#i have a hunch who the least favorite is

[voltoise]

Hey, larger Gravity Falls fanbase, I got a question for you:

Who is your least favorite member of the Cipher Zodiac?

You don't necessarily have to think they're a bad character if you pick them! If you have a least favorite, cool! If you don't, pick based on the one you think is """weakest""" in terms of overall character/arc/etc.

Also be nice in the comments but feel free to discuss!

Also reblog if you want I'm not your parent though you do you 👍

[feeder86]

Guy and a Gain

“Sure, she’s cute. But she can’t give a decent blow job to save her life,” Guy shrugged, checking out the girls on the dancefloor with his football buddy, Rich. 

“You’ve slept with her already?” Rich asked, always impressed by Guy’s prowess. 

“Of course I have. Look at her. She’s the prettiest girl in here by far,” he nodded down at her. “But she has no instincts when it comes to giving head. She’s been my biggest disappointment since I arrived on campus.”

“I’m sure she could learn,” Rich shrugged, still taken with the girl. He was tall and broad and enough of a catch for her. However, he didn’t have the natural good looks, strapping build and height that made it so effortless for Guy to pick up whoever he wanted on a night out.

“If you want her, go buy her a drink,” Guy shrugged. “But I’m telling you, you’ll be disappointed. If it’s a decent blow job you’re after tonight, you can’t go wrong with a fat girl. They’re always out to please. Gay guys too - awesome at taking a dick in their mouth.”

“Dude!” Rich shot back, taking a step back in horror. “You’re telling me you’re gay?”

Guy laughed, rolled his eyes and shook his head. He strapped his big arm over Rich’s shoulders and pulled him back in. “Don’t be that guy,” he stated warningly. “Not if you and I are going to be friends. It’s not the nineties. You hear what I’m saying?” he asked, turning his head to Rich. There was no denying which of them would win in a fight, so he wasn’t about to take some outdated homophobic shit just because the idiot came from some backwards ghost town in the midwest. “I love sex. And I stick my dick wherever it feels good. That’s just the kind of man I am.”

Rich seemed to get that he’d been out of line and he nodded respectfully. All the boys on the football team looked up to Guy, not just for his sporting capability and strength, but because he genuinely didn’t seem to give a crap about what others thought about him. He was smart and sharp; perfectly suited to the business degree he was studying. “So who’s given you the best time since we started college?” he asked.

“You’d be surprised,” Guy chuckled. “I have this skinny little geek in the room next to mine. You could tell he was a total virgin until I came along, but… fuck me! The boy is a natural when it comes to sucking. And so convenient, right next door. I don’t even have to knock.”

Rich nodded; his world view was a little less narrow than it had been a few minutes ago and he now seemed genuinely interested in his team mate’s extensive experiences in the bedroom. They chatted a bit more, until Guy saw the girl he wanted that night. Short, round and eyeing him like crazy. He’d give her a night she’d never forget!

“She was a bit of a noisy one last night,” Mikey grumbled, sliding into the kitchen area the next morning.

Guy laughed and tore a large bite out of his toast with his teeth. “Sorry, buddy,” he laughed. “I forgot you nerds all go to bed at 9am.”

Mikey rolled his eyes and poured himself some cereal. It was rare that they ever got the kitchen space to themselves like this, but Guy was always up for his gym session, no matter what time he went to bed. He sat there, hunched at the breakfast bar, his damp clothes sticking to his enormously muscular body. Even unshowered and stinking of sweat like this, he knew he could still get his favorite neighbor, Mikey, to go down on him in a microsecond.

“I noticed you brought home another fat girl,” Mikey commented next, grabbing the last of his own fresh milk that Guy had left him, after downing most of it post-workout. “You’re making quite a habit of this.”

Guy rose to his feet and laughed, dropping his plate in the sink for Mikey to clean up after him and grabbing the boy by his hips from behind. “Spying on me, huh?” he whispered teasingly. The boy was at least half a foot shorter than him, melting the moment he was touched. “Jealous, perhaps?”

Mikey moaned as he felt Guy’s lustful hands slide into his crotch to check how hard he was. “I just thought…” he mumbled, “some people find it odd when athletes like you date the fat girls.”

“Because I really give a shit about what people think, don’t I?” Guy chuckled back, peeling back Mikey’s shorts so that his tight glutes were exposed. “I could fuck your skinny little ass later if you think it might balance things out a bit?” he teased. He strolled off to the refrigerator, leaving Mikey to cover himself back up before anyone else came in, perusing the shelf of food Mikey had bought for himself yesterday and seeing if there was anything he wanted to help himself to. “Just because you eat like a little sparrow...,” he sighed, seeing the boring items within and taking a large pot of yoghurt to eat in his bedroom, “... it doesn’t mean that everyone else has to.”

Later that evening, Guy lay back on Mikey’s bed, his head swirling from the intensity of the orgasm after shooting down his geeky neighbor’s throat. He’d never admit to his face how good Mikey was at this, but of the scores of people he had slept with since coming to college, Mikey was the only one he’d made a habit of going back to.

“How was that?” the keen boy asked; his eyes watering from having taken Guy so far down his throat.

“Average,” Guy lied, wishing the nerd would be quiet a few moments longer and allow him this period of pure bliss.

“Not like the fat girls you bring home with you then?” Mikey asked.

Guy opened his eyes and sighed, sitting up. “Are you still going on about that?” he grumbled, pulling his underwear back up his muscular legs and raising his butt to get them all the way up.

“I kinda wanted to ask you something?” Mikey tried next, in an oddly serious tone.

Again, Guy sighed impatiently. “What is it?”

“These fat girls you go after… do you ever get horny thinking about them… y’know… getting even fatter?”

Guy raised an eyebrow. What sort of an odd question was that? He shrugged his shoulders, deciding not to commit to an answer and see where the hell Mikey was going with this. “Why do you ask?”

Mikey seemed emboldened by Guy’s response, getting up from his kneeling position on the floor and sitting on the chair by his desk. “It’s just… sort of a fantasy of mine,” he explained.

“Me fucking fat chicks?” Guy asked sceptically? He realised he knew so little about what genuinely got Mike going.

“No. Not that,” he replied, shaking his head. “There’s just something so kinky and submissive about getting fat for someone; becoming soft and out of shape.”

Guy looked across, even more puzzled, despite doing his best to hide it. “You eat less food than anyone else I know,” he shot back. “You won’t be getting fat anytime soon!”

Mikey nodded, as if Guy had hit the nail right on the head. “Exactly!” he smiled. “Imagine if someone pushed me to get fat for them! If some dominant guy made me eat all the things that forced my body to grow and grow for his own pleasure. How fucking sexy would that be?”

Nodding, Guy considered the idea. “You’re definitely submissive enough,” he agreed, standing and pulling up his sweat shorts. 

“You’re not going to tell anyone I told you that, are you?” Mikey asked, suddenly panicked.

“Who the fuck do you think would be interested?” Guy laughed. “People are allowed to have kinks, y’know? You need to lighten up a little!”

Mikey nodded back in agreement. Neither of them socialised within the same circles anyway. Guy was nothing if not liberal when it came to all things to do with sex. It was water off a duck’s back.

Mikey didn’t mention the subject the next time Guy went over for his servicing, despite being surprisingly chatty about his day afterwards. Guy listened out of a vague politeness as he stretched out on Mikey’s comfortable bed and watched the TV screen in the background. He could relax around Mikey. The guy didn’t take any of this too seriously and never got clingy or sentimental. Sex was sex.

In fact, it was only as Guy spotted Mikey in the corner at a frat house party, that he realised he had never actually seen Mikey outside of the dorms until then. Their lives were so disconnected, with the exception of the thin wall that separated their dorm rooms. He waved politely, following the other athletes through to the kitchen, where the usual fun and drinking games took place.

Later that evening, with a circle of women swarming around him, Guy looked over to see a boy looking in Mikey’s direction. Tall, slim and not unattractive, he gave Guy the distinct impression that he was interested in the nerdy boy. “Does anyone know who that one is?” Guy asked the girls.

“That’s just Aiden,” one replied. “He’s got a crush on that guy over there,” she pointed at Mikey. “They're on the same course together or something.”

Aiden? That name rang a bell. Guy was sure he’d heard that name mentioned by Mikey a few times in the past. It surprised him how little he had actually considered Mikey’s life outside of their casual fucking. Of course Mikey was going to pique someone else’s interest at some point. Guy wasn’t the type to get into a relationship, but perhaps Mikey would be. Then what would happen? No more awesome blow jobs for a start. Normal people weren’t good at sharing.

“Hey, Mikey!” Guy suddenly shouted from across the room, catching sight of Aiden moving in, as if to make his move. “Come grab a drink with me.”

Mikey smiled and diligently headed over. There, Guy wrapped a big arm over his slim shoulders and slipped a shot into his hand. Guy himself didn’t drink, never needing alcohol to make him fun at a party and refusing to fuck his training up with toxins that could impact his progress. There he stood, guarding the boy from any who may try to come near. Ten minutes was all they stayed after that, walking back to the dorms so that Aiden couldn’t sneak his way towards Mikey when Guy wasn’t looking.

“Are you coming in?” Guy asked, opening the door to his own bedroom and inviting Mikey inside. 

“I’m honoured!” Mikey joked, having never been invited into Guy’s room before. He stepped over the threshold, into the dungeon of mess, sweat and sex.

The idea of Aiden had plagued Guy’s mind, suddenly making him realise just how much he had taken Mikey, and his awesome sucking skills, for granted. A gesture was required; a way to show the boy that his pleasure was important too. Guy stood in the middle of the room, planting his feet solidly and pulled the geek into him; kissing him passionately in an almost romantic manner. “Did you like that?” he grinned afterwards, knowing how well he could seduce when he wanted to. He pulled off his shirt and went in again, this time guiding Mikey’s hands to explore his muscular chest. He needed Mikey to know what an absolutely perfect specimen he was if the boy was going to be asked out by Aiden soon; let him see what he would be missing out on if he got into a relationship. “Let’s take off your clothes,” Guy whispered next, undressing Mikey himself until his pants and underwear fell around his feet and he stood there naked, erect and longing for him.

Mikey seemed to appreciate how different this all was. Guy was the first to admit that he never really put the effort in when it came to his sessions with the boy next door. Then, when Guy started sliding his large hand up and down Mikey’s hardness, the skinny boy moaned like he could climax at any time.

Guy had no intention of losing his fuck buddy. For the last hour, he’d been plotting how best to handle the situation, settling upon something he decided he could give Mikey better than anyone else. He threw open his closet door where a mirror rested on the other side, now reflecting Mikey perfectly back at himself.

“Who’s that skinny little shit in the mirror?” Guy teased him, looking like a monster of pure muscle stood behind him.

In the mirror, Mikey watched Guy’s hand slowly sliding up and down his hardness; his lust filled eyes half closed and his jaw slack.

“I want you to do something for me,” Guy whispered next. “I want you to drink my protein shakes,” he nodded backwards to the little minibar that also served as a bedside table for him. “Five hundred and eighty calories each,”

Mikey turned and looked up at him, as if the reflected version was merely a mirage. “You want me to drink all your shakes?” he asked, as if worried he had misunderstood.

“Yeah, I do…” Guy nodded down at him. “Every last drop.”

Guy could feel Mikey almost quivering with arousal. He bent down to his little fridge and popped the lid on one of his shakes.

“You know what these will do to you, right?” Guy grinned. “These aren’t made for skinny little dweebs like you. Boys who drink these and don’t exercise… they start to…” he whispered, keeping Mikey hanging on his every word. “...They start to get a little fat!””

Mikey nodded with absolute submission; his hands twitching to take the bottle from Guy’s large hand.

“Say goodbye to the skinny boy,” Guy laughed, nodding at the reflection once more, before twisting the mirror slightly so that the angle changed. Then he sat himself against the headboard of his bed. He spread his legs, pulling Mikey to sit into his crotch with his back resting against his strapping chest. Cleverly, Mikey could still see everything in the mirror as Guy’s hand rose up his neck, tipping his head back so that it rested on his muscular shoulder. Then those strong fingers pressed into Mikey’s cheeks, opening the jaws and turning Mikey’s mouth into the perfect pouring hole for the shake.

The mixture was cold. Guy took his time, adding a little at a time, as if making Mikey work for it. He theatrically rubbed the boy’s throat, like he was encouraging a good swallow; then went straight back to work on that aching erection. Once one bottle was down, Guy could reach with his giant arm span down into his minibar for the next, without even having to move Mikey. Then, down went another, and another.

“Can you see what’s happening?” Guy whispered, rubbing a hand over Mikey’s bloating stomach.

“It looks so big!” Mikey moaned back, with Guy having to pull his hand away from the boy’s erection once again in order to stop him climaxing.

“This is what you’re going to grow for me,” Guy demanded. “Every day, everything you eat… all for me.”

Mikey moaned so loudly now, it felt almost cruel to deny him his orgasm any longer. “Yes!” he nodded emphatically. “I swear. I absolutely swear!”

Guy only needed to touch him for a few seconds and the eruption that followed was more explosive than any he had ever seen a guy make. He looked at the splatter above the headboard behind them and chuckled. It was almost as high as he could get it himself. This was certainly a strange kink that Mikey had, but Guy felt that he had made his point well. No one was going to indulge this geek in his fantasies about weight gain; at least, not like Guy could. So why would Mikey need to look for connections anywhere else?

A few days later, Guy did a double take as he looked on Mikey's shelf in the refrigerator for food he could steal after his workout. Gone were the boring, sensible ingredients, replaced with high carb options, sugars and high fat dairy. Guy almost thought he was just confused, until he checked out the cupboard that Mikey kept for himself as well, finding a similar story. He frowned in confusion, wondering whether people had reorganised the kitchen space, until the encounter with Mikey nights before came back to him. Was the boy actually going to have a go at gaining a few pounds? How cute was that? But would this mean that Guy would have to buy more of his own food whilst Mikey was going through this little phase of his? 

The normally fresh and clean smell of Mikey’s room was tainted by spices and the sweaty, grease stained food containers that piled up on the boy’s desk. Mikey himself looked bloated and sluggish, his stomach stretched so much that he was obviously in some discomfort. Guy looked down at him, trying to hold back a laugh. “Someone’s been enjoying himself!” he teased.

Mikey nodded. “If I’d have known you wanted to stop by tonight, I’d have saved the pizza so you could watch me eat it all for you.”

Guy wondered what on Earth Mikey expected him to get out of watching him eat a pizza. Was it supposed to be kinky? Like the protein shakes? Perhaps it was part of the submission aspect. All the same, it sounded more than a little dull. But this was Mikey’s kink and Guy was hardly about to shame him about it. On the contrary, how exciting that the otherwise vanilla boy was actually doing something that he genuinely found thrilling. “We’ll have a little fat belly on you in no time!” he smirked, reaching down to pat the clearly overstuffed stomach.

Like a flip switching in Mikey’s mind, the boy instantly became more aroused. Guy took notice, rubbing the stomach more and more, until Mikey finally fished out Guy’s boner and set his magic mouth to work.

“Have you seen Mikey recently?” asked Hannah, a former conquest of Guy's and the girl who lived across the hallway. “He’s seriously packed on the Freshman Fifteen.”

“You probably just saw him after he’d had a meal,” Guy replied knowingly. “He tends to eat a lot in one go. He gets bloated.”

Hannah shook her head, not accepting the excuse in the slightest. “This was first thing in the morning. He has actual love handles!” she stated emphatically.

Now it was Guy’s turn to shake his head. He’d only been in to play with Mikey a few days before the Spring Break and he hadn’t noticed any sign of love handles before then.

Hannah laughed. “Seriously!” she chuckled. “I’m not making this up.”

Guy marched down the corridor and knocked on Mikey’s door, making Hannah laugh as she stayed in the kitchen. “Wakey, wakey!” he called out, knowing that the boy was rarely up at this time on a Saturday. In the short space of time that it took a groggy Mikey to get out of bed, the door clicked unlocked and in Guy went, closing the door behind him. The dark, hunched form of Guy’s drowsy neighbor slipped straight back into bed. Instead, Guy strolled over to the window and threw them open dramatically. “Time to get up!” he teased. 

As light flooded the room, Guy could see the mess of wrappers and containers that was testament to how much Mikey had been overfeeding himself since he arrived back on Wendesday night. He laughed to himself, picking up some of the mess and putting it on the boy’s desk. Then, knowing that it would frustrate Mikey, he reached for the duvet and yanked it away with full force, uncovering the entirely naked boy lying on his front underneath.

Guy’s eyes flew to the little rounded pads of flesh on Mikey’s side, the skin starting to crease and mark the area more clearly: love handles, without a shadow of a doubt. “Ho, ho!” he blasted in amusement. “Look at you!” he marvelled, reaching his big hand down onto his neighbor’s glute and finding it was squishy and significantly bouncier, with clearly added mass to it. “Someone is actually getting chubby!” he teased, absolutely astonished with the difference. That skinny little ass was gone, replaced with something much more meaty and even a little feminine.

Despite his tiredness, Mikey wrigged with arousal at the touch as Guy began playing with the softness that even spread down into his thighs. He rolled over; his erection already sizable as he tried to open his eyes and look towards Guy, even with the harsh light coming in through the window behind him.

What was happening to Mikey’s chest? Guy inspected further. The nipples seemed softer and the blubbery build up in the boy’s love handles was further spread across his stomach, deepening his belly button. “Stand up,” Guy demanded. “I want to look at you properly.”

Mikey did as he was told, Guy placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, guiding him over to the mirror, so that he could see all angles at once.

“Fuck!” Guy laughed, seeing what a transformation had been silently happening behind his back. He felt proud. The biggest complaint people had about Mikey, here in the dorms, was that he was a fairly dull and boring person. Well, look at him now! This was hardly boring. The kinky little fucker was actually doing something none of them would ever have the guts to do. “I’m pleased,” Guy told him honestly, looking at his face in the reflection. “How does it feel for you?”

At this Mikey’s hands began exploring himself, grabbing at the fat and jiggling where he could with the tips of his fingers. “Amazing!” he whispered back, bursting with arousal.

“Well then…” Guy smiled, placing his hand back on Mikey’s chubby glute: his favorite new feature by far. “...You have to keep going,” he stated. “Keep eating and eating. Add more and more fresh fat onto this frame of yours.”

“I will,” Mikey nodded back obediently. “If it’s what you want. I’ll keep going as far as I can!”

Guy had never seen Mikey’s dick dribbling with arousal so easily. If this weight gain and submission was what aroused him so much, there was no way he could let it stop. “It’s what I want,” Guy agreed. “I want you to grow a proper fat belly, just for me.”

The pair kissed. Guy had never felt Mikey moan and collapse into him quite so much; like a ragdoll, ready to be played with.

“I know what’ll help…” Guy laughed, pulling down his pants and tugging on his own semi-erection until it was pumped and hard. “Let’s lubricate your throat ready for a full day of eating,” he joked cheekily.

Immediately, Mikey slipped to his knees. His jaws opened and he hungrily took the whole of Guy’s enormous erection down his throat like no one else on campus could. It took Guy by surprise each time, how instantaneous the pleasure was. He had to spread his legs a little more and reach one hand out to steady himself on the wall for fear that he may fall over. He didn’t need to press Mikey’s head into his crotch. The boy needed no guidance in the slightest. It was all just so perfect.

An involuntary moan escaped Guy’s lips. Now that his fuck buddy was getting fat, he wouldn’t have to worry about someone trying to steal him away. Mikey’s mouth was all his.

No one on campus was aware that Guy and Mikey were anything more than casual acquaintances, and so no one was cautious about discussing Mikey weight gain around Guy. The overall feeling was one of amusement. In many ways, it was understandable. Mikey had indeed been incredibly thin at the start of the year and he was heading towards the summer looking significantly softer and padded. For the most part, Guy simply ignored it, or tried to move the conversations away. He wasn’t about the campus drama and the behind the scenes bad-mouthing like some of the others. Sure, people were going to talk, but they didn’t have the full story in the same way that Guy did.

The final football game of the season arrived and Guy was pumped for it. He didn’t get nervous like the others seemed to. He was also bigger than everyone else on the field, not weighed down by excess weight, making him lighter on his feet than the opposition ever expected from him. He’d been buzzing the entire morning, heading to the gym for a full session despite the advice from his coach to rest that morning. He simply had too much energy to spare. He knocked on Mikey’s door wondering whether the boy was up for a little fun before he had to leave. Unlike everyone else in the dorms, Mikey never came down to the games. He simply wasn’t into sports, and that was fair enough. In fact, Mikey seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that it was even taking place that day, answering the door and ushering Guy inside excitedly.

“Look what I bought!” the chubby boy smiled, leading Guy over to his desk where a large, round cake sat waiting for a party of twenty people to come in and start feasting upon it. “I’m going to try and eat it all this afternoon!” he beamed.

Guy chuckled to himself, seeing the erection already pressing against Mikey’s sweatshorts. “You go for it, buddy!” he smiled, clapping the boy on his back. His enthusiasm for overeating and putting on weight was almost infectious at times. He lifted the plastic lid and swept his finger around the edge, gathering a decent amount of cream which Mikey excitedly sucked off.

“Do you want to feed it to me?” Mikey asked, pulling his shirt off to reveal his softening torso.

Inwardly, Guy sighed with disappointment. How long would that take? He had to leave in twenty minutes or so, and if Mikey’s mouth was going to be occupied that entire time, there was no chance of a quick blow job. 

“How about…” Guy began, lifting his own shirt off and dropping his shorts and underwear, “...we both have a little fun at the same time?”

“What did you have in mind?” Mikey asked, watching as Guy pulled out the lubricant from the drawer and squirted it into his hand.

Guy looked down at him with a smirk. Then he reached a hand into Mikey’s crack and began preparing the area, making the boy moan with arousal as his large fingers brushed and gently penetrated. Mikey pulled down his underwear to help him and was soon leaning into it so much that Guy could give him a decent warm up.

Having a firm press down on his back, Mikey obediently slipped onto all fours. Guy reached for the cake and placed it underneath the boy’s face. “Ready?” he asked, reaching for Mikey’s jaw, as if loosening it up for better movement and stretch.

Mikey’s eyes were on the prize. His head was lowered down into it, perhaps more than he was expecting, his nose now pressing into the sponge and his tongue lapping it all up with ferocious speed.

Guy assumed his position, grabbing a condom, sliding his hardness into Mikey’s gaping butt and sighing with pleasure. As blessed as most people told him he was with such a large dick, Guy found he was rarely allowed to settle into his own good rhythm when penetrating. There was simply too much of him to handle. WIth Mikey, however, the boy just seemed to relax so much, it was like total freedom for Guy. After wincing the initial time they had tried this, Mikey took to it with ease. He was the only one Guy could properly deliver what he referred to as a ‘thorough pounding’.

Through the mirror, Guy could see that Mikey’s face was now covered in cake as he tried to gorge himself at the same time as his body was getting pumped from behind. Guy laughed, happy to take the control that Mikey offered up so willingly. “Come on!” he chuckled. “You can do better than that!” he called out encouragingly, seeing Mikey’s tongue scrabbling about trying to lick up as much as he could.

The fat on Mikey’s back had really come a long way since they had last done this. The love handles in particular seemed to ripple and bounce out of sync with the rest of his body. The bones in his shoulder blades were less severe and an emerging softness appeared to be forming just under his arms. However, the boy’s butt was the centerpiece; the way it was spread so wide and felt so much softer to the touch as Guy gripped on.

A moan started emanating from Mikey. In the mirror, his eyes were rolling up into his head. He began oinking - actually oinking, as he continued to gorge himself. Guy sped up. There was nothing he got off to more than seeing someone else genuinely getting lost in the moment. Mikey was letting go like never before.

“That’s it!” Guy cried out. “Oink like a pig!”

Without even a hand anywhere near his own hardness, it was obvious that Mikey was climaxing. His face fell upon the cake and he groaned louder than he ever had during sex before. The whole thing made the pleasure build upon Guy with rapid speed; almost taken by surprise as he felt himself squirt.

Guy wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed in relief. He’d rarely felt so completely satisfied before. He pulled out, stopping only momentarily to chuckle at the wide, gaping hole he left behind, then unpeeled the condom and began dressing himself. The mess was everywhere, cake smashed into the carpet that would take some time to scrub out.

“Thanks for that,” Guy smiled, looking down at the fat boy who had rolled onto his doughy rear and not even attempted to clean any of the cake off his face yet. He too seemed to be enjoying momentary bliss, grabbing at the first roll of his fattened stomach like it was the most precious thing in the world. Guy’s work was done here.

During the summer months, Guy had sweet talked his way into an internship with a local company, hoping to boost his CV for when he finished his degree in a further two years. He didn’t need to be told that his pretty face would be an asset for the company, but he was surprised at how much more he was interacting with the clients than the others in his position. A well fitting shirt and a tight pair of pants never failed to make things easier for him to charm pretty much everyone he was around. He’d briefly dated a couple of girls, wanting to experience the steamy ‘summer love’ of his old high school days. However, Guy was not about to settle down for anyone.

Mikey, meanwhile, had taken a job at a fast food restaurant back in his hometown; returning to campus that year looking like he hadn’t stopped eating the entire time. Quite a few of them had applied to stay in the dorms and been successful, but there was still plenty of fresh meat for Guy to enjoy about the place.

Guy remembered being quite taken aback when he saw the full stomach on Mikey after their time apart. It had morphed from a tight paunch to a full starter gut, complete with pointed and juicy-looking nipples. Had the boy seriously eaten nothing but fast food all summer? A simple rub of Mikey’s stomach or jiggle of his fleshy rear never failed to get the new chub horny, and Guy was all in for that. He thought back to the previous year and how forward he’d had to be with shy Mikey just to let him know that he was interested. Sex had not been a part of Mikey’s life before then, and now look at him: his entire body turned into a playhouse of his kinkiest sexual fantasies! Guy felt nothing but pride.

“You knew Mikey from last year, right?” asked Samantha, a clearly high-maintenance fresher girl who had moved in last week. “Maybe you can get through to him.”

“Why?” Guy asked, wondering what seemed to be so urgent.

“You need to let him know that we don’t want to see his belly hanging out anymore. He’s just bent down into the refrigerator and I had about four inches of his butt crack staring back at me!”

Guy laughed. “Is that all?” he sighed in relief. “I thought something was wrong.”

Samantha exhaled in shock. “Something is wrong!” she blasted. “He can’t be allowed to keep walking around in clothes that are that tight! It’s disgusting!”

“Leave him be,” Guy shrugged. “You don’t need to be around him if you don’t want to.”

“There are some guys who make fun of him on his course,” Samantha pressed on. “If he’d just wear a damn sweatshirt or something to try and make himself look like less of a target, I’m sure they’d leave him alone.”

At this, Guy stood up from his chair, suddenly filled with anger. “Who’s been making fun of him?” he demanded, ready to go and see to them, right there and then.

“Mikey is the one who needs speaking to!” Samantha shot back. “Go ask him who the guys are. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

Shaking his head with annoyance, Guy stormed down the corridor and let himself into Mikey’s room without even knocking. The boy was sitting at his desk, still pushing a large tray of cream cakes he had collected from the refrigerator when he had offended Samantha so much. He turned in surprise, seeing Guy bursting in on him like this.

“Who’s making fun of you on your course?” Guy asked, closing the door behind him.

Mikey smiled; his chubby cheeks and chin showing all the more. “Oh, you heard about that?” he chuckled. “A couple of the new freshmen: Dan and Alec.”

“You’ll need to point them out to me,” Guy demanded, clearly annoyed. “I’ll soon sort them out.”

Mikey’s face was one of pure amusement. “Not everything is a problem that needs fixing,” he simply replied, pushing a cream cake into his mouth.

“What is it they say to you?” Guy pressed on.

Mikey chewed and swallowed. “Oh, lots of things!” he giggled. “Fat Boy, Pig, Piggy, Lardass!”

Guy could feel his heart beating faster with frustration However, Mikey seemed entirely relaxed and happy. “Wait a minute…” Guy stopped him. “Is this one of those things..?” he pondered. “Are you… Do you get off on this? The guys treating you that way?”

Mikey raised his eyebrows cheekily, not needing to say anything further.

“That’s why your clothes are so tight this year, isn’t it? You actually want people to comment?” Guy asked next, feeling like he had delved further than ever before into the mind of his part-time lover.

Again, Mikey only pressed a cake into his mouth and smirked.

Guy felt all the pent-up frustration in him release. A great wave of affection for Mikey swept through him and he reached out a hand to pull the chubby boy up from his chair, leaning him back into his great arms like he was trying to seduce him all over again. “You’re the kinkiest little fucker I’ve ever come across,” he smiled with delight. “You know that right?”

Mikey swallowed and grinned back. “You started this,” he stated, rubbing his easily accessible belly fat as his overly short t-shirt rode up.

Guy looked down at the boy’s gut and nodded. “I sure did!” he teased. “And what a good piggy you’ve turned out to be!” he smirked, trying the word out now he knew a little more about how it excited Mikey.

The chub seemed to melt into him further. They kissed and then quickly undressed for the inevitable.

The Spring was upon them once again as Guy invited Mikey over to his room for a quiet evening together. Mikey always seemed more aroused to be in Guy’s room for whatever reason. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Guy had fucked and pleasured so many people between those sheets of his. The large athlete was sitting propped up against the headboard, romantically caressing Mikey as he leant against his naked chest and watched a movie with him.

Watching movies was not usually Guy’s thing. He’d often been accused of having an attention difficulty in school, making him restless and troublesome in class, despite the high grades he always came away with. But here, with Mikey, Guy felt complete relaxation, rubbing that fat stomach that had been grown for him and laughing together at the funny parts of the picture.

“There’s actually a gainer event happening not too far away in a couple of months,” Mikey explained, scrolling through his cell phone.

“When is it?” Guy asked. “I can take you.”

Mikey mumbled nervously. “I’m not so sure it’s my thing…” he fretted. “I’d be too nervous.”

At this, Guy laughed. “Nervous? You?” He rubbed Mikey’s large stomach. The boy was now a full one hundred and twenty pounds heavier than he had been when the pair met over eighteen months ago, standing at a full two hundred and sixty pounds despite his fairly average height. He’d battled name-calling, family disapproval and public wardrobe malfunctions aplenty. “You’re the bravest person I know.” 

Again, Mikey grumbled in disagreement.

Guy quickly did an internet search on his cell phone and found it himself. “There!” he declared a minute later, putting his cell phone back on the bed beside him. “Two tickets. One for me, and one for my lardass!” he teased, kissing Mikey on the back of his head and squeezing him once more. “I’lll book us a nice hotel later too.” Picking up a few modelling jobs had definitely helped make Guy’s life a little easier of late, and there was no one who deserved a treat more.

As the date approached, Mikey had gone into a frenzy of calorie consuming, determined to look the part for a gainer event. The boy was just a frustrating couple of pounds shy of three hundred when Guy took his chubby little hand and led him inside. 

Guy had never seen so many huge men in the same room and they eyed him suspiciously until they saw that his hand was placed appreciatively on Mikey’s broad butt as they stood to the side of the dancefloor.

“There are still quite a few small guys,” Guy whispered to Mikey, who had been worried about not being fat enough for weeks. “A few dad bods with only a little gut to show for themselves.”

Mikey nodded, feeling better and more relaxed as others started coming up to them, wanting to know their story.

“That person’s been checking you out all night,” Guy nodded over at a slender and handsome man in the corner.

“No he hasn’t,” Mikey shot back.

“Trust me, when people aren’t checking me out, I notice,” Guy replied. “He’s definitely interested in you.”

Mikey smiled, rather flattered.

“Who knows, he might be open to a little…” Guy winked, having learned recently that Mikey had a small fantasy about having a threesome. Guy waved his arm and beckoned the man over to them, despite Mikey’s nervous protests.

The admirer introduced himself as Henry and he admitted to having attended plenty of these types of events in the last few years. “What’s your weight?” he asked Mikey; an outrageous question in any other circumstances but these.

Guy jumped in to answer. “He’s just hit three-twenty,” he lied. He was only one hundred and forty pounds two years ago.”

“That’s impressive!” Henry nodded, clearly more interested than ever.

“He’s been a high achiever his whole life,” Guy smiled, wrapping his strong large arm over Mikey’s shoulders with pride.

Henry wanted to know more about their situation and circumstances. Were they an item? Was it casual? Was Guy really a feeder? But when the time came to ask him if he wanted to come back to the hotel with them, Henry did not decline. They stopped for takeout on the way, with Henry very clearly getting off on how much Mikey was able to eat: being so assertive with the chub, clearly setting high expectations from the start. Then they all headed back, making every pleasurable second all about Mikey; just as he deserved.

At the end of another summer, Guy and Mikey embarked upon their final year of college. Mikey’s weight had continued to creep up, with his face now properly framed by a large double chin and his upper arms finally starting to puff up and broaden him up a bit.

“I actually met up with Henry a couple of times this summer,” Mikey explained casually as the pair of them lay awkwardly facing each other on the narrow single bed in Guy’s room.

Guy instantly felt ashamed of the giant wave of jealousy that washed over him. He’d slept with a countless number of people during their casual sex games of the last two years, yet he begrudged Mikey even this little thing in return. Still, he tried not to show his feelings, diligently asking questions and smiling encouragingly, as if this was all positive news.

“Henry really knows how to push me to eat,” Mikey went on. “I’ve never eaten as much in my life! And it was all the type of stuff that he knew would only make me fatter.”

Guy nodded, concealing the inadequacy he felt. He’d never really been what Mikey had wanted. He only knew the absolute basics of the feedism kink Mikey was so into and had, for the most part, got away without having to sit through many of the tedious feeding sessions Mikey seemed to enjoy so much. This whole affair with Mikey had started because Guy hadn’t wanted anyone to take the champion blow-job boy away from him, yet he had unknowingly opened the floodgates during that fairly average threesome he had been a part of back at the gainer event. “Are you meeting up with him again?” he asked casually.

“He’s coming here in December,” Mikey squeaked excitedly. “But he’s given me strict instructions to continue to eat and grow before then. I honestly think he wants me to be absolutely huge!”

Guy smiled back at him, despite the sadness he felt. Mikey was undoubtedly slipping away from him.

That December, Guy had been away with the football team during the weekend of Henry’s visit. Even so, Mikey’s weight had continued to increase at an almost alarming rate, both before and after the feeder had called over. It had been spurred on by the many messages and video calls the pair had made, despite the great geographical distance between them. Guy had so many other things on his mind, he tried to convince himself that it didn’t bother him, but he was never fully successful. Mikey himself was now entirely unrecognisable, coated with giant amounts of fat all over his body. His frame had widened, with fat spilling out from his round gut and his nipples sagging right onto his swollen midsection. He walked slowly about the campus, usually carrying a backpack filled with fattening supplies from the nearby supermarket in order to further his weight gain. Likewise, Henry had begun ordering fast food to the dorms, increasing Mikey’s intake even more and ensuring that the boy had surpassed three hundred and eighty pounds by April.

Guy knew that he couldn’t get away with avoiding Henry a second time when he stopped by for an entire week that Spring, just before the final exam season got underway. The conversation was polite, but it was obvious that Henry wanted more time alone with Mikey, rather than having Guy tagging along.

“Let’s be real…” Henry stated at the end of the week, taking advantage of the fact that Mikey had gone to the bathroom at the restaurant he was treating the two of them to a meal at. “You’re not actually a feeder, are you?”

“What does that matter?” Guy shrugged. “I’ve done pretty well getting Mikey’s weight up. He would still be that skinny little twig if it wasn’t for me.”

Henry shook his head and laughed. “No he wouldn’t!” he replied dismissively. “Mikey is a fat boy, through and through! I’ve never come across anyone like him. If you hadn’t been there, he would have found some other excuse to start piling the pounds on. It’s just in him. He’s meant to be absolutely enormous.”

Guy didn’t have a response. In reality, he’d known as much from the very beginning. Mikey had never needed much encouragement to overeat, and he’d always seemed propelled to fatten by some force greater than a basic kinky subservience kink to Guy himself.

“I’m going to ask him to move with me to Phoenix when he finishes college next month,” Henry announced; his tone one of uncompromising assertiveness.

“Phoenix?” Guy gasped in alarm. “But I’ll never see him!”

“What the hell did you think he was going to do when he finished college? You’ve got a job lined up here in the city, but what is there for Mikey? He doesn’t have any family here. You really expected him to just hang around for you?”

Guy exhaled, knowing that they couldn’t carry the conversation on with the fattened Mikey trotting back towards the table. He ground his teeth together, wondering how best to fight this plan to uproot Mikey’s entire life and move him to Phoenix. But then he witnessed the boy’s delight the next day as Henry made the offer, and witnessed the tears days later as Henry had to leave him once more. It was over. Mikey had found the one he was really meant to be with.

“You’ll come and visit me, right?” Mikey asked as Guy dropped the last of Mikey’s stuff in the back of Henry’s truck a few weeks later.

“Of course I will,” Guy nodded, trying to hold back on how cut up he felt that his time with Mikey was now over. “Just you try and stop me!”

The pair hugged warmly.

Next, Henry came up and shook Guy’s hand. Despite the silent animosity between them, there was an air of respect. Henry had been right, after all. Mikey needed a lot more than Guy could give him. This was the life that the fat boy coveted and deserved. But Henry was no idiot either. He knew what Guy was giving up; that he had fallen in love with the boy, and that his love was not returned; at least, not in the same way.

“Come on, Fatso!” Henry smiled, patting Mikey on his wide, blubbery butt. “We’d best hit the road.”

Guy stood looking into the distance long after the truck went out of sight. One very massive chapter of his life had just ended, and another was about to begin.

[hotnbloodied]

Hiyaaaa can I request a stalker yan x enabling gn reader🪼could it be smut if possible

I went a little haywire with this one, I hope it meets your expectations dear~

(PLEASE BE EXTRA CAUTIOUS OF TAGS FOR THIS ONE!!!)

I'm still not too sure about how to feel about writing smut (I'm actually not a big fan of it) but as long as everyone enjoys it thank you ^^

-˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Stalker!Yan X Pushover!Reader (!!SMUT!!)

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion. I do not support or encourage these destructive behaviors in real life.

CW: not proof read, yous/yours used, gn reader, SEX, sloppy lewd writing, implied stalking, saliva, yandere behaviors, delusional thoughts, dub-con, obsessive behavior (LMK if I'm missing anything.)

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

(PLEASE BE EXTRA CAUTIOUS OF TAGS FOR THIS ONE!!!)

It all started with a simple act of helping him pick up the paperwork that you accidentally knocked out of his hands. No one had helped him before, much less make conversation with him due to how he looks and holds himself. Perpetual hunch, unkempt hair, deep dark eye bags and a slight stutter. This guy was a mess, but the company kept him because his work ethic is near perfection. Back to the papers you were helping him pick up, you offered to carry half with him to where he needed to go and he offered to treat you to lunch, “i-it’s the least I can do for helping me,” he reasons. You couldn’t turn down, “well, if you’re sure, I am getting pretty hungry since it’s lunch time already,” you reason.

Though, you didn’t expect him to get so chatty during lunch. It felt like he was asking your ear off with questions. “How’s work been for you?” “How is your family?” “Do you have any hobbies?” “Favorite shows? Movies?” Admittedly, you couldn’t wait for lunch to be over but even when you wanted to say goodbye, to get back to work, he asks for your phone number. Wanting to just go already you hurriedly gave it to him.

Little did you know that he would be texting you everyday, perhaps even every hour. Not wanting to be rude you responded when you could. Soon you were seeing him outside of work, not willingly but whenever you would be trying to run errands or even just out and about. Grocery shopping? He suddenly appeared and offered to push your cart and even load your bags into your car. At the mall? He just so happened to be needing to get a birthday gift for a family member so why don’t he shop around with you, even though when you were leaving he walked you to your car with his hands empty. Just taking a walk in the park? What a coincidence, he loves this park! A walk is better with someone else right? You didn’t bring up how weirdly coincidental it was that he happened to be wherever you were, you didn’t want to deal with confrontation. Which led you to the state of you and his relationship as it is these days.

He started hanging out with you in your apartment, he had one day asked if he could come over to your place to hang out for the weekend. “We could hang out and watch a movie, I’ll even make dinner for us. Unless you want to come over to my place?” You weakly try to give the excuse that your apartment is a mess but he even offers to clean it and you didn’t really want to go over to his place so you agreed to hang out with him at yours.

True to his word, he cleans your apartment but it wasn’t even that dirty in the first place since it was just an excuse. He goes on to make dinner, it was exactly to your taste like he knew and even cleans up afterward. When it came to the movie it was whatever looked good on the streaming service, you’ve been wanting to watch a certain movie that was recently released so he agreed to it too. Not too long into the movie you notice him moving closer to you, your heart rate raises with each proceeding inch until finally your shoulders are touching. Even if you wanted to scoot away, you were already on the edge of your couch. In a fluid motion he rests his arm on your shoulders causing you to look at him. He looks you in the eyes and leans in for a kiss. You instinctively used your hands to stop him from leaning closer and he looked at you with wide eyes.

“Do you not want this?” He asks with a bit of hurt in his voice. Flustered, you replied, “I just think it’s too soon for this.” He smiles and takes your hands in his, “it’s okay, we’re just having a little fun after all. No strings attached.” Something about the last statement didn’t feel right but you don’t say anything so he takes it as you agreeing with him and leans in for a kiss again. You close your eyes as your lips connect and you can feel him sigh as he continuously pecks kisses on your lips. Soon after you feel something wet probing at your lips and it surprises you enough to open them. His tongue invades your mouth and you feel his grasp on your body tighten as he explores your mouth with his tongue.

Breaking from the kiss only for air, it doesn’t stop him from tasting you like he was a thirsty man and you were an oasis in the desert. His tongue rolls over your cheeks and jawline working down to your neck leaving you covered in saliva. He sucks and licks the sensitive skin of your jugular making heat form in your lower regions. He nudges to take off your top and you allow him a full view of your chest. He wastes no time and continues to suck on your collarbone area, the whole thing feels weird and warm and slimy but you didn’t want to stop him since you believe it was too late for that. Suddenly you feel your nipples get pinched and you jerk backwards. “You’re so cute, and so sensitive just for me,” he coos. He continues to suck and play with your nipples until your brain seems to go fuzzy from the pleasure and all that’s escaping your lips are sounds of moans, whines and whimpers. He chuckles, “you’ve been grinding against me for a while, do you want it?” Did you? You didn’t even notice until he said so. “Let’s go ahead and get these off okay?” He nudges at your pants now and he watches as you slowly take them off.

He gulps at your completely nude form now, “you’re everything I dreamed off and more.” You flushed at his words. Before you could say anything he went down on you causing you to yelp. He licked and sucked and slurped like his life depended on it. He almost got you to cum but stopped much to your dismay. “No need to pout darling, we’ll be coming undone together.” It was his turn to undress, his member stood proudly over your entrance. Something in you knew deep down that if you let him go the whole way that there would be no turning back even if he said no strings attached, but another part of you just doesn’t care. He turns you around and slowly enters you from behind and you gasp as you grip your sofa cushions from the intrusion. It doesn’t take long for the speed to pick up and he’s pounding you into your sofa making an absolute mess of you. Soon the both of you climax and he’s covering your back with his seed.

You’re too exhausted to move but that’s okay! He already knows where you keep your towels so he goes and gets some to clean you up. After doing so, he guides your arm over his shoulder and leads you to your bedroom. You fall asleep, too tired to stay awake. “You’re more ethereal in person when you’re sleeping than a screen could ever capture,” he kisses your forehead before drifting off to sleep himself, with you finally in his grasp.

Part 2

[luffysscraps]

NSFW ALPHABET;🔞;FT MONKEY D. LUFFY

Cw: Fem reader; NFSW;🔞; Luffy is a warning himself

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex); He’s a little floaty to say the least. He’s in and out of Ecstasy and sleepiness. “Y-y/n? How do you feel… *snore* I’m tired…” He tries to stay awake, he really does but cumming just felt sooo good and now he’s sooo tired. He wraps an elastic arm around your body to pull you close and then snuggles into your neck before falling asleep. Not much clean up is done, he sees no need to and has no problem sleeping in the mess of your juices and his cum.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s); Oh he loves every single part of your body, but if he had to choose one part it’s not the typical ass, thighs or boobs. It’s your mouth. Something about your mouth is just so sexy to him, your lips, your teeth, the wetness, the warmth. Hmmm it melts him in seconds. He could just make out with you all day and cum from that if he wanted. Sometimes he gets boners just watching you eat something.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically); He’s nasty with his cum. He’ll cum anywhere and everywhere on your body. Your mouth, boobs, thighs, ass, stomach, back, inside your pussy, even in your ear. He loves the way you look when you’re completely drenched in his seed.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs); Luffy has no secrets, whatever he wants to try something he’s into he’ll tell you in a heartbeat without any hesitation or embarrassment. You laugh a certain way; “Man that was hot.” You’re sucking on an ice pop; “I wish that was my dick!” You simply sit down; “Why don’t you sit on me for once!?” All cats are out of the bag when Luffy’s around and he has no shame in telling you what he wants.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?); It’s hard to tell. I mean Luffy mates for life, one and done is enough for him. If he lost his virginity to you then you’re going to carry his children and die next to him. So he’s inexperienced in that department, but when he’s having sex it’s like his primal instincts just tell him what to do. He’s not a nervous virgin who slips up his first time, he’s acting like a sex god. Taking and learning from every single signal your body give him. Your surprised when he found your clit and abused the hell out of it! You thought it was his first time but here you are getting fucked to bits by a virgin. Afterwards you asked him and he just shrugged. “Just did what I thought was right!” He’ll laugh. “By the way why are you turned on when I touch your pee hole doesn’t that hurt?” “THAT’S MY CLIT YOU DIMWIT!”

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying); Piledriver. He loves to get in between you and have your body hunched over on itself while he holds your legs and almost breaks you in half. It’s the best position! He gets to see your body bend and twist with every thrust, and he can still see your face while he fucks you. He’s smiling down at you while your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your head getting smothered against the bedsheets with each and every thrust. Every now and then one of his hands will tickle your side just to hear your moan and laugh.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.); Are you serious? This man is goofy as hell even in the bedsheets. Nothing is ever serious to him, especially sex. To him sex should be a fun and heartfelt time. So he’ll crack jokes, tickle your sides, even make funny faces just to hear your beautiful laughs. “Y/n you moan like a chicken!” “N-no~ I don’t~! Y-you moan like a-a cow!” “Ha! No I don’t a cow would moan like this! MOOO~” You’ll cum and laugh at the same time with this man in bed.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.); Not groomed at all. He sees no point in it, it’s just going to grow back so why bother? He doesn’t care if he’s hairy down there, and he doesn’t care if you are either.Body Hair’s natural on bodies or else it wouldn’t grow there. He doesn’t see the big deal about it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect); He’s not romantic most of the time, but there are times where he’ll go on about how much he loves you while thrusting into you. It’s a rare moment where he’s not focused on cumming, but instead focused on getting the point across that he does love you. He loves you more then anything this world has to offer.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon); This man jacks off all of the time. Especially when he’s bored and there’s nothing to do, so if you’re not around or if you’re really not up for sex he’ll jack off. But he does it in your room—He’ll cum in your panties and put them back in your drawer like nothing happened. He’ll cum on your bed sheets and just cover the stain up with a pillow. He jacks off in your room because it smells like you and feels sooo warm. Your room would be covered with his DNA and if you ran a UV light over it you’d probably set your room on fire. (Ignorance is bliss)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks); He has so many, and I mean soooo many. One I haven’t talked about before is his scent kink. There’s something about your natural scent that drives him crazy. Your all natural smell, no lotions, no body wash, no perfumes to cover it up. It’s just so enticing. It’s just so… you. It smells so good. So after a long day of work out on the sea you lay down on your bed for a quick breather then plan on taking a quick shower before bed. But Luffy won’t let you. He cuddles up to you wrapping his limbs around you and he won’t let go. “Luffyyyy! Come on I need to take a shower I smell gross!” “No you don’t! You smell…. Good~” and before you know it he’s got your legs over his shoulder and his dick at your pussy’s entrance.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do); It’s a tie between your room and out on the deck. Well he like your room because it smells like you, and he could feel your presence everywhere in the room. It’s like he’s fucking twenty thousand of you at the same time. But he also likes out on the deck because it’s so exciting to think about getting caught. He likes to pair up with you on night watch and then fuck you over the railings. He’ll giggle and tell you to keep your voice down the others are sleeping.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going); Anything you do gets him turned on. If you sneeze, if you hiccup, if you just walk towards him he’ll get sprung at the most random times. You’ll be telling the team something serious and just gaze over to him to see if he understands and everyone is just staring at his hard on. “Uh oh….” “boner alert.” Nami and Usopp laugh on at their captain’s hard on. “DID YOU EVEN LISTEN TO A WORD I SAID!?” “Yeah, som’thing bout’ fight to save the island, can it wait like five minutes I’m hard and your speech was so sexy ;(“

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs); The only thing that would turn him off was if you were actually hurt. At the first sight of blood he pulls out and sits you up asking if you’re okay. “Ah it’s okay Luffy I just wasn’t all the way ready! We can continue-“ He feels SOO BAD! He refuses to go on even if his boner is still raging. He never in a million years wants to hurt you. So hurting you is where he draws the line. (Now if you’re on your period that’s a totally different topic )

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.); It’s a tie! He loves eating your pussy for hours on end but he also loves when his cock is deep down your throat. He’s a babbling mess when you go down on him the same way you are when he’s down on you. So 69 is the best position when he wants to eat you out but he also wants his dick sucked.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.); He’s fast and rough most of the time. He doesn’t know what the word. “Gentle” means. He just thinks with his dick when he’s having sex and his dick wants to go fast and feel your insides grip him tighter. So that’s what he does. But if you ask him to slow down, if he’s in his right mind he will for about two minutes or so. Then it’s right back to him chasing his orgasm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.); Quickies are fun to him! He loves them, if he’s got a boner he’ll rush over to you and throw you into the nearest broom closet; bush; tree. And in about three minutes or so he’ll come out with a satisfied look on his face while you’re still recovering, covered in hickies and cum. He just gets these urges where he needs to give you all of him and show you his love, and those urges happen more often then not. Sex with him can go on from anywhere to 2 minutes to 3 hours.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.); All Luffy does is take risks and the same thing applies in the bedroom. He’ll try anything he’s read about recently or just a random thought that comes to his mind. “Y/N! Why don’t you fuck me tonight! Chopper said there’s this thing in my ass and it’s basically a giant cum button! Can you press it for me?!” “Luffy! I don’t have a dick!” “Hmm you’re right! Well use your fingers then!” “Or you can stretch your dick straight into your asshole! Haha-“ “Y/N! YOU’RE A GENIUS-“ “I WAS JOKING-“

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?); Hours, days, weeks, months. His stamina is that of a world record marathon runner. Sometimes he can only take one or two rounds but other times he can go up to twenty. It all just depends on the day and his mindset.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?); “Toys what are those?! Let’s try them out!” He says as he’s stuffing the whole rack of anal beads down his throat thinking they were grapes. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but they’re a lot of fun! He loves stuffing your cunt full of vibrators and watching them all twirl and buzz against your slick. He’ll try some out too! You have a blindfold on him, a cock ring around his balls and his hands tied behind his back while your putting on a… what was it called? A strap on? He doesn’t know what that is but he’s ready to have some fun! “Oh boy! I can’t wait for the surprise- Ahha~!”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease); Luffy loves to tease you. “Where do you want it?” He’ll ask and once you finally recover enough to answer him he’ll shove his cock back inside of you with a grin continuing to fuck you into a babbling mess. “What was that?! Can’t hear you hehehe!” He’s giggling and laughing at your attempt to speak.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.); Oh my gosh he’s so loud. He groans, whimpers and moans loudly right into your ear. “Y/n~ y/n~ oh~ oh~ Y/n~” is all he can say most of the time.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character); Dare I say it. You already know that Luffy likes to stretch his dick inside of you. He makes it so long that it knocks on you womb’s gate with every thrust. He also likes to feel your own skin stretch out with a stomach budge when he’s deep inside.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes); Good lord. 7’1 inches soft, 2’3 inches thick. Big and fat juicy balls. Uncut, A dark tan color shaft and a light coral red tip. This man is packing and doesn’t even know it. If he sits manspread you can see his dick print through his shorts while he’s soft. He doesn’t get what the big deal is about, what? Is his size not average?

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?); His sex drive reaches the heavens and stars above. Luffy needs to cum AT LEAST 10 times a day. It’s that bad. Normally he likes to fuck them all out at once in a hour long session, but if he’s low on time or has something going on, quickies will suffice his urge to cum. You can usually tell when he’s about to snap, he’s biting nothing and gripping his thigh so harshly. He’ll just stare at you like “I need you now.” And teleport you and him to the bedroom.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards); “ah~ Luffy I’m cumm-“ “Zzz…” As long as you’ve finished, he’ll fall straight to sleep. As much stamina as he has, once he’s out, he’s out like a light. He won’t even move he’ll just fall asleep on top of you with his dick still inside of you. Look he means well but he’s just so sleepy.

I had tooo much fun writing this! <3 my brain dead king! Zoro and Sanji NSFW alphabets are coming soon!

[wraithdance]

The Five Year Plan | Gaz x Reader

Synopsis: When your fiancé breaks up with you, you start to question your timeline; who needs a man when you can have a baby yourself? Who better to ask for help on creating one than your arch-nemesis Kyle Garrick?

Note: F!Reader, Fat/Plus sized Reader, Reader is implied to be Black but can be read as WoC, Readers nickname is 'Siggy', there will be no y/n use Content warning: none; besides a terrible grasp of british-isms

Chapter One: Piss off Kyle

It was while sitting beneath the awning of your favorite bistro that you’d come to a great realization. Hugo Montclair, your fiance of three years, was not just a bore but a bit of a jackass. 

Also, the lavender cake was no longer listed on Le Misa’s menu. So, technically two great realizations. As bad as it sounded, one concerned you more than the other.

Squinting you give the laminated sheet another thorough read to confirm your suspicions and… ah, yes. It’s not there. Where it should be between the ladies fingers and the lemon cake is an empty, discolored space. 

With a manicured finger you chip away at the corners to reveal the sloping letter ‘L’ beneath the meticulously placed correction tape. 

This was no good.

“Siggy, darling have you heard a word I said?”

You hum in reply, still deeply baffled with the current conundrum. Hugo calls your name again, not satisfied until you’ve given him your attention. 

He leans his head down to be in your line of sight. He’s a bit too blonde and polished for you not to focus your attention on. Like a shiny beacon. You try not to sigh deeply and instead plaster on a smile. 

“Yes, I heard you darling, you want to break up because you’re seeing Maddie from downstairs.”

Hugo extends his dainty manicured hands across the small table to cover yours above the menu. 

“I’m so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you this way.”

His eyes are carefully soft and his expression does that awkward stretch people do when attempting to project a facsimile of contriteness. In this case it just makes the skin around his mouth pucker oddly, displacing the filler he swears he gets for preventive measures.

You pat his hand politely with a smile “It’s fine, Hugo, really. Do you think I can borrow your menu? I think there's been a bit of a mistake.”

You are sliding the paper to your side of the table before you can finish the sentence. Hugo is a bit taken aback and blanches.

Another sweeping glance at Hugo’s menu reveals much of the same. 

There’s no lavender cake.

“Look, I know this is hard to take in but I want us to try to at least be amicable. We’ve been together for years and your parents and friends adore me.”

At this you snort but quickly cover it with a cough. Your parents tolerated him at best and your friends had made it well known they disapproved of Hugo. (Something about being a posh chihuahua enamored with its own self importance.)

You frown thinking of the dramatics his mother would put on inevitably, so sure you’d ruined the engagement to her son on purpose. 

But really what could you do? 

It wasn’t the most convenient thing to have your boss's beloved son kick you to the metaphorical curb, but technically you were the one who had been cheated on. Totally not your fault this time!

“I said I got it, you can’t help who you love and etcetera.” You give a cluck of your tongue before looking up once more hoping to catch the circling barista's eye. 

The mid afternoon lunch crowd at Le Misa’s is blessedly tame for a Thursday. The gloomy weather outside makes it easier to spot the jittery teen in a crimson red apron. The poor girl is glued to a corner, hunched over and clutching a notepad in white knuckle grip. 

She sees you shift in her periphery and snaps terrified eyes to your half raised arm. You do your best to smile sans teeth as you wave her over, coaxing her closer with small fluid movements. 

You hope you’re projecting calming vibes because she looks a bit green around the gills from the very thought of being needed by a customer. 

When she’s meters from your table you lean forward, your tits and belly squash a bit over the table causing your empty saucer to clatter before settling. Hugo, despite his offended chittering, stops long enough to stare at your chest. With a roll of your eyes you ignore his open panting. Typical.

“Hi darling,” you chirp in an octave higher than your usual. “I just had a quick question about the cakes? There used to be a lavender one here, I’ve been ordering it for years. Can you tell me what happened to it?”

“Um w-well.” The trembling girl blinks are twitchy and rapid, sputtering out um’s and oh’s.

‘Oh, no’ you think to yourself. 

You might have broken her. Still, you nod your head in support waiting for her to gather her wits. The poor thing was obviously a new employ with a bitch of a case of social anxiety.

Your efforts are for nothing in the end because a loud clearing throat causes you both to freeze, just as it’s seem she’d gotten up her courage.

Your cheek ticks as you watch the skittish girl clam up again. Hugo’s gaze has pried off your cleavage long enough to laser something disapproving and pointed at the side of your forehead. 

He’s even doing that thing with his face that you’ve always hated. His cheeks suck in like a goldfish and he does the eyebrow raise and head cock that screams ‘I am very displeased.’

“What? I just need to ask her something. I'll be just a sec.”

Hugo’s frown only deepens and he lets out the most dramatic sigh you’ve ever heard from a thirty two year old man.

It causes you to roll your eyes. Really, why couldn’t he just break up with you through text? This whole kerfuffle was starting to drag on and ruin your already limited lunch hour.

What happened to just saying ‘it’s not you, it’s me?’ or ghosting like a normal person? 

You give the hovering teenager a tight smile and lift a single manicured finger to signify the need for a moment. She scurries back into the safety of the French doors into the cafe's interior before your hand has a chance to lower.

“Hugo darling,” Your tone is careful, neutral like the one you use to disarm your irate clients. 

“I’m really not upset I promise, we’d barely begun planning the wedding and we never got around to moving in with each other. Really there’s no harm-”

“She's pregnant.” he blurts out suddenly. 

A record scratches in your brain because, “What?”

Hugo grimaces. “She’s about three months pregnant. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

One blink. Two… before you’re sure there wasn’t a punchline coming. 

“Are you taking the piss right now?”

“Sweetheart,” His hands raise in defense “don’t get upset-”

“Oh what the actual FUCK Hugo? You told me you wanted to wait until marriage before considering children!” Your hiss is low and dark. 

More than a small part of you is satisfied with his flinch back to avoid your venom. You're slightly aware of the scene you’re causing but really! The man had kept his sperm under lock and key like his swimmers were precious jewels!

It’s the one thing he’d put his foot down about, content to let you drive the relationship otherwise.

‘I have to be considerate of my legacy as a Montclair, Siggy.’

‘We can talk about it after the wedding, Siggy.’ 

You didn’t understand the hang up because the Montclair clan were as distant from the crown as you were to Beyoncé! Still he’d been adamant about not having a child out of wedlock. 

You’re not very kind about reminding him of the fact either.

“I did mean that, I swear,” he ruffles his coiffed blonde hair, the pomade holding firm but is no match for the havoc his slender fingers trail. “It just happened and Madelyn and I decided it was a good thing.”

He huffs “I mean let’s be realistic Siggy, she’s different from you. She’s a bit more equipped to take care of a child than you are.”

Oh ho! Now that was rich. You were chomping at the bit to hear how the barely legal heiress was better equipped to birth a baby than you were!

“How so!” Your tone is one translating the utmost disbelief and sarcasm. 

Hugo waves a hand in the air, it’s so dismissive and you consider punching him in the nose for it. “She’s just much more flexible.” 

Well ouch?

There’s a Rolodex of adjectives your litany of exes used to describe you before they dumped you. 

Uptight, strict, aloof, intense. ‘Heartless harpy who feeds on the souls of innocent men’. 

The last one came from a starving poet who’d been freeloading on your nice suede green couch before you'd kicked him and his lute out. How you managed to find the one man in London with dreams of being a modern day bard, who knows.

(You did admire his ways with words and his tongue was capable of art). It had admittedly stung a bit more than the others and you needed an extra hen session with the girls to unpack the resulting feels. 

Nonetheless, you’ve never been called inflexible. 

Matter of fact, you were pretty fucking flexible! Your Pilates teacher had crowed about it several times during class, thank you very much.  (Maybe he was just trying to get you to put out but still, a compliment was a compliment.)

Momentarily you consider if that was actually supposed to be a dig at your weight but Hugo frantically rambles on as if reading your mind. 

“I just mean that you work long hours at Mum’s firm and you’ve told me yourself you wouldn’t stop working even if you were pregnant.”

“So what!”

“So, that’s an awful way to raise a child Siggy! Madelyn works for herself and has the time to dedicate to a baby that you don’t.”

“Of course she has the time!” you cry out in exasperation, ignoring Hugo’s shushing. If he wanted you to react better he shouldn’t have dropped this bomb in public!

“She teaches yoga to the elderly in her perfect fucking apartment! I’ve been a barrister for all of 2 seconds and I can’t just give up my position!”

Hugo rolls his eyes with the dramatic flare only an aristocrat could pull off. “I’ve been trying to work on our relationship for months; you’ve blown me off every time saying you were working or there was a crisis with your friends.”

“I thought proposing would change things but…” The sad look does make some guilt well up into your veins. 

Hugo’s shoulder drop and his blue eyes are a bit misty. It makes your throat close with panic. Hugo was prone to sobbing and you really needed to intercept that train before it derailed.

“Hugo-”

“It doesn’t even feel like you like me sometimes!” He’s hiccuping and throwing his hands in the air in exasperation before you know it. 

Oh for fucks sake!

“It’s like you view me as more of a convenience than a partner. I’ve only ever seen you truly happy over coupons or work or cakes!”

Fat tears roll down his face and you’re handing him your linen napkin with a sigh. He thanks you and blows his nose loudly enough for other tables to glance your way. Wonderful.

When he composes himself you try to refute him.

“Hugo, that's not true, I like you,” His gives you a look of complete disbelief that sets you on the defense. “Really I do! I just…”

Your brows furrow as words evade you. You really wish he would have just broken up with you via text.

“I show it differently that’s all.” Your shoulders sag in defeat.

Hugo gives you a sad smile. It’s watery and his face is still a bit splotchy.

“But not like Madelyn does. Be honest, did you ever love me?”

You feel like an absolute bitch because you can’t answer him. After a while you both accept that it was about as much as you could say.

It’s only when you’re halfway to the office that you realize you never did get an answer about the cake.

Kyle Garrick had a radar for when you were about to make a fool of yourself. The man had somehow been privy to every embarrassing moment you’ve had in your shared building. You couldn’t prove it, but he had to have some kind of sixth sense for your personal humiliation. 

There was no other explanation because the entire six years you’d lived across from him, he was always conveniently near when shit went awry.

Like that time you locked yourself out wearing only a ratty towel when reaching for a parcel. His stupidly pretty face only twitched in amusement seeing you hunched over and dripping wet. 

You’d been attempting to jimmy the cheap lock with a stray paper clip you found discarded nearby. It hadn’t gone well, as you’d been more focused on trying to keep your tits and thighs within the thin, cotton fabric.

(They really should make towels for bigger girls more accessible, honestly it was ridiculous!)

It hadn’t been your finest moment but he could have had the decency to look away. Instead, he leaned his broad shoulder against his doorway, content to watch you struggle. 

You’d snapped at him asking what his problem was and his only reply was ‘nippy in here, isn’t it?’ 

He did eventually help you break into your flat, but only after you’d called him as many names as you could think of. He’d waited out your tantrum without as much of a twitch. He’d simply taken the paper clip from you and sank to the floor in front of the doorknob.

His big hands were surprisingly much more dexterous than yours. You’d never admit to the lump in your throat or the shudder starting at your toes while staring at the long brown digits.

It didn’t help that his whiskey colored eyes bore into yours with an unspoken question when you made a panicked sound. The side of his head had grazed your breasts and the back of the hand holding your towel when he shifted on his knees. The light touch was clearly accidental, but still molten lava shot through you like a rocket on fire.

Intrusive thoughts of him kneeling before you in another context caused you to choke on your saliva. You tried so hard to clear your throat subtly but an embarrassing wheezing sound still managed to escape. Add insult to injury, the infuriating man had to pat your back when your body wracked with coughs.

You weren’t proud that you told him to fuck right off when he finally got the door open. You ignored his sarcastic ‘You’re welcome, luv” and slammed the door in his smug face. 

That was nearly two years ago and the start of your vendetta against the irritating neighbor.

Per usual, he finds you just outside your doorway causing a scene. This time, you’re being clung to by your now ex-fiancés mistress.

Madelyn’s wails are loud, keening things that are razor sharp against your eardrums. Her tearful pleading is loud enough for you to miss the ding of the elevator as it stops on your floor. 

Kyle strides from the lift like a living bronzed Adonis. 

With gritted teeth you curse every deity known to mankind.

Wonderful. Truly, amazing actually!

He’s clearly coming back from a run, His arms are comically large and gleaming with a thin layer of sweat on his brown skin. You’re able to make out the intricate tattooed shield containing the numbers ‘141’ on his bicep. It’s the first you’d seen of it (not that you were keeping an eye out for it before). 

His sleeveless jumper is damp and half zipped to show off a view of his firm pectorals and the first row of his 6-pack. You’re about to peek lower to his loose gym shorts when he catches your stray perusal and raises a singular brow.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Just peachy, Kyle, thank you.” you snipe in a clipped tone. “Please feel free to run along.”

Your snarky dismissal is prickly enough that most people would call you a cunt but would blessedly sod off. 

The disgustingly fit nuisance just removes his headphones from around the cartilage of his ears and continues to linger just outside his door with crossed arms. Behind Madelyn’s trembling back you make a harried shoo-ing gesture. It’s meant to somehow relay that you had everything under control. 

You did not of course, but the last thing you could stand right now is Kyle fucking Garrick in the mix of this shit-show. No matter how angelic the bastard looked in the dim lighting of the hallway, he had an uncanny ability to piss on all of your emotional reserves. 

“Siggy!” Madelyn’s blubbering cuts off Kyle's next words. “I’m so, SO sorry!” She immediately descends into another fit of sobs against your cleavage. 

There’s a bit of an awkward lull when Kyle snorts out a laugh.“You think she can breathe in there?”

With closed eyes you lean your head back to look at the ceiling, shooting a ‘fuck you very much’ to the universe. 

You’d come home 20 minutes prior with murderous miasma cloaking you like a second skin. After being publicly dumped (without even the comfort of sweets to soothe the humiliation) you’d gone straight back to work just to deal with piles upon piles of paperwork. 

Your only reprieve was Hugo’s mother canceling her standing appointment with you. You’d still been forced to work with the old woman’s assistant and to your disdain, he was just as persnickety as his employer.

By the time you’d made it home on aching feet and a splitting headache your thoughts were filled with the desire to stuff yourself with a big fat American cheeseburger. Specifically one from the shady shop around the corner that you suspect may be a mafia front. They made damn good cheeseburgers though. 

Your mind had then of course wondered to the possibility of being caught up in a police raid and if ‘wanting to support local business’ be a good enough excuse to get you off the hook.

It’s how you missed the pint sized ambush lying in wait for you.

Madelyn had been planted outside your door in electric pink spandex and light up sneakers. She’d spotted you coming out of the lift and attached herself onto you before you could make a proper run for it.

Since then you’d been stuck holding her instead of the greasy end of a heart attack masquerading as a sandwich. Fat tears continue to wet the collar of the fleece outer coat you’d nabbed at a bargain sale.

“How long has she been like this?” Kyle asks with a raised brow.

Ignoring him, you do your best to wrestle Madelyn’s stiff form back enough to meet her eyes. 

The younger girl’s face is red and splotchy, snot and mascara darkened tears stain her usually fair skin. Her mousy brown hair could use a wash as well but you aren’t unkind enough to point it out. Even though she did shag your husband to be, it was clear the girl was torturing herself with guilt.

It is a bit unfair that the smudged makeup does nothing to detract from her beauty, much to your petty disdain. 

She’d make gorgeous babies with Hugo…

The thought makes you scowl. It was time to make a retreat.

“Madelyn, I’d really like to get into my flat. I don’t want to speak to you to be honest and I need you to let me go.”

More helpless wailing comes out of the younger woman.

“P-Please Siggy, I just need you to know I never meant for this to happen! Hugo and I tried to keep away from each other and I don't want you to hate me or the b-baby!” By the end she’s blubbering herself into hyperventilation. 

From the corner of your eyes you can make out the door of your neighbor adjacent to you crack open. Whipping your neck to get a look at the nosy pissant gets the older woman to slam the door closed with a fearful squeak. 

This had gone on too long.

Forcibly you use your hip and extra weight to maneuver the hysterical woman from your person. You hold her flailing arms to prevent her from launching herself back to your front. When she whines you’ve finally reached your breaking point.

“For fucks sake, you’re making a bloody scene!” You bark out, “I don’t care about Hugo!”

Madelyn flinches.

“But you care that we’re having a baby, right?”

It’s only when Madelyn lets out a whine of pain that you notice you’d been holding her thin wrists in a vice-like grip.

A forgotten Kyle chooses that moment to slink closer, his hands cup Madelyn’s shoulder carefully, despite your death glare.

“Maddy, darling, why don’t you let go for me.”

The brunette woman startles having finally noticed his presence in the vicinity. 

“Oh, Kyle! I didn’t know you were here!” It’s insulting how quickly she wriggles from your hold to catapult herself into Kyle’s waiting arms. 

With disgust you watch Kyle pat the shorter woman’s hair much like one would do a pet. Something about watching him with her makes your hackles rise farther.

“Why don’t you come in and calm down, hm? I’ll make you that tea you like and we can watch something.” Kyle makes a humming noise meant to soothe. It pisses you off but seems to work like a charm.

Madelyn’s sniffles subside dramatically and she rubs her hand across her button nose.

“Yes, that does sound lovely, but I need to talk to Siggy...”

You flinch as the two turn towards you once more. Kyle must see the cornered look in your eyes because he rubs his hands along Madelyn’s shoulders and whispers something in her ear. 

Madelyn nods and enters Kyle’s flat without any further hesitation.

It’s like the nearly thirty minutes of being held hostage outside your own home means nothing against his soft words.

God, you hate this man with every fiber of your being.

With a scowl you rummage through your bag for your house keys. Why did you have so many gum wrappers inside? You really need to clean your bag out. 

It’s not until you hear a throat clear that you realize Kyle still watches you from the threshold of his home.

“What?” Your tone makes a muscle in his cheek twitch. You hate to say it but it satisfies you to know at least you have some effect on him.

“Are you alright, love?” 

That causes you to abandon your search. You squint at his open expression and the genuine concern you see there. It’s unexpected and makes you a bit uncomfortable. How pathetic did you look that even your enemies pity you?

“I’m fine. Not like you actually care anyways.”

The last part was said in a mumble but Kyle’s sharp ears catch it. 

“Oy, what is that supposed to mean?” He steps closer to you crowding your space. 

Your senses are bombarded by the heady scent of the bergamot and cedar wood notes in his cologne. Coupled with the tangy smell of his natural musk, your brain does that thing where it shuts off and reboots itself.

“Siggy.” Kyle reaches out to touch your arm sending an electric current between you two that causes you to jolt back. He frowns, stepping closer, crowding you before you wield your bag in front of you like a shield and sword. 

“Garrick, I really, really don’t want to talk right now.” 

“Sig-”

“No, no, no! I don’t want to hear it! I’ve had a shite day and the cause of it is currently waiting for tea and cakes in your flat! I’m the one that deserves bloody tea and cakes for fucks sake!”

Enraged, you shove your hand through your bag and come in contact with the puff ball attached to your keys. 

You’re frantically unlocking your door and shoving inside your home, refusing to give the universe another moment to make a mess of your ruined day.

You look at Kyle as he stands in utter confusion and give him the dirtiest look in your arsenal. 

“Cheers, I hope you enjoy your sweets with Madelyn but you can piss right off, Kyle!” 

You slam the door with finality.

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[seeingivy]

my kink is karma

satoru gojo x f!reader

**loosely based on my kink is karma by chappell roan

an: based on a request from gojo as taylor anon <3 this one is for u

--  

“hi honey bee.” 

you peer over the top of your monitor screen to find satoru gojo, the executive account manager whose murder you’ve been planning for the past few weeks, looming over your desk. his inhumanely long limbs are fixed behind his back, bright ocean blue eyes filled with glee. and you’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what’s going on. 

he’s caught yet another mistake that you’ve made. and he’s here to sick it to you, his favorite worker bee that he likes to irritate. 

satoru gojo is a nicely packaged sewer demon that arrived two months ago, replacing the little old lady who used to occupy the glass office at the center of the workflow. she was kind, a little bit confused here and there, but she got her job done without making a fuss and that was all that mattered to you. she made you blondies for your birthday. 

you didn’t realize how nice you had it until she was replaced with him. because satoru gojo was irritating, prancing in the way he always did – insanely tall and taking up too much space in your peaceful office – with a boisterous laugh, a strange sense of humor, and a tendency to be irritatingly perfect. 

a stitched and tailored suit,  designer perfume, and a sparkling rolex watch on his wrist. a pretty girlfriend that he bragged about at mandatory lunches, a shiny black mercedes, and a penthouse apartment in the center of the city. 

you hate him. you hate how you can feel him scorning at the worn down ballet flats that you wear to work, the vintage watch you snagged from the thrift store, and the narrowed look that he gives to your public transportation card as you tuck it back into your wallet when you walk into the office. 

“are you doing a sales report?” he asks. 

“i’m at my job. where i work in sales marketing. what do you think i’m working on?” 

you watch his eye twitch. the small movements – eye twitches, nose wrinkles, and the turning of his lip – you had been watching them, memorizing what exactly it was that pushed his buttons since he was so keen on doing it first. though, he would never show it upfront, at least not as openly as you do anyways. 

that was one of the nice things about satoru gojo. that he was intelligent and perceptive – enough for him to know that you were maybe the only person in this office who didn’t like him. that you could understand his niceness was masked in arrogance. that you had no intention of kissing his ass like almost everyone else in this office did. 

you loathed his very existence, the stupid jokes he made, and would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than the stories that he recounts from his weekends at his parent’s suburban villa. 

“i love a great sense of humor!” he responds, scooting his long legs over to the side of your desk and hunching over to get a view of your computer. 

he says it with a bright and sparkling smile, but you get the message clear and straight – i’d watch the attitude if i were you. 

the smell of his fancy cologne tickles your nose as he leans over, his face nearly cheek to cheek with yours as he places a little manila folder in front of you. you heave a sigh, opening it up to your sales reports from the last week, each one laminated and with a dark red mark in the center. 

“been looking over your reports. you’re getting a little sloppy with your math.” 

you scoff. 

“is that right?” you ask. 

“uh huh. just make sure you count your decimal points and your zeroes when you turn in this one. i know it can be a little hard sometimes, big numbers and all.” 

you bite down on your cheek, feeling the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. did he always have to be so patronizing? 

“now why would i do that? i’d put you out of a job if i did.” 

satoru clicks his tongue in cheek – one of the clear cut signs that you’ve hit one of his exposed nerves. that he’s a glorified calculator sitting in a fancy glass office with an arbitrary executive title slapped next to his name. 

satoru gojo hates that you always seem to make that point every time he corrects you. and you’ll take any chance to remind him. that he doesn’t do anything worthwhile. that he’s a pretty face and just that – nothing substantial underneath. 

“luckily for me, you’ve proven that you’ll be incompetent until the end. as long as you’re here, it seems that i will be too. i’d get back to it if i were you, honey bee.” he responds, the tone in his voice scathing as he walks back to his office, a glimmering plastic smile pressed to his face. 

--

you have mandatory team building lunches on fridays at twelve thirty. it’s one of the things that you appreciate – that you don’t have to wake up early to put together a lunch from the leftovers in your fridge. 

you cycle through every person in the office, rotating on picking up lunch that accommodates the budget and everyone’s dietary requests, and break bread to get closer to one another. satoru, naturally, goes over budget every time it’s his turn, and insists that it’s no problem – though he always seems to slightly mess up your order, while everyone else’s comes out perfectly. 

and on the days where he isn’t choosing the lunch, he’s so irritating – complaining of a sensitive stomach – and instead brings a nicely packaged lunch that his private chef makes for him every morning.. three courses, always packed with a dessert. 

one time you asked him if the chef wrote him little supportive notes in his lunchbox. you would be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with pride, that the small comment you made was enough to fill him with irritation for the rest of the work day. 

“what are your christmas plans, satoru?” 

you look over at your fellow sales associate, yuuji, and share a smirk with him. the two of you lean back, nursing your little sandwiches from the deli two miles down in your hands as you start the mental counter in your head. 

every day before lunch, you and yuuji make a shot counter of things that you expect gojo to say during team building. common phrases that fall out of his mouth like back at the villa, my custom tailor shop, and louis vuitton – the normal trust fund baby vocabulary, naturally – somehow always make their way into the conversation. 

you drink shots accordingly at happy hour after work. whoever’s word has the higher count has to pay for the entire night. 

your poison for today was private jet. yuuji’s was timeshare. 

“anne marie and i are heading over to her family’s timeshare in bali. they have a property over there – full pool, private beach and all.” 

yuuji snorts. you roll your eyes. 

“a private beach?” nanami asks, eyes raised as he neatly picks the tomatoes out of his sandwich and hands them over to shoko at his side. 

“a private beach, indeed. it’s right on the coast, equipped with boats for excursions and stuff like that. the timeshare comes set with all of those.” he states. 

“excursions.” you repeat, giving yuuji a wide eyed look as he fights the urge to laugh. 

satoru looks over at you, a clear distaste in his eyes, as he leans back in his chair, legs spread wide. 

“what are you doing for your vacation, y/n?” satoru asks. 

“i’m going home with yuuji for a few days.” you state. 

“right. that sounds exciting!” he states. 

you can hear the message laced in that one too – a clear and pointed diss that he’s going to be spending his time at a resort with his skinny legged model girlfriend and you’re going to be going home with the one gay guy that works at your office and get drunk in the bar in your hometown. 

“which airline are you taking?” satoru asks. 

you grin. 

“delta.” 

“never been. i use my private jet to get around.” 

you give him an exaggerated gasp. 

“a private jet? tell me all about it.” 

you’ve goaded him right into your trap – as satoru then says the word private jet a total of seventeen times, defeating the measly eight times he said timeshare – and delight in the fact that you’ll at least get to have a nice night out. 

--

on the first tuesday back from break, freshly minted into five days of the new year, your co-worker katie shakes your shoulder aggressively ten minutes into your shift. you note that four days into the week, satoru has yet to return to the office and you hope that it’s not just good luck – that maybe he fell off of his duffy boat in bali and lost all his memory, rendered incapable of ever returning to the office again. 

you pray that your new boss isn’t as much of an asshole as him. 

you look up to find katie’s eyes wide, an excited smile on her face, as she leans down into your space. katie is one of the few friends that you have in the office, the third person who finds satoru and his antics irritating. 

“did you hear about gojo?” she asks. 

“every thing i know about that man is against my will.” you deadpan. 

she giggles, leaning down to whisper. 

“oh my fucking god. come here. you’re going to love this.” 

she stands up, scanning the room, as she gestures for you to stand up, the two of you making your way over to the break room. you can’t talk so freely about him when his little lackey’s are still lingering around, who will most definitely tell him that the two of you were gossipipng. 

and god knows that would only make his head bigger – knowing that everyone talked about him even when he wasn’t there. katie strides into the room, taking residence over the coffee machine and shooting nanami a polite smile, as she starts absentmindedly brewing a cup of coffee. 

“he’s losing it.” 

“who?” 

“satoru. he’s going fucking crazy apparently.” 

you snort. as if. satoru’s definition of going crazy would be mixing and matching different designer brands – like wearing a gucci watch with a louis vuitton tie. 

“turns out that his glamorous vacation to bali with that raggedy anne doll never happened. she had a whole meltdown and broke up with him after his credit card got declined at a restaurant they went to a few days before the trip.” 

you nearly choke on your spit. 

“what?” 

“apparently it was just a fluke, his card got momentarily blocked since he bought some new car. but she literally freaked out on him and left him stranded.” 

you snort. 

“there’s no way.” 

“she told him that it was unacceptable. that she had enough.” 

“well, i’ll say. she milked an entire designer wardrobe out of him.” you whisper, earning you a giggle from katie. 

“i know! anyways, sharon from hr told me that he’s taken the past four days off because he doesn’t have transportation – he fucking crashed the mercedes when he was driving home from the breakup.” 

“you’re fucking kidding. the g-wagon?” 

“i swear to god.” 

it feels a little mean, but you can’t help but delight in all of it. 

that despite it all, karma’s real. and it’s finally satoru fucking gojo’s turn. six months of patronizing comments and arrogance has finally caught up with him. his pretty girlfriend is just that – a pretty girl who wanted to do nothing with him. the car he brags about has been demolished and at the very least his larger than life ego has taken some type of hti. 

“oh, look, look.” 

katie shakes your arm, the two of you peering through the glass window to see satoru climb out of the bus – the same bus that you take to work everyday to save money – with what you can tell from here is an unironed suit and messy hair. his tie isn’t even done properly. 

and when he walks in, all you smell is the fancy cologne, with the faintest hints of tequila lingering behind. a smell that you only catch, because it’s one that you’ve drowned out on a bad day. 

you and yuuji pick horrendous words for lunch – yours being luxury brand and yuuji’s being private chef – and much to your dismay, he says neither. he actually doesn’t say anything. just sulks in the corner and disappears as soon as he finishes the tacos. 

you leave a mistake in your sales report. he doesn’t even catch it. 

--

“can you close out my tab, toji?” 

toji, the bartender who’s well aware of your antics – and perhaps even more upset than you are that your hoity toity boss didn’t play along well with your game today – gives him a nod, wiping his hands with the towel as he looks over at you. 

“you too, doll?” 

“no, i’ll have another before i head out.” you state. 

he gives you a nod, shuffling off to the side to get yuuji’s bill, as you slump down on the bar, yuuji mimicking your motions as you both lean your heads against one anothers. and he leaves just as fast, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head as you swirl the little ice cubes in your drink as you watch the bubbles fizz out. 

“rough day, y/n?” 

you shrug. 

“same old – can’t really complain. you?” 

toji smiles. 

“you see that guy over there, at the end of the bar? this is the third day that he’s drank up my entire supply of tequila.” 

you follow the line of his vision to see satoru – the satoru gojo slumming it in this rather disgusting bar, at least for his standards – his tie messy and the buttons of his shirt loosely undone sitting at the bar. 

“him?” 

“uh huh. broke up with like the only girl he’s ever dated, apparently. whoever she is, thank her fucking ass. he tips well over.” toji murmurs, giving you a smile as he rearranges the glasses. 

you give toji a weary smile, pressing the cash down on the bar, as you make your way over – noting that tequila smell is not masked at all this time – as you slide into the seat next to him, tapping on your shoulder. and he looks over, the rims of his eyes red and eyes squinting as he leans forward.  

“honey bee?” he slurs. 

the smell is overwhelming. 

“the one and only.” you respond. 

you reach forward, sliding the little shot glass out of his hand and placing it behind the bar. you turn back to find that his hair is messy, whatever mousse that he’s used to style it has clearly run fraught, and his cheeks flushed pink. 

“that’s enough for one night, gojo. let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“huh?” 

“home. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or a household?” 

he glares. 

“i know what a home is.” he deadpans. 

“perfect! let’s get you to yours.” you respond. 

satoru turns over to you, blue eyes weary, before he shrugs and slumps down onto the bar. you roll your eyes, scooting your chair closer as you pull up your phone. 

“i’ll do you a liberty. i know you’re probably morally opposed to taxis, so i’ll call you an uber. what’s your address?” 

satoru reaches up, his fingertips brushing your wrist, as he snatches your phone and places it flat on the bar. 

“no thank you.” 

“toji will kick you out, you know. and he doesn’t even know you like that, he’ll probably be really mean since he has a wife to get back home to and all.” 

satoru snorts. 

“then i’ll just go to another bar. i’m not going home.” 

you groan, noting that of course he was going to be stubborn about this too, and that whatever it was in your chest – pity, you suppose – was making you so insistent on making sure he didn’t die from alcohol poisoning tonight. 

“what’s so bad about your pretty penthouse?” you ask. 

he huffs a sigh. 

“there’s pictures of anne marie everywhere. and i fucking hate that bitch.” 

you snort, hearing such choice words about the barbie doll that you never had the pleasure of meeting, as you hop off the stool. you figured he was going to be more of the emotional drunk – crying and whining – rather than cursing her very existence. 

“okay, c’mon. i know somewhere you can go.” 

--

you feel bad for him as the night goes on. because he’s so drunk that he’s sobbing the entire drive back to your apartment, a horrendous mix of drunk ramblings about how honda civics are actually nicer than he expected and how he didn’t even know that this part of the city existed. your previous thoughts about emotional drunks were completely revoked. 

he leans his entire weight on you as you drag him into the elevator, plopping him down on the couch, as you task yourself with making him a green smoothie before letting him pass out into the abyss. it’ll help with the raging hangover you’re positive that he’s going to have tomorrow – and you hope that it means he’ll spare you some kindness the following morning, for saving him from his imminent death and all. 

you change into your comfy pajamas as the smoothie blends – a loose old dartmouth t-shirt and shorts – and pour it into a glass. you take a deep breath, bracing yourself, as you make your way back to the couch where satoru’s peeled his sport jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt nearly halfway down. you make it a point to not ogle his perfectly chiseled body. 

“alright, satoru. this will help with your hangover tomorrow, just drink it really fast because it tastes horrible.” you state. 

satoru looks over at you, completely unfazed by the green drink you hand him, and decides that he’s very shamelessly going to check you out. you can see it in his eyes – the way they follow your bare legs and your mismatched socks, before he looks back up at you and frowns. 

“am i that fucking pathetic that you’re helping me?” he asks. 

you grin. 

“yes.” you respond. 

satoru appreciates the honesty, gulping down the thick and tart smoothie that you made him, and slams the glass down on the coffee table after the fact. he wipes the residue on the back of his hand and shrinks into the couch – and you can’t help but shiver at how normal he looks. 

it’s the first time that you’ve understood it, why everyone thinks he’s so attractive. he has soft and full cheeks, striking blue eyes that go perfectly with his snow white hair. a few freckles dot his nose. 

“well, let’s hear it. make all the fun you fucking want.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes. 

“do you think i’m a bitch? i don’t kick people when they’re down. something you’re wholly unfamiliar with, i’m well aware.” 

“you have no problem doing it in the office.” he states. 

you scoff. 

“you always start it. you can’t really get mad when i start dishing it back. and i’m a little bit better than you. i won’t make comments about you now that pretty malibu barbie’s broken your heart now because i have a shred of decency.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’ll just do it tomorrow, when i’m keen enough to fight back .” he states. 

you sigh, leaning back on the couch, as you look up at the wallpaper pressed to the ceiling. it’s slightly peeling and you make a mental note to replace it when you get the time – which knowing you, you probably never will. 

he was impossible. 

when you look over at him, his eyes fixed to the peeling wallpaper too, but with glimmering tears sprinkling out of his eyes, though they’re slower and quieter than the sobs that he was heaving in the car. you wonder how much he really had to drink. 

“you need to replace your wallpaper. it’s coming off.” satoru seethes. 

“okay.” you respond. 

you look back at the ceiling. you could give him some advice too. 

“you should stop dating gold diggers.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes. 

“how was i supposed to know she was a gold digger?” he asks. 

you laugh. 

“it’s not normal to buy your girlfriend’s entire wardrobe. and her car. and her..”

“okay, okay, okay. it was a gift!” he defends. 

“you know, normal people get a giftcard and call it a day. or a candle from target.” you respond. 

there’s a whisper of a smile on satoru’s face as he sighs, before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“okay, well. i was trying to be sweet. her love language was giving gifts.” 

you snort. 

“shocker.” you deadpan. 

he reaches for the closest cushion, before smacking it straight across your chest. you’re quick to snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest, as the two of you stick back to the silence. 

“so what do i do?” he asks. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i dunno. never done a break up before. she was like my first girlfriend.” 

you would understand it. you would, you suppose, if that was something you could relate to. being so in love that you can’t be with anyone else. but then again, that lingering question would always come back to you – how could you know that this person was the one if you hadn’t tried anything else? 

in your very limited experience in your very short life, one thing always rang true – that the more time you took to learn, to experience, the better things seemed to get. you had a bunch of shit friends in high school and now you’re friends with yuuji. you had four different majors before you picked marketing because it let you be creative. you’ve dated four different guys but you’re still looking for the one. 

that’s why you didn’t understand it – how people could be so one and done, on something so serious. granted, that’s probably how they end up with gold diggers. 

“do you have anything of hers?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a strange look, before digging his hand in his pocket, and fishing out his wallet. he opens up the little zipper, yanking a little silver necklace out of the leather, and placing it into the palm of your hand. 

you feel your eyes widen a little bit, sparkling diamonds set in a little circular mother of pearl design, as you run your fingers over it. you shake yourself out of it, looking over at him resting his forearms against his knees, expectantly waiting for an answer. 

“real cute. go throw it out of my window.” you state, handing it back to him. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

“so a window is an opening in the wall or roof that…” you start. 

he lightly shoves you, before clutching the necklace in his fist. 

“i can’t throw it out. it’s fucking expensive.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“that means nothing to you. you’re not throwing it away because you still like raggedy anne.” 

“raggedy anne?” he asks. 

“yuuji, katie, and i call her that. red hair kind of set that one up for us but…” 

his eyes widen, as he leans forward. 

“do you guys not like her?” he asks. 

you shrug, as you stand up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you pull him closer to the window. the question catches you off guard – that he would care what the three of you would think. 

you peek your head out the window –  a few cars still milling on the street, the lights lazily changing, as he joins you and sticks his head out the window. 

“i can’t, honey bee.” he states. 

“yes, you can. it’s just a necklace.” 

“but what if she wants it back?” he asks. 

you fight the urge to slap him, as you stick your head back into the warmth of the apartment. he follows suit. 

“you would go back to her?” you ask. 

“i dunno. i –” 

“she would probably only want to get back together so she can get this fucking necklace back. because she’s a gold digger! screw her, surely you could do better than that!” 

satoru frowns, as he peaks out of the window again. and he makes the motion like he’s going to throw it before he looks back at you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. 

“it’s limited edition. maybe i should sell it and –” 

“no. you’re going to throw it out of the window right now, on the count of three.” 

“i really don’t want to. we should do something easier first.” he whines.

“one.” you state. 

he panics. surely he couldn’t be serious. 

“this can’t be how normal people cope. i could hit someone and give them a black eye..” 

“two.” you scold. 

“maybe i don’t want to be a normal person. i think that this is all –” 

“three.” 

you snatch the necklace out of his open palm and throw it straight out of the window. it makes a little clinking sound when it finally hits the bottom, the two of you poking your heads out of the window to now see it tangled in the sewage gutter that’s been dirtied by the recent rain. 

“you threw her necklace.” satoru states, in exasperation. 

“when normal people can’t do it on their own, a trusted friend does it to keep them in line.” you state, pushing back into the apartment and wiping your hands. 

satoru follows behind you, his steps featherlike, as you reach for his phone and start scrolling through the contacts. he’s leaning his head over your shoulder, eyes wide as you pull up anne marie’s contact and hold it out to him. 

“you’re going to make me block her too?” he asks. 

“no. you should call her once and say some mean stuff and then block her.” 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“mean stuff?” 

“call her. tell her she’s a gold digger. that you think her voice is annoying or something.” you add. 

satoru crosses his hands over his chest. 

“that’s not very mature.” 

“okay, but you’re back in dog years since you’ve been dating this girl forever. plus, i’d say it’s immature to be in a god knows how long relationship with someone just for their money. does she have any consideration for you?” 

satoru pauses, like he’s mulling the thought over. 

“if you don’t do it, you’re going to become even more weird and repressed than you are now.” you state 

“i’m not repressed!” he whines. 

“be immature! say a bunch of bullshit and then hang up! you’ll feel great – you…you’re supposed to do these types of things at least once. this is like a rite of passage.” 

satoru gives you a weary look as you lean forward, pressing the dial button. his eyes go wide as you start whispering, gesturing for him to do it. 

“hello? satoru?” anne marie says, voice confused.

there’s a considerable amount of sound behind the speaker, loud booming music making it very clear that raggedy anne is at the club while satoru’s moping it out in your apartment. 

“do it.” you whisper. 

“hi annie.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes at the nickname. 

“did you want something satoru?” she asks. 

“yeah. yeah, i just wanted to say…” satoru starts. 

“hold on one second.” she says. 

there’s a murmuring over the speaker, which she’s clearly covered, as you start whispering. tell her she’s annoying! she won’t even give you the time of day on a phone call!! 

“sorry, i’m back. i’m on a date right now so i was just trying to slip away.” 

satoru looks up at you. 

“you’re a bitch.” he murmurs. 

you fight the urge to laugh. 

“what did you say?” anne marie responds. 

“you’re a bitch.” he says louder. 

“good! say it again!” you whisper. 

satoru has the whisper of a smile on his face, the silent support goading him on, as he keeps talking. 

“you…you’re annoying. you have a really high pitched voice and every time you wake up in the morning, it gives me an ear splitting headache. and you…you look horrible in blue.”  

the choice of words is a little middle school, but you’ll give it to him. there was a first time for everything. 

“say something else.” you whisper. 

“is that a girl?” anne marie asks.

you both widen your eyes, before satoru quickly hangs up and start laughing. you note that for your standards that was horrendously tame, but the glint in his eyes seems to signify that it’s at least done something for him, because it’s the first time he properly smiles after entering your apartment. 

“how was that?” 

“fucking great! she sounded like an idiot!” he responds. 

“she sure did.” 

“now she’s probably wondering which girl i’m with and working herself over it.” he responds. 

you shake your head, pulling out the sheets to make the fold out bed for him properly, before you make your way back over to your own room. screaming middle school insults seems to sober him up enough, because he joins you in folding the sheets, a smile on his face. 

“have you done that before?” he asks. 

“done what?” you ask. 

“throw stuff out like that? call an ex-boyfriend?” 

you smile. 

“mhm. my first boyfriend irritated me so bad that i took everything he ever gave me – a dried up bouquet of flowers, a necklace, birthday cards and all that type of stuff – and threw it in a trash can outside of the bank i go to. and the calling, i did that once when my ex-boyfriend decided to go to san diego for a trip instead of meeting up with me. he made it pretty clear for a week that we were going to break up on that day and i had hyped myself up for it, just for him to not show up. so i got pissed and called him then and there.” you state. 

satoru’s floored.

“really? that’s such a dick move.” 

“i mean, s’pretty standard.” 

you’ve been on the carousel of assholes your entire life. but satoru shakes his head. 

“i can’t believe someone would even do that. that’s unusually cruel.” 

you forgot about that part. that with having experienced next to nothing, there’s a sense of naivety that comes with it too. 

or hope. whichever word speaks to you more – and at the current moment, it’s the latter, only because he seems so genuinely downtrodden by it – so genuinely believing that people are meant to be good and kind that he can’t fathom someone being mean and selfish just for the sake of it. 

you feel bad for him. 

“that it is. almost as cruel as dating someone just for their money.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“yeah.” 

“that’s kind of the cool part now.” you respond. 

“what is?” 

you sit down flat on the bed, the sheets nicely tucked in and folded, as you pat the little spot next to you on the bed. he obliges, his legs stretching out a considerable distance past yours, as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“this is going to sound really weird, but some day you’re going to agree with me.” you state. 

“okay.” 

“you’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few months. and then after the fact, when you’re really truly over it, you’re going to realize how real all of that was.” 

“meaning?” 

you shrug. 

“you’re going to mope and listen to sad songs for a while. and those songs are going to hit like they’ve never hit before, you’re going to realize people have been writing about this exact feeling that you’re experiencing for years. you’ve just gone through a shared experience that almost everyone has, no matter who they are, of getting your heart shattered.” 

satoru’s never thought of it that way. granted, he’s only been thinking about it for three days, but still. 

“then you’re going to be pissed. you’re going to do a bunch of stupid stuff and you might even regret it a little bit, but that’s part of learning more about yourself. maybe you really do like to have the last word. maybe you can’t fathom it at all, seeing that person ever again. either way, you’re going to figure out something about yourself and it’s going to make it all the more worth it. that’s part of this entire thing – experiencing something new, doing things three, four, five times and fucking up each time, just to…get something out of it. figure out whatever you’ve got going on in this thing.” you respond, flicking at his forehead. 

satoru rubs the spot, glaring at you, as you shoot him a smile. 

“there’s no point in doing anything once. you’re going to live a really long life, were you really only going to date and love one girl the entire time? i know you must have more to give than that.” you state. 

“do you not believe in marriage?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“who said i don’t believe in marriage?” 

“i mean, you seem like so…hippie dippie. i get what you’re saying and…and i’m even inclined to believe you’re right…but where does that stop? you can’t go on experiencing things and people and loving forever?” 

you smile. 

“why do you think so little of marriage? do you really think all of that stops once you enter a relationship with someone?” 

satoru freezes. 

“you keep doing that stuff, but with the person you know is meant for you. clearly your relationship with raggedy anne must have been really, very boring, because getting to do new things together is the fun part. i’d argue that it’s even the point of even being together – growing into something new.” 

satoru thinks you're wise. he thinks that he’s still leftover drunk and whatever it is you’re saying is coming out like poetry to him, that it’s singing to the tune that’s been going on in the background of his head for the past year, because really – his relationship was very boring. 

it had gotten monotonous. maybe he stayed because he didn’t know anything different. maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with stalking your every move – making sly comments, finding mistakes in your reports - just because you were always so keen to give him a different answer, one he couldn’t predict, the only constant thing about you being that you were always different. 

“your brain looks like it’s working overtime. you should go to bed.” you state. 

“okay, yeah.” 

satoru is still drunk. somewhat drunk. maybe a little. 

it’s why he leans forward, to press a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. he notes that your eyes go wide, as you immediately lift your hand to press your fingers to the skin, your cheeks flushing pink. 

“i was hoping you were going to give me like a thousand dollars or something as a gift for being nice to you.” 

satoru grins. because again, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all. 

“i could do that too.” he states. 

you roll your eyes, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek. 

“shut up.” 

“you’re pretty.” 

you’re taken aback by the comment, leaning back to cross your hands over your chest, as you eye him again. messy hair, swollen eyes, and pink lips from the drinks. 

“you’re not that bad either. you look way better like this.” 

“like this?” 

“you know…no fancy mousse. creepy perfectly tailored suit. having a proper meltdown and all. not to be rude, but your distress might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’re just jealous that i look so great all the time.” 

you shake your head. 

“not at all. i’m not into that at all – the whole perfect, rich boy thing.” 

satoru leans forward, eyes wide. 

“what are you into?” he asks. 

you smile. 

“did you really crash your car?” you ask. 

he groans. 

“you know about that?” 

you laugh. 

“i’m into that. you being a real person. i think you’re very funny when you’re drunk and you have the insults of a middle schooler. your hair looks very good when it’s all messed up like this and your very genuine enthusiasm and curiosity is very refreshing.” 

“yeah?” satoru whispers, a glint in his eyes. 

“mhm. don’t lose sleep over it, okay?” you respond, pinching his cheek as you shuffle your way over to your room. 

satoru watches as you retreat, your mismatched socks riding up to your ankles, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re right. if he had missed out. 

he hadn’t done anything. anything at all. you were three feet away – with an entire life he knew nothing about. the little scars on your arms were all a story, maybe from pulling something out of the stove too fast or falling on the pavement, and he can’t help but wonder what it all was. 

if he could still gain it all, after years of falling behind. 

satoru was always an overachiever. he was going to do this, he was going to do this now. 

satoru stands up, legs carrying him to the door of your bedroom, as he firmly knocks on the wood. he hears something that sounds like a thud, before you swing the door open, your eyes adjusting to the brightness outside to find him standing there. 

“it’s been one minute.” you deadpan. 

“can i sleep with you?” 

“i beg your pardon?” 

satoru sighs. 

“i’ve never slept in the same bed as someone.” 

“huh? you and raggedy anne never…” 

he shakes his head. 

“i mean, like once, but it was by accident. my penthouse has two beds and i don’t know what it feels like to…sleep next to someone.” 

you pause. and let your curiosity get the better of you. 

“are you a virgin?” 

“i am not a virgin.” 

you laugh at the irritation in his voice, before holding the door open wider and gesturing for him to walk into the room. 

“my bed isn’t that big.” you state. 

“that’s okay. just…please? let me?” 

you assume that saying no would be equivalent to kicking a dog while it’s down. it’s what you reason to yourself as you let him in, watching as he giggles at your stuffed animals and your glasses in the nightstand before he wraps his arms around you, his embrace warm around you. 

you swear he kisses your hairline. 

“did you just kiss me again?” 

“hey. i’m experiencing new things. i’ve got tons of places i have to kiss you on my list.” 

you snort.

“you’re bold.” you state. 

“and you’re really very sweet. i really like you, you know that?” 

you roll your eyes, before leaning back into his touch. it’s so innocent, so unlike any other guy you’ve talked too – so excited about kissing you on the top of your head. 

maybe it’s a little bit less pity than you anticipated. 

“do you ever think i could do that?” he asks. 

“do what?” 

“what you’re talking about? doing things four, five, six times…growing with someone and all that?” he asks. 

you sigh, before placing one of your hands over his. 

“yes, satoru. of course you can.” 

--

the following monday, you’re greeted by a little box on your desk. you open it up to a giftcard and four target candles, accompanied with a little note and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. 

honey bee,  heard normal people give gift cards and candles as gifts. but i’m indecisive so there’s four candles. also, they’re custom made and really expensive so don’t throw them out to sass me or make a point or something :O  satoru 

and you see him an hour later, a cup of the cheap office coffee in his hand, as he walks around talking to everyone in the office. his tie is a little bit loose and his hair is unstyled – and you think that it’s interesting, that he had taken what you had said to heart. and your previous thought stands. 

that he really does look better this way. 

he makes his way over after twenty minutes, leaning down and basically pressing his cheek to yours as he looks at your monitor. 

“did you check your math?” he asks. 

“do you want me to shove a pencil down your throat?” you ask. 

satoru laughs and you can’t help but smile. 

“did you like my gift?” 

“yes. but i have a few notes.” 

satoru stands up properly, leaning against your desk with his hands crossed over his chest, as he gestures for you to talk. 

“do tell.” 

“when i say candle, i really do mean one candle. and you know, i meant like an eight dollar candle. like the shit ones that give you allergies.” 

“candles can give you allergies?” 

“i get watery eyes when they aren’t soy or natural.” you state.

“noted. what else?” 

“when i say gift card, i mean twenty bucks. not two thousand dollars.” 

satoru whines. 

“so many rules. you’re so high maintenance, honey bee.” he whines, cupping your chin in his hand and squeezing once, before shuffling back to his office. 

--

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[ne-videl]

𝓾𝓷𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓮

♡

yandere Poseidon x fem reader

hide your tears and smile, little goddess.

yandere, unhealthy relationships, objectification, angst, power imbalance, depressed reader, forced marriage, poor english, sfw. first half – Poseidon's pov, then yours.

word count: ~1.5k

a/n: hii everyone!! how have you been? I have no ideas. like, absolutely. art block I guess?? anyway, have some of my old stuff. this is my least favorite yandere trope, but I love angst, so sometimes I go for it. by the way, when I first started it, I wanted to write a super idolized fluff but... well, we have what we have, or "why you don't want to marry Poseidon". hehe big booba man hehehe

the endless ocean is noisy outside the huge windows.

today, the sea sings a memorial service for you.

two people at the altar – the god and his bride.

Poseidon wants to smile rapaciously at her shaking figure.

she's afraid, poor thing. who wouldn't be afraid? he is, after all, the god of all gods, known for his cruel and merciless temper, the lord of the seas.

and she will become his lady very soon.

[name].

her name spreads like ambrosia across his lips.

even her name is so ordinary, so human, as, indeed, everything else about his charming wife.

she was a priestess in Poseidon's temple: in his own, so there's nothing wrong in taking what was already his. he noticed her by accident.

[name] was sitting hunched over, touching some bright flowers with her bruised palms. he liked to visit this temple sometimes: it was quiet and peaceful in the atrium, noisy humans did not flicker before his eyes.

little human girl did not even flinch when he silently stood next to her, only continued to look with big and very sad eyes at the colorful flower bed.

at their second meeting, she greeted him.

at the third time, she dared to start an idle conversation.

the fourth, and she talked about life in the temple.

at the fifth time she asked why he was coming here.

Poseidon always stood silently next to her, looming over her like a suffocating shadow. he was amused by her chattering, and, unexpectedly for himself, found her presence soothing, pleasant, unlike other humans, the mere sight of whom made the eye of the deity twitch.

life was bad for her in the temple.

[name] told him, she was sent to this place when she was still a girl, and she spent her whole life by the cold blue sea.

new head of the temple did not like her, saying that there was nothing for women to do here. that she should get married, but who needs her?

Poseidon saw the marks of beatings on her girlish body.

so he took her with him. she served in temple made in his name, spent her short life at his domain – it is quite natural that she will become his wife.

of course, it is unheard of that god marries a human – but does he really need someone's approval?

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Hades advised to propose to her. it's the way humans do it.

Poseidon did not ask for her consent, for him it was just a formality: of course she would say yes, he was sure.

he will dress her in the finest silks, she will own the most beautiful jewels on all Olympus, the sea itself would be at her feet – how could a human girl want more?

smile spreads across his face as he sees her eyes widen, as she begins to shake – no doubt, from embarrassment – and his palm rests protectively on top of her head.

of course she agreed, how could it be any other way?

his fiancee is incredibly sweet. but weak and naive at the same time, like the rest of the human race. but he will protect her, give her a better life.

she must be very grateful to him.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Poseidon remembers their wedding well, how [name] looked in amazement at the beauty of Atlantis, at the greatness of his seas.

in white robes, with downcast eyes, she swore an oath binding her life forever to a cruel deity, accompanied by singing of nymphs and the sound of the ocean.

she was now a goddess herself, whether she wanted to or not. of course, she wanted to, it couldn't be any other way. she loves him.

and, as the new lady of the seas, she will spend her now eternal life by his side. Poseidon will make sure of this no matter what.

she fearfully puts her small palm into his, while he, her husband, leads her through the corridors of the palace. [name] is silent. probably still embarrassed.

from now on, she will be the most beautiful ornament of his possessions, the shining pearl of Atlantis – his precious property, belonging only to him. and the sparkling ring on her tiny finger was proof.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

"wife." – [name] immediately turns around, smiles, comes closer.

his hand rests on her waist, his grip firm, possessively strong. she doesn't notice.

or pretends not to notice.

over time, [name] got used to him, cheered up, blossomed. it couldn't have been any other way, right?

songs, dances appeared, bright flowers and ringing laughter in the cold and empty corridors.

she became friends with his brothers, was able to conquer the proud Aphrodite, whom she now called her friend with visible joy.

Poseidon is pleased to consider himself a good husband.

he loves to see his wife smiling, laughing.

even if it's not just with him. it's better to be patient for a while, he thinks, than to lose her cheerful chatting for the whole evening.

though, she's cute even when she's angry.

Poseidon was gentle with her. allowed her much, much more than others, even spoiled her. [name] was his wife, after all, so he had to make sure she looked good enough.

he's a good husband.

[name] never contradicted him, never raised her adorable voice at him, never was not too selfish.

although deep down, he would like her to become more spoiled. so that, like him, she would not tolerate anyone's presence, except, of course, her husband.

to think of it, why would she need anyone besides him? she can be quite happy within the walls of the palace.

Poseidon dismissed these thoughts from himself – for some reason, his wife liked to be in society, even if without him.

well, he's willing to put up with her quirks as long as she knows who should come first for her.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

the outfit given by Aphrodite was very becoming to his spouse. Poseidon loved to see her beautiful.

in luxurious clothes, undoubtedly worthy of the wife of a sea god, or in the warm candlelight in the night darkness of their shared bedroom, happy or shedding tears, [name] was equally beautiful.

the precious treasure of Atlantis.

he was never moved by her tears – even if she was crying, of course she loved him anyway. [name] is happy. so why make a big deal about it?

none of the pathetic mortals could take care of her like he did. none of them would love her the way he does.

"you are my wife. you're not going anywhere."

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you didn't tell anyone about your sorrow: didn't share it with anyone – neither with Aphrodite, nor with the nymphs and mermaids, your husband's brothers remained in the dark too.

a little human girl shedding tears by the huge waves.

an unhappy goddess, forever imprisoned in an cold palace, surrounded by hypocritical deities, in the iron grip of an unloved husband, eaten alive by sadness and suffocating hopelessness of her position.

none of them saw you as an equal: you were only a curious little thing, a way to dispel eternal divine boredom, and the Olympians, of course, did not bother to hide this fact.

you didn't know what your husband found in you, and you didn't want to. sometimes you wished that back then, many, many years ago, he would have left you in that temple, or that you would run from the garden in terror, or anything. anything.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you knew your place well.

by his side, always, no matter what. from the very day when you stood at the altar and did not dare to raise your eyes to your fiance, you were no longer anything human.

from that moment, you became an ornament, a property, a beautiful doll. nothing more.

Poseidon wanted to see you happy – and you smiled, laughed, you did everything that you thought he would like.

are you satisfied? please tell me you're happy. I'm scared.

scared.

your husband allowed you the freedom he thought his property could have, and you greedily soaked up every drop of it.

you're lucky, you told yourself, you're very, very lucky. It could have been worse. any other girl would give her soul to be in your place, – repeated, looking at your own reflection in the cold glitter of jewelry.

you must be like it yourself. a thing. a thing, of course, must have an owner, and a thing cannot be sad.

Poseidon's cold hand rests on your waist, pulls you into his arms, and you do not allow yourself to resist: you exhale into his neck, placing your small palms on his broad back.

your spouse is purring contentedly.

he's happy. you can relax a little.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

sea nymphs comb your hair, weave pearls into thin braids, fold strands into an intricate hairstyle.

"what's bothering you, madam?" – the lady of the seas does not bother to answer, your dead calm gaze wanders over the high ceilings, walls and huge windows of your chambers.

a common topic of idle conversation among the Olympians was Poseidon's boundless adoration for his charming wife. cruel god who fell in love with a mere mortal – what a beautiful story.

even the ocean itself seemed to dote on you. whenever the warm waves caressed your feet on the coast, your dried-up insides were filled with melancholy. your body was here, in Atlantis, which became a prison for you, and your soul, which remained to pain in your chest human, floated far away. your tired mind wandered, and you are a little girl again, and once again the bright sun warms your childishly plump cheeks, and in your hands are colorful flowers, and the kind grandpa from the temple strokes your head.

Poseidon will be coming for you soon – as always.

as always, you will talk about something, laugh, sitting on his lap in the throne room. or in one of the living rooms, or in the bedroom – you were not allowed to leave him without permission.

you flinched when you felt his strong hand on your shoulder.

Poseidon smirked.

his wife is not going anywhere. she will stay with him.

forever.

not the best one of my works but uh well I felt like posting something

maaybe will be deleted since it doesn't look as good as I thought it would be in english

btw thinking about writing tartaglia fic soo the next one is probably gonna be genshin man again

thanks for reading!!

[stevie-petey]

episode seven: the mind flayer

Steve, who is leaning next to Dustin and you, snaps his finger. “Like the Germans?” “Uh… The Nazis?” Your brother looks at you, silently urging you to shut the teen up, and you pinch your nose again and sigh. “Oh, buddy.” You loop your arm through his and pat Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s just listen, okay?”

Summary: jonathan is back and has a lot of questions and you have even more for him, the gang gets back together and ties will to a chair, you tell the kid a story to distract him from his demons, steve is a confused mess but at least youre with him, and someone makes a surprise appearance (her name rhymes with shell).

Rating: general, cursing

Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, talk of death and grief, violence and blood

Words: 12.1k

Before you swing in: long time no see ! lots has happened, and this chapter was a pain for so many reasons, but shes here and i love her and i so sincerely hope yall enjoy :)

-

Stumbling blindly through dark woods while holding your bloodied ribcage has never been your favorite activity. Neither is following after a bunch of Demodogs to probably once again sacrifice your life to save others, yet here you are.

Steve has a gentle hand resting on the small of your back as he helps you navigate the woods. Dustin is to your left, scanning for anything that could possibly trip you as the three of you walk in a line. Lucas and Max follow, both of whom watch you with weary eyes.

Sure, you probably don’t look too good, but honestly. You’ve been objectively worse.

“You’re positive that was Dart?” Lucas asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Dustin sighs next to you, kicking at a twig in your way. “He had the same exact yellow pattern on his butt.”

“Why do you have his butt memorized?” You mumble under your breath, which Steve chuckles at.

Max shakes her head. “But he was tiny two days ago.”

“Well, he’s molted three times already.” Dustin kicks at another twig, this time with more anger behind it. He’s on edge, and you know he’s worried that somehow Lucas will figure out that he kept Dart all this time.

You’d help the kid, but he dug his own grave.

“Malted?” Steve asks, looking over to you to see if you’re hearing what he’s hearing.

“No, buddy.” You shake your head at him, slightly endeared by the confusion on his face.

“Molted,” your brother clarifies. “Shed his skin to make room for growth, like hornworms.”

“I don’t think Steve knows what hornworms are, Dustin.”

The boy sighs, knowing you’re right, and continues to walk.

Max, however, won’t let the topic go. “When’s he gonna molt again?”

“It's gotta be soon.” Dustin responds, now looking around tiredly. He doesn’t have to tell you, but you saw how quickly Dart grew overnight; he’s grown at an alarming rate. “When he does he’ll be fully grown, or close to it.”

“And so will his friends,” you say grimly.

It’s quiet for a moment after that, your words unnerving the group. Everyone but Max had to deal with a fully grown Demogorgon last year, and none of you have forgotten how terrifying it had been. You all still have scars from it, both metaphorically and physically.

After a minute or so, Steve tries to lighten up the situation. “Well, at least there isn’t another cat for them to eat–”

“Steve–” But you’re too late, Lucas has already picked up on what the teen is saying.

The boy shoves past you and whips around to face Dustin, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “Wait, a cat? Dart ate a cat?”

“No, what? No!” Your brother is a terrible liar.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews–” Your elbow digs into Steve’s side, causing him to hunch over and wheeze. “Shit.”

You force Steve’s head up so that he looks at you while you forcefully whisper, “Stop. Talking.”

“Mews? Who’s Mews?”

You turn to Max. “It’s nothing–”

“It’s their cat,” Steve wheezes out, still not at all understanding the situation.

“Steve!” You and Dustin screech at the same time. God, maybe it does make sense that he’s barely graduating high school.

“I knew it! You kept him!” Lucas shouts at Dustin, before turning to you with hurt in his eyes. “And you let him hide it from the party?”

You wince. “I had a suspicion, but by the time I found out it had already been too late and–”

“He missed me. He wanted to come home… and Y/N just happened to not know about it for a while.” Dustin interrupts, trying to appease his friend, but it doesn’t work.

“Bullshit!”

“I didn’t know he was a Demogorgon, okay?”

“Oh, so now you admit it?”

You try to intervene, you’ve always hated when the boys fight. “Listen, what’s done is done and it’s too late to be angry now.”

Lucas scoffs. “I crawled into a dumpster to find Dart!”

“And that was a conscious decision that you made–”

“Guys!” Max steps in. “Who cares? We have to go.”

“I care!” Lucas faces Dustin again. “You put the party in jeopardy! You broke the rule of law!”

“So did you!” You’ve never heard anger like this come out from Dustin. It isn’t an anger that spills over from a regular argument. Your eyes flicker to Max and you know that the anger is one that stems from hurt.

You remember how excited Dustin had been to tell you about his crush on the girl. Now, after she came here with Lucas, you fear you may have to have a code blue soon with your brother about young love and heartbreak. Unrequited crushes suck.

The kids all begin to scream at one another and you’re too tired to try and intervene again. Technically, they’re all right. Lucas shouldn’t have told Max everything, Dustin shouldn’t have hid Dart, and both boys shouldn’t continuously treat Max like some weird outsider.

As they argue, Steve rubs small circles in your back, sensing how exhausted you are. While your bleeding may have stopped, you still feel woozy from the blood loss and could really go for some water and food right now.

“They’ll figure it out,” he assures you, breath warm against your ear, and all you can do is sigh.

You’re about to tell Steve that maybe you should all walk back home, it’s late and the kids are all too mad at one another to be of any help, but then you hear screeching coming from the distance.

You both freeze.

Slowly, the two of you step away from the kids to follow after the sound. They’re too busy arguing to notice, but the screeching continues to grow louder and you share a look with Steve. This isn’t good.

“Hey guys?” Steve calls towards the kids, hand never leaving your back.

The kids continue to argue, ignoring him, and you bring your fingers to your lips and let out a high pitched whistle. “Idiots!” Lucas, Dustin, and Max all go quiet, looking over at you. More screeches fill the silence, and you tilt your head towards the sound. “Hear that? Shall we continue to fight or are we done here?”

Steve flashes his light towards the source of the sound and beckons for the kids to follow. You stay behind, both of you silently agreeing that he’ll lead and you’ll make sure everyone is safe. Lucas and Dustin immediately follow, but Max lingers.

“Hey, you comin’?” You ask, motioning towards where the boys have all gone.

“Why are we headed towards the sound?”

“Because it’s what we do,” you shrug. “Welcome to the party.”

Max blinks at you, in disbelief, and it breaks your heart that she has to come to terms with all of this. Taking the risk, you reach towards her hand, offering her time to pull away, but she doesn’t. She lets you grab her hand and you squeeze it, giving her a soft smile. “I’m right here.”

The girl exhales, still guarded, yet she finally nods at your words. She seems to believe you, which you’re thankful for, and together the two of you follow after the others. The five of you approach the overlook, all of Hawkins visible. There’s a layer of thick fog covering the town, the screeches ominous as the town is blanketed.

“I don’t see him,” Dustin mumbles next to you, though he slowly links his fingers through yours, quietly confessing to you that he’s scared.

You squeeze his hand. “Lucas, do you think your binoculars can see that far?”

The boy brings them up to his eyes, and within a few seconds he seems to have spotted the source. He swallows, lowers the binoculars, and says, “It’s the lab.”

“They’re going back home.” You whisper, feeling defeated more than anything else. It somehow always comes back to that fucking lab. Will’s episodes, Mike’s silence, Nancy and Jonathan taking the burden of bringing the entire lab down themselves.

You now understand the immense anger Nancy felt that day during lunch, when you had all been at Jonathan’s car and she created her genius plan. How badly she wanted to make the assholes pay for what they did to Hawkins. To Will. To Barb. To sweet El.

“We have to follow.” You say, an edge to your voice. Your side sears with pain, your ankle sending phantom pains up your leg. Dustin clings onto your hand like his life depends on it. You’re sick of suffering the consequences that Hawkin’s Lab has brought upon itself.

You begin to walk down the overlook, steps slow and careful, and while the kids glance uncertainly at one another, Steve doesn’t hesitate to follow after you. –

As you approach the gate to the lab, you see a car with headlights parked in front of it. Two figures stand at the edge of the forest line, watching.

Other people are here.

You bring your knives out and flick the handle so that the blades extend. Steve stands next to you, his own bat raised after seeing your fear, and you nod at one another to slowly begin approaching.

“Hello?” One of the figures shouts, their voice oddly familiar.

You stop.

“Who’s there?” The voice shouts again, and this time you recognize it.

It’s Jonathan.

Immediately you start to run, damning the pain in your side, and when you break through the treeline and see Jonathan standing there with Nancy, both of them safe and sound, you start to run even faster.

When Jonathan sees that it’s you, he starts to run as well and within seconds the two of you are a tangle of arms and limbs. He hugs you fiercely, his cologne familiar and you hadn’t known how homesick you were until you felt his arms around you.

“Bug,” Jonathan exhales with relief, squeezing you even tighter. He brings a hand to your hair and cradles your head, his fingers sure and strong and familiar as always. You bury your face in his neck, feeling all the pain and exhaustion from today begin to dissipate.

Nancy walks over and lays a hand on your arm as you’re still wrapped around Jonathan. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you guys are okay,” you sniff, you’re not sure why you’re crying. “God, I’ve had the weirdest two days of my life–”

“Steve?” Jonathan and Nancy suddenly say at the same time.

You pull away from your friend and let out a chuckle. Steve and the kids have now joined, confusion on all of their faces. “Like I said, it’s been a weird few days.”

“Nancy?” Steve walks over, his eyes going back and forth between you and the girl. He feels an overwhelming mixture of emotions overtake him. He notices the way Jonathan’s arm is still wrapped around you as you stand close to his side, and he notices the way Nancy avoids his eyes. Something burns within his chest.

“Jonathan?” Dustin narrows his eyes at the boy, and you can’t help but laugh.

Jonathan and Nancy approach the others and you slowly follow, taking your time. Nancy reaches Steve first. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Steve retorts.

“We’re looking for Mike and Will.”

You grab Nancy’s jacket. “Are they okay? Did something happen?”

“They’re not in there, are they?” Dustin motions towards the lab, fear in his voice.

Nancy lowers her voice. “We’re not sure.”

Jonathan senses there’s something else going on. “Why?”

Right on cue, the Demodogs begin to screech from the lab. Next to you, you feel Jonathan stiffen with fear. You know, without having to ask, that his family is stuck inside the lab. Suddenly the gash in your side stings in pain and you clutch at it and let out a wince. Hearing this, Jonathan finally realizes that you’re covered in blood.

“Oh my god,” his hands fall to your side as he scans for any other injuries. “You’re bleeding, oh my god.”

“I’m okay–”

“Fuck, bug. It looks bad–”

“Had a minor setback, we’re all good now though.”

Jonathan shakes his head at you, his eyes dripping with guilt; you know he’s already placed the blame upon himself long before he speaks. “I should’ve been there. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t call, and then Nance and I came back to my home being wrecked and you weren’t at your place and I was worried sick and thought you were dead–”

You grab his hands, forcing him to slow down and breathe. “Hey, look at me.” Slowly, his eyes meet yours. “I’m okay, bee. I had to protect the kids, and I had Steve. I’m right here.”

Jonathan looks over at Steve, who is stuck in some argument between Nancy and the kids, and he lets out a tired laugh. He can’t believe that he’s here right now, tired and delirious from a long trip with Nancy as you hold his hands, your own blood covering them, while Steve spares you worried glances. “Friends with him again, then?”

“It was inevitable.” You sigh, knowing how heavy your words are. Truly, it was inevitable. He’s too much like you, your wounds a matching pair, and you never stood a chance against the inevitability. He’s an extension of you now, you can no longer deny this.

“Are you really okay, though?” Jonathan asks you, still concerned about how much blood is on you. He feels this tug within him, pulling at his chest to encase you within his arms and to never, ever let you out of his sight again.

There’s still a slight limp in your step that Jonathan sees when he thinks you aren’t looking, the scar on your upper arm is harsh against the smooth skin he’s come to memorize, disrupting the topography of your body. Now, you’ve once again gotten hurt because of him. Your favorite cardigan is ripped and bloodied and Jonathan knows it’s one more scar he’s inexplicably given you.

The scars may fade, but he knows he’ll never be able to forgive himself. It’s the same heavy weight you feel within yourself over Will’s disappearance.

You notice that Jonathan’s eyes have glazed over in despair and you kiss his knuckles, bringing him back to you. “I promise I am.”

He nods, though he still looks unsure, but he pulls you in again for another hug. For a moment, everything is still. It reminds you of when you had been in Jonathan’s car last Christmas as he drove you home, the memories between you had gone still. You close your eyes, like you had last year, and for a moment nothing has changed.

“The power’s back!” Nancy exclaims, effectively shutting everyone up about who has seen what when.

You pull away from Jonathan. The urgence in her voice reminds you that everything has changed. There’s a scar on your upper arm that now has a matching scar on your ribcage. Jonathan has bags underneath his eyes that seem like they'll never go away.

You look away from him and look over at the kids and see, in Dustin’s and Lucas’ faces, the familiar fear and acceptance that they’re inevitably in danger. Steve catches your eye and he nods, indicating that whatever happens next, he’s ready whenever you are.

The seven of you quickly make your way back towards the lab’s gate, and Jonathan is the first to get there with you following close behind. The two of you stand in the patrol panel, Jonathan aggressively hitting the button designated for opening the gate, but nothing seems to be happening.

Suddenly Dustin barges in, roughly shoving past Jonathan and mumbling a soft sorry to you.

“Let me try.” Jonathan doesn’t move, which only aggravates your brother further and he flings the teen back. “Let me try, Jonathan!”

Jonathan looks at you incredulously, still having no idea why Dustin seems to suddenly hate him, and you stifle a laugh as you watch the boy repeatedly hit the button while nothing happens.

“Son of a bitch!” Dustin groans, still trying and failing to open the gate.

“Move over,” you shoulder past the kid and start pressing the button yourself. “It probably just doesn’t like you guys.”

Dustin and Jonathan both scoff at you, but you ignore them as you continue to press the button. You were mostly doing it to distract yourself, give your anxious mind something to do, but after a simple few taps, the gates unlock.

You cheer, immensely happy with yourself. “I did it! You guys just really do just suck!”

Jonathan shakes his head at you but offers his hand for you to high five, which you gladly do. As for your brother, he sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation. You ignore the kid and follow Jonathan outside to join the others.

Once the gates have fully opened, you, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve all begin speaking at once.

“I’ll go,” you all say in unison.

The kids all stare at one another, wondering how this will go. It didn’t escape their notice that Jonathan and Nancy were alone together, and that Steve’s worry over you has strings attached to unspoken truths.

They may be young, but they can sense the tension between you and the teens pretty easily.

“No, someone has to stay with the kids.” Nancy reasons, looking over at Jonathan to back her up, and his eyes draw to hers naturally.

You see this, and you wonder when they became such a cohesive team.

“Bug, what are you thinking?” He asks, knowing that ultimately it’s your call. When it comes to the kids, you’re the one to turn to.

You bite your lip, unsure. Max, Lucas, and Dustin all stare at you, and you know the two boys want you to stay with them. They’ve been through hell tonight, so have you, but then you think about whatever has happened in the lab to Will and Mike.

Sighing, you walk over to Jonathan. “Nance is right. I’ll stay behind with Steve while you and her drive to the lab. They’ll need all the help they can get, and I’m currently in no condition to fight.”

Jonathan’s eyes once again fall to your wrapped side, uncertain if you’ll be safe enough out here. “You sure?”

“I’m sure, bee.” You kiss his cheek, fucking terrified something will go wrong. The lab is crawling with Demodogs. “Promise you’ll be careful?”

“Always,” he cups your face and brings his forehead to yours. “I’ll come back.”

You relish in the warmth and let out a shaky exhale. “Go get Will.”

The moment between you two is intimate; everyone around you looks away. Nancy stares down at her feet while Steve clenches his jaw.

After a few more seconds, you finally release yourself from Jonathan’s hold and turn towards Nancy. “That goes for you as well, Wheeler. Stay safe.”

She nods at you, spares Steve one last glance, and then follows after Jonathan into the car. Within seconds, they speed off down the road, towards Hawkin’s Lab as more Demodogs screech in the distance.

“Well that was awkward.” Max breaks the silence. “Sensing there’s a lot of history there.”

You snort, admiring the girl’s wit, and tiredly lean against the gate’s post. “Still have a lot to catch up on, Max.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, he just gently leans next to you against his own post and flips his flashlight in his hand.

Dustin starts to pace while Lucas stares at the sky, as if willing away every problem from the day, which you want to do yourself. However, your best friend is currently very close to a death lab that Will and Mike are inexplicably trapped in.

You try to calm your breathing, knowing it’s no use getting yourself worked up, but you’re terrified. Steve sees your unease and does his best to comfort you. “Hey, they’ll be okay. Jonathan is a smart guy and Nancy is tough as hell.”

Hearing Nancy’s name coming out of his mouth makes you realize that you haven’t asked him how he’s feeling about all of this, which makes you feel even shittier. He confessed to you last night how he still loves her, and here you are, worried about your friend who the guy’s ex girlfriend showed up with.

“Are you okay?” You ask him softly, worried you’ll scare him away.

Steve doesn’t ask what you mean; he knows and lets out a dry laugh. “Not the most ideal situation.”

You’re about to say more, but something seems to catch Max’s attention. “Guys?”

You look towards where she’s pointing and you hear the faint sounds of tires squealing against concrete. The same sound Billy’s car had made in the school parking lot days ago. As you piece this together, headlights light up the gate and the honking starts.

Immediately you and Steve rush over to the kids and push them away, narrowly avoiding being hit. As soon as the road is cleared, Hopper’s familiar truck brakes in front of you.

“Let’s go,” the man gruffs out, and you’ve never been happier to see that obnoxious cop’s face.

Steve runs over to the passenger door and holds it open while you usher the kids to go inside. “Come on, let’s go! Go, go, go!”

One by one you get the kids seated in the truck, and once you and Steve make sure they’re in safely, he motions for you to go next before he climbs inside and slams the door shut. You end up squished up front, in between Hopper and Steve.

“Drive!” You scream, and Hopper doesn’t need to be told twice before he stomps on the gas and follows after Jonathan’s car.

It’s silent for a few minutes as everyone steadies their breathing, processing what’s just happened. You rub at your side, the rough movements from earlier having upset the wound. Hopper notices this and raises an eyebrow at you. “Lose a fight?”

“Mhm,” you see that he’s dressed in hospital scrubs and raise your own eyebrows. “Got checked into a psych ward?”

Hopper lets out a short laugh and you can see the exhaustion behind his eyes, but he plays along and you’re grateful for it. “Yeah, figured it was time.”

–

The Byers’ home is a disaster when you walk in. The walls are covered with pictures drawn by Will, a map that he somehow came to piece together, of an entire underground tunnel system that the Demodogs now reside in.

You sit on the ground next to Will, who has been placed on the couch while he’s still unconscious, and you hold his cold, limp hand as Jonathan kneels next to the boy and strokes his hair.

“I’m sorry, bud.” He whispers, voice breaking. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been there.”

You grab Jonathan’s own hand. “He wouldn’t blame you. You couldn’t have known.”

Nancy places a hand on his shoulder as she watches over him, a certain concern in her eyes that you’ve never quite seen before. She’s always been the most guarded out of the three of you, but now she’s rubbing comforting circles into Jonathan’s back; you’ve never seen her so open before, so affectionate with someone.

You noticed how much closer they seemed earlier at the lab, how the tension between them now appears to be gone. You know that something happened on their spy adventure, you know they’d been alone together, probably gotten a motel room, even. Your stomach twists at the thought, but Will’s cold hand is a reminder that none of that matters right now. Like last year, he comes first.

“We’ll figure it out, bee. We always do.” You kiss Jonathan’s cheek, not knowing how many more times you’ll be able to do so, and you try to memorize how his face feels pressed against yours, the way your nose buries into his skin and the way he leans into the kiss each and every time.

Jonathan sniffles and thanks you, pulling you into his side as he continues to stroke Will’s hair. Nancy remains standing, and when you look up to offer her to sit next to you, you finally notice Steve standing in the corner, watching.

He’s holding himself as he watches the three of you and, despite how he tries to hide it, you see Steve wipe at his nose and blink away tears; he’s never looked so small before, and your heart breaks for him as he walks out of the room.

You excuse yourself to follow after him, bypassing Hopper who is angrily trying to contact some government people to alert them about Hawkin’s Lab.

Steve walks into the kitchen and faces the drawings on the wall, his back turned away from everyone in a pathetic attempt to gain some privacy. Slowly, you approach him and stand to his left. You know he senses your presence, but he continues to stare straight ahead.

“You want to talk about it?” You ask, voice low so no one else in the kitchen can hear.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head, it’s all of a response he can give you right now. He’s worried that if he tries to speak, he’ll start crying. His worst fear has come true. He’s been replaced.

Tentatively, you grab his hand and bring your lips to his ear. “Can I?”

You feel Steve shiver, his breath is shaky, and though he isn’t quite sure what you’re asking him, he nods anyways.

He will always say yes to you.

The moment Steve nods, you tug at the hand you’re holding and bring his arms around you; he practically melts in your arms. Releasing another shaky breath, he buries his face in your hair and inhales your perfume as if gasping for air. He brings a hand to your hair as he cradles the back of your head, bringing you even closer together.

For the first time in Steve’s life, his mind goes quiet.

You’re aware of everyone else in the room, you know you’ll have to deal with the kids’ nosy questions later, but you don’t care. Steve needs you, and the way he’s clinging onto you as you hug tells you everything you need to know.

He’s barely holding it together, so you discretely shift so that the others can’t see as you attempt to piece him back together with your arms tightening around him and your fingers intertwining through his hair as well.

Your ribs scream in protest as you lean against the boy, but the pain reassures you that you are alive and sharing this pain with someone you’ve come to care deeply about.

“I’m here,” you whisper, feeling Steve’s body shake at the reassurance. “It’s just you and me right now, okay?”

He nods, still too scared to speak. The two of you remain interlocked in the kitchen you grew up in, surrounded by Will’s drawings and memories of early morning breakfasts with Jonathan, and Dustin watches from the kitchen table.

Lucas watches as well and shares a glance with your brother, who can only shake his head and sigh. He knows, sooner or later, that he’ll have to ask you about Steve, he’s never seen you like this before, not even with Jonathan, but for now he leaves you both alone.

When Hopper angrily hangs up the phone, Dustin uses it as an opportunity to distract himself. “They didn’t believe you, did they?”

“We’ll see,” Hopper sighs, tired.

“‘We’ll see’? We can’t just sit here while those things are loose!” Mike exclaims, his foot tapping nervously underneath the table.

The chief sighs again, now spotting you and Steve still holding each other in the corner. “Hey, Henderson and pretty boy, get a room. Mike, we stay here and we wait for help.”

Hearing your name, you finally break apart from Steve and send Hopper an embarrassed glare, clearing your throat. Steve clears his throat as well and takes several steps away from you. His cheeks flaming red.

“Did he call me pretty boy?” Steve whispers to you, but you shush him, instead walking over to Mike, who has now started to tap his foot even more aggressively.

Standing behind the boy, you rub his shoulder, unsure how to help the boy. You know he’s worried about Will and he’s always hated waiting almost as much as you do. At your touch, Mike turns his head to look up at you, and the fire that’s always been in his eyes has died.

You look around the table, it’s quiet. Max is playing with her fingernails, Lucas is staring at the table with tears in his eyes, and Dustin is watching as you try to comfort Mike. All the kids are in their own state of shock and grief. They’re too young for all of this.

Meanwhile, Steve hangs back by the corner, knowing that this is what you do best: you take care of people. He watches as you furrow your brows for a second, a slight quirk he’s picked up about you, and slowly he sees you piece together how to help the kids you love so dearly.

You start with leaning against the table, wedged between Dustin and Mike, and somehow–Steve has always wondered how you do this–you light up the cold room with warmth.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of this by yourself,” you stroke Mike’s hair, it’s rare that you get to do this, but he remains numb to your touch. “Had I known any of this would happen, I would’ve made you more fudge brownies.”

Though it’s small, almost imperceptible, Mike lets out a tiny huff, a placeholder of a laugh.

At least it’s a start.

You whisper more words to him as Dustin leans against your back, grounded by your presence, and Max watches this with interested yet envious eyes. She still has yet to grow used to your kindness, to the love you share with the boys: a sibling relationship she’s never had before.

As you’re comforting Mike, his eyes wander towards the living room and suddenly he gets up. You watch, curious as to what he’s doing, as he grabs a cube and delicately rolls it around in his hand.

“Did you guys know that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV?”

At the mention of Bob’s name, you bring Dustin closer to you. With everything that’s happened tonight, the reminder of the man’s death fills you with raw, unfiltered grief. When you arrived at the Byers home and found a distraught Joyce, you knew.

Bob is dead, and he has taken all the kindness he shared with you. He was a sweet man, one who took you in without any question as soon as he started dating Joyce, a man who offered you rides to work and encouraged you to stop by his own job any time. The same man who brought the woman who is like a second mother to you, back to life.

Your heart breaks for Joyce, for Will and Jonathan and all the other kids.

Bob Newby truly was a superhero, everyone he ever interacted with came out a better person because of it. He never left anyone without a smile on their face, and now he’s gone.

Once you’ve managed to swallow down your grief, you voice from the kitchen, “I didn’t know that.”

Mike turns to you. “He petitioned the school to start it and everything, and then he had a fund-raiser for equipment. Mr. Clark learned everything from him.” There’s light in his voice as he approaches the table again, a spark as if the fire is trying to relight itself. “Pretty awesome, right?”

Dustin and Lucas nod, faint smiles on their own faces. “Yeah.”

Mike sets the cube down. “We can’t let him die in vain.”

You agree with him, but how could you possibly accomplish something like that>

“What do you want to do, Mike?” Dustin lifts his head up, frustrated. “The Chief’s right on this. We can’t stop those Demodogs on our own.”

“Demodogs?” Max finally speaks up.

You sigh, tired of hearing your brother’s explanation of his made up name. “Please don’t ask–”

“Demogorgon, dog. Demodog.” Your brother explains, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Demodogs. It’s like a compound… It’s like a play on words–”

“Okay!” You and Max say at once, cutting off his spiel.

“I mean, when it was just Dart, maybe…”

You snort at Dustin. “Tell that to my ribcage.”

The boy glares at you and Lucas takes over, reigning you both back in. “But there’s an army now.”

“Precisely,” Dustin sighs in defeat.

Mike, who has been quiet the entire conversation, realizes something. “His army.”

Steve looks around, confused. “What do you mean?”

“His army!” Mike faces everyone, and the fire behind his eyes now fully alive, and you know he’s come up with some genius plan like his sister always does. “Maybe if we stop him, we can stop his army too.”

Dustin and Lucas share a glance and seem to be understanding what Mike is saying, but you look to Steve, equally as lost as he is, before Mike runs out the room while the others follow.

“Any idea what that kid is saying?” The teen asks you, but you shake your head.

“On a good day, I understand maybe a quarter of what Mike says. However, with significant blood loss and no real meals in me, I’m afraid I have no fucking idea what’s happening.”

“Cool,” Steve steps closer to you and motions for you to guide the way. “Let’s follow, then.”

You find the kids in Will’s room, all standing over a picture that the boy drew. In it is a looming figure with four long limbs, its figure thin and haunting as it stalks over the picture. Seeing the drawing, you get an uneasy feeling.

“The doctor said it was like a virus, it infected him.” Mike is explaining, speaking so fast you can barely keep up as you and Steve stand in the doorway.

“What virus?” You ask, now standing next to the kids.

Mike hands you the picture. “The shadow monster, it got Will that day at the field.”

“And this virus… It’s connecting him to the tunnels?” Max seems to be following along better than you are, which is quite depressing.

“The tunnels, monsters, the Upside Down, everything.”

Something within your stomach drops, the familiar weight of guilt follows it. “Will is still connected to the Upside Down?”

“Whoa, slow down,” Steve steps in now, sensing your panic, and tries to rectify the situation. “Let’s all just slow down.”

Mike groans. “The shadow monster is inside everything, and if the vines feel something like pain, then so does Will.”

Again, guilt throws itself against you with all its weight, and you feel each thud against your body like a hammer feels a nail.

Lucas nods. “And so does Dart.”

“Like what Mr. Clark taught us. The hive mind.” Mike follows.

You’re silent, staring at the picture still in your hands.

Steve crosses his arms. “Hive mind?”

“A collective consciousness, a super organism.” You hear Dustin clarify, but it’s all beginning to blur together for you.

All you can think is that you’re the reason Will has become entangled in all of this, in alternate dimensions, infected with a monster so powerful that it can create vast tunnels underneath your feet and monsters bred to kill.

Mike is on a roll now, it’s all clicking together. “And this is the thing that controls everything. It’s the brain–”

“Like the mind flayer,” Dustin realizes, which causes both Lucas and Mike to stop in their tracks.

It seems the boys have figured it all out, then.

And it seems to you that old scars will never fade, not in the way that they should.

Swallowing down your nausea and tears and guilt, you finally speak. “Explain everything to me.”

–

Dustin throws the DnD book onto the Byers’ kitchen table, beginning to explain everything as everyone gathers around.

You stand next to him, Steve to your right, and watch as your brother commands the room as if he was born to do so. As he explains, you look around and everyone. Jonathan stands next to Lucas, facing across from you, and Nancy finds herself standing to your left, worried.

“Oh my god, none of this is real,” Hopper is already over the entire situation, which annoys you. “This is a kid’s game.”

“I’m sorry, but those Demodogs that just attacked us are logical to you?” You snap at the cop, completely baffled that he for some reason decided to draw the line at a DnD reference rather than literal demons from another dimension.

Hopper narrows his eyes at you, but before he can say anything, Jonathan shrugs his shoulders. “Y/N has a point, you know.”

“Okay, before we all start fighting, I just want to point out that this,” Dustin points to the book on the table. “Is a manuel, and it’s not for kids. Unless you know something that we don’t, this is the best metaphor–”

“Analogy.” Lucas interrupts.

“Analogy, that’s what you’re worried about?” You grab at Dustin’s jacket to try and settle him down, but he’s angry and annoyed and you know it’s been a long day for everyone. “Fine. An analogy for understanding whatever the hell this is!”

Nancy sees you struggling with the boy and tries to step in. “Okay, so this mind flamer thing–”

“Flayer,” you gently correct.

“What does it want?”

Dustin bites his lip. “To conquer us, basically. It believes it’s the master race.”

Steve, who is leaning next to Dustin and you, snaps his finger. “Like the Germans?”

“Uh… The Nazis?” Your brother looks at you, silently urging you to shut the teen up, and you pinch your nose again and sigh.

“Oh, buddy.” You loop your arm through his and pat Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s just listen, okay?”

Steve tries to say more but you hold your finger up, indicating that you won’t listen to whatever he’s about to say, and he rolls his eyes at you but rests his free hand against the one you have on his arm.

However, when Lucas announces that you could all be dealing with the end of the world, Steve lets out a dry laugh and tries to pull away from you, freaking out. “That’s great! That’s really great, jesus!”

You pull him back by the arm, forcing him to stand next to you and calm down, and he doesn’t try to fight it. Though he’s scared out of his fucking mind and in over his head, he listens to your silent command and comes back to you. Once he’s still, you unwrap your arm from his and bring that hand to the back of his neck, playing with the baby hairs there to try and soothe him.

Steve leans into your touch, his shoulders start to relax, and you know he’s slowly calming down.

Jonathan sees this interaction and catches your eye, and when he has your attention, he flashes you a knowing smirk as he mouths, friendly, aren’t we?

You narrow your eyes and subtly point between him and Nancy, mouthing back, you’re one to talk, which effectively shuts Jonathan up and he diverts his eyes again, going back to focusing on what Dustin and the others are saying.

“No, no fireballs,” Dustin is explaining to Hopper. “Instead, you–uh. You summon an undead army and… Uh, because… Zombies, ya know? They don’t–uh, have brains and the–the mind flayer, it, uh, likes brains.”

When your brother sees you shaking your head in disappointment and Hopper’s barely controlled anger, he quickly finishes with, “It’s just a game.”

You nudge his shoulder with yours. “You did well explaining, buddy.”

Dustin gives you a weak thumbs up as Hopper angrily throws the book down. “What the hell are we doing here?”

“I thought we were waiting for your military backup.” Dustin retorts, and you quickly raise your hand for a high five, which he gladly accepts.

Hopper sees this and rolls his eyes. “We are!”

“But even if they come, how are they gonna stop this? You can’t just shoot this with guns!” Mike quips, and you give him a high five as well.

“You don’t know that! We don’t know anything!” Hopper roars, and it takes everything within you not to flinch at his raised voice.

“We do know, actually.” You say, voice quiet but stern as you try to steady your heartbeat. You’ve never, ever been able to hear a man yelling at you without some form of panic clawing at your chest. “Ask Nancy about the guns. We fought a fully grown Demodog last year, you seem to conveniently forget that.”

Hopper clenches his jaw. “Every time I start to like you, you piss me off again.”

“It’s a skill.”

Everyone begins to argue again, Hopper with you while Dustin, Lucas, and Mike take your side to try and reason with the cop, before a frail, broken voice silences you all.

“They’re right.” Joyce stumbles from her room, her face still wet with tears as grief overtakes her.

“Mrs. Byers,” you breathe out, immediately walking over to the woman to stand by her side, but she gently pushes you away.

“We have to kill it.” Anger slowly spills into her voice. “I want to kill it.”

Hopper joins your side now, the two of you surrounding the woman. “Me too, Joyce. Okay? But how do we do that? We don’t exactly know what we’re dealing with here.”

“We don’t know what could happen to Will,” you urge, understanding Joyce’s anger but terrified of how it may affect her son.

“If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, it’s Will.” Mike begins to walk over to the boy, who is still knocked out cold on the couch. “He’s connected to it. He’ll know its weakness.”

Everyone stands in the living room now, and dread encases its hand around your throat. You don’t want to make Will any more involved in this than he needs to be, he’s been through too much.

Max cocks her head. “I thought we couldn’t trust him anymore. That he’s a spy for the mind flayer now.”

“We can always trust Will.” There’s an edge to your voice, and Jonathan has to grab your hand to steady you.

Mike nods, understanding what you’re trying to voice. “I know, Y/N. We can always trust him, and he can’t spy if he doesn’t know where he is.”

–

Somehow, Steve gets paired up with Nancy to cover the inside of the Byers’ shed with tarps.

One minute Steve had been standing behind you in the living room as Mike explained his plan, and the next minute he was being auctioned off to join his ex in a small shed while you got to happily team up with Jonathan and his mom.

It was unfair, really.

While he’s moping about his luck, Nancy hesitantly looks at Steve, clearly also as equally uncomfortable in the silence. She lingers as Steve begins to hang up another tarp and she tears a piece of tape for him, waiting.

She watches as Steve’s body stretches the length of the wall and realizes that this is the first time they’ve been alone together since their conversation at school, and that his languid movements are foreign to her.

Nancy hasn’t seen him so at ease in a long, long time.

She thinks about how you’d been with him these last few days while she had been with Jonathan, and she wonders what else may have possibly changed in such a short amount of time.

“Hey,” she finally says, the silence clawing at her. “What you did, um… Helping the kids, that was really cool.”

Steve still looks at Nancy with such sincerity and warmth, something that makes her stomach twist with guilt. He doesn’t know what she’s done just yet, and she doesn’t know if he has a right to even care at all.

“Yeah,” he exhales, breaking the eye contact first. “Those little shits are real trouble, ya know?”

Nancy finds herself laughing, grateful he seems open to talking to her. “Believe me, I know.”

“It’s a miracle that Y/N survived so long on her own.” Steve says absentmindedly, returning to hanging up the tarp.

Hearing your name causes Nancy’s stomach to twist again. Steve may not have pieced everything together just yet, but she knows that you have. You’ve always been able to read people well, too well, even.

Jonathan wasn’t yours and she wasn’t Steve’s, yet Nancy feels an overwhelming sense of guilt for the two of you.

“It’s nice that you were there for her,” Nancy avoids looking at Steve again.

“Y/N has been there for everyone else, so I figured it was time that someone was finally there for her?” He shakes his head, unsure what he’s even saying. “I just… I wanted to help her.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything, she only nods and continues tearing off more pieces of tape.

You’re too good, everyone knows this, and sometimes Nancy finds herself resenting you for it, even though none of it is your fault.

–

Jonathan tears down another bedsheet from the clothing line and tosses it into the growing pile of sheets and bedding in your arms; he yanks them down, you catch, and then he cuts the lines with the knives you loaned him.

“You sure this is gonna work?” Jonathan asks his mom, who has joined the two of you to collect her own pile of sheets to cover the shed.

Joyce nods, the familiar frantic look in her eyes from last year is now back. “He knew who I was. He’s still in there. It’s gonna work, it has to.”

You peek from behind the pile of cloth you’re holding. “Who knows, maybe we can finally prove whether or not Freud’s theory of consciousness is correct.”

Jonathan doesn’t understand what you mean, but Joyce sends you a grateful smile, appreciative that you’re trying to remain optimistic despite the situation, and then leaves before her son can question the plan once more.

As soon as the two of you are alone, Jonathan puts your switchblade in his pocket and then faces you, not wasting a second to finally have you to himself. “Okay, tell me everything I missed while I was gone.”

His eager curiosity makes you smile. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but aren’t we on a time limit?”

“I think we can spare a few minutes, bug.”

“Fine, but at least grab some of these sheets so I can actually look at you while I talk.”

Jonathan laughs and does as he’s told, grabbing some of the cloth you’re holding and lessening the weight of it for you. Once he’s able to see your face, he smiles warmly at you. “Hi,”

“Hi, bee.” The greeting drips from your mouth like pure honey, and with two simple words, Jonathan can feel himself finally begin to relax.

“So,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Go on.”

You take a deep breath, knowing that what you’re about to tell Jonathan will remove the carefree smile on his face. He’ll only blame himself, and you hate the responsibility he seems to feel for you.

“The only major thing, well… Besides the Demodogs, is that I spilled milk all over Billy, the guy you punched at the Halloween party.”

Jonathan gapes at you. “What?”

“Yeah, it was kinda awesome, honestly. He was being a bitch, accusing me and Steve of getting together to piss you and Nance off, and he was just being an overall creep, so… I spilled milk on him to get him to shut up so that Steve wouldn’t end up knocking the guy out.”

“Wait, Steve was there?” He tries to keep his voice level, but even Jonathan can hear the underlying hurt within his voice.

He’s not sure why the hurt is there, or why the thought of Steve being the one now protecting you sends a punch to his throat.

“Yeah,” you frown at him, confused by his sudden shift in mood. “He was with me in the lunchroom, wanted to know where you and Nance had run off to.”

Jonathan swallows. “I’m glad he was there, bug.”

And he is, he knows he is, but he also knows that it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the shift that has come between the two of you. How it was only thirty minutes ago that you had wrapped your arm around Steve’s, not Jonathan’s.

He clears his throat. “So, about Steve…”

“What about him?” You feign ignorance, but Jonathan sees the blush that has started to spread across your face.

“You’re blushing, bug.” It hurts him to tease, but he knows he has to. Jonathan has to play the role he had been given when he was twelve and had met you that day on Nancy’s front porch.

The same girl he slept with last night, who he has come to love with such devotion that he still struggles to accept within himself.

They haven’t talked about it, at least not yet, but all the unsaid truths between you and Jonathan hang over him. He can feel the lines and threads and strings all closing in on you two, and he knows you can also sense it as well.

“It’s nothing, bee.” You start walking towards the shed, uncomfortable now. You don’t want Jonathan’s teasing, not when it comes to Steve; it’s too painful, you still haven’t quite come to terms with your newfound feelings for the boy.

Not when you haven’t laid your feelings for Jonathan to rest, yet.

It wouldn’t be fair to Steve.

Jonathan steps in front of you, blocking your path. He feels as if he’s about to lose you, and for the first time since he’s met you, he doesn’t know how to make you stay. “Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just… I know you.”

His words burn.

“Let’s just get back to the shed–”

“Bug,” he blocks your path again. He’s not ready to lose you just yet, but he knows he will soon. It’s inevitable. “I know you, and when you’re around Steve, you just… You’re different, a–a good different, and–”

“Jonathan, I really don’t want to talk about this,” you plead, but he hears the at least not with you that goes unsaid. “Why don’t you focus on your newly formed relationship with Nancy, okay?”

Jonathan stumbles over his feet. “You–you know?”

“I know you,” you echo his words from moments ago, with its melancholy and all.

He sighs, steps to the side, and lets you go.

It’s quiet after that.

–

In the shed, everyone busies themselves with their tasks.

You, Steve, and Lucas run around with nail guns and tape for those who need it. The rest of the kids work as a unit, helping one another with covering every inch of wall they can find. Meanwhile, Nancy wraps newspaper around the poles while Jonathan carries Will through the door.

Seeing Will, limp within Jonathan’s arms, only reminds you of the dead body that had been pulled from the quarry last year.

Only this time it really is Will.

Together, you and Jonathan gently place the boy in the chair and tie him. You ignore the way your heart clenches as you knot the cords together; you’re doing this to save him. Joyce prepares the medicine needed to knock Will out, in case anything happens, and as you watch, Lucas and Mike switch on the overhead lamps, blinding you.

“Christ,” you mumble, holding your hand up to shield your eyes from the light.

“It works,” Mike looks at you, hopeful. “It’s gonna work.”

Hopper steps forward, facing everyone. “If you aren’t related to the Byers family, get out.” While everyone begins to leave, you and Mike remain where you are. When Hopper sees this, he frowns. “What did I just say?”

Dustin and Steve linger in the doorway, both silently asking you what the plan is, and you give them a slight nod to indicate that it’s okay. You’ll join them later, right now Will needs you and you sure as hell aren’t leaving Mike and Jonathan alone to deal with this.

“Y/N is family, Hop.” Joyce stands next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You smile at her before facing the chief. “I’m staying.”

“Me, too.” Mike echos, standing his own ground against the man, and you refrain from giving him another high five for his bravery.

Better not to upset Hopper too much more.

The man in question groans, too tired to argue. “Fine, you two can stay, but only because I know that if I don’t let Henderson stay then Jonathan will probably have a panic attack or something.”

Jonathan shrugs. “Probably.”

Dustin rushes over to you and gives you a tight hug. “Be careful.”

“I will,” you kiss the top of his hat, catching Steve’s eye in the process. “Take care of him, please?”

Steve nods, without any hesitation to do as you’ve asked. “Of course.”

And with that, the door to the shed closes as the last of the group leaves.

It’s silent after that, and you take a second to admire the work everyone did. The shed is completely unrecognizable, and the lights will only further limit Will’s vision. A part of you truly believes that this plan could work, but you’ve long since stopped letting your hope get the better of you.

“Alright, you ready?” Hopper looks over at Joyce, holding the ammonia needed to wake Will up.

“Yeah,” the woman crosses her arms, and you want to reach out and hold her.

Everyone is quiet as Hopper crouches in front of Will and dabs some ammonia onto a cotton ball. Then, slowly, he brings it up to the boy’s face and waits for him to inhale. When he does, Will’s eyes snap open and he inhales so sharply that you’re worried he’s hurt himself.

You stand in between Mike and Jonathan, and seeing the pure fear on Will’s face brings tears to your eyes. He reminds you of a deer, small and frail, with eyes so full of fear that it makes you ache.

Will’s eyes dart around the room, and when he notices that he’s tied to the chair, he begins to tug at the cords. “What–what is this? Why am I tied up?”

“Will, we just wanna talk to you,” Joyce softly tells him, now eye level with the boy as she does her best to calm him down. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Where am I?” The fear that had once been in Will’s voice is gone, now replaced with an anger that seems so foreign to associate with the boy.

Hopper joins now, showing him the picture of the mind flayer that he drew. “You recognize this?”

Will shakes his head and looks over at you, now realizing that you’re there, and you force yourself to look away. He’s always been the sweetest boy, but he killed so many innocent people today, even if he hadn’t meant to.

You trust Will, you do, but you remind yourself that the boy in front of you isn’t really him.

“We wanna help you,” Joyce tries to reassure him again. “But to do that, we have to understand how to kill it.”

At the mention of killing, Will’s eyes widen as more anger seeps through him, now shouting at his mother, “Why am I tied up? Why am I tied up? Why am I tied up?”

He begins to thrash around, throwing his head back against the wall as he repeatedly screams and begs to be let go. The lights are now flickering and immediately you draw Mike into your chest, trying to mask your own tears as you comfort him.

Jonathan clings behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he buries his face into your shoulder, and blindly you reach behind yourself so you can hold him as well. When you feel his tears spill against your skin, you wrap your arms tighter around Mike and cry.

Will continues to scream, becoming more and more violent, and something demonic seems to crawl into his vocal chords as he screams.

You hold Mike and Jonathan tighter against you, doing everything you can to be there for the boys. You knew this would be difficult, but as the lights continue to flicker and Will’s pale face quickly becomes paler with every plea, you feel weak.

With Jonathan behind you and Mike in front of you, both boys clinging onto you as sobs wrack your own body, it becomes unclear who is being held up and who is the one holding.

Hopper has his own arms wrapped around Will, and slowly, miraculously, his pleas begin to fade off. Exhaustion seems to overtake the boy, as he starts to mumble more than scream, and with every exhaled breath, the light’s flickering settles down.

Finally, silence.

The only sound in the shed is Will’s labored breaths, alongside your own.

Joyce sits in the chair placed in front of Will, takes a moment to find her words, and then asks the boy, “Do you know what March 22nd is?”

You do, it’s Will’s birthday, and you listen as Joyce talks about his eighth birthday and how she had gotten him a giant box of crayons and he had used all the colors to draw a rainbow ship. With every word, more despair and love fills the woman’s voice as she reflects on how proud she is of him, how much she loves him, and you have to turn away for a moment to wipe at your eyes.

After Joyce has finished her story, you all see something within Will. As if he’s coming back to himself, his eyes no longer holding the malic from earlier.

Jonathan detangles himself from you and wipes his eyes as well, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Do you remember the day dad left?”

You turn around, already knowing the story that he’s about to tell, and you press a soft kiss to Mike’s forehead before joining Jonathan at Will’s side. He can’t be alone when he retells this story, because he hadn’t been alone when it happened.

“We stayed up all night building Castle Byers,” Jonathan reflects, nudging you as you crouch down in front of Will as well. “It was Y/N’s idea to build it just the way you drew it.”

“You loved the idea,” your voice cracks, but you try to hide it so that you don’t scare the boy.

You remember how Will’s face lit up when you surprised him with the idea. He hadn’t left his room in hours, blaming himself for Lonnie leaving, and Jonathan had shown up at your window, in tears as he confessed that he didn’t know how to help Will.

After yanking the teen into your room and sitting him down on your bed, you had told him that Will simply needed someone there for him, to remind him that he was good and lovely and that everything that Lonnie had ever said was wrong.

Later that day, the two of you showed up to the hardware store; two young teens with only pocket change as currency, and you’d bought all the supplies needed for Castle Byers.

“And it took so long because you were so bad at hammering.” The fondness of the memory causes Jonathan to laugh, and you do so as well as you remember just how many times Will had accidentally hit his fingers rather than the nail. “You missed the nail every time.”

“I thought you’d lose a finger, honestly.” You add, which Joyce laughs at.

Jonathan continues. “And then it started raining, but we stayed out there anyway. All of us were sick for like a week after that… But we just had to finish it, didn’t we? We just had to.”

You squeeze the teen’s hand and lean in closer to Will, sensing that it’s now your turn to speak. “Do you know what my nickname is for you?”

Will slowly nods, his eyes going to Jonathan and then back to you, indicating that he understands he’s your little bee.

“Little bee, that’s right.” It isn’t difficult to reminisce on your favorite memory with the boy, it comes to you immediately. “After we all had gotten the cold, do you remember the awful flu that Jonathan and Dustin somehow got like a week afterwards?”

Jonathan snorts, remembering how annoyed he had been for being so sick for so long. He had missed two whole weeks of school, and you were the one who had to bring his assignments to him and help with his homework.

“That weekend, our moms decided that it made more sense to send Jonathan to my house so he and Dustin could quarantine together, so I stayed at your house and we spent the entire weekend alone. Just you and me.”

You smile softly, the memory fresh and warm like an early spring day. You love Jonathan and Dustin endlessly, but being alone with Will was special. A rare occasion that the two of you always relished in. “That weekend, we watched all your favorite movies and I taught you how to bake the cookies you love so much… You taught me how to draw, and together we were happy.”

Your voice breaks again, the warmth of the memory slightly stings as you gaze into Will’s sunken eyes. Two years ago you had all of Will, his happiness genuine and his heart kind, and now you’re terrified you’ll never have that version of him back ever again.

Jonathan notices your hesitancy and strokes your face gently. “Go on,”

You grab the hand on your face and kiss it, grateful for the strength he’s loaning you. “We–we were almost sad when Dustin and Jonathan got better, because we had enjoyed our little weekend getaway.”

Joyce lets out a shaky breath as she reaches for you as well, her hand landing against your shoulder, a place she has long since inhabited for herself whenever she wants to express her love for you. She knows how fiercely you love her sons, and she remembers all the laughter and joy she heard that weekend within her home, a home that had long since stopped being warm for her.

“That weekend…” You force down the sobs that threaten to spill over. You have to finish the story, to remind Will of who he is again. He has to come back to you. “That weekend, you became my little bee.”

As soon as you say Will’s nickname, you lean away from the boy and try to collect yourself. You’ve said all that you physically can for now, and you hope it was enough. You hope, more than anything, that it will be enough to bring Will home again.

Mike steps forward now, and Will turns his head to him. “Do you remember the first day that we met?”

You notice the tear that falls down the boy’s face, and you lean your head against Jonathan’s shoulder in exhaustion as you listen to his story. It’s one you’ve never heard before, and it’s rare to see Mike so vulnerable with his feelings.

“It was… It was the first day of kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends, and–and I just felt so alone and so scared but–” More tears come. “I saw you on the swings and you were alone, too. You were just swinging by yourself.”

Jonathan’s hand finds your hair as you both listen, and you know he’s thinking the same as you. How finding your person in a world so vast and lonely can bring you to life.

“I just walked up to you and… I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend, and you said yes.” Mike swallows, now diverting his eyes away from everyone. “You said yes, and it was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Mike finishes with more tears, and you walk over to him so that he can hide his face against you. You know he wants to be alone right now, that he hates how exposed his emotions are, and as soon as you’ve wrapped your arms around the boy he buries his face in your chest and softly cries.

You do your best to shield him from the world.

Meanwhile, Joyce tries again to reach Will. “Will, baby. If you’re in there, just please… Please talk to us. Please, honey, can you do that for me? I love you so much.”

Something seems to collapse within Will, he fights back tears as his breathing becomes labored again. For a moment, you think it’s worked, that he’ll finally come back and you’ll have your little bee again.

“Let me go.” Will demands again, and you feel everyone’s heart in the room drop.

It’s quiet for several moments, but there’s a faint tapping that you hear. You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you’re sure that it hadn’t been there moments ago. You look around the room and see Hopper doing the same.

When your eyes meet his, he tilts his head at you as if to ask if you hear it too. You nod, and Hopper looks around once more before he freezes.

“Out,” Hopper suddenly orders, leaving no time for anyone to argue as he flings the shed door open and marches towards the Byers home.

–

“What happened?” Dustin immediately asks as soon as you enter the house.

“We think we found something,” you inform him, pointing to Hopper, who has now sat down at the kitchen table with a pen and paper.

Everyone gathers around him as he starts to scribble a series of lines and dots. “I think he’s talking, just not with words.

“What is that?” Steve asks, lost as to how lines and dots are so important.

“Morse code,” all the boys answer in unison.

Steve leans over you and whispers, “Why do they always do that?”

“You get used to it. Now shush.”

Hopper spells out the letters he remembers Will tapping. “H-E-R-E.”

“Here.” Everyone says out loud.

“Will is still in there. He’s talking to us.” The chief says, looking at Joyce.

Your eyes meet Jonathan’s and an idea comes to you. “If the memories we’re telling him are working, then what about music?”

Hopper thinks for a moment, but Jonathan has already run to his room to grab his stereo and cassette tapes, understanding exactly what you’re thinking.

A plan forms from there.

You, Jonathan, Mike, and Joyce all take turns telling Will stories while his favorite song plays. Should I Stay or Should I Go? Plays within the shed as memories fill it with warmth and Hopper taps out on a walkie everything that Will taps.

Inside the house, the kids, Nancy, and Steve all listen to the walkie and write down the morse code to decipher what Will is saying.

Jonathan tells him about real music, Mike recounts the time Will saved the party during one of their campaigns, Joyce talks about a kind moment from his childhood, and you tell him about the wonderful drawing he made for your birthday. The one of you, Jonathan, and the party fighting a dragon.

“You drew me as a princess and Jonathan laughed when he saw it. Said it was very fitting.” You say, nervously watching as Will frantically taps against his chair. “When you gave me the picture, I think I almost squeezed you to death when I hugged you. It’s still the best birthday gift I’ve ever been given–”

The sound of a telephone ringing cuts you off, and Will snaps his head up, no longer paying any attention to you.

You freeze, now realizing that the music has shut off. Will has to have heard it, and you know he’ll figure out where you guys are. His eyes droop shut and you slowly back away into Jonathan, who grabs you and pulls you even further away. He’s tense, you both are.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Joyce tries to draw Will back in, but he’s starting to pant as his eyes flutter rapidly underneath his eyelids.

“It knows. It knows where we are.” Hopper says as Joyce reaches for the sedative.

With one fluid movement, she injects Will and immediately he knocks out. His head falls forward, his breathing now back to normal. You pull at Joyce so that she faces you. “Did we knock him out in time?”

She doesn’t say anything, and Hopper runs outside while Jonathan and Mike join. The two of you stand in the shed alone, silent, both filled with dread.

Jonathan comes running back in. “They’re coming!”

“Shit!” You scramble to help him untie Will and you and Hopper use your knives to speed up the process. Your hands are shaking, but there’s no time to steady them.

Once Will is untied, Jonathan throws him over his shoulder and runs to the house. Joyce and Hopper follow and you grab Mike’s hand to make sure you don’t lose him. As you run, you hear the familiar screeches of the Demodogs and the hair on the back of your neck stands up.

They’re close.

Inside, you take the lead and shove everyone out of the kitchen. “Get to the living room. Now!”

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Steve is at your side now, his voice soft with fear.

You’re about to reassure him that it’ll be okay, to lie through your teeth, but then you see the kids by the windows and groan. “Get away from the windows!”

They scurry away and Hopper steps in, holding a shotgun that he offers to Jonathan. “Do you know how to use this?”

Jonathan looks around as if Hopper has asked someone else. “What?”

“Can you use this?”

While Jonathan stumbles over his words, Nancy confidently walks over. “I can.”

Hopper nods and tosses her the gun before turning to you, “I saw the switchblade earlier. Use it.”

You flick your wrist and extend the blades, doing as you’re told.

Everyone gathers around, with an assortment of weapons, and you get the insane urge to laugh. Of course you’re back here a year later, standing in Jonathan’s living room as monsters from another dimension threaten your loved ones.

Jonathan stands in front of Joyce while you stand in front of Dustin, knives raised to your face. Steve stands in front of you, his back facing you as he wields his bat, ready to defend you and your brother.

You make sure to keep an eye on Lucas and Max, who are to your left, trusting that Nancy has Mike as she and Hopper raise their guns.

All eyes are on the windows, no one says anything as you all wait. With every passing second, the howls and screeches outside get louder. Then, a loud screech comes from your right, and everyone turns around.

“What are they doing?” Nancy asks no one in particular, her voice shaky but her aim firm and strong.

You see the bushes rustling through the windows, and another snarl comes from the other side that causes you all to scream. There’s commotion outside, a series of screeches and thuds, and your body tenses, preparing itself to fight.

Suddenly, the screeching stops, and through the window a giant body gets thrown.

You scream and Steve shoves you and Dustin further behind him, but your brother realizes before you do what’s happened. “Holy shit.”

The Demodog lays motionless on the floor, its body limp, and you realize with a relieved sigh that it’s dead.

“Is it dead?” Max asks, as you all begin to approach its corpse.

“It is,” you confirm, too scared to ask the question of what the fuck killed it.

As Hopper pokes at the Demodog with his shoe, the front door creaks open, and everyone turns in alarm with weapons at the ready. The lock turns, and you feel a familiar sense of static. It’s been a year since you’ve felt the sensation, a year since the girl who could control things with her mind disappeared and left her memory behind.

It’s El.

She walks in, and you drop your knife in shock when you see that it’s her.

She’s grown so much since you last saw her, her hair is longer and she’s gotten taller. Her clothes are all black, her eyes smudged with makeup. Mike steps forward, you see the way his eyes fill with adoration.

You let out a soft cry, all the guilt and grief you’ve felt over the girl finally lifts, and you can breathe again.

She’s back.

El is alive.

-

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[reverieblondie]

Late Night Dip

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Fingering, Tail play, Teasing, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (Please wrap before you tap), G-whiz Position.

Summary: Cal and Lia are worried about their brother, he's just so stressed and needs a break! Good thing you have an idea that could help...

A/N: Rolan is hot, and I'm not going to apologize. I want to give him everything. More fics of my other favorite fictional men coming soon!

Word Count: 4,774

“Please, you have to get him out of that tower! You're the only one who he will listen to!” 

You almost spit out your drink from Cal’s comment and look at him bewildered, “Uh, You must be confused you're talking about Rolan? Mr. Know it all? The arch workaholic? He's not going to listen to me.” 

Lia leans against the bar dramatically, “Could you just give it a try, please? We have tried everything we could think of to get him to take some time off to destress but nothing has worked. We are hoping that because he has a soft spot for you he will listen to you.”

A scoff leaves you, “Rolan does not have a soft spot for me…” 

Lia and Cal share a quick look before Cal speaks up again. 

“Just one try, for his health. I swear every time I’m near him I can feel his tension radiate off him, take him out somewhere so he can unwind, and if he rejects you I will buy your drinks for two weeks.” 

Closing your eyes you consider the chore. Seeing Rolan isn’t a bad thing you love getting any excuse to see that handsome face. Though pulling him from his work would not be an easy feat, but…you do enjoy teasing him, those looks he gives you when you get under his skin always sends a rush of heat to rise to your cheeks. Plus if he is overworking himself you can’t let that happen to your favorite wizard (sorry Gale). Maybe this would be a good push to your friendship to move to more…romantical areas….plus there was that spot you wanted to take him and tonight is as good of a time as any. If all else fails and Rolan heartbreakingly rejects you for a night outing at least you will get free drinks for the next two weeks to wash away the pain.

“Okay, I will handle it, but be ready to have to buy a lot of ale for the next two weeks Cal,” you say as you gather your stuff and step towards the doors. Cal and Lia watch as you walk out of the tavern into the night towards Ramazith Tower. 

“Think there's a chance he will reject her and we will have to deal with a tense Rolan?” Cal asks Lia worriedly. 

Lia scoffs and settles herself on a seat at the bar, “Please, Rolan can’t deny her, and even if he wants to pretend he can, do you think she’s going to take no for an answer?” 

“Those two are really into each other huh?” 

“Yeah, Let's hope one of them finally realizes it and does something about it tonight. I have a bet with Larkissa that Tav makes the first move, and I want my 50 gold.”

Wow, they were right…he looks so stressed.

Your eyes watch as Rolan's taut back stays hunched over the journal he is scribbling in as he studies an old-looking tome. The only part that moves on him is his hand and he writes in a frantic motion. His golden eyes peering at the tome then back to his journal as he continues, it's clear he has been at this for a while. 

Leaning against the doorway you study his profile for a bit longer. Hair was done in its elaborate bun to hide his ears, brows underneath his well-kept horns furrowed in irritation, and the most perfect nose in all of Faerûn. Let's see if we can’t get him to scrunch it in irritation. 

“And what happened to the master of Ramaziths Tower? Worked so hard he died from stress, he was so young…” 

Rolan seems surprised for a moment before he turns his head to see your smug grin, this earns you an eye roll,  “What happened to the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Oh, she pushed her luck too many times and was thunder waved out of Ramazith's Tower.” 

Sontering in you wave him off dismissively, “See you're so tired you're unable to come up with your own insults. That means it’s time you take a break.” 

Scoffing, he turns away from you going back to scribbling away, “You sound like Cal and Lia…” 

“They did send me to get you.”

“Of course they did” 

Getting closer you see the swarm of papers and books he’s been busying himself with, ignoring it all you sit on his desk and look down at him as he writes. He seems to look at your legs for a moment before shaking his head and going back to what he was writing. Usually, he would be nagging you about your poor manners and the fact that you are bothering him, must be too tired to fight. You watch him as he slowly starts up his work again trying to ignore your ass so close to his hands crushing his papers. His nose is starting to scrunch and you can only smile with a sweet taunting hum. Crossing your legs gets his attention one more time before he mumbles something to himself. 

“Work, work, work, write, write, write, Rot, rot, rot” you chant in a sing-song voice as you shake your foot bumping him slightly.  

“Must you annoy me?” he grumbles

“You're just annoyed because you're so pent up with stress, come on let's go out.” 

Rolan looks up at you and furrows his brows, nose still scrunched, “I’m annoyed because of everyone constantly pestering me when I have a thousand things to do. I’m not going anywhere and I am not…pent up…” 

You let out a loud sigh, “Oh come on Rolan you're so pent up with stress you could pop, just a small break, a nice stress-free night will do you some good, then we will leave you alone to be the great grump of Ramaziths. Plus I have something I want to show you that I found the other day.” 

Rolan keeps his head down scribbling, “It will be really fun.” you coo

He continues to ignore you. You frown before leaning down to his ear. “Please…” you whisper softly

Rolan stops his writing and groans. 

“Come on Rolan! Just a bit further!” 

“Where the hells are you taking me!” 

“It's a surprise! Now hurry up!” 

You're both running in the forest outside of the gate, you're ahead of him leading the way but you can hear the snapping of twigs and slight infernal cusses as he tries to keep up. You can't help but laugh as he continues his grumpy pursuit. Finally, you reach your destination with a bright smile on your face as you wait for Rolan to emerge from the thicket. Biting your lip in expectation you bounce on the heels of your feet, this will be perfect…

You had found this place on one of your walks and knew that you would have to come back, and bringing Rolan only made it all the better. A secret hot spring is hidden away in the thick forest, perfect for two. The water looks as if it glows a cyan blue, it seems to glitter underneath the full moonlight. Your eyes watch as the steam from the water rises to the vast starlit sky. This will be perfect for relieving stress. 

Finally, you hear him come into the clearing, his once pristine appearance is now a mess with twigs in his now messy hair and robes covered in dirt from where he must have fallen trying to keep up with you. The smile on your face never falters and he approaches you with an unamused look. He looks past you at the heated water and raises an eyebrow.

“A hot spring? You know if you wanted to bathe…” 

Rolan's words halt as you start loosening the strings of your bodice. Looking up you meet his golden eyes and smirk at his surprised face as you drop your bodice to the ground. His eyes widen and his lips slightly part before he turns away quickly. 

“Come on Rolan, a late night dip under the stars. You can’t beat that. Plus I bet once that water hits your skin all your stress will melt away.”

You start stripping off your undershirt quickly followed by your pants. Your eyes watch Rolan's back as it seems to tense at each sound of your clothes rustling and falling. His tail whips around seemingly uncontrollably, before wrapping around his leg, you're still trying to figure out if it is from excitement or irritation.  

“You have been traveling with Halsin for too long…” 

You laugh at the comment, “Well, he is rather wise, learned a lot from him while on our journey…”

Rolan's tail twitches before he turns around quickly to face you. His eyes widen as he sees your scantily clad undergarments, not like you went and changed before going to fetch him…

He turns back around quickly “Like what…” he mutters, is he? Jealous… 

“Just…things…” you say almost tauntingly. You just can’t resist, from the moment you two started becoming friends you two have been taunting and teasing at every opportunity.  Sometimes you don’t know if you want to punch him or kiss him. Though now…you can only think of one thing…

Taking off your undergarments and then by complete ‘accident’ you toss them towards his feet. He looks down at them for a second before you watch his tail rise slightly before falling back down and lifting his head to look up at the starry sky. 

“I’ve learned things from my other companions as well…”  you say softly, almost too sweetly

A nervous laugh seems to rise harshly from his chest. Slowly you approach Rolan, you're being extremely quiet and you're completely bare. “Like Astarion for example” Right behind him now you look up at his tightly set bun, and with a quick moment you pluck the tie keeping it up out, That should loosen him some, “taught me to sneak up on people to take things.”

Rolan starts to turn his head but seems to stop himself remembering you're now naked. Not that you would mind his golden eyes taking you all in. With his hair now down you finally see his sharply pointed ears, they are cute and with their marron coloring at the tips completely giving away how embarrassed he is at the moment. Part of you wants to take the opportunity to be naughty and nibble on his ear while playing with his loose hair. Best not to push your luck however.  

Proud of successfully teasing him you decide to finally get into the water. Stepping carefully into the calm water the heat craseing your skin immediately relaxes you. The water is the perfect temperature and you quickly sink in and swim around enjoying yourself with pleasant sighs. Turning your head you see Rolan watching with what you think is a smile on his face.  

“Come on in, the water is great!”

“Dry land is also great.” 

“So you're just going to let me swim alone?” you watch as Rolan thinks for a moment “It's very relaxing…” you coo 

He finally sighs, “Fine…just to make sure you don’t drown out here…” 

“Lucky me ~”

Instead of ripping his clothes off quickly and jumping into the water ready to confess his desires to you as you hoped, Rolan instead brings his hands to undo his collar slowly and methodically. Somehow the slow stripping is not only frustrating you but also exciting you, the robe rolls off his shoulders and he takes the time to fold it up neatly. A tightening in your lower stomach is driving you mad, how hard is it to undress quickly? 

Opening your mouth to give him a hard time your comment gets halted in your throat. Rolan lifts his red undershirt over his head exposing his chest lined with beautiful ridges. The ridges seem to lead your eyes along his surprisingly athletic build, the moonlight shining on his body showing off just how toned he is; tense muscles being stretched as he raises his arms to relieve some tension from being so confined. He’s been hiding all this under those robes? That's just criminal…

Then his hands go for his belt and you're completely caught in a trance mouth slightly parting as he undoes the first button, seeming to remember your presence in the shining spring his golden eyes lock with yours and all your previous nerve leaves as your heart lurches. Quickly you turn around breaking his gaze, you swear you hear a slight chuckle before the clearing of his throat. Closing your eyes you chastise yourself for being a pervert, but that still doesn’t stop the image of his bare body replaying over and over in your mind running through all the possibilities the night could hold.  

Sounds of sloshing water along with a sigh breaks you from your thoughts. Turning you can’t help but smile at what looks like a very blushy Rolan, feeling nice you give him a round of applause as he settles in the warm water.

Rolan rolls his eyes, “Your an idiot” 

“What, I thought you liked adoring applause?” 

Rolan ignores your comment, shaking his head as he cups the shimmering water in his hands. You take the time to admire him trying to relax the best he can, his loose hair hovering softly over his shoulders, you see that not only do his freckles decorate his face, but they are also peppered against his tense shoulders. With a quick motion, Rolan brings the spring water towards his face, rubbing the water against his face then keeping his hands over his eyes for a long moment. You watch him confused by him keeping his eyes covered.  

“What are you doing?” 

A sigh leaves his nose before he responds, “Relaxing”

Getting closer you do a testing poke to his left shoulder, and an irritated groan leaves his chest. 

“You don’t seem relaxed…” 

“I’m working on it.”

“Maybe you should try swimming around then?”

Rolan pulls his hands from his eyes, golden irises glow as his ardent gaze lands on you. Suddenly you're hyper-aware of how close you two have drifted and how bare you are right underneath the cyan water. All your previous nerve starts to sink away being replaced by a growing flush to your skin. 

Rolan lifts a brow leaning down slightly to take in your face, you put on your best poker face to seem unbothered through Rolan quickly sees past it and is ready to tease you, “Heat finally getting to you?” 

“No”

“Then why are you so red?” 

“Why are you so red?” 

Rolan folds his arms over his chest and you roll your eyes, “redder than usual” 

“What do you expect? It’s hot.” 

“Aren't tieflings like…heat resistant?” 

Rolan goes to argue back but he seems to be unable to think of anything so he turns his back towards you muttering under his breath. 

Turned away, you trace the paths left by his infernal ancestors. He seemed to have relaxed when teasing you, but now…

“You can feel the tension radiating off….” 

Rolan's ears seem to perk up and he glances at you. 

You sigh, “I was hoping to help…”

“I…you…” Rolan sighs collecting his thoughts, a cuss slips his lips before he starts again, “You are helping…I just…” Rolan takes his hand to cover his eyes again, “I don’t know how to let myself relax…” 

Carefully you reach your hands to rub his back, he practically feels like a board, so tense under your fingers. You lean your head to rest on him.

“Rolan, let me…try something….” 

You continue to rub his back and shoulders gently working out the knots. Right as he seems to start to relax he tenses up again. A soft hum leaves you as you continue to work down his back. Dropping from his shoulders you use his ridges to guide you, softly you rub his shoulder blades feeling the sharp tips. When you touch them you feel Rolan tense and lean forward slightly. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

Rolan looks over his shoulder, his eyes moving from your flushed shoulders following the drips running back into the cloudy water keeping the rest of you hidden, only enough for his imagination to run wild. “No, I’m just…not used to being touched like this.” 

“I could stop…”

You keep your hands on his spine, trying to savor this moment in case he says yes. You close your eyes and keep your hands as gentle as possible hoping he won't say yes, that he won’t move away. Just keeping this moment touching his warm skin for a bit longer…

“Don’t stop…it's helping me” 

Biting down the smile on your lips you continue to rub his back blindly moving through the water. Over time you get lower slightly rubbing above the base of his tail. A steady sigh leaves Rolan's chest as you continue to work. You even feel all your nerves starting to settle in this perfect moment, then suddenly a wrapping around your calf startles you enough to let out a yipe. Rolan, snapping back to reality goes to retreat his tail and move away from you, but before he can run away you quickly grab his wrist. He pauses for a second, then he turns towards you, your eyes wide, lips trembling for the words to say.  

It only takes a moment before Rolan pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you suddenly and burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“D-don’t be…” 

Rolan moves his face from your neck and you feel your body heating up as his shining eyes watch you, slowly roaming from your eyes to your glossy lips, then down to where your chest is pressing against his. 

Rolan's eyes linger for a moment before he brings his head down to whisper, “You feel like you're burning up…” 

All you can do as you feel his clawed hands moving slowly down your back is nod and lean into him further. Touching him now he seems much more relaxed, more open, confident. Right as you're settling yourself on his chest you whisper the words he’s been waiting to hear. 

“Kiss me…” 

Quickly you feel his hand lifting your chin and then meeting your lips for an almost too eager kiss, but you had been wanting this equally as bad. Rolan's lips are soft and assertive as he leads you through the kiss. The familiar feeling of his tail sliding up your leg no longer draws a gasp from you but a wanting moan, craving for his warmth to further engulf you. Rolan, always striving for more, lifts your arms to wrap around his neck as he slips his smooth tongue in your mouth to get a taste of you. It's deep, and teasing as it slides against yours making you meet his enthusiasm, and driving you to want more. Before long you find yourself with fist fulls of his loose hair while his sharp nails dig into the fat of your ass, Pressing you into his hardened shaft, it practically throbs on your thigh. 

As you start breaking from the kiss to fully catch your breath Rolan bites on your lower lip, careful not to break the delicate skin, only enough pressure to have you whine before he’s releasing it from his sharp teeth. You're a panting mess feeling like your body is on fire, the spring, his hot touch, your blazing arousal dripping down your thighs; it's all starting to be too much for you. Rolan brushes his nose to yours to bring you back from your fuzzing mind. 

“I think it's time you get out. You're as red as me now.” his rich voice taunts 

A quick laugh leaves you before it’s ripped from you abruptly. Rolan almost as quickly as he kisses you, he lifts you guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. With shocking little effort, Rolan carries you out of the hot spring back to the dry bank. The sudden chill of the air nipping at your skin should leave you shivering, but wrapped in Rolan's warm limps you find yourself perfectly comfortable. 

Playfully you twist and pull the strains of his soft hair. “Not to sound like an insult but I’m surprised you're able to carry me. I didn’t think wizards were all that strong?” 

You're both out of the water, dripping on the springs bank still wrapped tightly in his hold. Rolan rolls his eyes at your statement before responding with a smirk, “Well you should know that no wizard can match me, from my talent to my strength.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now and as you do he bounces you within his arms forcing you to grab him tighter making him laugh at you.

“Well, you are definitely relaxed now.” 

“I am, I should thank you, Hero.” 

You feel yourself getting wetter from his sultry words, “How do you plan on doing that, Archmage?

His eyes spark with something and he grins allowing you to see his sharp canines and molars, “I’m thinking I’m going to fuck you on the bank of this hot spring. Is that what you want?” 

Leaning in you breathe into his pointed ears, “Yes…” 

Then in the next moment, you feel his lips leaving messy kisses over your neck causing you to hold on tighter as Rolan slowly lowers you to the cool ground. The chill of the forest floor on your back makes a shiver rush your spine causing your nipples to perk and your body to shake. A whine leaves your chest and a smile stretches to his lips as he pulls away from you, his shining eyes roam over your body as he carefully moves his hands to your hips and adjusts to a kneel. Slightly digging in his nails, he pulls your body causing his length to brush your slick sex. 

The heat of his cock pressed on your soft flesh makes you shut your eyes with a whimper, he’s not even in you, and your whining. 

“Keep your eyes on me.” his voice commands as his hands lift your legs onto his textured shoulders. 

Finally opening your eyes you see his eyes watching you as he presses a kiss to your inner knee before taking a quick nip to it causing your hips to buckle forward. 

That only feeds his ego, “Don’t tell me you're sensitive…” 

You narrow your eyes, “if you were underneath me I would have you whimpering, so don’t get cocky.” 

Rolan lets out a laugh as he looks down at your spread sex, wet and quivering for him. You can hear his tail begging to swish behind in excitement. 

“We will have to test that on a different night…You look too perfect spread open and waiting for me.” Rolan taunts as he brings his hand to slide his fingers over your glistening cunt, then rubbing slow circles to your swollen clit. 

The sensation of his dexterous fingers stimulating your bud causes you to grind your hips on him for more. Falling deeper into the pleasure you feel your lower stomach twist as waves of heat flood your body. You can’t help but shut your eyes with a shivering breath as soft moans slip through your lips. 

Rolan tsk as he suddenly pinches your clit making you gasp and shoot your eyes open.  “Keep your eyes on me. Understand?” 

You quickly nod, keeping your eyes on his gorgeous face. His fingers slide to your entrance, slipping his middle finger slowly to rub your soft fluttering walls. Watching you intensely he slips in a second finger curling the long digits in your velvety insides. Moans of his name and pleads flow out of your lips as he keeps a steady tempo. 

“You're being so obedient…that's new for you…” 

You open your mouth to say something, but before you can Rolan twists his fingers to the spot that's making you see stars. Rolan seeing your slack jaw expression speeds up his motions. The twisting in your lower stomach gets tighter and tighter as you look at Rolan with pleading eyes. Seeing your expression and feeling your walls clamping down on him, he knows you're closer and he brings his tail to flick on your clit as his other hand keeps your grinding hips in a firm hold. 

You are panting as you dig your fingers into the ground you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Rolan's eyes are on you, staring intensely as he studies every one of your expressions, he looks divine. 

“F-Feels so-so good!” You scream breathlessly 

He smiles at your stammering, getting excited from your praise. “Yeah? Then cum for me.” 

Nodding absently mindlessly you feel his tail flick faster and his fingers curl deeper so perfectly making your coil suddenly snap and your body explode in a wave of white-hot ecstasy as you feel yourself squirt on his fingers, running down his hands and thighs now. 

 “Prefect…” Rolan whispers as he watches you come down from your high while slowly rubbing your release over his swollen cock. 

“You want more?” he asks as he lines himself up to your tight slit. 

“Please~” You hum out blissfully, feeling his ridged length’s heat radiating onto you. 

Rolan chuckles with a shake of his head, “So greedy…” 

He braces his hand tightly on your hip as he pushes the heat of his dick into your cunt. It’s hot and intense as it slides and stretches you. Your walls clench as you moan his name as his ridges rub your insides deliciously. Your thighs tighten as he pushes into you fully, his nails digging into you as his cock throbs as you adjust to him. 

“Gods you feel good” he sighs in pleasure. He moves his eyes from where he’s buried within you to your blissed-out face. Rolan brings a hand to cup your cheek and you melt into his touch, turning your face to kiss his palm before giving him a nod that you are ready. 

Rolan presses kisses on the insides of your legs again as he brings his hands to your waist. Slowly he starts positioning into you, your eyes roll back as his strokes nudge his burning cock right into your spongy spot that's making you mew shamelessly at every thrust. Rolan picks up his thrusting as he feels your walls clenching on him. 

“You're taking-ta-taking me so well darling.” he groans, throwing his head back as his balls slap against you. 

Rolan moves your hips up and down to match his thrust as his breathing quickens. Squirming and curling your toes you feel yourself approaching your climax again, but this time you're desperate to have Rolan cum with you. 

Rocking your hips against him faster you drive him deeper as his cock now rubs your cervix and your walls lick his ridges.  “Rolan, you're amazing! Fantastic! I’m yours whenever you want me! Fuck! Right there!” 

Rolan’s sweating skin further flushes at your praise and his moans turn into broken whines as he fucks you faster and bounces you at the perfect pace. 

With a couple more thrusts that familiar rush floods you as you arch your back mindlessly screaming as you make a mess over Rolan's cock. With your orgasm quivering and sucking him in he stills and squeezes you tightly as his dick throbs and spurts his burning cum deep within you. Stars slowly fade from your vision as you focus on a panting Rolan still buried deep in you. 

With hooded eyes you give a lazy smile, Rolan eyes are glazed over but still focused on you as he smiles back at you. Slowly he pulls out and you wince at the feeling of the sudden emptiness. Rolan settles beside you and carefully holds you to his chest as his tail wraps around your ankle gently. 

“Rest with me for a while…then come back to the tower with me.” 

You hum in agreement as you let your relaxed state move you to one of sleep. Perfectly warm and perfectly relaxed wrapped in each other's arms. 

Larkissa is busy drying the goblets behind the bar to prepare for tonight's service. A tapping of nails on the counter gets her attention away from the task. She turns her head to see a smirking Lia. 

“A bet is a bet and I want my 50 gold,” Lia says, holding out her hand. 

Larkissa huffs and digs in her pockets, She will have to scold Rolan for not being assertive enough to make the first move.

[spaghettiposts]

Picture to Burn

Cairo Sweet x Reader

Summery: You should've known better than to fall for Cairo, your friend who seemed to have no interest in you, but it only takes one drink to mess things up and get you into her bed.

Warnings: Attempts at writing, angst, miscommunication, slight sexual content, underage drinking, Miller being an inconvenience, and heartbreak

Word count: 3.3k yikes

A/n: Hm, not sure how I feel about this one but its been sitting in my drafts long enough, might need a part 2...

“What do you look for in an ideal partner?” Cairo furrowed her eyebrows, her pencil caught between her lips. Your question threw her off track, and she grumbled softly as she erased a mistake. She glanced up at you, annoyed by your upside-down gaze and the way your lips quirked.  

“Someone who doesn’t have a camera hanging around their neck all the time.” She retorted, eyes drifting back down to her notes. 

You perked up, grasping the camera that was indeed resting on your neck. “Seriously?” You scoffed, settling back into the blanket. 

Cairo smirked behind her pages, taking full satisfaction in your crestfallen demeanor. “Oh, and people who aren’t into Marvel.” She added, chuckling at your deadpan reaction.

Assuming the conversation was over, she resumed writing, scribbling random thoughts only to look away and meet your raised brow, tied with an expectant look. God you had to be needy. With a heavy sigh, she shut her book. Typical, you rarely gave her time to properly invest in her writing. 

“Fine…I guess for them to make a good income? You know, enough to support me and my writing. Or at least put up with it.” Cairo explained with a shrug, nose scrunching at the way your eyes softened. Ignoring it, she pointed to you with her pen, hitting your nose, “And you are ten grand in debt, unfortunately missing the cut, so sorry.” She said with a faux pout. 

Once again, you scoffed, pushing her away and murmuring about how unserious she could be. Cairo fell back on the blanket with a laugh, feeling anything but apologetic, though your smile gave you away. 

As you reached into your bag for your notebook, Cairo assumed she might finally get some writing done. Quiet time was her favorite time with you - if you had to be there, which she preferred if you weren’t, totally. Either way, the sound of you fiddling with your camera grounded her; enough so she could focus on her work again. 

Initially, Cairo found certain quirks about you irritating, but as she spent more time with you, she began to see them in a new light. The small curses that left your lips when your camera wasn’t working properly, the spontaneous photos you snapped of Cairo - they became endearing rather than bothersome. And above all, your unwavering support and genuine admiration for her writing. Something Cairo needed more than she’d ever admit. 

With each word of encouragement and every heartfelt compliment, Cairo's heart swelled, in a dreadful way. It was more than admiration or appreciation; it was something more, a feeling she couldn't deny, no matter how hard she tried.

Though she continued to brush off your advances and maintain a facade of indifference, yet Cairo couldn't ignore you whenever your eyes met hers, the way your smile seemed reserved for her alone.

Yes, you were her friend, but that was all. Nothing was worth the risk of ruining things now. Especially if you didn’t truly mean what you spoke.

“Have you read anything new lately?” You asked, your back hunched over as you picked with the old thing. Honestly, Cairo couldn’t see why you still put up with it, the damn thing broke all the time. But still, it was a classic model from the 50s, an heirloom from your grandfather, which she could respect. 

Her hand reached over and shoved at your back, smiling in satisfaction when you straighten your back, shooting a glare in her direction. 

“I finished Lolita, it was on Miller's list for its themes of controversy. I wouldn’t read it again though.” She mumbled, “I did pick up this new book called Rebecca, it’s allegedly a psychological thriller but what’s so dark about being haunted by your partner's ex?”

You scoffed, doodling some part of the camera in your journal, “A lot.” 

“Doesn’t seem too bad, I mean they’re dead right? Can’t do anything.” 

“I wouldn’t risk crossing a paranormal creature like that.” You commented, with a shrug of your shoulders. Cairo hummed, watching you work. When you made no further comments she returned back to her notebook, spending the hour before class working separately. 

—

Despite Mr. Miller's evident excitement towards writings of controversy, apparently, that wasn’t the case with Cairo. It was a mistake, a stupid mistake but a mistake she assumed a man like him would love. How wrong was she? 

A student longing for their middle-aged professor was where the line was drawn. The hypocrisy of it all made Cairo want to laugh, who was he to dismiss her paper that way? She knows the other students, the other students who wrote worse. The book Miller had them read was even worse. 

But no, what was done was done. And now she was convinced Miller thought she was coming onto her, just what she needed. Cairo wouldn’t be surprised if he reported her and there was suddenly a new switch in teachers. As annoying as that’d be, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

Instead of a clear schedule, there was now an overdue assignment, dragging her grade down that she had to redo. All. Over. Again. 

Oh how she wanted to scream at that, a relaxing week gone. 

“Stupid fucking Miller…” Cairo muttered, walking with haste to her car. Once inside she slammed the door, pressing her head against the wheel. A knock on her window startled the girl, causing her to look up with a huff, her eyes widening once she realizes who it is.

“Are you alright?” You ask, waiting for her to roll down the window. She does just that, wiping her face with her arm. Was she crying? “You look…off.” Typically your way of saying she looked like shit. Mascara smeared and all she couldn’t blame you. 

Deciding not to answer your question, Cairo motions to the passenger seat, tossing her bag carelessly into the back seat.  “Get in.” 

“But I already have a ride-“

“And I’m offering…just come inside.” She grits between her teeth, letting out an impatient sigh. She doesn’t know why she needs you in the car with her but doesn’t give herself time to dwell on it, when you’re slipping into the seat next to her. 

Your posture is tense and that bothers her. She didn’t mean to come off…abrasive. Taking her eyes off yours, she starts the car, preparing herself for the upcoming conversation. You quickly buckle yourself in without another word. 

The car ride could’ve been more comfortable, which usually it was but your consistent nervous tapping was starting to bother the brunette. Wordlessly she threw her stapled papers in your lap, you opened your mouth to speak but Cairo beat you to it, mumbling a small ‘read it’.

You flipped through her work carefully and Cairo didn’t have the heart to look at your reaction, not this time. It was different with you judging her work, not that you judged, words of compliments spilled out of your lips every time you did read something of hers, tugging those same old heartstrings Cairo was starting to get sick of. Unlike those other moments, this time, it was different as you flipped silently through her work. Did she really screw it up this bad? 

She heard a hiss leave your lips and if she weren’t driving the car her head would’ve snapped in an instant. Turns out you were only focusing on the grade and notes Miller left, better yet lack of. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, slowly sliding the papers back to her, pursing your lips. Cairo huffed, removing one hand from the steering wheel to snatch them back, throwing them harshly towards the back. 

So, she was in a bad mood. You thought, hands clutching at your knees, swallowing dryly. 

“So?” Cairo asks, her voice on the verge of a shout. 

“Well, it was interesting. I mean I skimmed through it so I don’t know, your writing was good- like always.” You spoke rapidly, a nervous trait. 

“God Y/n, if you thought it was bad you could’ve just said so!” She blurted exasperatedly.

“I don’t! Cairo you know I adore everything you write, this just caught me off guard. Doesn’t mean I like it any less, I promise.” 

A silence loomed over the car, and you shrank into your seat even further if that was even possible. Cairo let out a sigh, losing her grip on the steering wheel. 

“Sorry, I'm just feeling…” Cairo's voice trailed off as she struggled to find the right words. She didn’t want to fight, not again. The guilt weighed heavy on her chest every time she saw that deflated look on your face. She couldn’t keep pushing you away, that wasn’t fair. But she also couldn’t shake that feeling of uncertainty she felt around you, about what she wanted, when you were what she wanted, “frustrated with this assignment.”

“And that’s okay,” You reassured her, your voice as gentle as ever, as you reached out to take her hand. Cairo’s gaze flickered down to your hands, feeling a mix of comfort and apprehension, before reluctantly allowing them to intertwine, giving you a small squeeze. “I’m here for you if you need me, anytime.” 

Suddenly, the car felt much tighter than before, the lump in her throat growing heavier. She wasn’t sure when her eyes started to water or why your touch felt like a burden, but she knew she couldn’t hold it any longer. It all felt too intimate too quickly. Silently, she withdrew her hand, placing it back in her lap oblivious to the hurt expression on your face. 

Yet, she couldn’t ignore the own ache in her chest. 

—

A bright white light blurred endlessly in Cairo's eyes, slow and unresponsive to everything else that wasn’t her assignment. She fought tirelessly at the screen in front of her, the now blank page mocking her to no end. In the midst of it all Cairo recalled how easy her first essay had been to create, only to be dismissed. 

With a huff and slam at her laptop, she tossed the thing aside, landing back on her bed with a grunt. She separates herself from her work, wiping at her burning eyes with her hands. To say Cairo was frustrated was an understatement. After driving around with you for a while she let you go, dropping you off. 

A decision Cairo started to regret. 

Once again, her parents were out of town doing who knows what. It was something Cairo was used to, but it still bothered her more than she’d admit. Some company would be nice, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take rewriting that assignment anyway. 

After mulling it over in her head, she lifted herself up, to open her phone. Her eyes remained locked on your contact, holding a photo of you and Cairo at the library. While Cairo had her nose stuck in a book, you looked at her like she was everything and more. The picture only made her stomach gnaw uneasily, but still, with much hesitance she dialed your number, listening to it ring.

“Hey, can you come over?” 

An astonishing ten minutes was all it took for you to appear at her door. Cairo smiled at you, tugging you in. She noticed you carrying a small plastic bag but didn’t comment on it, dragging you up to her room.

“I brought you something.” You said, softly closing the door behind you. Cairo sat herself on the bed, tilting her head curiously. “A lot of things actually.” 

How Cairo managed to miss the balloon you had brought in with you, reading in big bold letters: ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ was totally behind her. Cairo raised a questioning eyebrow and you explained for her writing losses, and Cairo didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or punch you. 

Fortunately, you reached into the bag before she could consider the latter, pulling out a familiar bottle of scotch that had Cairo’s lips contorted into one of mischief and pleasure. “And I figured you could use a drink, or two.” You muttered thoughtfully, tossing the bottle on her lap. Cairo traced the bottle with her fingers before twisting it open with a ‘pop’.

You moved around the room, searching for glasses you could use. Spotting two clean ones on the dresser you grabbed them, and settled down next to Cairo, leaving a respectable distance between you. Cairo already had her lips on the bottle by the time you poured the drinks and you raised an amused eyebrow, handing her the whiskey-filled shot. She downed it impressively and you attempted to do the same, failing quite miserably when the burn settled. 

Cairo laughed and you settled further into her bed, grumbling embarrassedly. And it had only taken two more shots for you to really feel the effects, and you could tell Cairo was starting to feel them too, a giddy smile plastered on her face that never seemed to leave. Your shoulders untensed noticeably from how serene the air felt, wishing that every moment with Cairo didn’t feel like walking a tightrope. 

Yet there was still something there – a lingering tension of sorts that no matter how hard you tried wouldn’t leave. You assumed Cairo felt the same when you met her eye and a soft smile tugged on her lips, one that you couldn’t help but return.

Time seemed to blur with the buzz of alcohol in your body, everything having been so peacefully quiet till Cairo shifted against the headboard, lips lingering on the bottle. Her gaze met yours and your stomach stirred. Not knowing why, foolishly, you looked away. Never had Cairo looked in your direction with so much fervor, and you’d be damned if she started now, under the influence when she didn’t mean it–couldn’t mean it.

But your heart would always betray you, now more than ever. So when she took another swing, you knew you were a goner by the way her eyes darkened and her teeth shone. Your own eyes remained locked to her lips and you swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race because she was staring back the same way. 

Cairo didn’t seem bothered, chuckling under her breath as she tucked the bottle away, then swiftly advancing on you the next second, giving into what you both so desperately wanted.

She stumbles into your lap messily, thighs encircling your waist and you groan when she squeezes, placing your hands on her thighs to anchor yourself. Cairo took the opportunity to trail kisses down your collarbone, her lips moving frantically, eager to kiss every inch of you. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, trying to block out that part of your mind that tells you, this is wrong.

Cairo stifles a moan when your nails dig into her hips, grounding her and you both shiver at the contact. Your hand slides along her side, encouraging her, and she does just that, moving slowly against your thigh. Then the room changes completely when her noises become louder, and the pit in your stomach grows hotter. And you have to take a moment to separate yourselves, breathing out of sync. 

“What are we doing, Cairo?” You whisper affectedly, rubbing your hands along her inner thighs and Cairo sighs. 

“Whatever you want me to do.” She whispers back in the same tone, bringing your foreheads together. “Guide me.” 

Despite her words, she’s the one to bring your mouths together first. It’s hesitant and slow, and you both sigh. Her hips press harder against you, and you break the kiss with a grunt. “More.” And that’s enough for you to kiss her again, in a much more heated kiss than before.

Your head is spinning in pleasure as Cairo’s hips grind against yours. With shaky hands you squeeze her skin, taking control of her movements and slowing them down. Cairo whines against your lips, begging and you realize you’re completely weak against her and give her what she needs, meeting her thrusts. 

She comes undone on your thighs next, hips spasming, and gasping against your lips as she comes down from her high. Her body goes limp and she falls on your shoulder for support. You press a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back with your hand to soothe her, not really caring if the act is more intimate for whatever this is. 

You switch your positions to lay her to rest on the bed, pressing soft lingering kisses on her face as you do, and she curls in beside you blissfully ignorant to what had happened, and you wonder if she’d still be like this with you if this never did occur. 

Still, you hold her tighter, blinking as the past minutes replayed in your head, trying to make sense of the situation. Your thoughts only come to a halt when Cairo’s lips are back on your neck, and you shake away the goosebumps because you know you can’t do this again without truly knowing. 

“Cairo—what, what did we do? What was this?” Your voice cracks through the silence, a lump forming in your throat. 

“Sex,” Cairo states matter-of-factly, continuing to kiss your neck, but it has your heart dropping to your stomach and suddenly you feel sick. Maybe it was just the alcohol or the heartbreak, or both. Either way, it had you pulling away.

“But did it mean anything?” You ask hesitantly, sitting up next to take her hands off you. Cairo huffs in frustration but doesn’t stray her eyes away from you, the action only making it all the more difficult to ask. “At all—did you feel something?” 

“Baby I felt many things,” She chuckles incredulously, raising an eyebrow.  “What's with all the questions?” 

Her wandering hands make it hard to focus on your words, each touch just a reminder of what you had done just a moment ago. You tentatively take her hands into your own, catching her by surprise. “I just mean- well you’ve never…shown or said you’ve wanted to be with me this way.” 

“Just because I had sex with you doesn’t mean I want to be with you. It’s just sex, Y/n.”

You choke in disbelief, feeling a wave of soberness wash over and you let go of her hands, similarly to how Cairo did earlier.

Not really knowing what to do or say, you shuffle away from her, noticing her torn expression. It hurts you to look at her, so you don’t, choosing to face anything—the ceiling, her vanity. But everything ties back to her, and you hated yourself for allowing this to happen. 

A wave of silence passes you before you have the strength to repeat something, “Right”. You manage to utter, your voice trembling.  

When you make a move to leave, Cairo touches your wrist to stop you and you freeze. “It’s late, and you’re drunk. Stay the night.”

You take a shallow breath, shaking your head in denial. “I don’t think I should.”

“I wasn’t asking.” 

“Of course not.” You mutter, sitting back against the headboard. Cairo doesn’t question the attitude, only sparing a concerned glance before moving off the bed. Her movements are sloppy as she makes her way to the bathroom, holding a new pair of clothes. 

You don’t register when she returns, but it’s long afterward. Neither of you says a word, choosing to settle in silence. There’s a palpable tension when she places a pillow between you, a silent barrier.

You want to scream, to say something, to remind her who initiated it. Tell her that if anything, you should be uncomfortable with her. But that would be a lie. Your head continues to pound throughout the night, and you decide it’s better to sleep it off, unaware of how deeply affected both of you are.

The next day, Cairo wakes up to an empty bed.

[archiveofvirtue]

SICK ⸻ sam winchester

content / sam winchester x fem!reader, sick!reader, comfort, hella fluffy, sam being a golden retriever boyfriend, 1.5k words

summary / you’re sick and sam is doing everything in his will power to make you feel better, even though not all of his methods might work

You lay curled under layers of blankets, head pounding with the rhythmic throb of a migraine. Your nose was stuffy, and no matter how many times you tried to breathe through it, it felt like nothing was working. You hated feeling sick, but what you hated more was Sam’s worried face hovering over you.

He couldn’t help it though—that’s just who he was. You looked so small and fragile in your bed, sniffling and wincing every time you moved. He hated seeing you like this.

Sam was many things, but mostly someone who cared too deeply. And seeing you in pain triggered a special part of him, the one that needed to fix things, no matter how small.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Sam’s deep voice came from the doorway as he walked into your shared room, carrying a steaming mug of tea. It wasn’t much, but he hoped it would help, even if only a little. He had already gone to the store twice—once for your favorite herbal tea and then again for some meds and more tissues.

You glanced up from your pillow, giving him a weak smile. "Like I got hit by a truck."

Sam chuckled softly, though the concern in his eyes was obvious. He set the tea down on the nightstand and knelt beside the bed. “I got you some soup too, whenever you’re ready.”

You could feel the guilt creeping in. Sam had seen and fought things far worse than a simple cold. He didn’t need to be playing nurse. He could always tell when you felt like you weren’t worth all the fuss. But weather it was a runny nose or a world-ending apocalypse, he wasn’t going anywhere.

"You don’t have to do all this," you muttered, trying to sit up. The pressure in your head doubled, and you winced, immediately sinking back down onto the pillow.

Sam’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant, gently pushing you back into the bed. "Of course I do. I want to."

He reached for the tea, blowing on it to cool it slightly before handing it over. "Here, this will help with the congestion."

You took the mug, feeling it warming you up, and Sam couldn’t help but feel relieved that he could do at least this much for you. You took a small sip, feeling the tension in your body slowly ease as the warmth from the tea spread through you.

But really, it was just having Sam here that made everything feel better. Even if the world were ending, he’d still be here, making you feel like everything was okay.

"Do you want me to rub your temples?" Sam asked, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised. "You don't have to—"

You started to protest, but Sam just smiled, gently pressing his thumbs to your temples. His touch was perfect, the pressure just enough to ease the tension without making things worse. You closed your eyes, a sigh escaping as his fingers worked wonders.

"You’ve got magic hands," you murmured, voice barely audible as you melted into his touch.

“Oh, I know. They could work wonders on more than just your head." He responded playfully, wiggling his brows at you.

That did it—you couldn’t hold back. You burst out laughing, but almost immediately, the laughter turned into a violent coughing fit. You hunched over, clutching your chest, your breath catching as you coughed hard.

Sam’s face went from playful to panicked in a second. "Oh shit, y/n, I’m sorry!" His hand hovered near your back, unsure whether to pat or just let you get through it.

You waved him off, still coughing but managing a breath in between. "I’m—" you tried to speak, voice strained, "I’m fine. Really.”

Sam winced, guilt written all over his face as he handed you a tissue and waited for you to catch your breath. "I didn’t mean to make it worse," he muttered, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. "I just wanted to make you laugh, not, you know, choke to death."

You finally settled, breathing evening out as you dabbed your nose with the tissue. You looked up at him, eyes still watery from the coughing, but a soft smile tugged at your lips. "Don’t worry," you rasped, voice hoarse. "It was totally worth it."

Soon his touch returned to your temples, gentle and steady. His fingers moved slowly, easing the pain that had gripped you all day. After a minute, he leaned down and kissed your forehead, his lips cool against your feverish skin.

Sam was always like this—so careful, so considerate. You weren’t sure how you’d gotten so lucky. A guy who had faced demons, angels, and everything in between, now sitting here with you, rubbing your temples like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

"You’re too good to me, you know that?" You said, voice thick from congestion.

Sam paused and turned his gaze down toward you, a soft smile spreading across his face. "I’m just doing what you’d do for me." he said, because he knew without a doubt that if your roles were reversed, you’d be the one fussing over him.

You laughed, though it came out more like a wheeze. "I don’t know about that. You’re a little too overqualified for the job."

Sam inched closer, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. "You’re worth it, y/n." It wasn’t just something he said—you knew that he meant every word. He’d go to the ends of the world for you, and he had, more than once.

Despite feeling miserable, you couldn’t help but smile. Sam had a way of making everything better, even when you felt like you were falling apart.

"Alright, get some rest," Sam said softly, carefully standing up and pulling the blanket higher around your shoulders. "I’ll be right here if you need anything."

You closed your eyes, the warmth from the tea and the comfort of Sam’s presence lulling you into a more peaceful state. Even through the haze of your migraine, you could feel the love and care he poured into every small gesture.

Sam Winchester might be just a hunter for a few, but to you, he was your everything.

hope you enjoyed !! i was sick when i wrote this, so it’s not proofread.

feedback and requests are very welcomed !!

tags: @gibson-g1rl @nuemanfilms @angelicjackles @nxptvn @nourties @alluvthegurlz @beausling @lailawinchesterr

[happy74827]

Something Wholesome

[Logan Howlett & Teen!Fem!Reader]

Synopsis: In which you can’t help but feel the need to comfort the big grumpy ape.

WC: 2054

Category: Comfort, Slight Fluff, Reader is Vanessa’s Younger Sister, 4th Wall Breaks {TW: Wade Being… Well, Himself.}

Even being the worst Wolverine, I believe he still is 100% a girl dad, and I stand by that statement.

『••✎••』

"I thought you quit?"

Your voice startled him. He jumped and almost dropped the cigar he was holding between his teeth. Logan's eyes fell upon you, standing in the kitchen doorway with your arms folded.

"Jesus, kid. You're gonna give me a heart attack." He shook his head, taking the cigar out of his mouth and holding it between his fingers. It was still unlit. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"

You held up a ring of keys and shook it in the air, the jingling of metal echoing around the room. "It’s called having a brother-in-law who can pick locks." You tossed the keys on the counter and sat down across from him, resting your head in your hands. "Are you having another midlife crisis, Warrior Cat?"

"You're a brat, y’know that?" He rolled his eyes, taking the cigar and tossing it back into his jacket pocket. He ran a hand over his face, sighing.

You watched him closely. The bags under his eyes, the wrinkles, the slight hunch to his shoulders. He looked old… and not the usual, rugged, cool old. You frowned, leaning across the counter.

"You know, with Wade always around, I haven't had much time to check up on my favorite Canadian." You tilted your head to the side.

"Don't let Canuck hear you say that," he snorted. You stuck your tongue out at him, and he rolled his eyes. You could see the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Seriously, Slim Jim," The joke earned a slight scowl from him. You grinned, knowing it annoyed him when you called him that. "You look your age today. What's wrong?"

Logan stared at you, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head. He was probably wondering how much to tell you. If anything, at all.

You were used to it by now. His reluctance to talk about what was bothering him, his unwillingness to rely on anyone. It was his default, and you understood that, but after three months of sharing an apartment with blind meth-headed Trunchbull and Scary Terry, it was getting really tiring.

Finally, he sighed. "I've been thinkin'."

"Oh no." You feigned fear. He shot you a warning glare. One of those 'try me and see what happens' glares. "About what?"

He didn't answer right away. His eyes kept glancing toward the pocket his cigar was stashed in. He was struggling not to light it.

You were about to ask again, but before you could, he finally spoke up.

"I drove past the school a few days ago. It's still standing, y'know. It looks the same as it did 15 years ago." He laughed, though it sounded empty. "Abandoned, sure. But it's there."

Yeah, clearly, Disney spent all their budget on Princess remakes. A shame, really. The mansion was a good place to have movie nights.

"And it just...hit me, I guess. Everything's gone, kid." His voice grew soft, and the expression he was wearing broke your heart. "Everyone I knew, everyone I ever cared about, is dead. All I got left is this shitty apartment, a crap truck, and annoying roommates who drive me crazy."

"To be fair, I haven't had any accidents in three months," Wade called from the living room. Honestly, you weren’t even aware he was home. It was even more of a miracle that he heard Logan. "Saving the world has improved my driving skills. Now, I only hit pedestrians."

"Shut the fuck up, Wilson," Logan barked, his claws popping out of his knuckles with a snikt. "Or I'll shove those swords up your ass and make you eat 'em."

“Slow your roll, Caesar Salad; this is a PG story. Step off with the sexual violence, at least until you have the author's consent to do so." Wade turned the corner into the kitchen, a huge bag of Taco Bell in his hand. "Besides, Vanessa wouldn’t be too happy if she found out I was cheating on her with your foot long. You know how jealous she gets. One time, I tried to-"

"Wade, please," You groaned. He looked at you, then at Logan, and nodded.

"You're right, you're right. I should respect the rating." Wade waved his hand in the air and made his way out of the room, taking a bite out of one of his tacos. "Also, the fact that I’m technically a father figure in this fic, for reasons we can't disclose here. I’d rather not turn this wholesome story into some weird-ass daddy kink porno, even though I wouldn’t mind if it were."

He turned his attention to an empty wall momentarily, a smile creeping on his face. "I have a feeling you guys wouldn't either, judging by the comments on those other ones, and honestly, I don't blame you. My body is a temple, and it should be worshiped. Just ask all those Honda Odyssey rewrites. They'd know all about that, especially the ones that end with me getting-"

"WADE," You and Logan yelled at the same time, his claws still unsheathed. Logan looked ready to jump over the counter and murder him, and while it wasn’t uncommon for Wade to be shredded like string cheese, the two of you had had enough drama to last the rest of the year.

"Ugh, fine." He threw his hands up, his tacos spilling all over the floor. "But just for the record, I totally just stole the focus of this fic. Don't let Logan fool you. He's only the main character because this is his story, but the real star of the show is moi." He pointed a finger to his chest and winked at you. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Get the fuck outta here," Logan said, his claws sliding back into his knuckles. "I swear to god, Wilson, if you ruin my day any more than you already have, I'm gonna shove you into the wood chipper."

"You have a wood chipper?" Wade raised an eyebrow, grinning. "My, oh, my. Who would have thought the lumberjack would make a reappearance?"

"Five. Four. Three. Two. One," You muttered.

"Don't push me, asshole." Logan was growling, his claws once again threatening to slice into the other man.

A normal person would have run away by now, but not Wade. You had known him long enough to understand that he thrived off of conflict. He was the most chaotic son of a bitch you had ever met, and nothing excited him more than pissing people off.

But, again, this wasn’t his story. He was just hijacking it, and the author had had enough. So, without further ado, they did the most logical thing. They made Mary Puppins appear, and suddenly, she was in his arms, and he was out of the kitchen, leaving behind the Taco Bell, his jokes, and his dignity.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to laugh. You managed to contain it, but just barely.

You glanced over at Logan, and he still had a look on his face like he was drained and exhausted. Of course, now annoyance and anger were mixed into the cocktail.

With your sister’s boyfriend out of the picture, he slumped down against the counter, running a hand through his hair. Not much of it, given the current length, but enough that he could pull at it.

"I'm sorry," You said. You felt a pang of sympathy for him, and you couldn't imagine the shitstorm that must be going on in his mind. After all, he wasn't like the rest of you. He was a lot older, and his life had been filled with a lot more heartache and pain than you would ever experience. "It sucks."

He didn't say anything, so you continued.

"I mean, I don't know what it's like, obviously, but I can't imagine how it must feel to lose everything like that. Everyone." You paused, thinking about your family. Your own life hadn't exactly been a picnic, but the world hadn't come crashing down around you. Not yet, at least. "I can't imagine the kind of strength you must have to go on."

He grunted, which was pretty much the Logan version of a 'Thank you.'

"I just..." His voice was quiet. "I just want something permanent. That’s not this." He motioned to the room around you, and you couldn't help but notice the look in his eyes.

"I get it."

"I don't think you do, kid," he muttered, staring at his feet.

"Hey, give me a little credit. I might not be ancient like you, but I've seen some shit. Wade is infatuated with Nessie, so I go through that bullshit every other day." You shook your head. "The two of them can be a real handful together."

"No kiddin'." He snorted.

"I mean, sure. The world went to hell, but I think it's pretty safe to say that you deserve something good after all the crap that's happened." You shrugged, looking around the room. "This is that something."

He stared at you for a long moment, and you wondered if you said something wrong. Speaking to him was always a gamble. Sometimes, he would respond, and the two of you could actually hold a conversation. Other times, he would shut down and refuse to talk, or worse, yell at you.

It seemed like luck was on your side today.

"Maybe." His eyes moved to his hands, and his gaze was distant. "It's hard to think that when I'm stuck in this hell hole."

"It's not that bad."

"You’re just saying that so Wilson doesn’t think about moving back in with your sister." He rolled his eyes. "And it is. We all know that."

"Okay, fine, you're right. The apartment is shitty, and so is the neighborhood. The landlord is a bitch, and the neighbors are loud." You took a breath, leaning closer. "But, you have us."

"Oh, don't you start."

"And you've got your truck and your liquor and the crappy TV in the living room. I say, if that isn't permanent, I don't know what is."

Logan opened his mouth, but you held a finger up.

"You might not realize it, but you have a family here." You smiled at him, and he scoffed, turning his face away from you.

"I've had families before. Doesn't work out."

"Well, we're of the more persistent kind," you teased, reaching across the counter and punching him lightly on the shoulder. "We aren't going anywhere. Especially Wade. Man is a tick that refuses to let go."

"God, I wish he would."

"He won't. You're stuck with him. You’ll be the best man at his wedding, and we both know it." You grinned, and he rolled his eyes, though the corner of his lips quirked.

"Great," he muttered.

Secretly, you knew he enjoyed the banter with Wade. He acted annoyed and irritated, but deep down, you were certain he was amused. Might be frustrated, but definitely amused.

You were about to tell him that, but he spoke first.

"Thanks, kid." He reached across the counter and squeezed your arm. "You're a pain in the ass, but you're not so bad."

"Not so bad?" You snorted. "Wow. Is that how the Wolverine slid into the hearts of millions?"

He chuckled and shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. "You know what I mean, you brat."

You stood, walking around the counter. You threw your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t hug back for reasons that you understood. Still, you wanted him to know that you were there for him and he could rely on you.

"You know," you started. "I think a lot of people would be surprised by the softy you are under all the grumpiness."

"Yeah, well, don't go around spreadin' that." He pushed you away gently, shaking his head. "I’m not a damn teddy bear, and I'll rip your throat out if you start tellin' people."

"I’m getting the Wade treatment? A threat of death if I speak a word?" You laughed, shaking your head. "I’m honored."

"Sometimes I wonder if he is your sibling instead of your sister."

"Nah, I’m too pretty to be a Wilson." You smirked. "If anything, I'm more related to my cousin."

"The one who tried to kill you last month?"

"That's the one."

"Then you definitely are a Wilson."

[triptuckers]

wild flowers - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Can I request a platonic Percy Jackson x Child of Demeter!Reader based off the new Disney series? Where Child of Demeter!Reader is significantly older than Percy (17/18 maybe?) and is the one to welcome him to camp instead of Luke. Reader is more gentle and understanding to Percy's questions and is in general sort of a parent figure in the camp?" Pairing:  percy jackson x demeter!reader (platonic) Summary:  you welcome the newest kid at camp half-blood Warnings:  none (omg??) Word count:  1.1K A/N: was excited when I saw the new episode will be out on Tuesday but then I looked at the time zone and it's 3 am for me so I'll still watch it on wednesday :') thanks for your request, enjoy!

you try not to look away as percy, the newest addition to camp half-blood, nearly shoots another camper. he falls to the ground due to the force of the bow.

'alright.' you say, walking over to see if percy's okay. 'so not archery.'

'I didn't mean to!' says percy, looking at the kids who had flattened themselves to the ground to avoid being shot.

'of course you didn't, they know that. can I have the bow?' you say.

percy quickly shoves the bow in your hands as well as the quiver of arrows. you hand them back to the apollo kid who was teaching him with a thanks and an apologetic smile.

'see, I suck at this.' says percy. 'I'm not good at anything.'

'hey, that's not true.' you say. 'everyone is good at something. c'mon, I'll take you to my favorite spot at camp.'

that gets his attention. 'your favorite spot?'

'yep. right this way.'

you lead him away from the archery field. you can tell he's curious. you take him to the strawberry field, where some of the satyrs and your siblings are tending to the plants.

you walk past the strawberries to a field of grass where wild flowers grow.

'it's pointless.' says percy as the two of you sit down.

you frown. 'what is?'

he gestures around. 'all of this. I'm not one of you. it's clear there's something wrong with me. none of this matters because my dad won't reveal himself, he doesn't care. my mom is gone. I suck at archery. and I can't work in the forge. I can't do anything.'

you look at him. most kids are tough on themselves when they arrive. percy isn't any different.

'at least you didn't suck as much at archery than I did.' you say. 'contrary to you, I actually did hit someone when trying out archery '

percy's eyes widen. 'you did?'

you nod. 'apollo kids had to patch them up. luckily it wasn't that bad. but still I haven't touched a bow since. and I'm also not good at sword fighting. I only carry one because it's the weapon I suck the least with.'

'what if you suck at everything?' asks percy softly.

you smile at him. 'this is all normal. we all felt like this when we came here, regardless if we could already fight or not. and look at me, I still can't fight that well. I'm a joke compared to luke and clarisse if it comes to fighting. gods, even annabeth is better than me and she's your age.'

you point ahead to the strawberry fields. 'my cabin doesn't bring forth the best fighters. and that's okay. we're good at other things.' you say.

percy looks at your siblings, sure enough, not a lot of them carry weapons. maybe you do because you're head counsellor of your cabin.

'when did you find out who your mom was?' asks percy.

you sense he's not just curious about your godly heritage. he wants to know how long it would take before his father claims him. and he already knows there are unclaimed kids.

'for me it was pretty clear. I've always loved plants. I've got an impressive garden back at home.' you say. 'demeter claimed me my second day at camp.'

'so pretty fast...'

'for some kids it's fast. for some it's slow. some kids are very certain about who their godly parent is and sometimes they're right and sometimes they're not. you can't predict it with 100% accuracy.'

'did someone guess it correctly?'

'most of the times it's the athena kids who are right about their hunches. but they're athena kids of course, very smart. also a lot of ares kids are right. and for others it's a 50/50 chance. for instance, milo. everyone was convinced he was a hephaestus kid because he really liked to blow stuff up. turns out he's an athena kid. he's just really smart about blowing stuff up.'

'I bet I'm a kid of the god or failure or something. I'm just a regular kid, I'm not special. I don't have any impressive powers. not like you.'

'you think my powers are impressive?' you chuckle. 'I'm good with plants percy. over the years I've learned how to master those. but at first all I did was accidentally make flower patches.'

percy looks at you, frowning. 'you what?'

you laugh, then point to your shoes. they look like you've worn them every day for the past five years. which you have, somehow they won't wear down.

'these were a gift from my mom. if I don't wear them, flowers grow where I walk.'

'really?'

you nod and take them off. you get up and walk a circle around percy. and indeed, flowers grow where you put your feet down on the grass. you pick one and give it to percy, then put your shoes back on.

'it's the only thing I still can't master. maybe it's not something to be mastered. I'd ask my mom but the only time I saw her was when I was out fighting for my life. wasn't really the time to ask about flowers. she didn't even give me my shoes in person, just sent them here.'

you and percy are silent as you look out over the valley. you remember your first days at camp, how scared you were. you didn't know anyone, you were told your mom was a goddess, and you could never have a moment alone because there would always be someone who could find you based on the flowers you left behind.

'everyone here has been through what you're going through now.' you say. 'maybe they didn't experience it in the same way. I mean, you did kill the minotaur. but all of them have been confused, wondered about wether they belong, if there's something wrong with them. we all found our way in the end.'

'did you feel like you didn't belong?'

'sure. but then chiron explained to me it's all because of the gods. we've got dyslexia because our brain is wired in greek. the adhd is from our need to fight. it's all in our dna. just give it time, you'll belong. any other questions?'

'what do you do when you're not at camp?'

you smile. 'try not to run into any monsters and wait for the time to go to camp again. you'll find your family here, percy, trust me. now let's see if the aphrodite can teach you anything.'

you get up and offer your hand to percy. after pulling him to his feet, you start to walk toward the aphrodite cabin.

'you know, regardless of what cabin you belong to, you can always come to me if you have any questions.' you say.

percy smiles at you. 'thanks.'

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[bugclot]

Ten Steps Ahead

You've found yourself in a stucky sticky situation after getting caught snooping in Bucky's drawers after he took your favorite thong as a punishment for teasing him and Steve with it on, so the two best pals decide to take it in their own heroic hands.

content: 18+, dubcon, dom!bucky barnes x dom!steve rogers x sub reader, spanking, choking, sort of angst, bucky & steve punishing brat reader, humiliation, hair pulling, edging, bj, cucky bucky, fuck just read all my kinks and have fUn.

"Manners, darling. Now, what do you say to Steve?"

-

"Thank you, Captain."

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Bucky and Steve both just love to find different ways to gain control of you. Even when you think for a second that you're ahead, they just always seem to be ten steps further. Shit. This time, you had gotten in minor trouble with Buck, earning yourself basically a "time-out" in your room at the base while the rest of the crew went out for bowling (or so you thought), also resulting in him taking yet your new favorite lace panties—asshole. Too bad you're too much of a pain in the ass to just stay put, you're gonna go get them back.

You've found yourself walking down to his apartment-suite which was just down the hall from yours, you made sure to check around to make sure the coast was clear—little did you know you missed a few spots. You used your key that Bucky had given you back when you two, well, three, have started your interesting little friendship. Being the fairly new and quite stubborn avenger you were, the two men took it upon themselves to put you in your place whenever needed be. I'll save you the lore. You softly shut the door and slink your way through his cozy yet humble apartment to the bedroom, you head straight for the dresser and begin to rummage.

It isn't long before you're joined by someone else. You hear an "Aha." and it startles you, you turn and boom.

"Ten steps further I see." you say in your mind, feeling defeated once more, staring at the blonde broad. Of fucking course Bucky sent Steve. His right hand man, just to check in on your activities. Steve wasn't really your favorite person to work with, you always hated his captain-savior complex he seemed to always have trailing behind him, at least that's what it seemed like to you. Many times Tony and you enjoyed playfully jabbing at Steve, just to tease him and share your mutual annoyance with the super soldier, with Bucky eyeing you down with a warning look every time.

"Y/N." Steve announces, his voice laced with sternness. "What do you think you're doing?" This tone attempted to pierce through your ego, but you didn't let it. You eye your stolen garment, it's hanging off of his index finger and you scoff, "Did Bucky send you to watch me or something?" you ask while crossing your arms. "Buck had a hunch you'd be out of your room, as did I." He looks down at your undergarment, toying with it and speaks again, "You're definitely not getting these back."

The nerve.

You roll your eyes and walk towards him, he looks up upon hearing your movement, shifts his weight, ready for anything. You stop in front of him—toe to toe, looking up at him, confidence tattooed all over you. "Steve—" "That's Cap to you." He interrupted you, fixed on your stature. Right. Captain and Sergeant when they're in control over you. But, who does he think he is? Playing big and bad with you? You see, it was easy to be such a brat to Steve, he wasn't as harsh as Bucky, that's who truly humbled you when need be. "Aye aye, Captain Rogers," you mockingly salute him, "Give me my shit back. Don't make this harder than it has to be." Steve furrows his eyebrows, "You kiss your mother with that mouth?" he purses, "Do you know what year it is? Shut the fuck up." You spat and make a sudden reach for his hand, he quickly and swiftly grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks and lets out a huff, "That language back in my day would earn you a good old fashioned punishment. Haven't Bucky and I taught you that yet?" Your heart rate begins to pick up from adrenaline as you try to break from his grip upon him putting his hands on you, "Let me-" you stop yourself as you notice someone behind him—standing tall, buff, and in full tactical gear, not an outfit he'd go bowling in.

Bucky.

Goddamn, does he have to look so menacing? He seems to be burning a hole through you with his icy stare, arms crossed showcasing the definition of his build even more. "Y/N." He says, nothing else.

He paralyzes you, you've been caught.

Steve turns his head to look at his best pal, as he tosses your garment to him, and Bucky gives him a nod. Steve returns the gesture and turns back to you, he chuckles slightly under his breath as he brings you to the side of the bed facing the drawer and sits down, he attempts to bend you over his knee but you put on a struggle, no way he's about to take the reins,

"Wh-" you start,

You remember your other dear dominant friend is watching you. Knowing what he'd do to you, you comply. All of a sudden you feel the sharp sting of Steve's hand make contact with your backside through your Nike Pros, the ones that Bucky loves to see you prance around and train in. You hesitate to protest knowing this is all his doing until Steve makes contact again. "Fuck." You slip out. He lands another three smacks before responding to you, "Language." You try to claw at Steve's pant leg in protest, "Okay, okay, fine! You win." You chirp out as Steve starts up again—hard. Your cheeks on your face begin to heat from embarrassment, and unfortunately slight pleasure from this, along with feelings of defeat striking along with Steve's rhythm. Knowing that Bucky is simply watching, facilitating this, drives you up the wall. This is the ideal punishment for you.

Always ten steps ahead.

What feels like twenty counts later, you feel a nosy hand glide down to your helplessly soaked snatch, you close your eyes and labor your breathing as he slightly thumbs your clit through your pants, causing you to accidentally whine out. That sensation stops as Steve continues to rain down on your backside.

After five more minutes of fighting to get up from Steve and him effortlessly pinning your arm against your lower back, which seems like forever, Bucky's voice surprises you, "Stand up."

Immediately you hop off Steve's lap and step away from him, trying not to meet that look on his face. "Take off your clothes." Bucky growls, his request sent aches straight through your already ruined core, you wrinkle your eyebrows at him and motion to Steve. As if this wasn't enough? He's sitting in victory on the bed. You squeak out, "Buck—" He uncrosses his arms and cuts you off, "Sarge." He corrects. Ah, yeah. You look down nervously and he speaks up again, "You just don't listen, do you? How many times have we gone through this, doll?" Doll. You slowly strip in front of the two fully clothed super soldiers, feeling powerless and humiliated. Ironically, you're not wearing any panties, huh, thanks a lot to Bucky! The weight of the room was heavy, similar to the feeling of a predator stalking its' prey, you knew that if you made one wrong move, you'd be pounced on.

The drift from the room and the eyes from the two men cause goosebumps to form all over. Steve looks at the mess between and on your inner thighs and laughs, him and his old pal exchange looks as if they're speaking in their own language telepathically. Your breathing pattern changes, anticipating the next move from either one of these devils. Your breathing catches Bucky's attention and he smirks seeing his precious little brat being humbled by him and his own best friend, he motions Steve to grab you once again, which he does with ease and pulls you on the bed with him.

Bucky, leaning against the nightstand against the wall facing the foot of the bed, his hands on the stand holding his weight behind him. "So you're enjoying this, huh?" He asks as Steve leans back on the headboard as he positions you leaning against him, head back on his shoulder with your legs spread and womanhood drooling for attention. He has your left arm held with his, with his right arm over your other, giving him perfect access. His right hand clawing agonizingly lightly on your upper thigh. "Not so talkative now, Y/N." He says with rasp in his voice. You wiggle around to try to give your abused backside room to breathe. "Steve, shut the fuck up." You grunt out. Oh, how you hated to be belittled, as stubborn as you are. Without hesitation, he slaps your inner thigh, causing you to quietly cry out. He then says, "You're in the wrong position to be this bold, Y/N." The tone of his voice makes your nipples jump, you know that your body belongs to Steve and Bucky, but your mind has a mind of its' own. Steve lets out a "tsk, tsk, tsk," as he punishes your thigh in the same place again, you flinch, your arm tired from the position Steve has it in. Bucky speaks up at you with a demanding tone, "Y/N, look me in the eyes." You hesitate, then look at the metal armed soldier, "What have I told you about teasing Daddy like that?" he coos, you part your lips to respond but you're cut off with a set of fingers teasing at your clit, agonizingly slow. You have no choice but to moan out in response to this sudden action from Steve, and the exacting tone from Bucky which made you so goddamn sensitive. You try your best to keep your eye contact with Bucky, his emotionless brooding against your drooling, pretty little face. "Prancing around in these?" He holds up the laced, revealing underwear that had gotten you into this, Bucky continues, "Teasing me and Steve like that? You're such a mindless little hot mess. Look at you." He was right. Absolutely right. Naked, hot and bothered under these two, legs spread for the world to see, showcasing your soaked center, sweat dribbled on your face along with the drool coming from your mouth from your mouth being ajar. Steve picks up his pace, driving your heart rate to pick up, causing you to lose your eye contact with Bucky, letting your head fall back into Steve's built shoulder. "Look at me." Bucky snarls, you pick your head up with the little strength you have and your eyes start to water, "I'm sorry, Sarge." You feebly apologize. Steve looks at you, watching your flushed face as you play staring contest with Buck. Steve lets his middle and ring finger slip to your entrance, not going in completely but keeping them there, while he allows his thumb to press down on your center, causing your back to arch and for you to near,

"Hmm," He sings to your ear, "I think I want you to cum for me, Y/N." Those words alone could have sent you over the edge if it wasn't for Bucky to immediately shoot that chance down by opposing to you, "Y/N, not until I say so. You know your place." You let your eyes roll to the ceiling. The opposing sides drives you insane. Listening to Steve would earn you another punishment from Bucky, and listening to Bucky would earn you--well, more of this relentless teasing from Steve.

Bucky glides to the foot of the bed, not breaking his eye contact, "Hey, eyes on me." He snaps and you immediately look back at him, "Don't you dare. You hear me?" His words doing a number on you, he knows exactly what he's doing.

Bucky held the panties that caused all of this with his right hand and climbs on the bed shuffling closer to you, he then shoves them over your mouth, holding them there and holds himself up on your thigh with his metal hand. Your eyes roll back as you use everything in you to follow his orders. Steve looks down at you as well, as you're still leaning back on his shoulder,

"Don't you dare fucking cum." Bucky growls over you, while Steve is telling you the opposite.

"Cum for me, honey,"

"Don't even think about it, doll."

"It feels so good, doesn't it?"

"Don't give me a reason to punish you again."

Overstimulation tears come from your eyes. Embarrassment from this forced submission, pleasure, and irritation sends electric shocks down to your core, you breathe unevenly through your nose, looking Bucky straight in the eyes as he gags you. The cold yet satisfying touch of his metal hand on your thigh not helping at all as the hefty pit in your stomach only grows by the minute. You shake under Steve and Bucky's touch.

You whine out the best little, "Please, daddy," you could against the cloth, your breathing getting heavier, to which Bucky responds to you with a "What was that?" And squeezing your thigh, obviously knowing what you said. The clit stimulation, the teasing at your entrance, the asphyxiation, and slight fear of Bucky's next moves, as well as the back and forth, sends you into overdrive. Your throat is raw from the whining and moaning done. Your eyes flicker as you reach the summit—giving into Steve's soft dominant request, going against Bucky's. Steve smirks down at you and he sighs against your ear, "That's my good girl." You struggle to breathe as you recover from your high. When you seem to be barely caught up on your breathing, Bucky removes his hands and scoots to the edge of the bed, taking you with him by gripping your thighs and sliding you against him. "Trembling under daddies' touches." He growled to himself. The fury in his eyes give you a mix of angst and more pleasurable aches shaking through you once again.

Bucky keeps your right leg up over his shoulder, securing you with his metal arm, he slaps your soaked pussy and you cry out a very pornographic cry, "So, so disobedient. I thought I told you not to cum?" His voice booms through your dizzy head as you apologize meekly. His hand comes down again and again, causing you to arch and wiggle around, "Buc- Sergeant, I'm sorry! Please," You whimper out as he punishes your swollen core, he says nothing as he rubs your slit in between his strikes.

He then takes his arm holding you and places his hand around your neck, restricting your breathing in a more grizzly manner. You don't dare move your leg from his shoulder as you just take everything given to you, not wanting to further press the two —especially Bucky. "You like that, don't you?" He mocks you as you start to see stars, with your poor womanhood crying onto the bed, your shaky hands rise to his metal arm to clutch him, wanting to breathe. Your vision grows blurry and Bucky lets you go, yet still keeping a protective hand on your collarbone.

You bite your lip to hold your tongue when you realize that whining will get you nowhere, you start to regret teasing your nighttime superiors like how you did the night before, you being told to stop, but you, being the stubborn brat you are to them, you kept going. Bucky stops and grabs your face, you felt the wetness from yourself on his hand, he looks at you hungrily. His metal hand slowly guides down your body, finally going over places you craved touch in, a pit stop at your nipples and your lower stomach. His hand never left your face as he begins to tease at your clit with his other, his pace picking up quickly as you liked, he then slips one finger in to fuck you, then his second. You loved when he used his metal hand because of how it felt inside of you. Bucky shocked you by a small slap to your face with his right hand, "Have you learned your lesson?" He asks, not letting up with his busy fingers, you nod your head quickly and he slaps you again, "Gonna pull that stunt again, Y/N?" You feel that same heavy pit once again causing you to tighten around his fingers, "Mmm, n- no sir, sergeant." You practically yell out.

Bucky then flips you over to your stomach and claws both his hands down your back to your warmed ass. "I would have turned this beautiful little ass raw." He chuckles and looks up at his pal. Steve laughs in response, "No appreciation for my work done?" He teases. Bucky—using his metal hand, smacks your backside, you give him a shaky moan, he then grabs hold of your hair and forcefully lifts your head up to face Steve. He was rubbing over his bulge in his pants and looking down at you, raising an eyebrow. "Y/N? What do we say to Steve?" Bucky says with chaff in his voice, you didn't respond, Bucky loosened his grip to allow you to lift yourself onto your elbows and knees and aligned yourself with his groin, arching your back, he tightens his grip once more, waiting for your response, you look to the side as you start quietly, "Th–thank you—" Bucky slaps your ass again sharply and leans down into you,

"Manners, darling. Now, what do you say to Steve?"

"Thank you, Captain." you chirp out, clear as day and attentive.

Steve shifts himself as he slowly reaches down into his pants, obviously rubbing himself, "What was that, Y/N?"

Bucky spanks you again.

"Thank you, Captain." Your face fills with heat again as the words come out of your mouth, 'I'm never gonna live this down.', you think to yourself as you suddenly feel a familiar feeling against your womanhood. You close your eyes as Bucky's tip brushes at your clit, "Fuuuck, doll, you're so..." You hear him groan out, trailing off, he slowly moves himself up and down your slit making you want to grind yourself against him, he takes his time teasing you before he pushes himself inside of you. You croak out upon impact and he growls animalistically as he thrusts himself into you.

This is all what you craved.

Every ridge, every vein, every detail about Bucky's cock always made you into a weak little mess. You grip the sheets in front of you, surely causing them to rip as Bucky doesn't let up from his grip on your hair as he pounds into you, your mouth hangs wide open as you lose control of yourself, drool creating a pool before you. You're certain that the sounds of him smacking into your sensitive skin echoed throughout the entire base--thank fuck it was just the three of you. The moans spilling from you were unreal, especially when Bucky reached his free hand down to play with your core, saying things breathlessly like: "You take my cock so well," and "You're gonna tease me like that again? Hm?"...and, "You deserve every single second of this.", to which you would reply in broken cries, "Yes sir, Sarge." and "I'm sorry, Sarge,"...and, "Thank you, Sarge.".

Steve was enjoying the scene in front of him as he now had his manhood fully out, stroking it and moaning down at you. Bucky takes his hand from under you and once again slaps your ass, he grunts out, "Tell him thank you, doll," you obliged, "Thank you, Captain!" You whimper when he repeats his action and says, "Say it like you fucking mean it." I definitely meant it. "Hmm! Thank you, Cap—" You were then cut off by Steve setting up on his knees and shoving himself inside your mouth out of nowhere, Bucky lets go of your hair and grabs hold of your hips to truly drill into you, surely making more marks against your abused ass, which made you tighten around him. You choke around the red, white, and blue cladded man as he places his hand on the side of your face, bucking his hips into your mouth. Steve uses his left hand to grasp your hair for a better angle, while he moves his right from your face to gather both your arms to pin them on your back. Both men grunt into you as they use you. Control you. Exactly how they like it. You feel powerless against the two super soldiers as they completely wear you out, tears of pain and pleasure stinging in your eyes once again.

Next time, you'll definitely be sure to tease them both harder. Though, always know they'll be ten steps ahead.

[starryschoolgirl]

Elusive Engagement

a Baby Love snippet - Circa: March, 1968

Summary -> When the news leaks to the press about your upcoming wedding, Elvis holds his own interrogation which wreaks havoc within his entourage. But you're told not to worry your pretty little head about it, however you can't help when you have a hunch that the leak came from your family.

Warnings -> It's only a little angsty, crying, throwing bottles, angry Elvis, misunderstandings, possible manipulation, disapproving mother-in-law, Roy Orbison makes a very short cameo

WC -> 2.5k

Thank you to that lovely anon who suggested making this newspaper thing, you have sparked a snippet you inspiring poet. And many thanks to Jeanie and Willow for helping me with the newspaper, lovely those ones.

The shrill ring of the bedstand's telephone had been an abrupt and unpleasant wake up call to Elvis after a long night of playing piano keys and renting out a bowling alley. To be quite fair it wasn't that this caller was being rude, it was after all digging into the day, 1 or 2PM by Elvis' guess.

He drawled out a deeper than usual, "Mm hello?", rubbing his eyes with his free hand as he did so. The hand extended from his eyes to drag down the skin on his face tiredly, the pull of the skin would only serve to tug an eyelid open. 

A joyous voice had filled Elvis' ear, an old friend's voice,

"Now I knew you had a wedding coming but why didn't you tell me I was invited to your wedding? And why didn't you tell me I was gonna sang too apparently?"

Elvis' eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head in a tired confusion, his lips smacked before he mumbled, "Roy? Man what are you talkin' about..."

He shifted in the bed slightly and turned to your side, warmth was emanating off you, his personal little heater. Elvis pulled the cord of the telephone from the bedside table so that he wouldn't knock over anything on the table as he scooted closer to your sleeping figure.

Roy's laugh filled the line, it was loud and had a bit of a pitch to it in the way Roy's singing voice could have. Elvis pulled the telephone away from his ear as he settled next to you, placing a hand on your stomach for contact as he leaned his back against the bed's headboard.

As he ran his hand down your stomach to your thighs, his fingers absentmindedly tugging at the laced hem of your short nightie as he complained into the phone,

"It's too early in the mornin' for ya jokes boy, what's goin' on Orbison?"

The laughing on the other line had subsided as he realized Elvis really didn't know what was going on.

"Elvis, it's all over the papers here, ain't it on the papers in California? Your wedding, it’s been leaked..."

-----

As you awoke from your much needed slumber you reached for your favorite pillow on the bed, Elvis. Only, it seems Elvis wasn't in bed? Maybe if you reached further you’d feel him, he tended to roll around in his sleep.

After the first swipe around the bed your hand turned frantic as it searched for him, you quickly sat up just to see he was gone. You pulled a stray hair out of the corner of your mouth and tried to smooth your mussed up hair back to at least look presentable as you scooted to his side of the bed, the warmth of his body long gone and now just a cold bunch of sheets and blankets.

The pads of your bare feet against the wood floor filled the room as you walked to grab your robe, it was a very chilly March morning, then again every morning was as Elvis had an obsession with keeping the house cold.

You felt very carefree as you wandered through the upstairs hall of the Hollywood home you and Elvis had been residing in, you didn't hear the loud guffaws and crude jokes of Elvis' entourage, dubbed as the Memphis Mafia, so you hoped that meant you could enjoy a sweet domestic morning with Elvis.

Just the thought excited you as you let your robe flutter open while you pranced down the stairs girlishly looking for your fiancé. Just as you rounded the bottom of the stairs and steered yourself into the sunken living room you had seen Elvis in his usual dressy attire, his back was turned to you as he was facing another part of the room that you couldn't quite see yet.

Just as you were about to call his name, your feet finally landing onto the plush white carpet of the sunken room, Elvis’ voice boomed through the room as he yelled, “Speak Goddammit!!” His yell closely followed by a bottle that had flown across the room and shattered against the wall, your guess of it being a bottle had been confirmed as fizzy brown liquid began to drizzle down the wall that had intercepted the bottle. The sound that had filled the air as it shattered had made you jump and squeal from the shock.

Elvis' broad shoulders had turned at the noise of your distress and your eyes shot around the room in a bit of panic, Elvis' friends were here, but instead of being their usual joyous, loud selves they were quietly standing straight with blank faces, like soldiers in trouble with their drill sergeant. 

They were in trouble with Elvis, and if that couldn't be told from the way they all stood with sunken expressions, then the way a few of them remained in a flinched stance from the bottle being hurled just inches from their heads was the giveaway.

You made eye contact with Jerry for a split second before he looked away, when you tried to make eye contact with the others they only looked away as well, then you turned to a fast-approaching Elvis.

He hadn’t yet shaved and his hair looked to still be tussled from sleep. Your wide eyes softened slightly at his facial expression, he looked upset, you could tell by the way his jaw clenched and his nose was just slightly scrunched in a way that only someone who was often close to his resting face could tell.

Your voice was soft and questioning as you reached a shaky hand up to smooth back his hair, “Elvis..?”

You then realized why the others wouldn’t look at you, especially with Elvis in this mood.

Before you could say anything else you watched as his hands found the sides of your robe, pulling the sides together to hide your figure. You’d felt an embarrassed heat spread up your neck as you realized Elvis’ friends had just seen you in your short nightie, and with the cold air of the room, they no doubt saw the two little hardened details of your chest that Elvis liked to admire most.

You let out a breath as he tied the string of your robe especially tight.

“Elvis, what’s the matter?”

Elvis sighed, his hardened expression softening just for your eyes as his back was now turned to the other guys, he shook his head for a moment while staring down at the floor. Now you felt worried, you brought a hesitant hand up to cup his cheek as you murmured softly,

“Can I help in any way?”

He cracked a little smile at the question and placed his hand over yours as he turned his cheek to kiss it. With his unshaved cheek rubbing against your hand you felt the slightest tickle, and any hesitance or fear you might’ve housed for a moment was out the window as you couldn’t help your giggle at the sensation.

The sweet noise only served as a reminder to Elvis that he had a duty as a man to handle it on his own, and not have you worry your pretty little head about anything.

Elvis’ hands rested at your waist and he leaned down to kiss your cheek and murmured against the skin close to your ear, “No little one, why don’tchu you head right on upstairs, be up there in a minute with ya alright? Just talkin’ with the boys”

He pulled back for you to see his little encouraging smile, to which you returned tenfold with your own sweet grin.

As you headed back down the hall that led to the stairs the house was silent and as you had left sight of the room you could hear Elvis saying something quietly but couldn’t quite make it out. You wanted to but at the same time you didn’t see the point, Elvis was handling his business, therefore it was none of yours. As you reached the staircase you noticed paper placed on the first stair.

Of course your eyes glazed over it as you were taking a step up the stairs and just as you had passed it, the headline finally hit you smack dab in the face.

“ELVIS PRESLEY TO BE MARRIED IN JUNE”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly bent down to grab it, taking slow steps up the stairs as you read the contents. 

A close source had revealed the upcoming wedding? Who could that be? Is that why Elvis was so angry downstairs? No one was supposed to know until after.

As you had reached the top of the stairs you had to lean against the wall and think, a million thoughts going through your brain as to why one of the people close to Elvis would reveal it. They’d risk losing more than they’d gain. Elvis didn’t like people who couldn’t keep their trap shut about his personal business.

There were even a few times where Elvis had stepped up to his manager, Mr. Parker, because the man wanted to release some information to the press about you and Elvis to keep his name before the public due to his movie career going down the toilet.

That argument didn’t end well as Elvis had almost gotten the two of them sued by refusing to participate in a project unless Mr. Parker promised not to go to the press for publicity, as Elvis didn’t want your name being dragged in the mud. Those journalists often found a way to make anyone, even someone Elvis deemed as saintly and perfect as you, seem like last month’s garbage.

But a thought that seemed to reoccur in your brain at the moment was the worry that the leak came from your side. After all, your family didn’t approve of this union. Especially your mother.

No, she wouldn’t do that, would she?

Your body remained stiff even though you felt as if you were buzzing all over, this vibration in your stomach, mixing and stirring your stomach acids all around.

This could all be your fault. Those guys could all be paying for your own mother’s actions. It was enough to make you feel a little sick.

You kept a hand on the wall as you wandered down the hall to your and Elvis' shared bedroom, your steps grew faster as you heard a bang and Elvis yelling at one of the guys, as if your growing guilt would tackle you to the floor if you slowed down.

Once you made it to the room you closed the door behind you, and with the newspaper still in hand you sat on Elvis’ side of the bed, turning the rotary dial to your mother’s number.

After a few rings and a shaky breath you heard a familiar voice say “Hello”, it was Rienne, one of the maids.

You tried to remain composed, heeding your mother’s lesson that if you weren’t composed around the help, they wouldn’t respect you.

“R-Rienne, is mother home?”

Your palm felt sweaty as you nervously clenched your free hand into a fist, biting your lip to keep it from enacting its nervous quiver.

“Cosette, is that you? Oh how are you Dearie?”

“Rienne, please is my mother home?”

There was a short pause before Rienne answered with a yes, you spoke as softly as you could without stuttering, asking her to call for your mother. And when your mother finally did come to the phone she answered with a soft, quiet, “Cosette?”

Your lower lip wobbled as you spoke in a soft, quiet voice that almost completely mirrored your mother had it not been for the little crack at the end,

“It wasn’t you was it?”

As you were greeted with silence you brought your other hand up to clench the telephone nervously. Then your mother spoke once more,

“Setty, what ever do you mean?”

You breathed out wetly, allowing for vulnerability as you clenched the telephone as if you would your mother’s hand had she been here, “Th-The wedding, it’s in the papers Mommy”

More silence followed before your mother’s sympathetic voice, “Oh my love, I-”, she paused trying to find the right words, “Well, I-”

With her sudden loss of vocabulary your worry spiked and you questioned quickly, voice not raising in volume, only in distress, “It wasn’t you was it? Tell me it wasn’t please-”

“I told you not to get involved with that man, with men like him these things are bound to happen.”

You felt your eyes begin to burn slightly. You had almost worked yourself into tears from that last sentence. “You mean you didn’t leak-”

“Of course not my dear, why would Mommy do that to you?”

You wished you could see her, not only for the comfort she could offer, but also for the giveaway she could offer as well. You shared many traits with her, one of which being a giveaway for when you lie, and over the phone you really couldn’t tell. You wanted to believe her, you really did.

Suddenly her voice was much colder, as she instigated,

“Is that what that man has you thinking? Is he making you think that your mother and father are these big bad wolves? Figures, a man like him doesn’t have much to offer so he has to make it look like everyone else has even less to make someone stay. You know I warned you-”

The change of tone was abrupt, and the burning of your eyes violently increased from each syllable she spoke. Your eyes would be pools in no time.

“N-No Mommy, no he didn’t say anything, he-”

Your voice had caught in your throat. God you couldn’t do anything right, and now your mother is misunderstanding what a good man Elvis is. When you could finally speak, your nervous panic had left your voice so pathetically quiet that it came out like a choked whisper,

“He’s- No, I, it’s not that, I promise, I,”

Your mother cut in again with a scoff through the line, “It’s an isolation tactic my darling, he’s turning you against us. Goodness, why can’t you see that? I know I didn’t raise a stupid girl”

And just as it always had since you were a little girl, your voice gave out completely as you tried to explain yourself to your mother. The same way your mother’s voice would give out anytime she tried to explain something to your father. 

And as no noise would leave your throat, you would only be able to silently listen to your mother’s quiet voice that somehow even in a crowded room seemed louder and more present than any other person’s voice.

Despite its quiet softness, it could somehow often surpass Elvis’ loud harsh one.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you sat on the bed and listened to her go on about what Elvis was doing to you, what it would be like when you finally married him. She topped it all off with how much someone can change when he goes from man to husband. And that you’ll regret it all in the end.

You bit your lower lip harshly to stop it’s quivering, and as her voice rang through your skull you didn’t even recognize the click of the door, or the sound of Elvis’ shoes striding closer and closer on the wood floor.

It was only when you felt a pull on the telephone did you look up to find someone else, Elvis. He looked at you with worry before mumbling into the line as if your mother were an afterthought, 

“Goodbye Mrs. Chevalier”

That was so fun to write! I had a whole other part written but I figured if it's a snippet, it's best I keep it short eh? Goodness I just love writing for this universe, I'm having so much fun messing around with these two!

Thanks plenty for reading!! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!

Taglist Lovelies: @fadedsummerlove, @lialocklear, @astral-eyed-cat, @suraemoon, @geanecore, @pinkpuffycloud, @s0phlabrunette, @that-hotdog

[edgeray]

hi ray! for your requests, may i ask for arlecchino x gn!house of the hearth child reader where reader is feeling down for whatever reason, and tries their best not to alarm arlecchino or show signs, but she ends up finding out anyway and comforts them?

Stitching Back Joy

(Platonic Arlecchino x GN! Child! Reader)

A/N - Sure! My first platonic request, nice! I've yet wrote platonic Arlecchino x Reader, but I've been meaning to for a while, so thanks for this request. Not exactly sure how old you wanted reader to be, but I had reader to be pretty young, probably a tween or younger. Hope this one turns out okay!  Content warnings / info - reader is a child, reader is gn!, arle may be ooc but at least she's a good father. no warnings :) i named reader's toy if you don't mind, 1.1k words

You should have known better than to be rough-housing with your lifelong companion and favorite toy. However, you were stupid, and your siblings were just a touch too rough, and then there was a loud rip, as the leg of your plush was torn right off, the stuffing escaping out of it. Your siblings all gasped and paused their playing already. 

You stood with the other half of Benny, their other, in-tact leg dangling from your tight grasp around it. Your tiny heart was broken like Benny, and the corner of your eyes burned, tears welling. 

Benny had been with you since you were eight, around the time of your arrival at the House of the Hearth. During your first night, you were restless, tossing and turning, anxious because of the new environment even though Father was generous and the other children were kind. The next morning, when Father noticed the signs of a fitful sleep, she decided that you would benefit from an outing with her. 

That day, she brought you to a toy store and prompted you to select one. As your eyes scanned the shelves, one beady eyed expression caught your attention–a plush boot weasel. The House of the Hearth welcomed another new member that day, that being Benny the weasel, who was fixedly snug in your arms as you returned to the orphanage, no longer feeling like the only new sibling. Your closest best friend who has been with you on all your adventures around the House was now missing an arm. Benny who helped you sneak into the kitchen past curfew (only for you to be caught by Lyney), Benny who helped you make friends with the other children, Benny who was the only one who could hug you when you were sick was hurt. And now Benny was hurt. 

The boy who was holding the other leg of Benny quickly returned it to you, a million apologies spilling from his lips. You knew he was sincere, you knew he didn't mean to, but all you could do was gaze at the spilt stuffing at your feet, each ‘sorry’ flying past your head. 

You sit hunched over one of the desks in the House's library, attempting to bandage Benny's leg back while you sniffle, rubbing the wetness out of your eyes for the nth time. You know you shouldn't be crying, this wasn't a big deal after all, it was just some toy, you tried to reason yourself to stop the tears. Inserting the stuffing into Benny for the third time you push in the leg and try again, but like the previous two times, the limb always falls out. 

Your sight goes blurry as an onset of frustrated tears trailed down your cheeks. 

Then, you hear the familiar bell, the sound signaling to everyone in the House that it was meal time. You hastily wipe away your tears. You can't be seen crying over some toy, you couldn't bring him because you didn't want anyone to see that you were upset over a plush. You give one more glance towards Benny, promising that you'll bring food to them, before you leave for dinner, without them in your arms for the first time. You sit at your assigned chair of the long table, your dozen or so other siblings scrambling by, and Father approaches, taking her seat at the head of the table. 

The table is rowdy as per usual, your siblings chatting eagerly among themselves. Normally, you would join in as well, but you're too distraught over the missing company in your hands, feeling more lonely than ever before despite being surrounded by your entire family. 

Little did you know that Father's eyes were on you throughout the entire meal. 

As you got up to leave, you hear your name being called. 

“Can you stay behind? I'd like to discuss something with you,” Father says. You gulp nervously. Father rarely asks to talk to you alone. Were you in trouble? Or did Father notice your disquiet? Either way, you nod. As everyone else leaves the dining room, only you and Father remain. 

“Come here, my child,” she says, extending her arm out to gesture to the space beside her chair. You waddle your way towards her, your head down and you try to stifle your sniffling. She places a gentle clawed hand on your shoulder, and she urges you to look at her when her other hand tilts your head. You willed your eyes to not cry. 

“Is something bothering you?” 

You shake your head. “Nothing is bothering me, Father,” you assert, but your voice cracks, signaling an obvious lie to the Harbinger. 

“I will repeat again. What is bothering you? I do not see your friend with you,” Father notes, her tone becoming sterner, glancing down at your arms. 

You stay silent for a few moments, before you beak underneath her glare. “My friend… they got broken when I was playing earlier today. An-and, I can't…” Your lips trembled as you paused, attempting not to cry with the knowledge that Father does not appreciate tears. Still, the tears escape, and you cannot prevent them from flowing down your cheeks. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for her scolding as you stammer out the rest of your response. “I-I can't fix them.”  

Father goes silent, each second of quietude feeding into your anxiety, before she says, “Can I see them, my child?” 

You crack open an eye, your vision blurry from the tears but you can tell her piercing red gaze is still on you. “M-my friend?” 

“Yes.” 

You feebly nod and make your way to the library, Father following one step behind you. Guiding her to Benny, you showcase your maimed friend, their missing limb off to the side and stuffing bleeds out of them. Father reaches out and holds the delicate toy in her hand, turning it over and examining it. 

“Can you trust me with your friend, my child?” 

You sniffle. “A-are you going to f-fix him?” 

“Yes. Will you allow me to be with them for a little while? I will ensure that they will return to you before curfew.” 

Nodding away, with shaky hands, you place the leg and the stuffing you were able to salvage into her hands. 

“Go play with your siblings in the meanwhile. Run along.” 

You follow her orders, finding your siblings and distracting yourself from the absence of your best friend until the bell for curfew rings. Filing towards the bedroom with your siblings, you anxiously scamper to your bed. 

Benny awaits you on your pillow, his leg reattached, cleanly stitched back to his body. Besides him is a piece of paper and a few pieces of candy. You look closer at the note.

“Benny was especially brave during the operation. I gave them a few tokens for their courage. They learn well from you.

-Father”