarsem had sent her way before the Sully siblings arrived.

‘He was worried, he even blamed himself’

“Y/n” Tarsem calls, coming to a halt.

“Yes?”

“For the next few weeks you’ll be land bound no more flying until you’re fully healed-“

“Bu-“

“No buts! It’s Tsahik’s orders. Right Kiri?” Tarsem glances over at Kiri who agrees enthusiastically at his words. Y/n groans in annoyance, taking a sip of the bitter liquid Kiri had supplied to her, a disgusted shiver going down her spine.

“I’ll let mother and father know that your awake. In the meantime rest, I’m being serious. If I see you out of this tent, there'll be consequences ” Tarsem hisses the last part, his tail thumping behind him to convey how serious he words were.

“Yes, I understand” Y/n murmurs, her ears folding in defeat. Seeming happy with the response Tarsem nods to Kiri before quickly exiting the tent.

“Don’t worry, he is just acting like that out of love” Kiri whispers, seeing the firsturated look on Y/n.

“I know….I just feel useless not being able to do anything”

“We’ll, get used to it. Mo’at knows how stubborn you are, she’s going to have someone in this tent over the course of the night to watch over you. Make sure you don’t…escape”

Y/n hums, glaring at the remaining medicine in her cup. Letting out one sigh of defeat she drowns the entire drink in one go, gagging as the thick liquid travels down her throat.

“H-how’s Neteyam?” Y/n asks after a while. Sticking out her tongue in disgust at the taste of the medicine.

Kiri frowns at her words. Cleaning up her equipment she brought with her. “He’s ok, Mo’at was able to treat him right away after he was able to catch you-“

Y/n flushes in embarasembt at her words.

“But other than that, he hasn't come by once to check if you’re ok.”

‘Well….that’s not a surprise’

~~~~~~~~~

Over the past couple of days Y/n’s days mull together as her boredom reaches a new high.

With a constant eye on her she was unable to escape the tent under any circumstances, much to her dismay.

During the day Mo’at would be in the tent tending to warriors while watching over her, and overnight Y/n would be under the watchful eye of either Kiri, Lo’ak or Tarsem’s parents. They would always alternate but not once didn’t Neteyam step into the tent.

A couple of hours after she woke up, Jake and Neytiri rushed into the tent. Jake expressed how furious he was over Y/n when she disobeyed orders but he stressed how he was glad that she was safe. Neytiri didn’t let go of Y/n’s hand the entire time she was by her side. Thanking her for protecting her son.

Kiri and Tuk were the best company Y/n had, they always kept her busy with engaging conversations not related to her injury so she didn’t have time to sulk over it.

Lo’ak was also great company but his constant stories of what he was able to do in his free time now that he was grounded from flying, only made the older female Na’vi feel envious each time.

And despite loving Tarsem, Y/n disliked when he was in charge of her the most. He seemed to worry over her more then his parents. Always blaming himself despite what Y/n assured of him. The man tortured himself with his regrets. Never seeming to want to live it down.

“Drink this, and don’t think of getting Lo’ak to throw it out for you. I’ll figure it out and I’ll double your dosage for next time” Mo’at threatened, placing the cup by her bed. Y/n forces a smile, her stomach dropping at the threat that held malice.

After the current day Mo’at was getting ready to leave for the comfort of her own tent.

“Don’t worry, I’ll finish it. I want to be able to leave as soon as possible” Y/n says softly, glaring at the green liquid that seemed to taste worse day by day.

“Good” Mo’at grumbles before heading out and leaving her alone.

The tent falls silent with the occasional sound of the wind hitting the chimes placed above the entrance, Y/n shuffles herself around for a comfortable position, not bothering to look up when the entrance ruffles, indicating that someone must have come inside.

“Hi Lo’ak, I’m sorry for-“

Y/n freezes once her eyes land on yellow orbs that stare into her own. She felt tiny under the gaze, the Na’vi’s posture stiff as he closed the entrance behind him. Y/n gulps in slight fear, looking down to her clasped hand that began to sweat.

“Y/n” Neteyam calls sternly, stepping closer to her.

Y/n chooses not to look up, waiting for him to speak again. After recalling that Neteyam knew about her going out of her own way to protect him Y/n was glad he didn’t make the effort to visit her. And now that she was alone with him she felt her stomach churn.

“Why….why did you save me?” Neteyam asks gruffly, causing the smaller girl to flinch.

After moistening her lips she peers up slightly. Her lips part as she tried to find her voice, clearing her throat in the process.

“I don’t know what you mean. The explosion was so severe that we ran into one another” Y/n didn’t know why she thought of lying, maybe it was the embarrassment she felt or the way Neteyam clenched his jaw in anger.

“Y/n I’m not stupid. I was there, I felt you go out of your way to cover me. I don’t need anyone to tell me when I was aware the whole time”

“It was in the heat of the moment”

“You always do this!”

Y/n furrows her eyes at his raised voice, his veins on his neck protruding out due to his anger. Y/n found it harder to respond to him as she watched him sigh out, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“You always go out of your way for others putting yourself in danger. Does it please you to feel superior? Do you like feeling like a hero?”

Y/n flares her nostrils at his words, her eyes twitching in anger.

“What the hell Neteyam?! I do what I must for my clan. For my people…for my leader. I don’t do it for glory or fame. Like you” Y/n seethes, her fangs poking against her mouth. Neteyam’s eyes glow in anger in the dimly lit room. His own fangs breaking through with a hiss in response.

“Hah, well, it doesn’t seem like it when you are always praised for your actions.” Neteyam laughs dryly.

Y/n’s ears fold against her head, cursing at herself for even worrying for a boy like him who couldn’t get his head out of his ass due to his ego.

“I’m done with this conversation. I’m sorry I saved you, I’ll make sure no one acknowledges what I’ve done-“

“That’s besides the point!!”

Neteyam paces around the tent, his steps carrying him closer and closer towards the entrance.

“You….you”

Neteyam’s back faces her when he comes to a halt, heaved gasps of anger escaping through him as he recalls something of the past.

~Flashback~

“Wow you’re so cool Y/n!”

Y/n smirks triumphantly as her finger working over the arrow head she was busy carving at the moment. Neteyam sat in front of her, his eyes drinking in the way her finger worked tirelessly against the sharp edge, sharpening it with precision. Great precision for a 10 year old.

“Really? Thanks! Tarsem taught me, you'll learn soon enough and I’m sure you will be better than me!” Y/n encourages which only widens Neteyam’s smile. His eyes shine with admiration as he glances between the girl and the arrow.

For as long as he could remember Y/n was always a part of their clan, always wandering around and trying to learn something new everyday. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her carefree yet strong spirit. He wanted to be like her, as a 9 year old, Y/n looked like a perfect idol for him. Other than his father and Tarsem who had been the hot topic amongst the clan for a while now.

“You think? You’ll help me, right?” Neteyam asks, his eyes gleaming with hope. Y/n chuckles, turning up to meet his eyes. He felt his heart rate quicken, he felt his stomach erupt with a fluttery feeling as they looked into each other's eyes. She was the prettiest female Na’vi he had ever seen, and seeing her in such a light only made him feel this weird feeling more and more as days progressed.

“Of course! But I don't know everything. You’ll have to ask Tarsem.” Yn says making Neteyam frown.

“No! I only want to be taught by-”

“OW!”

Neteyam flinches at the sound of Y/n yelping in pain, his eyes widened, his breath hitched in fear at the sight of crimson dripping onto the forest floor. Y/n clutches her finger, shakily clutching the wound tightly. It wasn't a large cut, but it was deep enough for blood to come pouring out, scaring the poor boy.

“Y/n!!”

Neteyam reaches out to clutch her hand, fear and worry blinding him. Just as his fingers brush against her she quickly pulls away, evading him while smiling nervously.

“I'm fine! It's fine! I'll just go the Mo’at to get patched up!” She says reassuringly, making Neteyam frown at her words.

“Let me see it, how bad is it? Neteyam asks, his voice shaky, he reaches out again only for Y/n to stand up, him following her mom even in confusion.

“Neteyam it's fine, really. You of all people should not worry over a minor cut! It nothing”

“What do you mean? Why can’t I worry over you?”

Y/n rolls her eyes playfully, taking a step away from Neteyam who watches her with furrowed eyes.

“Because you are like my baby brother. How would I feel if I let my baby brother worry about me?!”

Neteyam’s ears flatten against her head. He didn't know why but the term ‘Baby brother’ sent a sickening feeling through his gut. He didn't like it, not one bit.

“Baby brother? You see me as a baby brother? What's that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon Neteyam, you're younger than me. And I should be looking after you! Not the other way around dummy!” Neteyam’s head dropped at her words.

The first feeling Neteyam felt surge through him was anger, the feeling of being incompetent sitting deep with his tiny form.

Was this her way of saying he wasn't worthy of her? That he wasn’t good enough for her? That she didn’t believe he could protect her?

“Is…that all I’ll ever be to you? A ‘Baby Brother’ who has to be protected by…you??”

“Is that wrong?”

~Flashback end~

“You've always been like this” Neteyam whispers , his back still facing Y/n as she fiddles around with the cloth draped over her legs to prove warmth. Feeling confusion ring inside her as she clears her throat.

“What?”

“You've always been like this. You always acted like it was you against the world, you never wanted anyone's help or anyone to care for you. You made me feel….you made others feel useless…”

“Neteyam. I don't know what you mean?”

Neteyam laughs dryly, still refusing to turn around and face her. The way he clenched his hands into fists, his veins protruding along his arms in anger didn't go unnoticed by Y/n who gulped nervously.

“Nothing, forget it. It doesn’t matter to you how anyone feels as long as you are covered. And that…makes you the most selfish person in the room”

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n couldn’t seem to get the argument she had with Neteyam over her head for the next couple of days. After that day he never came around again and Y/n tried not to focus on that. She didn’t know why he became so cryptic near the end but the fear from his words stung deep making her question herself.

“So that’s why I be late, is that ok?” Lo’ak says, tilting his head as he waited for Y/n’s response.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said Spider and I have an adventure planned in the afternoon tomorrow. I might be late coming in tomorrow,”

Today Y/n had finally gotten some good news regarding her injury. It has healed splendidly, but Mo’at still wanted her in bed rest for the next few days for observation.

“Just you and Spider? Where will you be going?”

“I don’t know, we’re going to do some tracking” Lo’ak says nonchalantly. Y/n frowns, something in her stomach didn’t sit right at his plan.

“Lo’ak, I’m dying of boredom just by sitting here all day. Can I come with?”

Lo’ak smirks, his eyes lighting up at her rebellious words.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Netayams scowl didn’t leave his lips as he rode beside his parents. Though he got all the duties Y/n had prior to her injury that left her bed bound, none of it made him any happier.

He didn’t get anything out of accomplishment , only due to the fact she wasn't here to do them herself. And she was in her current state due to him, it sent a bitter taste along his tongue the more he thought of it.

The com around his neck buzzes to life as Lo’ak whispers on the other side. Neteyam internally frowns as he listens into what Lo’ak informs, his father answering back gruffly. He knew that Lo’ak would disobey rules and venture out to the old shack. So typical of him to get bored just to do the very thing they were warned about.

“Who’s we?”

Neteyam listens carefully, his eyes scrunching with worry for his family.

“Me, Spider, Kiri, Tuk…and Y/n”

Neteyam felt his heart drop, his mind drawing blanks. There were avatar soldiers near them and Lo’ak had their baby sister tag along with them. That alone got his blood to run cold, what caused his heart to beat painfully was the thought that Y/n, who was still very much injured, was also with them.

The girl Neteyam hated seeing hurt.

__________________________________________

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay! I hope you guys enjoy and Breathing Pt3 will be out soon!

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vilevenom · 6 months ago

Text

This fic started out as a little 3K word ficlet, inspired by the smarmy little Hickory in a suit, drawn by the amazing @em-doods. It then turned into this 15K+ beast when we starting chatting about his other outfits.

Hope ya'll enjoy ❤️

Hold Me Tight, or Don't

Fandom: Dreamworks Trolls

Pairings: Gen, Hickory/John Dory

Summary: Since leaving the troll tree, there was only one troll that John Dory kept unintentionally running into. Unfortunately, they weren't always exactly pleased to see each other.

Excerpt:

"John? That's it? Pretty plain name for a troll such as yourself," Hickory said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as they were dealt a fresh hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, wrinkling his nose as he checked his cards.

"Oh, not much," Hickory said with a light laugh and a shrug, "You're just a real, hm…rugged looking troll. I figured you'd have a more interesting name."

John scowled as he tossed chips into the pot, shooting Hickory a glare. "It's John Dory. Happy?"

"Like the fish?" Hickory laughed, adding his own chips to the pot, "Well. That shouldn't surprise me."

John bristled, sitting up in his seat with a low growl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hickory shrugged, easy smirk on his face as he flipped over his cards. "I've got a straight. What about you?"

Link to fic on AO3

John hadn't really known where he was going when he'd wound up stumbling upon a grand building situated at the edge of the funk troll territories. He'd just been exploring idly, hoping he was heading in the right direction to get to where he'd been told the country trolls lived, so finding such an especially tall and extravagant building in what was basically the middle of nowhere had been startling, but intriguing. It rose up towards the sky, higher than any troll made structure he'd seen before, and its glass and metal walls glistened brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight. The huge neon sign declaring "Jazzy's" was also something John hadn't seen before, so much like a moth to a flame, he wandered towards the building curiously.

"Woah there," an older, rather gruff looking country troll grunted at John Dory as he approached the front doors of the building, holding a hand out to stop him before he could go inside. He halted in his tracks, slightly on edge as the larger troll looked him up and down. "Haven't seen you around here before. What's yer name an' tribe?"

"Uh…it's John Dory. And I don't know what you mean by 'tribe'?" John offered, absently fixing how his goggles sat on his head as the other troll frown at him. He'd been to some of the other kingdoms. Was that what this troll was talking about?

"Y'know, yer tribe. Your genre? We don't take kindly to certain kinds of trolls 'round here," the troll practically snarled at John, rising up from his seat, as John took a step back and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Hey now, Axel," a well dressed purple troll came waltzing out the double doors of the building, a lazy grin on her face. She was wearing a loose, flowing red robe that practically hung off her frame, and wild blue hair seemingly floated around her face. "You tryin' to scare away fresh meat?"

"Meat?" John echoed quietly under his breath, suddenly very much wishing he hadn't even tried to approach this place.

"He won't tell me his tribe," the troll named Axel growled, still glaring down at John, only to deflate as this new troll placed her hand on his arm.

"You know that anyone who wasn't actually wanted around here would come up with a better lie than 'I don't know what you're talking about'," the blue haired troll said with a laugh, before turning a sharp eye towards John, who bristled slightly at the attention. "Besides…I'd say it's pretty obvious he's some kind of pop troll. Look at him, Axel. He's harmless." She chuckled and floated over to John, who swallowed thickly and suddenly wanted to be very far away from this place, but couldn't get his feet to move. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"John Dory," John found himself answering before a thought could pass through his brain.

"What a peculiar name," she hummed, a placid little smile on her face. "My name's Jazzy, like it says on the building," she said, gesturing vaguely at the sign shining down on them, while stepping next to John and wrapping her arm around his shoulders, "And this is my casino. Have you got anything worth trading? Coins, you know?"

John frowned, but nodded a little, reaching into his hair to pull out a handful of assorted coins from the various areas he'd passed through on his travels so far. "Sorry, but…what's a casino?" John had a feeling he'd asked the wrong question when Jazzy's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across her face.

"Oh, well now!" she cooed, tugging John in close to her shoulder and pulling him along with her into the building, "Don't I have a treat for you!"

Jazzy steered him through the casino, and John quickly realized his earlier feelings of trepidation were probably well founded. He spotted some rock trolls who looked like they were about to rough up a couple of country trolls over a card game, a handful of trolls who just looked like they were on their last legs, and others who waltzed around in the most glamorous outfits John had ever seen. The whole place just had a general uneasy energy that John was not pleased to be in the middle of. Jazzy assured him that he was perfectly safe when she noticed that he was looking a bit on edge, though he had a feeling that she was lying through her teeth as she took the coins from his hand, spoke quietly to a troll behind a barred off counter, and handed him back some colorful plastic chips.

"Now…You know how to play cards, don't you?" Jazzy asked, steering John in yet another direction.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," John said with a small nod, grunting as he was pushed into a seat at a table with several other trolls already sat around it.

"Perfect! This is Lonesome Hold 'em. Real easy to learn. You get two cards that my dealer here will toss you," Jazzy gestured at a young looking techno troll sat at the top of the table, with a rather nasty looking rock troll stood just behind them, "Don't let anybody see them, alright? Then the dealer will flip over five cards, one at a time. You need to make a good poker hand out of those cards. Best hand wins. You've played poker before, haven't you?"

John nodded quickly, as he was garnering glares from the other trolls sitting around the table. He'd never been so happy about his grandmother having an addiction to five card Rummy as he was right now.

"Excellent! Now, you boys have fun!" Jazzy cheered, waving at the table before whisking off to somewhere else in the casino.

"Minimum bet is a tenner," the dealer said, nodding towards John, "The blue chip. You need to put one in to play."

"Oh! Right," John quickly tossed one of his chips into the pile on the table, offering a nervous smile to those around him, only to have glares returned to him.

The first few hands went rather abysmally, with John quickly losing a good handful of his chips as he figured out how the betting system worked, along with the tells of the other players. But, once he'd worked out the reactions for good and bad hands for each of the trolls sat around him, and what hands he should bet high on, he found himself starting to win. He could really see why his grandma had loved gambling so much; it was a thrill when you were winning.

Unfortunately, that did mean that the other trolls at the table were getting tired of losing. Some got up and were replaced by other trolls who wanted to test their luck against John. They would win one or two hands, until John figured out how they played, and he'd start winning again.

Luck truly seemed to be on his side, and he was beginning to think that perhaps this casino place wasn't so bad, right up until he showed up. A rather sleek looking green troll, with a smarmy little grin on his face, slicked back orange hair, and a sharp suit. He sat down across from John Dory at the table with a friendly little nod, though John immediately got a sense that this troll was not one to be trifled with. It was relatively obvious from the way he held himself that this was not his first time at the table, and John had a funny feeling that this troll thought he'd be an easy mark.

They played a few hands, with John losing the first couple as he got a feel for how this new troll played, until he began to win again. But then something seemed to shift, and the trolls playing style changed. Which was strange, since most trolls had a set way they played and superstitions they followed, and those were not something most gamblers would alter on a whim. It was something his grandmother had taught him when he was young, telling him that being able to pick up on tells and playing styles wasn't just good for cards, but something that would come in handy throughout his life. He already knew this would be one of those times.

A few more rounds passed, with the rest of the table clearing out except for John and the slick troll who offered a wide grin as John won another hand.

"My, my. Can't say I've ever seen someone pick up a game so quickly before," the slick troll hummed, drumming his fingers along the edge of the table.

"My grandma was real into cards," John offered, stacking his winnings up carefully in front of himself.

"Is that so? She must be quite the lady."

"She is."

The slick troll nodded, rocking back in his chair for a moment, before dropping the legs back onto the floor with a loud thud. "The name's Hickory. Figured I should be properly introduced to one of the first players to give me a run for my money."

"John," John stated bluntly, a little more aware of himself this time around, and not quite as willing to give him name freely.

"John? That's it? Pretty plain name for a troll such as yourself," Hickory said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as they were dealt a fresh hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, wrinkling his nose as he checked his cards.

"Oh, not much," Hickory said with a light laugh and a shrug, "You're just a real, hm…rugged looking troll. I figured you'd have a more interesting name."

John scowled as he tossed chips into the pot, shooting Hickory a glare. "It's John Dory. Happy?"

"Like the fish?" Hickory laughed, adding his own chips to the pot, "Well. That shouldn't surprise me."

John bristled, sitting up in his seat with a low growl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hickory shrugged, easy smirk on his face as he flipped over his cards. "I've got a straight. What about you?"

John blinked, not having noticed that the hand was even over. He flipped his own cards over. "Two pair."

"Looks like I win," Hickory hummed, scooping up his winnings. "Want to go again?" John scowled but nodded, tossing in his bet.

Hickory won a few more hands that way; riling John up to make him lose focus until the hand was over so he hadn't realized he was betting on garbage cards. But grandma Rosiepuff's voice rang in his head the third time he lost due to his own irritation, telling him to breath deep and calm down. He used to get riled up the same way when she'd beat him at Rummy when he was a little kid. She'd told him that if he didn't calm down, he'd never win, since anger would only ever lead to loss. Wise words that he should have listened to sooner, really. But that wasn't something he could focus on at the moment, with Hickory smirking at him infuriatingly across the table.

After taking a few deep breaths, John began to steadfastly ignore the barbs and jabs Hickory shot his way to try and get a rise out of him, and slowly he began to win again. As his pile of chip began to grow, Hickory's smirk began to fade, slowly being replaced by a scowl.

John lost track of time in the large, windowless room the poker table was in, so he wasn't sure how much time had passed before his pile of winnings was quite sizable and Hickory was down to a a small handful of chips. Enough, really, to get him through one or two hands more.

"I'd probably give up now," John said with a smirk, earning a sharp glare from Hickory, "I don't think your luck is going to drastically turn in one hand."

"You'd be surprised," Hickory snapped back, shoving his remaining chips into the pot as the cards were dealt, while John shook his head with a low chuckle.

But surprised John was. Hickory won the next hand. And the next. It didn't seem to matter what cards John was dealt, Hickory always had something better. Until, finally, John was down to his last few chips.

"I'd probably give up now," Hickory mocked, a cruel gin on his face as he flipped a chip between his fingers, "I don't think your luck is going to turn in one hand."

But Hickory made a fatal mistake as he flipped his chip in the air, causing his sleeve to shift just enough for John to spot a card tucked into it.

"You're cheating!" John shouted, slamming his hands onto the table and swiftly rising from his chair, causing it to fall behind him with a clatter.

"I… what?" Hickory choked, dropping the chip he'd been playing with, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I can see the cards up your sleeve!" John snapped, pointing at the offending sleeve, while the rock troll behind the dealer began to shift and move towards Hickory.

"I-what? No, I-" Hickory glanced between John and the rock troll, swallowing thickly as he slowly rose from his seat. He shifted on his feet, shooting John a glare that made the teal troll freeze where he stood. "I'll get you back for this," he growled, before tossing a handful of chips into the air, gaining the attention of several trolls in the vicinity. They began to swarm the table, half blocking the rock troll from getting to Hickory, who began to run from the table. John watched as he dodged other rock trolls scattered around the casino floor, before ultimately booking it out the doors.

John slowly picked his chair up from the floor and sat heavily into it as Jazzy swept over to him and several trolls dispersed the crowd that had gathered to scoop up the fallen chips.

"Thank you for alerting us to that crook, John Dory," Jazzy cooed, reaching across the table to pull what was left of the chips over to John while patting him on the shoulder. "These are all yours, sweetheart."

"Thanks," John muttered, quickly pocketing the chips. "I think I'm done playing, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Jazzy nodded slightly, "Would you like a room? We've got lots upstairs that are open."

"I-No thank you, ma'am," John said, offering her a strained smile as he rose from his seat. "I think this was a bit more excitement than I was really prepared for. I should get going."

Jazzy made a face at him, but ultimately nodded. "All right. You can exchange your chips at the cashier cage," she said, gesturing towards the barred off counter she'd gotten his chips from earlier. "Be mindful of which coins you ask for. Some will cost more chips than others," she added. With that she turned to the trolls that had followed her to the table, leaving John to his own devices. Quickly he scurried to the cashier cage, exchanging his chips for country troll coins, since that was where he'd been planning on going before he'd found this place, and headed out the doors.

He didn't mange to get too far from the lavish building, before he found himself being tackled face first into the ground and sat on by none other than Hickory, though he looked distinctly more disheveled than he had inside the casino.

"Not very wise to be heading out all on your own after pissing someone off during poker," Hickory hissed, digging his knee into John's back, making the teal troll wheeze.

"M-maybe you shouldn't've cheated then," John gasped out, wriggling beneath Hickory to try and get his arms free.

"Maybe you should've minded your own damn business," Hickory growled, grabbing at John's wrists to pin them against his back, wrenching his shoulders in the process and making John yowl in pain. "I've been working that place for months, and then you come along," Hickory grunted, his weight shifting against John's back as the teal troll kicked his legs up to try and dislodge his attacker, "and ruin everything."

"Again," John wheezed, Hickory's weight shifting just enough that he could roll onto his side, dislodging the grifter entirely from his back, "Maybe you shouldn't have cheated!" He quickly scrambled to his feet, heaving for air as he rolled his now sore shoulders. "It's not my fault you decided to do something stupid and got too cocky while doing it."

Hickory didn't even respond to John Dory this time, simply letting out an enraged bellow as he ran at the teal troll. He tried to tackle John again, but this time he was ready, quickly side stepping the grifter while swinging his arm down into his back, causing Hickory to stumble and fall with a shout as his momentum worked against him.

"Look, I don't want to fight you," John said quickly as Hickory pushed himself up, turning to John with a scowl.

"No. You don't," Hickory snarled, raking his hair out of his face and shifting as though he was going to run at John again, only to freeze at the sound of his name being shouted from off in the distance. He groaned, then spat at the ground near John's feet, making the teal troll recoil slightly. "You're lucky," Hickory snapped, straightening up and fixing his rumpled jacket. He then turned on his heel and dashed off into the underbrush, leaving a rather bewildered John Dory behind.

Time passed, and soon John had mostly forgotten about the odd troll who'd tried to beat him up outside the casino. However, he most certainly avoided the area where he'd come across the opulent building in the first place. Although he'd found Lonesome Hold 'em somewhat fun, he didn't particularly fancy getting caught up in whatever was going on inside that building. He had enough worries in regards to keeping himself alive in the wilderness, he didn't need to unnecessarily add to them by getting into trouble with the trolls he'd seen hanging out in there.

After a couple of years of roaming around and through the country and funk kingdoms, he found himself coming across the rock troll territories. When he had first started exploring the different areas the various genres called home, he hadn't wanted to try traversing through the volcano ridden territories of the rock trolls, especially not after hearing the stories that the other nations would mutter about the rambunctious and rowdy kingdom. But, now that he was a bit older, and had his sweet Rhonda at his side (who was nearly as tall as he was already, so he was fairly certain most other trolls would leave him alone if she was with him), he felt more at ease about crossing into and exploring the rough terrain.

Happily, John was quick to note that what the other trolls had said about the rock trolls seemed to be untrue. As he reached what he'd been told was Volcano Rock City, the main settlement of the territory, he was approached by a grinning red troll, who thrust a piece of paper into his hands, declaring an invite to a party.

"Hey, man! Wicked critter. You should, like, totally come to this party that's gonna be a total rager later," they said with a laugh, before trundling off to hand his flyers out to other trolls nearby. John watched them walk away with a confused little smile, before looking over the paper he'd been handed.

"Huh," John offered the flyer to Rhonda, who sniffed at it and churred, earning a chuckle from John. "What do you think, girl? Wanna go check out a rock troll party? It might be fun." Rhonda simply growled in an excited manner, her back end wiggling as John scratched at the back of her head. "Yeah, okay. It couldn't hurt to check it out."

John would later come to regret saying that.

He arrived to the party as it seemed to be getting into full swing, with music blaring from huge speakers next to a stage where a band was playing, and trolls milled about in nearly every available inch of space. Some were dancing near the stage, while others were trying to talk over the music, while still others gorged themselves on the swathes of snack foods that seemed to be floating around the party in random bags and bowls. It wasn't quite like the parties he'd attended when he was younger, but it was similar enough that he felt right at home. Rhonda, on the other hand, seemed to become somewhat skittish and agitated at all of the loud noise. John cooed at her to try and calm her down, but when that didn't work, he left her near the outer edges of the party, where there were fewer trolls, and the music was a little quieter. He promised he'd be back for her in a couple of hours, tops, before heading back into the crowd.

Admittedly, John's first taste of the rock genre was going pretty smoothly, in his opinion. One troll commented on his goggles, noting that they'd be cooler with spikes, while another told him that his fur lined jacket was 'sick', but it would look better in black. And the music, oh, the music. It was so different from anything else John had heard before, but something about it really struck a chord with him. He found himself head banging along with a group near the stage, and a rather gnarly looking blue troll showed him how to throw up 'devil horns' and 'rock out' appropriately. It was absolutely fantastic.

That was until a green troll with wildly curly orange and black hair appeared in front of him.

"John Dory," the troll shouted over the music with a rather unwelcoming grin.

"Uh, do I know you?" John asked, frowning slightly as he backed away from the troll as he stepped further into John's space.

"You sure do, fish boy," the troll snapped back, grabbing the front of John's jacket and yanking him close. John's eyes widened as he realized exactly who he was currently faced with.

"Hickory?!"

"Got it in one."

John made to pull away from Hickory, but the grifter's grip on his jacket was unyielding.

"I think it's about time I paid you back for the trouble you made for me, back at Jazzy's," Hickory said, grin widening at John's obvious struggle to get away from him.

"What are you even doing here?!" John asked, grabbing at Hickory's hand to try and pry his fingers from his jacket.

"None of your business," Hickory hissed, before turning his head and bellowing out, "MOSH PIT!"

John gasped as a rush of trolls started to crowd in and around where he and Hickory stood, jostling them roughly. John could feel Hickory's fingers loosening in his jacket, but the grifter's gaze snapped back to him quickly as he began to slip away.

"Nuh-uh. You're not getting away so easy this time," Hickory snapped, using the commotion and rowdiness of the crowd around them as an excuse to toss John to the ground. He shouted loudly, grinning as the trolls around them echoed the noise, before he pounced on John as he tried to scramble away.

They tussled through the crowd, Hickory obviously enjoying himself as he continuously shoved John into trolls who took no mind of him as they elbowed him, kicked him, and generally battered him ruthlessly as they moshed to the music blasting from the stage. Finally, John managed to stumble his way out of the crowd and fell to his knees, very much worse for wear, and fairly confident he had bruises littering about 90% of his body. Hickory, meanwhile, strode out of the crowd with nary a scratch, obviously quite used to the nature of mosh pits, and knew how to get out of them relatively unscathed.

"It's someone's first day in the scene, isn't it?" Hickory mocked as John staggered to his feet, clutching at his rather sore ribs.

"It was going fine until you showed up," John growled back, glaring at the grifter, who simply laughed at him. He bristled as Hickory approached him casually, an easy swagger to the way he was walking telling John that this troll didn't have a doubt in the world that he could and would get away with whatever he wanted here.

"Go home, pop troll," Hickory seethed at John, before reeling his arm back and punching the teal troll squarely in the face.

John stumbled back, spots already forming in his vision as he raised his hand to the now throbbing bridge of his nose, while Hickory smirked cruelly at him. The last thing he registered was the sound of Rhonda 's bellow over the din of the party, and Hickory quickly disappearing into the surrounding crowd, before his world went dark.

When John awoke, Rhonda was hovering over him, a worried little coo leaving her as he blinked up at the late evening sky. Slowly, he sat up to find that she had dragged him from Volcano Rock City into what looked like a forest. There were no other trolls around, though in the distance he could see the massive volcano that stood in the center of the city they'd left behind. He sighed and gave Rhonda a grateful little pat as she nuzzled up against his side, while gingerly touching his very tender nose.

"Maybe we keep avoiding rock trolls, huh?" he asked Rhonda, who churred unhappily next to him. "Yeah. I think it's probably best if we don't go back there."

And avoid it he did. John spent the next couple of years exploring the Neverglade trail, rather than continue through the troll kingdoms. Although exploring other genres was fun, a break from other trolls was more than necessary, he figured. Especially after his last run in with Hickory, which had really soured his urge to meet new people. That wasn't to say he didn't run into other trolls and sentient creatures while out on the trails, of course. He met many interesting characters over the years who had plenty of stories to share with him. Which did eventually lead to him learning about the various and notorious bounty hunters that roamed around; one of whom was described quite similarly to Hickory. A rather nasty sounding yodeling troll, who was one half of a pair of brothers with quite the reputation. Hickory was apparently known for his disguises and charming trickery, gaining the trust of his targets and drawing them away to somewhere secluded, where his older brother would inevitably ensnare them in a trap.

According to the hiker who had casually mentioned all of this to John, the brothers had a staggering track record with very few, if any, misses on their hit list. Which just made John somewhat confused as to why Hickory had let him go not once, but twice. Though, he supposed, that might have something to do with the fact that their encounters had little to nothing to do with Hickory's 'work', and capturing John wouldn't exactly be profitable to the bounty hunters. He decided to simply be thankful that he was unlikely to see Hickory again, and moved on with his life.

Eventually, John did find himself back in the kingdoms, with Rhonda now just big enough for him to ride inside, so long distance travel was much easier. He figured the coast would be the best place to check out, since he'd heard techno trolls lived just offshore and were pretty chill, and Rhonda loved a good beach. What he wasn't expecting to find was a community of trolls, who claimed themselves to simply be 'surfer trolls', living near the seaside. Their music was an odd sort of mixture of pop and rock, but it was catchy and fun, and John couldn't help but find himself humming along to the melodies.

They were friendly, too, inviting John to join in their dances and offering to teach him how to surf. He happily agreed to the surfing lessons, pleased when Rhonda jumped into the water after him to swim alongside their surfboards, much to the delight of the other trolls in the water. Anytime John began to wobble on his board, Rhonda would surface just below him, throwing him off and into the water, earning laughs from everyone around. John was fairly certain she thought she was helping, so he couldn't exactly get mad at her for accidentally sabotaging his lessons.

After roughly the tenth time Rhonda dumped him into the drink, John decided it was probably best if he leave surfing to the surf trolls and just enjoy the beach. So, he dragged his soggy self out of the water and propped his borrowed board up in the sand, as the other trolls had shown him to do, and turned to watch Rhonda continue to frolic in the waves. As he turned, however, he spotted a relatively familiar looking green and orange troll that immediately had his hackles rising up. Although he looked slightly different, with dreadlocked curls and baggy beach clothes, he just knew the troll he was looking at was Hickory. After all, hadn't that hiker told him that Hickory disguised himself frequently? It would explain why each time John had run into him, he'd looked different. The bounty hunter was casually chatting with a couple of other trolls just down the beach from where he'd gotten out of the water, and John had no doubt that Hickory was here for a bounty on one of the surfer trolls.

He decided that, for now, it would probably be best if he stayed back and just watch the bounty hunter. He was relatively certain that Hickory knew he was here, since Rhonda was sort of hard to miss. However, he did wonder if Hickory even remembered her, since he was also rather certain that the bounty hunter would've approached him by now if he had any sort of inkling that John was nearby. After all, they weren't exactly on the best of terms.

So, he sat and watched, noticing how Hickory kept gravitating to one rather pretty pastel green troll in particular. She had wavy pink hair with flowers nestled throughout, and appeared to have a rather easy going attitude, along with an absolutely phenomenal singing voice. John wondered, briefly, if perhaps Hickory was simply pursuing her in some sort of romantic sense. However, that idea was quickly squashed when he happened to spot a smaller green and orange troll half hidden in the beach scrub not too far off from where Hickory and the girl were. Likely the infamous older brother, Dickory, he'd heard about. That had to mean they were there for a bounty, and based on Hickory practically sticking like glue to the girl, it was most likely her.

A slow smirk crept across John's face as he watched Hickory and the girl chat, an idea forming in his mind. Another miss on the yodelers otherwise near spotless track record would certainly put John Dory in an even better mood than he already was.

John drew himself up from his seat on the beach, whistling for Rhonda, who bound out of the water with an excited trill, drenching the trolls around her on the beach as she shook herself off. He grinned as her antics drew the attention of everyone on the beach, including Hickory and the mystery girl he was following. A satisfied little chuckle escaped John as he spotted the way Hickory's expression soured upon spotting him. He eagerly waved at the bounty hunter, which only served to confuse Hickory, as he frowned and tilted his head, watching with dawning horror on his face as John practically skipped across the beach, Rhonda hot on his heels, towards the two trolls he'd been keeping an eye on.

"Hey!" John chirped, slapping his hand down on Hickory's shoulder and giving it a not so gentle squeeze as he reached the two, "It's been a while, man! How've you been?"

"John Dory," Hickory feigned cheer through gritted teeth, adjusting the yellow sunglasses perched precariously on his nose, "It's goin' swell, bro. Been real chill. What's brought you out to the beach?"

"Oh, you know," John let Hickory go, waving his hand through the air, while Rhonda flopped down into the sand behind him, "Just adventuring. Been out on the Neverglade trail. Heard some really interesting stories while I was out there." He glanced over to the pastel troll who was observing the two with open curiosity on her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry," John said with a light laugh, "How rude of me. I'm John Dory. You are?" He offered the pastel troll his hand, earning a soft giggle from the girl.

"Aquata," the troll hummed, taking John's hand and shaking it gently, "It's, like, totally righteous to meet you. It's wild to meet someone who knew Reef from before he came to the beach. How long have you two, like, known each other?"

John shot Hickory an amused look, earning a sharp glare from the bounty hunter from behind Aquata's shoulder. "Oh, I've known 'Reef' here for a few years. Met him pretty shortly after I started adventuring. He's always been a real character." Aquata simply laughed at John's anecdote, while Hickory fumed just outside her line of sight. It was incredibly entertaining to John, to watch the way Hickory's face contorted at John's antics.

"That's so rad! Reef is always so quiet about his past," Aquata sighed, turning a lazy smile on the bounty hunter, who quickly plastered a calm little grin on his own face.

"It's 'cause none of it matters, man," Hickory hummed, stepping up next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "The past is, like, unchangeable. Why bother dwelling on it?"

"Deep," John commented, barely able to keep a laugh from escaping him at the way Hickory's expression twitched, like he wanted to scowl at John but knew he couldn't. "But, y'know, the past sort of defines who we are, so it's kind of important."

"Wow! That's so true," Aquata said, patting at Hickory's hand on her shoulder. "Hey, why don't I go get us some drinks? And you two can, like, catch up for a minute?" She twirled easily away from Hickory's hold with a breathy laugh. "I'll be back in a sec!"

The two watched her sashay away, before Hickory turned a sharp glare on John Dory. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," John hissed back, hackles up. "I can only assume you're here to kidnap that poor girl."

Hickory scrunched up his nose, placing his hands on his hips. "Kidnap is a pretty strong word, fish boy."

"It's accurate though, isn't it? That's what you do. Kidnap trolls and deliver them to whoever pays you the most coin. I heard all about you and your brother," he nodded towards the tall grass along the far side of the beach where he knew Dickory was hiding, "while I was out on the Neverglade trail. You two have quite the reputation."

Hickory snarled quietly under his breath, before sucking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. "All right, fish boy," Hickory grunted, "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave this beach and that poor girl alone. I doubt she's done anything especially nefarious that would justify you and your brother dragging her away from her home."

"I can't do that," Hickory groaned, pushing his sunglasses up to rub at his eyes, "My brother would not like that."

John arched an eyebrow, an idea striking him as he reaching back to gently pat at Rhonda, who lifted her head with a curious trill. "Would your brother prefer it if I let Rhonda eat you, instead?"

Hickory blinked, quickly taking a step back as he eyed the armadillo bus, who stared right back at him. "What?!"

"You heard me. You can either take off, and haul your brother along with you, or I'll let Rhonda swallow you. She's eaten a few bigger critters out on the trail, so I know a troll wouldn't be much of an issue," John said, as Rhonda rose to her feet behind him and shook herself clean of the sand that clung to her carapace. He watched as Hickory eyed the critter, his demeanor quickly becoming more nervous and agitated. Of course John wouldn't really let Rhonda eat Hickory, though he did know she could. He'd just get her to store the bounty hunter in the weird pocket dimension trunk she'd developed over the last few months and drop him off somewhere in the woods. Not that he needed to know that, of course.

"You wouldn't," Hickory said with a shake of his head, swallowing thickly as a slow grin spread across John's face.

"Are you really willing to test those waters?"

Hickory looked between Rhonda and John once more, his gaze fleetingly darting off in the direction his brother was hidden, before finally settling back on John. "Fine. Fine! It's not like this was a big job, anyway. Just some rich arschloch who wanted a private, captive singer. We'll leave."

"Great," John hummed, his grin turning into a genuine smile. Even after Hickory had beaten him up a few years back, he really couldn't say he held a grudge against the other troll. As a matter of fact, he was growing just a little bit fond of the only troll that kept circling back into his life. Messing with him periodically was starting to be a bit like a game he got to play every couple years. "You know, this little game of kitty critter and mouse we've incidentally been playing over the last few years has, weirdly, been kind of fun. I hope you don't mind that I won this round." He offered Hickory his hand, at which the bounty hunter stared in mild confusion. "C'mon, man. You can't tell me you've never shook someone's hand before."

"…Not usually right after they've threatened to have their pet eat me," Hickory scoffed, though he did tentatively take John's hand.

"First time for everything, I suppose," John laughed.

"I guess that's true," Hickory hummed thoughtfully, gaze focused on their hands until he pulled his away. "You are a much more surprising, and dare I say tenacious troll than I gave you credit for, John Dory."

John's grin brightened considerably, another joyful little laugh escaping him. "Thanks! I'll take that as a compliment."

Hickory simply snorted quietly at that, a slight smile on his own face as John chuckled.

"Looks like you two had an excellent catch up," Aquata said merrily as she came trotting up to them with three cups in hand. She then offered Hickory and John each a cup of what looked to be fruit punch.

"It was pretty good, I think," John offered, shooting Hickory a cheeky wink, to which the bounty hunter simply rolled his eyes.

"Like, yeah, man. Wicked good," Hickory added, easily slipping into his laid back surfer persona. "But, like, totally bummer news. Johnny here reminded me of some family business I, like, totally forgot about. I'm gonna have to take off. Sorry, Aquata."

"Oh," the pastel troll seemed to deflate a little, though an understanding smile settled on her lips. "That's a drag, but I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side," Hickory offered, handing his cup to John so he could tug Aquata into a quick hug. He then gave John a short nod, before turning and walking off into the beach grass where Dickory was hiding.

"So lame," Aquata sighed, rolling her cup back and forth between her hands, "He was gonna, like, take me on a trip to see Vibe City."

"I'm sure he's just as sad as you are that he can't take you there anymore," John consoled the pastel troll with an understanding frown, though inwardly he was quite pleased to have completely thwarted the yodelers mission. As well as, perhaps, come to some sort of understanding with Hickory. Or, at the very least, gotten more on his good side. Somewhat.

John hung around the little beach community for a good few months, both because he quite enjoyed the energy of the trolls that made their home there, but also to ensure that Hickory and Dickory were not planning on suddenly reappearing. Once he was well and truly certainly that Aquata was in no danger of being spirited away, John decided it was time to move on. He debated on visiting Volcano Rock City again, but ultimately decided he had his fill of socializing for a while, and headed back to the Neverglades to explore the trails once again.

Another year or two on the trails passed him by, with John eventually coming to realize that he'd been gone from the troll tree for roughly ten years. Far longer than he'd ever planned on, but time he felt was well spent, learning about the world at large and also about himself. Working out and past all of the issues that he'd let get so intricately wrapped around him that he'd lost sight of who he really was. He hoped that the time that had passed was long enough that his brothers would perhaps even forgive his past actions, and be at least somewhat happy to see him again.

And so, John Dory gathered as many supplies as he could fit into Rhonda, before taking off towards Bergen Town. He had hoped, over the years, that he'd hear news from one of the kingdoms he visited that the pop trolls had relocated somewhere outside the tree. That they'd somehow managed to escaped their prison. Unfortunately, no one had apparently seen any signs of other pop trolls until John Dory had come waltzing through. It didn't exactly fill him with joy to go back to his child hood home, knowing that his family had gone through so many Trollstices without him, all while he'd been galivanting around the world. But his grandma had always made sure they had the best possible hiding spot. Especially after what had happened to their parents.

He was sure they were fine.

Or, at least, that had been what he'd thought, right up until he scaled the wall of Bergen Town and spotted the decaying remains of the troll tree. His heart plummeted.

"No…"

Rhonda made concerned little churring sounds from where John left her near the base of the wall as the teal troll fell to his knees, but he quickly turned to shush her and tell her he'd be back as soon as he could.

Quickly, and as quietly as he could, he made his way through the town, making sure to stick to roof tops and shadows to keep any wayward Bergens from spotting him. Soon enough, he landed on the shriveled grass that surrounded the tree, dread and guilt rapidly filling his chest as he took in the carnage around the base of it. There wasn't a single soul anywhere to be seen, with pods laying shattered on the ground, scattered pieces strewn everywhere, alongside long rotted wooden carvings of what John assumed were supposed to be trolls. He hurried to scale the tree and ran to his grandmother's pod, hoping for some sort of sign or indication that his remaining family had somehow gotten out of this damnable place.

John was at least somewhat relieved to find his grandmother's pod still hanging securely amongst the branches, though the front door was limply hanging open, brokering no illusion that anyone was still living there. Gingerly, John crept towards the pod, not even conscience of the fact that he was holding his breath as he crossed the threshold.

The pod was a mess. Whatever had shaken the other pods from the tree had caused the cozy looking furniture to fall over, while any picture frames that had previously been hung on the walls lay scattered across the floor, the protective glass shattered into sharp shards. The thick layer of dust settled over every surface brought to sharp focus that whatever had happened to the tree had happened a long time ago, which only served to make the guilt in John's chest grow until he felt like he just might throw up. He should have been there to protect his little brothers. To make sure that whatever had befallen the tree didn't claim his family among the casualties.

Slowly, John picked his way through the pod, making his way to the bedroom he'd once shared with Spruce. Upon entering the room, he found it barely changed since the night he'd left. The beds were neatly made, as their grandmother always insisted, their posters were, surprisingly, still tacked up to the walls with little pins, and although any possessions that had once been on shelves and the dressers were scattered across the floor, John couldn't help but feel like he'd just stepped back in time. Seeing nothing of note that could tell him what had happened, he then moved on to the slightly larger bedroom that his three youngest brothers had shared.

What he found shocked him slightly. Where he'd been expecting a bunk bed and crib, he found a single toddler bed, and instead of two small desks crammed into opposite corners, he just found one, pushed up against the wall. He frowned as he approached the desk, finding childish little drawings that, frankly, didn't look like anything any of his brothers would've drawn. At least, not while he'd been around. The drawings were rough, like the artist had been pushing down on the crayons too hard. Simple little words like 'RUN', 'HIDE', and 'NO' were featured rather frequently throughout the drawings, while little figures that John assumed were trolls were being scooped into the mouths of what appeared to be Bergens. The drawings were dark, and frankly more than a little graphic and disturbing, as some of the crudely drawn trolls were being crushed between the teeth of the Bergens.

John felt tears welling in his eyes as he flipped through the plethora of drawings, a broken little sob escaping him as he came to a drawing at the very bottom of the stack, obviously from before all of the other scribbles, with a happy little blue signature that read 'Branch' across the bottom corner. Only two trolls were depicted in the drawing, labeled as 'Grandma' and 'Me'. The way Branch had drawn himself lead John to believe the sketch was from well after the band had broken up. There were no other drawings on the table, nor any scattered across the floor that depicted any of his brothers. It made John's heart twist in his chest. What had happened to his baby brother? And where were his other brothers when it had happened?

It was as John turned to leave the bedroom and explore the rest of the pod for clues that his heart stopped in his chest and all of the air left his lungs. There, carved into the wall and door of the bed room were the words 'THEY ARE GOING TO EAT US'.

It felt like the world was tipping as John fell to his knees in front of the display of complete and utter paranoia and despair that stood boldly in front of him. It was most likely that Branch had been the one to take a knife to the wall, since the lack of any other beds in the room and the drawings indicated he was the only one to dwell inside. But what had happened to their Grandmother? There was no way she would have let Branch near the knives, let alone take one to the wall and door. And if any of his other brothers had been around, surely they would have stopped him.

John's head spun, heaving as he emptied his stomach onto the floor of the bedroom, gagging as his body was wracked with shivers and tears fell down his cheeks in a torrent. His family - they had to be dead. It made so much sense, now, why not a soul in any of the kingdoms he'd travelled through had seen hide nor hair of another pop troll, besides him.

He didn't know how long he drifted around the pod in a daze after that, collecting up everything that wasn't broken or moldy into as many bags as he could feasibly carry. He then stumbled out of the pod, considerably less careful than he had been on his way up. But that didn't really appear to matter, as most of the Bergens roaming around the streets didn't seem to be looking for trolls. John vaguely thought that perhaps it had been so long since the troll tree had died that they didn't think there were any trolls left to even bother looking for.

Somehow, John made it back to Rhonda without being spotted, although he could barely recall the trip through Bergen town. She cooed at him worriedly, and he managed to scrape together enough wherewithal to give her a pat and tell her to head back towards the Neverglades, before he climbed inside. Once inside, he reverently set the bags of memories he'd collected down, crawled into his bed, and buried himself under a blanket. The near constant flow of tears had finally stopped, though where sadness and despair had only just had a chokehold on him, empty numbness had begun to take over. He felt like someone had pried open his chest and scooped out his heart, leaving him bereft.

After a time, though he truthfully wasn't sure how much, John could feel Rhonda come to a stop. Slowly, he dragged himself from the huddle of blankets he'd been bundled under and stumbled to the door, dehydration and lack of food making his head swim slightly. He'd definitely been cooped up in Rhonda longer than he'd intended. Which meant that the poor girl had been going for far longer than John Dory had ever driven her before. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest for his negligent behavior, and tumbled out the door, forgetting just how high it really was. John fell face first into the dirt, earning a churr of despair from Rhonda as she turned to watch her caretaker push himself up onto his knees. She turned to nuzzle at him, which John quickly returned, raising his arms to give her his best approximation of a hug.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," John murmured, the emptiness he'd been wallowing in slowly ebbing away to allow sadness to creep back in as he felt tears well in his eyes once more. "I'm so sorry. I promise I won't hole myself up like that again, okay? You deserve so many treats for being such a trooper." He hiccupped, a sob following shortly after. "I gotta make sure to take care of you. You're all I have left."

And take care of her, he did. She was a little worse for wear after having run what John would later figure out was nearly three days straight without stopping. He cleaned her up and made sure she had as many snacks and treats as she could eat, and let her rest where she'd stopped in the middle of the Neverglades for a week straight. Once he felt that Rhonda was well rewarded for dealing with his breakdown, he steered her to the nearest town and filled as many cupboards as he could with fermented juices, nectars, and barley. Anything and everything that he could get his hands on that would allow him to temporarily forget about his family and the state of the tree, when he wasn't taking care of Rhonda. Because as much as he wanted to drown himself in alcohol to forget what he'd seen, she needed him to take care of her, and he vowed not to fail another soul that relied on him.

Months passed before Johns supplies began to run low enough that he needed to venture back into a town to stock back up. Still feeling less than social, he decided to stick to the outskirts of most settlements, and avoided the larger cities all together. Rhonda seemed to love meeting new trolls who gushed over her, though, so John would stop in the little towns for a few days at a time so she could get her fill of social interaction. Meanwhile, John would fill his cupboards with whatever alcohol the town had to offer, and drink himself stupid, before the two would spend the next couple of weeks roaming the country side again.

It was during one of these spans between towns that John and Rhonda came across a little band of nomadic folk trolls, near the border of the desert where the country trolls lived and the forest that separated the rock kingdom from the others. The group was rag tag at best, their patchwork tents endearing in the way they were cobbled together in a multitude of materials and colors, while nearly every troll looked like they had rolled around in a meadow, with twigs and flowers sticking out of their hair that John could see even from a distance. Rhonda seemed especially interested in them, so John brought her to a stop near their encampment, and decided it was about time that he try to fill his social interaction quota once again. He was doing his best to get back into the swing of talking with other trolls again, but so far it hadn't exactly gone well.

"Hey there," he called to the camp, waving his arm above his head while trying his best to feign a smile.

Truly, the very last thing he'd been expecting was for a troll near the center of the camp to perk up at the sound of his voice and call back a confused, "John Dory?"

"Uh," John said rather eloquently, suddenly wishing he'd showered at some point in the last few days. He probably looked a mess and smelled just as unpleasant. The troll in question strode across the camp, John's eyes slowly widening as he took in the scruffy orange hair and beard of the familiar green troll he couldn't seem to stop running into. He didn't want to call the bounty hunters name, unsure as to what he'd even be doing with such a group. Surely a folk troll wouldn't fetch him much coin?

"What in the world are you doing here?" Hickory asked as he finally made it to John, a small frown on his face.

"Exploring," John offered bluntly with a small shrug, "What about you?"

"Trying to get away from my brother," Hickory replied with a shrug of his own, "You reek."

"Haven't showered in a few days," John sniffed, tugging absently at the bottom of his jacket. "What're you going by?"

Hickory scrunched his nose up and tilted his head, reminding John of a confused cuddle pup. "My name?"

"Yeah, but," John leaned in to Hickory's space, the bounty hunter gagging quietly at his smell as he did, "Can I call you Hickory? Or are you going by 'Reef' again?"

Hickory blinked, then snorted a quiet laugh, nodding his head slightly. "Oh, yeah, right. You can call me Silas. But, how about you go and take a shower, and then I'll introduce you to some of the group? You smell like you slept in a pile of garbage."

"Yeah, alright," John said, turning on his heel to head back into Rhonda. He did not miss the mildly concerned look Hickory shot him at his short, somewhat stilted answer. However, he really couldn't bring himself to care that much. Although he'd grown to think fondly of the bounty hunter over the years, they didn't really know each other. His apparent concern was appreciated, but John didn't really feel like he'd earned it.

John showered quickly, then took a moment as he dripped dry inside Rhonda to clean up a little. When Hickory had said he smelled like he slept in garbage, he hadn't really been that far off. Piles of food and drink containers had stacked up over time, and several dishes had been languishing in the sink, growing mold. John filled the sink with soapy water to let the dishes soak, and tossed all of the trash into a couple of bags to take out the next time he went through a town. Finally, he opened all of Rhonda's windows to let her air out, since her cabin was starting to smell a bit musty. It was while propping open her front window that he overheard who he assumed was Hickory talking to his baby girl.

"You're a good girl, aren't you? Does John Dory take good care of you? You certainly look nice and healthy. Would you eat me? No, you wouldn't. Noooo. You're too sweet for that."

John snorted into his hand at the babying voice the other troll was using on Rhonda, though it was obviously winning her over as she churred happily and audibly licked someone.

"Ah! Ew…Uh, thank you. I think," John heard the other troll say, mild disgust dripping from his tone, prompting the teal troll to slip back inside to stifle his laughter and get dressed.

Once he felt he was at least mildly presentable, he hopped back outside, finding Hickory covered head to toe in Rhonda's glittery spit, confirming that it had, indeed, been the bounty hunter talking to her while John was cleaning up.

"Making friends?" John teased, nodding towards the sparkly troll with a crooked little grin.

Hickory snorted, brushing glitter from his shoulder. "Trying to. I think I succeeded? She didn't eat me, at the very least."

"She might be marking you as prey," John offered, though he knew she definitely wasn't. She only licked people he liked.

"Well, isn't that a comforting thought," Hickory laughed, reaching out to wrap an arm around John's shoulders, effectively half covering him in drool as well.

"I thought the point of me going to take a shower was to get clean? Now I'm covered in slobber and glitter," John scoffed, following along with Hickory as the other troll began to steer him towards the camp.

"The shower was more to make you smell better. And you do! So now you have to suffer my glittery fate with me."

"That's fair," John said with a quiet laugh. He blinked at the sound as it left him, fairly certain it was the first time he'd actually, properly laughed since he'd gone back to the tree. He felt a little squeeze in his chest as he glanced at Hickory, who had an easy going little smile on his face as he lead John to a small group of trolls loitering by the camp fire.

John barely paid attention as he was introduced to several of the folk trolls, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries on auto pilot. Finally, he was lead to a log set somewhat near the camp fire, just the right distance from everyone else meandering around the camp to be somewhat secluded. A bowl of stew was pushed into his hands as Hickory sat down next to him with a sigh.

"They seem friendly," John commented idly, before taking a sip of his stew and immediately perking up. "Wow! This is delicious."

"Thanks. I made it yesterday, so the flavor's gotten better. Wasn't as good then," Hickory said with an easy smile, "And, yeah. They're real nice. Took me in without asking a single question. I've been traveling with them for a few months now."

"Oh, yeah? And you promise you're not trying to snag one of these poor, unfortunate souls to sell to some high paying douchebag?"

Hickory sighed, swirling his stew idly in his bowl for a moment, before shaking his head. "I swear to you, I'm not. The last year or two of bounty hunting was just…It was getting to be too much. My brother was taking worse and worse jobs for us, and I was getting tired of the constant run around. I also realized one day that I really don't know who I am."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Every time you've met me, I've been someone different. In the early days I could at least still go by my own name here and there, but I don't think anyone but Dickory has called me 'Hickory' in years. I don't even know my own likes and dislikes at this point, having to change my personality to fit whatever persona my brothers come up with at the time. I wanted to figure out who I am, without Dickory breathing down my neck, or our job putting pressure on me."

John felt suddenly stricken at Hickory's response, memories of his own little brothers complaining about the parts he'd forced them to play flashing in his mind. The only one who'd never complained was Branch, but he was only a toddler, so that was to be expected. He had always just been happy to be included. Which then brought the realization to the forefront of his mind that Branch would only be fourteen this year. The same age as John had been when they'd started Brozone.

He hadn't even realized Hickory had continued talking until the sound of his voice suddenly stopped.

"…John?"

John startled slightly, his nearly untouched bowl of stew almost falling to the ground as he lifted his head. He blinked, feeling tears he hadn't registered catching on his eye lashes. "Sorry," he breathed, setting his bowl aside quickly and rubbing at his face. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to ignore the way Hickory was looking at him. "I gotta…Sorry, I just remembered something," he floundered, yanking his goggles down over his eyes as he rose from his seat. He then quickly took off towards Rhonda, ignoring her worried trills as he ducked through her door.

Perhaps if he'd been paying more attention, he would've noticed Hickory following close behind as he went inside. Instead, he pulled open one of his cupboards, grabbed a stout bottle of the strongest liquor he'd managed to find in the last town they'd passed through, and began to unceremoniously chug it down.

"Woah there!"

The half empty bottle slipped from John's fingers as he jumped at the sound of Hickory's voice, mildly irritated with himself at being so easily startled twice in a row by the same troll in such a short amount of time. He turned to glare at Hickory, forgetting his goggles were obscuring half of his face. "What?!" he snapped, stooping to scoop the bottle off the floor and putting it back to his lips to finish off what was left.

"Look, I know we don't really know each other that well, but you have to understand that this is concerning behavior," Hickory stated, hesitantly reaching towards John, "You just suddenly ran off and started trying to drink yourself into oblivion. What happened?"

"None of your business," John hissed, finishing off the bottle and reaching for another. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Hickory really didn't deserve his terse behavior, but all he wanted to do right now was forget.

"Hey, now," Hickory stepped forward and placed his hand over the top of the new bottle, frowning lightly at John, "You have every right to tell me to leave, but you've got to know that I'm worried. I've seen trolls do some awful things to themselves over the years, and drinking themselves to death isn't really that uncommon, or fun to watch. Believe it or not, you've been one of the only trolls I've managed to run into more than once over the years that didn't have anything to do with my work, so I've grown kind of partial to the idea of getting to run into you more. C'mon, John Dory. Talk to me."

John sniffed, tugging the bottle away from Hickory's hand to take a swig, though he didn't try to upend the bottle like he had the last one. After a moment he let out a slow breath, shoving his goggles back up into his hair to reveal his watery, red rimmed eyes. "You reminded me of my brother."

"And that made you need to drink an entire bottle of fermented nectar?" Hickory asked, taking a step back from John, now that he was less worried he was going to dump another bottle down his throat.

"Yeah. It did," John sighed, shortly followed by a sardonic little laugh. He gestured for Hickory to follow him over to the couch, flopping himself down onto it as he took another swig of his drink. He watched idly, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks, as Hickory gingerly settled himself down on the couch next to him. "My youngest brother would be fourteen now," he stated, as though it wasn't out of left field and a rather confusing thing to mention, given the situation.

"Good for him?" Hickory offered, shooting John a confused look.

John gave another hollow laugh, shaking his head as he sipped at his drink. "He's dead."

Hickory reeled back in surprise as if he'd been slapped, one hand going to his chest, while the other moved to hover in the air over John's shoulder. "Oh. I'm so sorry," he breathed, obviously not quite sure what to do with himself now.

"Yeah…I finally decided to go back home. It'd been ten years, y'know? I'd been running from my responsibilities for a long time. So I tried to go back, but…no one was there," John paused to swallow down more of his drink, the liquor just starting to make his head go a little bit fuzzy, "Not a single soul was anywhere. The tree I grew up in was rotting from the inside out, and our pod was in shambles. I thought, for just a minute, that maybe my family had escaped, or run away, but then I found-" he choked on tears, covering his mouth to stifle a sob.

"It's okay, John Dory," Hickory said softly, letting his hand settle on John's back to rub gentle little circles there, "Let it out."

A moment passed before John managed to suck air back into his lungs, coughing quietly as he struggled to get the next words out. "My youngest brother, he was only four when I left. I found drawings of his on a desk. They were so fucked up," he wheezed, tipping the bottle back into his mouth once again. He hiccupped and shook his head as he continued, "Drawings of trolls getting eaten. And then I found words carved into the wall. There's no way, if anyone was around, they'd let him do that. My baby brother had to have been left all alone, before he probably got eaten, too." Another broken sob ripped itself from his chest as he doubled over his knees, clinging to the bottle in his hands like his life depended on it. He barely even registered Hickory still rubbing at his back and murmuring quiet little reassurances at him. "I should've been there," he finally wailed, sitting up and turning a wild look on Hickory, who sat back in surprise, "If I'd been there, maybe I could've done something. Maybe we could've escaped together, and-and…I don't know." He slumped back down, the bottle slipping from his fingers, allowing him to bury his face in his hands.

A few minutes passed, before he finally registered the feeling of fingers carding through his hair. Slowly, he lifted his head to find Hickory giving him the most sympathetic look he could muster through his stupid scruffy beard, his fingers gently combing along John's scalp before slipping through his hair. John wiped at his face, sitting himself up and somewhat lamenting the loss of Hickory's fingers as the bounty hunter tucked his hands back into his lap.

"Feeling any better now?" Hickory asked quietly, watching as John pulled his goggles off his head and tossed them aside.

"Got a bit of a headache," John admitted, rubbing at his forehead.

"That'll happen when you drink around a bottle and a half of booze, then cry your eyes out, without eating," Hickory said with a sad little laugh, watching John intently.

"Yeah," John sighed, grabbing a random rag from the floor to blow his nose, ignoring the way Hickory scrunched his face up at the action.

"Have you been doing this a lot? Drinking yourself silly when you think about your brother?"

"Brothers," John corrected idly, tossing the rag towards the rough proximity of his garbage can, "I had four younger brothers."

"I'm sorry…but that doesn't answer my question."

John sighed, rubbing at his eyes, noting that his vision swam minutely at the action. Apparently he'd managed to drink a bit more than he'd thought. He grunted quietly, shifting to sit back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. "For the last few months, yeah. I ran away from my family when they needed me most, and they all died before I could get the chance to make anything right. You can't blame me for not wanting to think about that. Booze helps."

Hickory shifted on the couch next to him, making a quiet humming sound. "I get wanting to drown your sorrows, I do. I've done it once or twice. But, I can tell you from experience, it'll only make things so much worse in the long run."

"Pretty sure you're younger than me," John muttered idly, tilting his head so he could watch the bounty hunter from the corner of his eye, "Shouldn't I be the one giving you sage advice?"

Hickory chuckled, combing his fingers through his wild, foliage filled locks, a few leaves cascading down to settle on John's couch. "Probably. Got any advice for someone currently running from their family?"

"Try giving them a chance," John sighed, reaching out to take Hickory's hand in his own. "You never know how much time you have left with them."

Hickory watched John with a pitying sort of expression for a moment, before giving a small nod. "Yeah, okay. I guess I can give my brother another shot."

John simply nodded, a sad smile on his face, before he tipped his head back and let his eyes slip shut. The two of them sat together on the couch with their hands entwined for quite a while, until someone came knocking on Rhonda's door looking for 'Silas'. Slowly, Hickory extracted his hand from John's and got up from the couch, the teal troll watching through half lidded eyes as he walked towards the door.

"I'll see you in the morning, John Dory," Hickory said as he got to the door, before disappearing through it.

John didn't stay until morning.

Once night fell, and all of the trolls in the camp were asleep, John crept through the tents until he found where Hickory was sleeping. As stealthily as he could, he tucked a small note under the edge of the bounty hunters pillow, simply stating 'Thanks for listening - JD', before sneaking off.

Back at Rhonda, he quietly urged her to move, leading her away from the camp, before climbing aboard and driving her away. As much as he appreciated Hickory offering an understanding ear, he didn't think he could really face him come morning. Or anytime soon, really. These burdens were his to bear, and it really wasn't fair of him to dump them on Hickory, who had his own issues to deal with.

And so, John spent the next several years roaming around anywhere and everywhere that Rhonda could go, trying to get a handle on his sorrow and work on being himself again, while also actively avoiding any green trolls with orange hair that he happened to spot. Something deep in his chest yearned to try and find Hickory again after that fateful evening spent in companionable silence, but he just couldn't bring himself to face the other troll until he could truthfully, and with his whole chest, say that he was doing okay again. And, perhaps then, they could actually start to properly get to know each other.

Everything seemed to finally be working out for John Dory, nearly ten years after discovering the troll tree in shambles. He managed to get himself sober, he was taking care of himself and Rhonda, and he was finally having fun travelling again. At least, he'd thought everything was going well, until one day while driving Rhonda through the funk troll territory and humming along to the radio, he suddenly felt like all of the joy was sucked out of him. He gasped at the jarring sensation and slammed on Rhonda's breaks, watching his hands on the wheel as they turned grey.

"What?" he murmured to himself, his heart jumping into his throat in a panic at the sight of his grey fur. He'd heard stories, when he was a child, about trolls turning grey, but he'd never actually seen it. He'd always chalked it up to being some sort of cautionary tale, especially after he'd fallen so far into the pits of despair all those years ago and had only ever dimmed in color.

He jumped from the drivers seat and hurried to look at himself in the bathroom mirror, finding what looked to be a ghost of himself staring back. He gingerly touched his face, feeling tears starting to well in his eyes, before he heard something on the radio. Someone declaring that the queen of pop had caused all trolls to lose their music. But that couldn't be right. All of the pop trolls were supposed to be dead.

But then something else came on the radio. Something that wasn't quite music, but had a bit of a beat to it. John all but ran to the radio to turn it up, listening as beat boxing, clapping and odd techno sounds soon changed to a single, clear voice singing a slow, but hopeful tune, which was shortly joined by a second. One that was distinctly older, but John could recognize any of his brothers singing voices.

"…Branch?"

John cranked up the radio even further and hopped back into the drivers seat, steering Rhonda towards where the radio station was broadcasting, all previous worries about his grey fur going out the window at the prospect of his baby brother being alive. He barely even registered when his colors came back, too focused on the prospect of seeing any of his family again.

It took longer than John would have liked to get to the rock troll kingdom. The drive typically took a handful of days, but with the right route and treats for Rhonda, he figured they could make it in roughly three. However, on the way, he found a rather startling note taped to his door. The signature said it was from Floyd, but it obviously wasn't, as his hand writing wasn't nearly so fancy. The note changed things, though. It made John realize that he'd wasted so much time wallowing in guilt ridden sorrow, when he could have been out looking for his brothers. And now, with the dire nature of Floyd's note, he'd have to put his plans to find Branch on hold until he figured out if his second youngest brother was truly in danger.

Mount Rageous was not a place John had ever explored before, given how much larger the inhabitants were in comparison to trolls. But he'd gone and found Floyd, trapped just like the note had said.

When breaking the bottle proved to be impossible, and Floyd brought up the perfect family harmony, John was hesitant. Not in saving his brother, of course, but to the idea of presenting the thing that shattered their family apart as the only way to rescue Floyd to their brothers. Not to mention, he still had no idea if Clay and Spruce were even alive, or where they might be if they were. But he agreed, and left Floyd to go and collect his brothers.

Now he really needed to find Branch.

Finding his baby brother had sent John's heart soaring to the moon. Getting him on board to help save Floyd brought him back down to earth. The itching feeling slowly crawling up his spine as they stood amongst a crowd of Bergens made him feel like crawling into a hole. But eventually, and with much cajoling from Poppy, Branch agreed and John steered Rhonda as quickly as he could away from Bergen Town and off in search of his remaining brothers.

Finding and convincing Spruce and Clay to join in their rescue mission had been tedious, but thankfully successful. John had his family back! All of his brothers were alive and well (for the most part). Sure, they'd fought, with John falling back into terrible old habits, almost breaking them apart yet again, but they were alive. Though he'd just about had a heart attack when Floyd nearly died in front of his eyes, even after they managed to pull off the perfect family harmony. But, somehow, they'd brought him back from the brink and John's heart hadn't felt so full in years, even despite the heart breaking news of his grandmothers death.

Eventually, his brothers did have to go back to their own lives. Reluctantly, after spending a few weeks in Pop Village (HOW had he never found it?!) while Floyd recovered from the worst of his injuries, John drove Bruce and Clay back to their respective homes. He then debated on staying out in the wilderness with Rhonda for a bit, before ultimately deciding that the best place he could be was in Pop Village, offering any help and support he could to his two youngest brothers.

Upon returning to Pop Village, he was surprised to find Hickory, of all trolls, chatting up with the Queen of Pop and his youngest brother. After the initial burst of joy he had at seeing the other troll after so long, knowing he could finally tell him how much their last talk had meant to him, he quickly became suspicious. Hickory was decked out in a cowboy hat and jeans. Certainly not what a yodeler would be wearing. The last time John had spotted the bounty hunter through a crowd a few years back, he'd been wearing lederhosen and a stupid little hat that John had immediately hated. It made John worry that Hickory had been dragged back into working with his brother, and that Branch or Poppy could be in danger. He hoped with every fiber of his being that that wasn't the case, but he had to be sure.

"Hickory!" John shouted as he jogged towards the trio. Unlike the last time John had approached the bounty hunter, he had no qualms in calling his name. If he was trying to trick the queen and his brother, he wanted that out in the open immediately. Even if it meant he'd have to save Hickory from the pop trolls, instead of the other way around.

Luckily, though, instead of panic or anger at his name being called, Hickory perked up and grinned widely upon seeing John approach. He lifted a hand in a wave, stepping forward eagerly as John came to a stop in front of them. "John Dory," Hickory said with a laugh, pulling the teal troll into a friendly hug, "If it ain't my fishy friend! It's been a dogs age."

John had to keep himself from melting into the hug, overjoyed that someone would be so happy to see him. The cold shoulders he'd received from his brothers had nearly broken his heart. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Hickory with an awkward laugh as Branch's voice asking, "Fishy friend?" caught his attention.

"Because he's named after a fish," Hickory offered, turning to Branch with a grin. "Call it a bit of a runnin' joke between us."

"I can't believe you know John Dory," Poppy chirped next to him, "What a small world! How did you two meet?"

It was Hickory's turn to look awkward, as John let a wicked grin split his face. "Hickory tried to fleece me at poker."

"Well," Hickory was quick to cut in, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully, "I feel like that's a bit of an oversimplification of what happened."

"Is it, though?" John snorted a laugh, enjoying the way Poppy giggled behind her hand at Hickory's obvious discomfort with how bluntly John described their first meeting. "As I recall, you were pretty confident that you'd be able to beat me. And then when you couldn't, you starting using cards tucked up your sleeve."

Hickory flushed, letting a stilted little cough escape him as he scuffed his heel on the ground. "I was just gettin' the hang of the whole gamblin' thing," he offered in way of explanation, but John wasn't having any of that.

"And the whole swindling thing, too, apparently," John added, folding his arms over his chest.

"I'm having a hard time believing that John, of all trolls, beat you at poker," Branch cut in with a snort, arching an eyebrow as he looked between the two.

"Grandma taught me Rummy before you were hatched," John said with a light laugh, reaching over to ruffle Branch's hair, much to the younger trolls chagrin, "I'm great at poker."

John couldn't help but notice the way Hickory was looking between him and Branch, seemingly completely bewildered at their interaction as his little brother shoved him away. John was tempted to let Hickory stew in his curiosity for a while, but was far too elated at being able to share his news with the other to bother trying to be coy. "He's my little brother," John said, realization dawning on Hickory's face, quickly followed by joy.

"That's fantastic!" Hickory crowed, yanking John into another hug, much to Poppy and Branch's blatant confusion, "I'm so happy for you!"

"Yeah," John laughed, squeezing Hickory back happily, before pulling away, "All of my brothers survived! My second youngest brother, Floyd, he's also in town right now. I just got back from taking the other two back home. They're all spread out, but they're alive."

"I, uhm, think it might be best if we let you two catch up for a bit?" Poppy interjected, leaning in towards where John and Hickory where practically huddled together.

"Oh! Excuse my manners, Miss Poppy," Hickory offered, sweeping his hat off his head and looking contrite, "That was mighty rude of me."

"Not at all," Poppy waved her hands in front of herself, smiling brightly, "I'm really happy to see you two reunite! You obviously have some catching up to do, so we'll just meet up with you again later, yeah?"

"That's mighty kind of ya," Hickory said, placing his hat back on his head, "I'll come an' find ya when we're done chattin'. How's that sound?"

"Sounds great," Poppy hummed, taking Branch's hand and tugging him away, even as he protested against leaving the two behind when he had questions, "Have fun!"

"We will," John called after them, waving until the royal couple were out of sight, before arching an eyebrow at Hickory. "Okay, spill. What's the cowboy get up for, and who are you after? I thought you were done with bounty hunting?"

Hickory blinked in mild surprise as John immediately launched into an interrogation, before chuckling quietly. "I am all done with huntin'," he sighed, wrapping an arm around John's shoulders and steering him towards the market, "Took a real long time, but I got out. I've got Poppy an' Branch to thank for that. In return, Miss Poppy asked that I visit Pop Village at least once a month to check in, an' make sure everythin' is still hunky dory. Mostly 'cause my brother wasn't too keen on me steppin' away again."

"So…you did find him again? After the folk trolls?" John asked, letting Hickory lead him to a set of table and chairs, outside a little cafe.

"Sure did," Hickory hummed, gesturing for John to wait as he trotted over to the counter and quickly placed an order. When he returned it was with two milkshakes in hand. He then sat across from John and slid one of the glasses across the table to him. "Picked up a real sweet tooth, hangin' out with Miss Poppy," he explained as John arched a perplexed eyebrow at the shake, "But, anyhow…yeah. After you vanished on me- thanks for the note, by the way- I kept to my word, an' went to go find Dickory. Didn't take too long, since apparently he'd been trackin' me. I told 'im I didn't wanna do huntin' no more, but he wasn't havin' any of that. Got real uppity with me, an' we had a pretty big fight. He apologized, but still didn't get out of huntin'. I spent the last nine or ten years bouncin' back an' forth like a yo-yo, tryin' to get out of the business. But then Queen Barb hired us to capture the Queen of Pop, an', well…here we are."

"So," John drew out the 'O' sound, his fingers curled absently around the cool glass of the milkshake, "That doesn't really explain why you're still in disguise."

Hickory let out a guffaw, shaking his head slightly. "Ain't no disguise. I spent a good bit of time with the country trolls, an' I finally figured out who 'Hickory' is. He ain't no bounty huntin' yodeler. He's a pretty laid back country troll, if I do say so myself. Which I do."

John felt a pleased little smile settle on his face as he reached across the table to place his hand over Hickory's. "I'm really happy you got to figure yourself out. And that you get to be yourself. And I'm sorry your brother never let you, before. Speaking as a bad older brother, myself, he never should've done that to you."

"I appreciate that," Hickory hummed, turning his hand over to give John's a gentle squeeze. "Now…tell me, where'd you run off to in the middle of the night, an' what've ya been up to since I last saw ya?"

John laughed heartily, drawing his hand away from Hickory to lean back in his chair. "I didn't really run off to anywhere in particular, honestly. I just didn't want to pile all of my baggage on top of what you were already dealing with. I just wound up back in the Neverglades. I sort of wished I'd stayed, though."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that? Picked up a taste for folk music?"

"No," John snorted, idly stirring his milkshake with his straw, "I should've stayed for you. I was only thinking about myself, but you probably could've used someone who actually knew who you were around, I'm sure. Plus, maybe then I could've helped you get away from bounty hunting sooner. Or, maybe-" John froze as Hickory reached across the table to flick him gently in the nose.

"Hey, now. Ain't no reason to go dwellin' on things we can't change," the ex-bounty hunter said with an easy smile.

John chuckled, tilting his head slightly with a smile of his own. "Yeah, but the past defines who we are. So, it's kind of important," he echoed his past self, causing Hickory to roll his eyes with a snort.

"That may be true, but what's really important are the decisions we make now. That way we can make sure that our future selves don't have no regrets about their past."

"You got so wise in your old age," John teased, propping his chin in his hand as he took a sip of his milkshake.

"You're one to talk, old man," Hickory shot back with a grin.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying their milkshakes, before an idea struck John and he reached across the table to flick Hickory in the nose, both for retaliation for earlier, and to catch the country trolls attention.

"May I help you?" Hickory laughed, rubbing at his nose.

"Yeah, actually. I was just thinking-"

"Don't hurt yerself."

"Shut up. I was thinking, if you come by Pop Village once a month to visit Poppy, where do you stay?"

Hickory frowned slightly, but shrugged. "Around. Usually someone's willin' to put me up for a night or two."

"Well, why don't you come stay with me?" John asked, drumming his fingers absently across the table. "Rhonda's even bigger than the last time you saw her. It'd be nice to actually get to know each other properly. And, y'know, see one another more frequently than every few years."

A slow smirk curled Hickory's lips as he steepled his hands in front of himself and leaned his chin on his fingers. "Why, John Dory," he hummed, "Are you asking me out on a standin' date?"

"What? No!" John sat back, nearly falling out of his chair in his haste, "I just thought it'd be nice! You can say no, if you think it'd be weird."

Hickory's expression softened as he dropped his hands back down to the table. "Never said I was opposed," he hummed, taking a sip of his milkshake, "I think that's a right fine idea. I usually come mid month, every month. It's when Miss Poppy has the most free time, in between all of the crazy holidays the pop trolls have."

"Great," John said, absently rubbing at one of his blatantly flushed cheeks before chugging down half his milkshake in one go. He let out a little breath as he set the glass down, glancing at Hickory who was simply watching him with a tender little smile. "It…it's a date, then."

For the next six months, Hickory arrived in Pop Village every month, just as he'd said he would, and spent the day with Poppy and Branch, catching up and gossiping about the goings on between Lonesome Flats and the village. He would then meander to where Rhonda parked at night, and spend the evening with John, swapping stories about anything and everything they had done in the years they hadn't seen each other, and generally getting to know one another. Frequently, Hickory would bring little gifts for John; simple little knickknacks or art he found and thought the teal troll would like, while John always made sure the food and snacks he had on hand for Hickory's visits were exclusively things the ex-bounty hunter declared were his favorites, or things he'd casually mentioned that he wanted to try. Both were always pleasantly surprised by the fact that the other had thought of them while they were apart.

And then one night, quite unexpectedly, Hickory slumped into John's lap while they'd been watching a movie, quiet little snores escaping him, and John felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. He'd never expected to develop feelings for the troll that had once punched him so hard that he passed out, but here he was, his face flushed the darkest teal it had ever been as he shakily let his fingers card through curly orange locks. He swallowed thickly, not letting a thought pass through his mind as he quietly whispered, barely audible above the movie, "I think I love you."

When the movie ended, Hickory woke with an undignified snort, earning a quiet laugh from John. "Have a good nap?"

"Yeah," Hickory grunted, sitting up and rubbing at his face, "Had a weird dream, though."

"Oh, yeah? Care to share?"

Hickory stretched his arms above his head, letting out a quiet groan, before turning to John with a curious little look. Hesitantly, he reached out and took John's hands in his own, brushing his thumbs gently over them. John simply watched him, slightly perplexed at the fact that Hickory was just staring at their hands, anxiety clearly growing in the ex-bounty hunter as his shoulders slowly started to creep up towards his ears and his expression began to scrunch up.

"Hey," John tried to soothe, tilting his head to try and catch Hickory's eye, "If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to tell me. I was just teasing."

"I know," Hickory was quick to reassure, lifting his gaze to meet John's eye, "I'm just pretty sure it wasn't really a dream. But, I can't be sure, an' I don't wanna freak you out."

John blinked, a tiny frown on his face, until it dawned on him what Hickory could be talking about. Slowly, he extracted his hands from Hickory's, ignoring the near inaudible noise of protest that left the ex-bounty hunter as he did it. Gently, and with mild trepidation, he cupped Hickory's face in his hands, doing his best to swallow down his nerves. "You can totally punch me, if this is out of line, okay?" he said, smiling crookedly at the way Hickory shook his head quickly at the offer. He then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hickory's, taking mild satisfaction at the surprised, but pleased little sound the country troll made.

When John pulled away he licked his lips and quirked an eyebrow at Hickory, who looked a little dazed. "Was that…was that okay?" he asked, his thumb absently stroking along Hickory's cheek bone.

"Hooweee," was Hickory's only response for a minute, his gaze slightly unfocused as he lifted his hands to hold John's to his face. "Oh, uh…yeah. Yeah, that was great," he finally said, blinking to focus on John with a dopey little smile on his face. "I think I love you, too, by the way."

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #hickdory #trolls john dory #trolls hickory #trolls band together #trolls world tour #trolls fanfic #things that i wrote

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