#the secret is they're both whipped
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Okay but like Aziraphale asking Crowley for things isn't just for Aziraphale. In fact it's often something Aziraphale does for Crowley. If Aziraphale asks, even wordlessly, this creates a scenario where Crowley is allowed to do something nice for someone while being allowed to hide it behind the context of an eye roll or an if you insist. It puts a degree of removal between Crowley and the act itself that makes it easier and safer for him to do. Crowley likes to do nice things. Aziraphale knows this. Just like Crowley knows Aziraphale likes to be cared for. They've stumbled this way into this mutually beneficial act where Aziraphale gets to indulge in being indulged and Crowley gets to indulge in doing the indulging - which are both things they do not normally get to indulge in - because they're complimentary even in this.
Asking the being that just quoted poetry at you to save this dying play you're both watching. Creating scenarios for him to rescue you when you know he loves the chance to get to save someone for once. Letting him drive you both around in his fancy new machine he's so delightfully proud of even though you got a license the same year he got the car. Asking him to remove a stain so he can act like you're the dramatic one while taking all the joy in theatrically removing it for you. They're all acts of mutual care and love. Because they're both so hopelessly smitten with another they can't help themselves from indulging the other.
#the secret is they're both whipped#because god theyre both addicted to indulging each other#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#good omens season 2#dog said im needy no meta yesterday but 5am cant sleep brain says what if tho
7K notes
·
View notes
Photo
I invite you to imagine (Patreon)
#My art#SCII#ZEX#DAX#W. D. Ghoster#Me - someone who has never finished a Ghost: What if...#Ft. my once-a-decade clean hand-drawn lineart#It's not As bad as I remember but it's still not my preferred method lol#But my desire to style match was stronger what can I say#My own fingerprints are still very clear to me lol but I've fooled before! Please be fooled for a moment! Haha#I'm still so sad that I can't get the SCII fonts in EPTSAI2 it's so roundabout to have to use a word processor and screengrab >:P#And I can't change the font size! I had to grab DAX's *sigh* from one of the Secret Theater screecaps! Pfbtl#Gripes aside lol this was fun <3#These two are always a treat to draw ♪ And there Is something cool about using clean brushes for small resolution stuff :)#I also like how they're both tendril-rubbing lol only DAX was in the sketch!#Simplified palette this time for speed ♪ Pulled from a bit here and there some of mine some from references#Cute lads <3 It's fun to imagine their head tendrils moving near constantly hehe#It'd probably be a pain to make them all squiggle independently and at varying speeds based on what they're doing#But it would be Cute! Slowly waving or whipping around ahh ♪#Same with their tongues - tho that'd just be one so not as bad haha#ZEX would be ecstatic to be on a human computer lol#DAX well ♫#Cute lads 'em ah <3
123 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii! I've been scrolling through all your works and I just want to say I am ✨obsessed✨ so I saw a post where you were asking for fluff or angst request and I really really REALLY wanna see what Viktor and jayce would do if they're jealous or being protective! Like they saw reader at one of the parties and was being incredibly hit on. Would also be nice if it would be like pre-relationship! Like they're gonna confess or something, I don't really know this is my first time asking for request acckkk
(I really really want it to be jayvik x reader too pls 🙏🙏)
GREEN EYED - JAYVIK X READER



synopsis: everyone knows the three of you are together. It’s no secret either. So imagine their surprise when the three of you go to a council party and a few guests flirt with you. They're not very happy about that…
warnings: unwanted flirting, Jayce and Viktor saving you, pre-established relationship, Viktor hits/trips people with his cane, Jayce is a bodyguard, fluff, suggestiveness, Grammarly is my beta
genre: m/m/f or m/m/m
p.s. Oooh this was fun and funny to write. I'd be so flustered if they acted this way toward me. Hope y'all like it! Love ya ❤️
This party is horrendous. The food has no flavour, the alcohol isn't strong enough, and too many people are trying to flirt with you.
Viktor angrily sips on his champagne, his knuckles white at how hard he's holding the glass. Jayce's eyes are narrowed as he picks at the food he's attempting to eat.
All because some middle aged man with a heavily receding hairline is looking at you the way a lion looks at an antelope. Like your his prey.
“Whos turn is it now?” Jayce asks, eyeing the man down as he pops a cube of cheese into his mouth, “Mine.” Viktor states as he shoots back the rest of his champagne.
Jayce nods and Viktor casually walks over to where you're awkwardly standing. He completely understands why so many people are flirting with you. You have a sparkling personality and a gorgeous look. Beautiful on the inside and out.
Especially right now. You're wearing form-fitting black slacks, a billowy white shirt with an embroidered corset, showing off your waist and black loafers. Your hair is framing your face in a lovely way.
Your face is in a slight grimace as you sip champagne, leaning back away from the older man.
The man grunts in pain as Viktor whips his achilles tendon with an amazing aim, “Oh I'm so sorry,” Viktor apologizes, his tone full of fake concern, “I didn't mean to hit you, it was an accident.”
You huff lightly as your eyes glimmer at your lover, the older man looks cross. His face worsens at Viktors next words.
“I was coming over to see my partner and I accidentally stumbled. My bad.”
You hide your laugh behind your glass as the old mans face turns red in both anger and embarrassment. “You’re dating them?” He questions you, pointing incredulously at Viktor.
A hum is heard as you sip your champagne again, “I told you that five minutes ago, and you completely ignored me.”
The man sputters and essentially runs away. You and Viktor stand there in silence for a bit before the two of you laugh, and you continue to laugh as you walk back to Jayce.
Jayce's dark look has completely vanished, and he looks like a puppy now. Big smile, sparkling eyes, dimples out. If Jayce had a tail it'd be wagging a mile a minute.
“My heroes.” You croon at the two of them. A smirk on your lips as the two men fake innocence.
“I don't know what you're talking about?” Jayce says, his tone light and joking. You laugh and the two men smile at you. Ironically enough, now a woman comes up to talk to you. You groan in irritation and before the man can start talking to you, Jayce moves in front of you, the only thing you see is his deliciously broad back.
“They’re taken.”
The woman sputters, her eyes wide as her mouth opens and closes, “But—”
Jayce repeats himself, his tone firmer, darker.
“They’re taken, go away.”
The woman huffs and stomps away, her heels clacking harshly against the marble floor. Jayce sighs and falls back towards your side. Both you and Viktor smirk at the tall man. He looks confused.
“What?”
“Babe that was so sexy.” You tease.
“Got me hot under the collar.” Viktor adds, jokingly fanning himself. Jayce flushes all the way to his ears, grabbing a glass of champagne off the table and throwing it back.
“Shut up.”
The two of you laugh and Jayce's playful irritation melts away. He loves seeing the two of you laugh.
When another person comes up to talk to you the three of you groan. Jayce blocks you and Viktor again as you go to leave the party, the man doesn't read the room and goes to follow you two. Viktor subtly moves his cane a bit further out than normal and the man falls on his face.
You don't see anyone's reaction to his fall since you're already out the door, going back home.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You sigh and try to take your corset off. You get mad at have a mini-tantrum. You're tired, you want to relax with your boys and slouch lazily on the couch. You can't do that with this corset.
You feel a large hand settle on your waist and slowly untie the laces in the back. You sigh in pleasure as the corset is loosened. It’s fitted to you perfectly, and its super comfy, but you don't have the best posture. So being forced to stand straight for a few hours has made your back sore.
You groan as you roll your shoulders, your back popping. You turn your head and kiss Jayce on the cheek.
Jayce smiles as you plop onto the couch next to Viktor, your shirt now much looser falls down your shoulder slightly. You untuck your shirt from your pants and it damn near falls down to mid-thigh. You unbutton your pants and shimmy out of them.
You're at home with your lovers, you're getting comfy goddamn it.
“What a show we're getting.” Viktor jokes as he lays a hand on your thigh, watching intently as you drop your head onto the back of the sofa. Jayce joins the two of you on the couch and kisses your bare shoulder.
“The amount of money those people at the party would pay to see you like this.”
“Theres not enough money in the world for me to leave you two.”
Viktor hums, “Is that so?” and brushes his nose against the crook of your neck, kissing, biting, and licking; leaving a dark hickey.
Jayce follows suit onto the other side.
You sigh in pleasure, “You two putting a claim on me? What? You two jealous of the people at the party?”
Jayce growls and Viktor chuckles, “Not jealous darling, possessive. We know you're ours, but it seems others don't.”
“So we’re rectifying that.” Jayce adds, nipping your jaw.
You just smile, wrapping one arm around each of them, “I’m not complaining. Rectify away!”
They both stop giving you hickies and both kiss your cheek at the same time, your face squishing together. Then the litter your face with kisses, making you giggle in elation.
Why on earth would you ever go from one of those people at the party when you have the best partners in the world?
No one could ever compare to them. No one.
You're the luckiest person in the world.
(On the other hand, Viktor and Jayce think they're the luckiest people in the world.)
Oh to be their partner in the arcane world. Why can't they exist irl 😭😭
Hope y'all enjoyed it, love ya ❤️
#arcane#arcane imagine#arcane x reader#viktor arcane#jayce talis#viktor x reader#viktor imagine#jayce x reader#jayce imagine#jayvik x reader#banners by cafekitsune
596 notes
·
View notes
Text
Photoshoot
Mapi León x Reader x Ingrid Engen
Summary: Your new photoshoot
"Mapi? Mapi? Are you alright? What are you looking at?"
"I...What?"
"What are you looking at?"
Mapi slams her phone back into her bag, letting out an awkward chuckle as she tries (and fails) to act casual. "Look at? I'm not looking at anything!"
Irene gives her a look of disbelief, eyes glancing to the bag that Mapi had none of subtly shoved her phone into. "Really? You're going to lie to me?"
"Lying? Who's lying? Cata again?"
Irene sighs. "We're really doing this?"
"Doing what? We're doing nothing! Nothing at all!"
"I'm...I'm going to go..."
Mapi watches as Irene walks away, heading over to talk to Alexia and Marta at the other end of the locker room.
"Wow," Mapi says," That was close."
"And not at all inconspicuous," Ingrid says with a laugh and an eye roll at her side," What were you looking at?"
The tips of Mapi's ears go bright red and Ingrid instantly knows what was on her girlfriend's phone.
"It's out?"
Mapi nods. "It's out."
Ingrid clears her throat and (much more casually than Mapi) whips out her phone. She leans against the lockers and, if it wasn't for Mapi very clearly staring at the screen next to her, it would just look like she was texting.
It takes all of ten seconds for Ingrid to get the photos up, even less time to scroll through and select her favourite.
"Well..." Her throat suddenly feels dry, bobbing a few times as her eyes dilate. "That's...That's completely unfair..."
"Right? It's so unfair she kept this from us! We usually always get the preview!"
"She did say she had a surprise for us..."
The image of you stares back at them both, hooded eyes and bottom lip captured between your teeth. Your face says 'fuck me' and clearly your body says that too, wrapped in scraps of lace that Ingrid is kind of surprised is defying gravity.
She scrolls to the next photo.
Another picture of you in scraps of lingerie, that familiar look in your eyes that your girlfriends always see when they've got your bent over in the living room.
Ingrid scrolls again.
A different set of lingerie. A different position. A very familiar look.
"Is this a brand deal or our personal photoshoot?" Mapi dares to ask as Ingrid swipes through them.
"If it was personal," Ingrid says," She'd be wearing a lot less. And-"
She looks over at some of the other girls in the locker room and lets her statement hang.
Some of the younger girls on the team are crowded around Pina and her phone and Ingrid automatically knows what they're looking at.
It's an open secret in the team that if Cata, Pina and the others have a favourite model, it's you. They all follow you on every piece of social media you have. They all like your photos and they all wait for your photoshoots to drop.
"Wow," Cata whistles and Mapi begins imagining what pictures she's seen.
The one with the soft backlighting? Or the one where you're bent over a table with your cleavage on show? Or, perhaps, it's the one with a finger in your mouth and your best bedroom eyes?
Mapi isn't quite sure.
There's so many to choose from.
"She looks so hot," Pina agrees.
"Don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Don't you?" Pina fires back and both she and Cata laugh.
A knock sounds at the door before the playful teasing descends into playful shoving which will, ultimately, end up with one of them knocking into Caro or Aitana or someone they really shouldn't.
"Girls," Carla pokes her head through the door with her phone already up and ready for content," You've got a guest."
If Mapi hadn't just been subjected to Cata and Pina getting all hot and bothered over your body, she might have found it funny the way the colour drains from their faces as you step through the door - not a hair out of place.
"I...er..."
Ingrid, however, doesn't seem to have the same hang ups. She actively enjoys the panic setting into Cata and Pina's faces when you arrive. She actively enjoys the way Cata's phone goes flying up into the air in panic at the thought of you finding out what they'd been looking at.
"Hello?" Pina says weakly.
"Hi," You answer with a smile before you're crossing the room elegantly and standing in front of Mapi and Ingrid," Hello, my loves."
The locker room is largely silent - whether it be stunned silence or just so the others can eavesdrop - as you press kisses upon both Mapi and Ingrid's lips.
"I forgot to give you something before you left earlier."
"Was it the kiss?" Mapi asks, dazed and unbelievably happy by what she just received.
"No but that's always a welcome addition," You tease," But this is what I actually wanted to give you both."
A small polaroid picture is pressed into Ingrid's palm and another into Mapi's. You capture your bottom lip in your teeth like you did in your new photoshoot and wink.
"It was so nice to meet you all," You say as you turn and wave to all of their teammates," We'll all have to go out for a meal at some point! I'll pay of course! My loves, I'll see you at the end of the match."
You probably say something else as well.
You probably take a few pictures with the team.
There's probably a shirt with your name on it that Carla gives you.
You probably end up posing with Alexia to have a photo of you holding it.
A lot of things probably happen but Ingrid and Mapi don't fully realise it.
Because they stare at the pictures in their hands.
Gone are the scraps of lingerie but the teasing look on your face is still there.
The poses are still the same, showing off your bare body perfectly.
The imprint of your lipstick covered lips - bright red, your favourite shade - are displayed proudly at the bottom of each photo, right next to the words you've written.
A warmup for tonight, my loves xxx
#woso x reader#mapi leon x reader#mapi leon#ingrid engen x reader#ingrid engen#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso
614 notes
·
View notes
Text
✦ DEDICATED TO YOU
✦ one shot ,, rin itoshi x gn!reader
content:: you're a famous idol. and you're dating a professional player. of course you'll be making headlines when your relationship was made public.
for @yui2aku ,, fluff ,, 822 words
additional:: swearing, they're both whipped for eachother, might be ooc
Itoshi Rin is a rising star in the football industry. And you were in the peak of your idol career.
Obviously, the media would freak if they find out that the two of you were dating.
So you kept the relationship a secret, doing your best to not give out any hints. From making sure not to mention each other too much in interviews, to carefully crafting social media posts to ensure that fans won't be able to tell that you were going to a place together. Both of you and your management carefully concealed it from the public view.
But, of course, not everything goes to plan.
PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE ITOSHI RIN AND SOLO IDOL [L/N] [NAME] SEEN HOLDING HANDS AT HANEDA AIRPORT.
This was the headline of one of the many, many articles that flooded all across the internet. Your heart stopped, then slammed back at full force. You stood up straighter, brows furrowing together. The first time you opened your phone for the day, and you find posts about this everywhere.
Oh fuck. You fucked up, didn't you?
“Shit. What the hell,” you curse under your breath, reading more into the article.
Meanwhile, Rin looks up from your lap, opening an eye, disturbed from resting on your thighs when you suddenly stopped running your hands through his black locks. Your eyes flicked towards his,and he gave you a look, as if to ask what suddenly bothered you to halt playing with his hair.
You blink at him, before sheepishly turning your phone around, showing him what's been blowing up all over the media. “So… maybe we weren't discreet enough with the clothes I wore to greet you.”
His face instantly dropped, turning into something more serious as his teal eyes skimmed through the overview of the post. Rin sighed, grumbling something under his breath before burying his face onto your stomach. “...I told you to just stay at home and wait for me,” he murmured after a while, draping his arms around your waist.
“C’mon… you know I had to greet you right away. It was after a big overseas game I couldn't come to— it was the same time I had a concert,” you scoffed, reasoning with him. “The least I could do was pick you up at the airport.”
Rin didn't look up. He was touched by your little gesture to try and make up for not attending a vital match, so he didn't use that argument further. “Tch. Should've at least covered up more of your features,” he lightheartedly remarked. Though he really liked the uniqueness you had with the way you dressed up, so he can't hate on that. “Well, what do we do now?” he asked, moving the topic along from the problem to finding a solution.
You stared down your phone, anxiousness coming back to loom over you. “I should contact my manager,” you remark, watching as he finally lets go of you and sits up properly. “We could schedule a meeting with our PR teams?”
He nodded. “Right. So go do that,” he replied, though he already had a vague idea what they might propose for you two to do. It was a guess.
That guess was right.
The day after those rumors about the two of you having a secret blew up, you hard launched your relationship to the public.
They decided that coming out clean about this would be the most logical way to proceed— way better than the media speculating that the two of you were just a fling and start tarnishing both of you’s reputation. A proper relationship sounded way better than a one-night stand to the public.
After confirming on each official account, the masses began to be a little more welcoming to it. Hell, the ship tag between you and Rin seemed to blow up with positive posts, even. So that fix was successful.
Once the news calmed down through weeks, everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be with being an idol with a soccer player for a boyfriend. Majority of fans seemed to love the two of you, often making fan media dedicated to your relationship. And in all honesty, it was cute. Plus, you had more material to tease Rin with.
Now, you couldn't help it. You personally asked for your next album to be something special, convincing management it's for the sake of the publication of your relationship. Though, it was dedication for someone special.
An album dedicated to him.
Rin knew those songs were dedicated to him. If those vibrant eyes of yours while you performed on stage— looking straight at him who sat by the vip seats— said anything, it was all about how much you loved him.
Oh, and with the way he looked at you with pure adoration, it was obvious he loved you, too.
Rin was utterly, hopelessly dedicated to you.
(a/n):: Grrrhsjua not my proudest work since I barely write nonchalant asf characters
taglist:: @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku
@lakeside-paradise
© fumiscripts 2024. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.
#✦ written in ink.#✦ featuring: rin itoshi#bllk#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#bllk x you#blue lock fanfic#bllk fanfic#rin itoshi#rin x reader#rin blue lock#itoshi rin#rin x you#rin itoshi x y/n#rin itoshi x you#rin itoshi x reader#itoshi rin x you#itoshi rin x y/n#itoshi rin x reader#x reader#reader insert#fanfics#bllk fluff#rin fluff#writers on tumblr#rin itoshi blue lock#blue lock rin#rin bllk#bllk rin
543 notes
·
View notes
Text



something nice — sub!fem!reader x dom!yeonjun x servicetop!kai
cw. reader is in an established (open) relationship with yeonjun, cucking? (kai eats reader's pussy while yj watches lol), cunnilingus ofc, nipple play, orgasm denial, edging, pet names (baby, jjun), begging, mention of "punishment" but nothing's ever done, yeonjun and kai talk about reader and what they're gonna do to her (without her understanding—everything is consensual in the beginning, but read note below), let me know if there's anything else. notes. IMPORTANT: ok so the tea with this one. the idea here is that the reader doesn't speak korean well and kai and yj are speaking korean to kinda talk about the reader and what they're gonna do to her so she doesn't understand. nothing aggressive, just describing what to do to her body so she's kinda surprised? SO!! anything in italics is in korean. thats important!! also idk how i feel about this???? smut under cut. wc. 1.5K
“Did she give you a reason or did she just break up with you?” You’re eavesdropping on Yeonjun and Kai—not that they’re being very secretive. They’re talking about a woman Kai’s been seeing while you play video games and attempt to translate in your head, but you're not being too successful, catching a few words here and there.
“She did say one thing,” Kai says hesitantly. “But it’s kinda embarrassing.”
“What is it?”
“Well,” he starts, scooting closer to Yeonjun to awkwardly whisper something to him, twiddling his thumbs, running his fingers through his hair.
“Oh,” Yeonjun chuckles. “That’s…man, if you get really good at that, you could date anyone.”
“What are you talking about?” You finally pause your game, curiosity getting the best of you. Looking up, Kai looks like you caught him stealing cookies from a cookie jar while Yeonjun tries to hold back a chuckle. The three of you exchange looks until Yeonjun rolls his eyes to bluntly say—
“Eating women out.”
“Yeonjun—!” Kai says, shoving his arm.
“What?” He chuckles, returning the shove. “I eat her out all the time. She knows what it is. She knows you eat pussy too.”
“But that’s why that woman broke up with you?” You ask. “Because you…you're bad at eating pussy?” He blushes, averting his attention to the floor while he clasps his hands together, nodding shyly.
“Be honest, babe—am I good at eating you out?”
Looking between the two of them, you sit up and say, “Yeah, you’re probably the best I’ve had, but we’re super compatible, you know? We’re, like, super in love. That makes a big difference sometimes.”
Holding back a cocky smile, he asks, “But, objectively, I’m pretty good, right?” You shrug and nod—really, he probably is the best you’ve ever had, but that’s another story.
“What makes it good?” Kai asks.
Humming, you think before saying, “First, he doesn’t go straight for it.” Turning red and ears getting warm, you gush and— “Oh god, Kai, don’t look at me when I tell you this.”
“Ah, this is ridiculous,” Yeonjun exasperates. “Do you just wanna practice on her?” You both whip your heads in his direction. “If you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he says to you. “Just thought it might be helpful.”
Oh, how did you end up here? Laying in Yeonjun's bed, clenching your thighs together out of nervousness. “Remember, this is kinda specific to her. Pay attention to what whoever you’re with wants.” Kai nods, kneeling at the foot of the bed.
“She already said this—” Yeonjun says. “I don’t go straight for it. I kiss her first, then make my way down there.”
“You want him to kiss me?”
He shrugs and says, “If you’re alright with that.”
“If you are,” you say, looking Kai in the eyes. Both of them can’t help but notice the confidence you seem to be exuding, especially compared to Kai. Trembling fingers reaching for your cheek, he looks at you for permission one final time. Finally leaning in, his lips press to yours.
You’d forgotten what it was like to have a first kiss with someone. Kai’s kisses are different from Yeonjun’s. Kai’s are much more cautious, more careful—not necessarily shy, but careful. It quickly turns hot and heavy. But you remember Yeonjun is watching you, suddenly overtaken with bashfulness, you break the kiss to glance over at him.
Him and that sinister smile.
Turning back to Kai, you crash into his lips again, humming into his mouth and smirking to rub how much you're enjoying this in Yeonjun's face.
“Touch her,” Yeonjun says. “Kinda slowly, but then a little more intense.” Kai does as he’s told, his hand dragging up your hip to squeeze your tits. “Under her shirt.”
His hand on the outside of your bra feels new and exciting. Reaching around your back to unhook it, you break the kiss to take your shirt off, pulling at the hem of his.
“Slow down for a second,” Yeonjun chuckles and Kai listens, placing gentle kisses to your collarbone. “Lick her nipples.” Swirling his tongue around your nipple, you gasp, reaching for his hair. “Pay attention to which one she likes better.”
Kai tests both, slyly licking between the two. After testing the waters, he picks correctly. You chuckle thinking about Yeonjun sitting on a chair across the room, smirking in approval. You could look for yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes.
“Keep licking her until her hips roll.” This is a bit crazy, isn’t it? The guy you love telling another man how to fuck you the way you like. “Not yet.” Yeonjun switches to Korean, making you roll your eyes. If you didn’t have the energy to translate in your head earlier, you definitely can’t focus enough to translate now.
Lips trailing down your body, he tugs at your shorts, but keeps your cute pink panties on. Yeonjun talks him through every move—to lick his thumb and rub your nipple, to press his nose to the outside of your panties, to skate his lips across your inner thighs.
Your hips roll uncontrollably, practically begging him to taste you.
“Kai—” You whisper, your body instantly burning at the sound of the both of them chuckling. Pulling your panties down and off your legs, he throws them to Yeonjun who happily wads them up to sniff them and smell how delicious you are.
Licking his thumb again, he keeps rubbing circles over your nipple as he finally licks your clit, your back arching as soon as he touches it.
“Fuck—” You say breathlessly, looking down at him as his eyes sparkle up at you, your head dropping to your pillow with a thud. “Who the fuck is this bitch that says you’re bad at this?” He shakes his head, digging deeper into your pussy.
Smiling cockily, you look over at Yeonjun, trying to control his breathing. He can’t help it—the two of you are just too hot together. He's never been able to enjoy this kind of view before. Seeing how every part of your body reacts to being touched—it's an incredible view.
“Please tell me he’s allowed to make me cum, baby,” You beg.
“Of course,” he chuckles smugly. “If he can.” Kai’s eating you out like he’s absolutely starving. And it’s true—he can’t help it. You taste too fucking good.
Your eyes squeeze shut as you start squeaking, throwing your head back.
“Okay, that sound means she’s gonna cum soon. Try to bring her as close to the edge as possible and then stop.”
“Fuck, Kai,” you breathe. “Right there—yes.” You can’t believe how good he is at this, especially given the reason you're under his tongue right now. He’s supposed to be bad at this, right?
You’re so fucking close and he can feel it. “Don’t stop—” he brings you right there. And then he does it. He stops. “Agh, fuck you,” you groan. Looking down at him, his smirking at you, eyes flashing between you and Yeonjun.
He doesn’t waste too much time before getting back to your pussy, flicking his tongue over your clit.
“Take it away from her for a bit. Lick her nipples again.” He does just that. You’re aching, bucking your hips over and over, desperately trying to relieve some kind of tension. But his tongue does feel amazing on your tits. Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug at it hard. He groans, his mouth dropping open like you just unlocked a new kink of his.
Now he can’t take it anymore. Hips jutting forward, you feel the roughness of his sweatpants drag against your center, relieving some of that tension. You gasp, resorting to begging him to get back to licking you.
“No, don’t,” Yeonjun says sternly.
“But I want to,” Kai whines back, looking at your pussy hungrily, sticking the tip of his tongue out, giving his best begging eyes. But Yeonjun just shakes his head, satisfied with watching you uncontrollably rolling your hips up toward Kai’s mouth. Kai compromises, wrapping his hands around the backs of your thighs to yank you closer to him and presses his lips to the skin right around your clit, teasing you even more.
“Babe—” you breathe, begging Yeonjun with your eyes to let him continue licking you.
“I know, baby, I know…” he responds, his voice low and rough. He finally lets him lick you again. But he doesn’t show much mercy. He repeats the same tactic over and over—having him bring you right to the edge, even to the point of tears, then he stops right in his tracks.
"I'm gonna tell you to stop, but I want you to keep going, okay?" Kai nods, agreeing to his instructions. Bringing you to the edge again, you're begging for mercy, begging to cum. "Don't let her cum, Kai," he says, making tears form in your eyes. "Stop—"
And he does.
"I told you to let her cum that time."
"Sorry," he smiles up at him, licking his lips. "It's so fun to see her beg like that though." Tilting his head toward you, he says, "Look at her...she's got tears in her eyes. Isn't that the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen?"
"It's okay, baby," he says, fingers flowing through your hair while Kai's mouth finds your clit again. You're moaning, gasping for air, swearing, screaming, anything to try to find a release. "Not yet. Don't let her fucking cum, Kai." You don't think you can handle this much longer. Edging is nice, yes, but this? This is bordering torture.
"Please, please, please, Jjun..." you trail off. "Just please let me cum. I can't take it anymore."
"I know you can take it, baby. Fucking taking it so well..."
It's building again. That knot in your stomach that gets tighter and tighter with every second. That white hot fire in the pit of your stomach waiting to explode.
"Don't stop, Kai," you blurt. "I'm gonna cum—" Slamming your palm over your mouth—you shouldn't have said that. He's gonna make you regret saying that.
"Don't let her cum," he orders.
But his grip gets tighter. His tongue licks furiouser. His face digs deeper. You're so fucking close. Closer than you've ever been tonight.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kai..." your orgasms crashes over you like a bolt of lightning. "Yes, fuck yes, that feels so fucking good." You feel like you're having an out of body experience. It's one of the best fucking orgasms of your life. "Don't stop, right there." You chest heaves with heavy breaths.
Coming down from one of the best orgasms of your life, your vision clears up and all you keep thinking is how much Yeonjun's gonna make you pay for this. You came without his permission—what's he gonna do now? Everything flashes across your mind: not letting you cum for a week, spanking you until your ass had his hand print on it, tying you up for hours, you're not sure.
But he doesn't do any of that. His hand caresses your cheek as he smiles down at you, "Did that feel good, baby?"
Confused, you nod, "Mhmm." You're still nervous, looking around at everyone's reactions. Kai's smirking while he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bad at eating pussy my ass," you say, shoving his shoulder with your foot.
"Ah, I knew you a had a little crush on him...I've seen how you look at him." Your face turns beet red. He's noticed that? Oh god... "I just wanted to do something nice for my baby."
#hp's writing🪲#hueningkai smut#hueningkai hard hours#hueningkai hard thoughts#hyuka smut#hyuka hard thoughts#hyuka hard hours#hueningkai fic#hueningkai ff#hyuka fic#txt smut#txt hard thoughts#txt hard hours#txt ff#txt fanfic#kpop smut#kpop ff#txt x reader#hueningkai x reader#hyuka x reader#yeonjun#yeonjun smut#yeonjun ff#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun x reader smut#txt x reader smut#choi yeonjun#choi yeonjun smut#yeonjun hard thoughts#hp's hard thoughts ☁
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
hi, i have a request for hotch if that's okay with you :)
when they're on the jet, yn is smiling a lot at her phone so the team starts to tease her because the think that she has a mysterious boyfriend. and she does, but he's sitting right next to her and he's also wondering who's making her smile like that since it's clearly not him
tysm!
Hotch is trying hard to award you your privacy, but your smile makes it difficult. You're actually squared away from him despite sitting in the seat beside him of your own free will, your phone to your chest, a huge smile curved across your cute mouth. 'Cute mouth', Hotch thinks to himself with derision. He's thoroughly whipped for you. It might not work out.
You've been secretive and strange on your phone for an hour now. With nothing left to do but wait for the jet to touch down, you can watch whatever or text whenever you want. Hotch just wishes it wasn't so distracting. Who are you texting? He feels ill.
"Who's that?"
The dam finally breaks. As soon as Morgan asks, Emily pipes up, "Yeah, who is it?" as Rossi laughs and declares, "I know that look. Young Y/N's in love."
You side eye Hotch. "Workplace harassment," you say.
"Who is it?" Hotch asks.
You gawp but laugh at his unprofessional questioning, pressing your phone screen tight to your chest. "Hotch, it's–"
"Your not-so-secret boyfriend? Come on, we all know you have one," Morgan says.
"I know you know, you're like sharks," you say, giving them all a great long look.
For weeks now, you've glowed. This overzealous smiling and laughing is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Your nosy coworkers can't hold back their curiosity any longer. Hotch was stupid enough to think that your secretive dates and nights spent curled in on one another might be the reason behind your new hopped up sprightliness, but apparently not.
"So you admit it!" Emily cheers.
"Maybe. But it's not what's happening on my phone."
"Well, what is it?" Spencer asks.
They've leaned in on you, a circle of eager faces. Your sudden decision to admit you —maybe— have a boyfriend is as much as anyone's gotten out of you in weeks. If anyone could tease the truth from you, of course it's Hotch, and so the team looks to their leader pleadingly.
He's not sure he wants to know. "They won't leave you alone otherwise," he says, hoping that his expression shows his leniency. Your secrets are your own if you want to keep them.
You smile at him. Again, he thinks you have a cute mouth, and that he's biassed but you definitely smile sweeter at him than anyone else. You and Hotch know something the others don't, amusement like light behind your irises. "I'll show you," you say smugly, "and only you, Hotch."
"Typical," Morgan murmurs, sitting back on the couch.
Hotch clenches his sweaty palms beneath the table. "Alright."
You lean in against his shoulder. Your phone turns on, and he's taking deep breaths as you click to your photo app, and then an album labelled with a simple, '<3'.
It's photos of him. Most he knows you took, sitting across from you in dark restaurants or kneeling in your apartment putting together a new set of drawers. Your giggles begin in earnest as you swipe through them to a more recent photograph. You couldn't have taken it more than a week ago, when he'd stayed the night with you by accident, too tired to leave. His face is slack in sleep. He realises it's a video when you click a button and the sound of crinkling fabric plays from your speaker. In the video, you unbutton the tight collar of his shirt, stroking his neck briefly with a loving knuckle. The video moves down to frame his arm, his hand clinging to your other one like a sucker.
Hotch looks up from the video and blinks at you. Your hand on his sleeping neck, the sound of your tired laughter —he can't not smile. "Oh. That's…"
"What did you show him?" Morgan asks, his voice coloured with both amusement and frustration. The team echo his question.
"I can't kiss and tell," you say, still tucked up by his side.
"I think it's best if you don't, L/N," Hotch agrees.
He'd lose all credibility.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
5K notes
·
View notes
Note
Can we still request blurbs???
If so, can I request something for Alessia x Reader who is Leah's sister and doesn't know they're dating with them putting in so much work to hide their relationship and slip up by kissing/making out near Leah and are just like 'oh shit, we didn't tell her...'
-
Hiding a relationship from Leah, your sister and part-time private investigator, is no small feat. It’s like trying to smuggle a giraffe through airport security. You and Alessia have managed it for six months—a masterclass in secret hand-holding, coded texts, and absolutely no public displays of affection.
Until today.
The plan is simple: brunch at your mum’s house, then a lazy Sunday afternoon spent in different rooms to avoid suspicion. Easy. Leah’s upstairs, rummaging through old boxes, and you and Alessia are in the kitchen, ostensibly “making tea.”
Except Alessia’s leaning against the counter, giving you that smile, the one that makes you forget about common sense, gravity, and the existence of Leah Williamson.
“You’re staring,” Alessia teases, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You’re beautiful,” you shoot back, stepping closer. It’s meant to sound cheeky, but your voice dips in that way it does when you’re hopelessly gone for her.
She laughs, the kind of laugh that’s half breath and entirely trouble. “We shouldn’t—”
You kiss her before she can finish. It’s instinctive, automatic, and utterly stupid because, in your head, the kitchen is still safe territory. A kiss here doesn’t count as reckless.
Except it does.
The kiss deepens. Alessia’s hands find your waist. Your fingers twist into her hair. Somewhere in the haze of it all, you hear the creak of the floorboards, but you don’t register it—
Until Leah’s voice cuts through the room like a whip.
“What. The actual. Hell”
You and Alessia spring apart so fast you nearly knock over the kettle. Leah’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her face a picture of pure disbelief.
“Leah!” you squeak, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly. “Didn’t hear you come down.”
“Clearly,” she deadpans, eyes darting between the two of you. “What’s going on here?”
Alessia looks like she wants the ground to swallow her whole. “Um…”
“Making tea?” you offer, holding up an empty mug like it’s evidence of your innocence.
Leah raises an eyebrow. “By sticking your tongue down each other’s throats?”
Alessia coughs, going beetroot red. You rub the back of your neck, scrambling for an explanation that doesn’t sound insane.
“We were… just… um… testing boundaries?” you try, but even as you say it, you know it’s stupid.
“Boundaries?” Leah repeats, her voice climbing an octave.
There’s a long silence. The kettle boils. No one moves.
Finally, Alessia takes a deep breath and says, “Okay, so we’re together.”
Leah blinks. Once. Twice. “You’re what?”
“Together,” you repeat, because apparently you like living dangerously. “Have been for a while, actually”
Leah’s face shifts from shock to something resembling betrayal. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“We were going to,” Alessia says quickly. “Just, you know… not like this”
Leah looks between the two of you, her disbelief melting into something more familiar: exasperation. “So, let me get this straight. My sister and my teammate have been sneaking around for months, making out in kitchens, and thought I wouldn’t notice?”
“Pretty much,” you say, shrugging helplessly.
There’s another pause, and then, to your surprise, Leah bursts out laughing. It’s not a comforting laugh, though; it’s the kind of laugh that says you’re both idiots, and I’m going to make sure you know it.
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” she says, grinning wickedly. “You realise you’ve just handed me months of blackmail material, right?”
“Leah—”
“No, no. Don’t worry.” She waves you off, still laughing. “I won’t tell Mum. Yet”
As she leaves the kitchen, you and Alessia exchange a look of pure horror.
“She’s never going to let this go, is she?” Alessia asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Not in a million years,” you reply, groaning.
Somewhere upstairs, you hear Leah yell, “Hope the tea’s worth it!”
It’s not.
354 notes
·
View notes
Text
That sub!Jayce post really popped off, huh?

Ehehe okay here's my rambly thoughts about it (I'm literally sitting at work clocked out writing this instead of going home because THOUGHTS)
Building my theory off of this post:

And this one with all the examples of how Jayce's love language is clearly physical touch
*Disclaimer: there's a lot about season 2 that irked me in terms of plot and characterization so this is me retconning a little bit and picking and choosing what examples make the most cohesive argument. Like, in season one they're like "Jayce has this brotherly relationship with Caitlyn and him and Mel have this deep, meaningful relationship" and then season two was like "No more relationship building, it's time for trauma now" but, I digress*
First things first, he's a people pleaser. He does what he's told, clearly (against better judgment but like). And he's clearly committed to the people he cares about. HE BROUGHT VIKTOR BACK FROM THE DEAD (AND THEN KILLED HIM) AND THEN DIED WITH HIM AGAIN. You can't tell me that wouldn't translate to an "I'll do anything for you" attitude in the bedroom too.
I already did the bed gif but I also have to draw attention to the following:
Okay but season two, post-horrors!
Mr. Dopey Heart-Eyes McGee is NOT the one calling the shots here.
Season one Jayce? That man is whipped. One glance from his partner and he's on his knees like it's a religion. Whoever you ship him with! Mel, Viktor, both, a secret fourth option--
He spent an indeterminate amount of time alone, in the bottom of a pit. He's touch-starved but also! Traumatized!
Imagine, if you will, that he survives the astral plane. Imagine he goes to find Mel, or Viktor also survives, or imagine your own y/n, OC insert scenario here. Whatever floats your boat.
In such scenario, and in the aftermath of his self-awareness epiphany where he realizes that yeah, he's kinda been used (by everyone really), I think that in regards to any potential sexual relationship, he would have to become more dominant, more in control of the situation. Especially if it's with Mel, since he does pointedly blame her, or even Viktor, who has literally shaped the course of Jayce's entire life since he was a child. The man needs to set some boundaries with people and good for him.
So I think dominant, scruffy Jayce does have a time and a place.
However, I don't think he'd stay that way forever. It's kinda like him trying to be a politician-- it's a different role that he can pull off, but it doesn't fully scratch his itch.
BONUS HEADCANON: Wouldn't it be just so interesting if he survived the astral plane and goes back to whoever, and while he's looking for comfort and reassurance and all that physical contact he's been deprived of, he realizes that he really doesn't like people touching his head.
I hypothesize that in regards to canon relationships, Mel and/or Viktor, once they regain his trust and show that they're not trying to use him again, he's 100% going to be simping for them even worse than before. Like, that relationship would've gone through the fire and only come out stronger on the other side. You might even say it's been vulcanized.... 🤭
From the on, he can go back to letting his walls down around them and letting them be the dominant one because he knows there's solid trust and respect there now.
Feel free to agree or disagree 🤷♀️ also please feel free to tell me all your thots about this too!!!
He's got all this beautiful hair that needs to be tenderly pushed away from his eyes by a loving hand, but he's a little fucked up from the times Mannequin/Mage Viktor did that little murder mind meld.
Like, he put his head in Mel's lap TWICE, you know it would kill the man if he couldn't do that anymore because having someone's hands near his forehead is too reminiscent of... well, basically his death.
#jayce talis#arcane#arcane spoilers#viktor arcane#mel medarda#jayvik#jaymel#Jaymelvik#meljayvik#arcane headcanon#meljay
374 notes
·
View notes
Text
Period Drabble; LADS

Word count; 1,267
Warnings; mention of periods, slight stereotypes like mood swings and etc, fluff
Notes; So, since mine just started, I thought I'd just do a little drabble. They're not the best to be honest, but I just wanted to post something and it seems cute/fluffy enough! Periods are only vaguely mentioned in Rafayel's, but I think it still works.
One of Zayne's secret times also inspired me, they all have at least one period related secret time– which I find really sweet. Zayne's mentioned the raspberry tea and the massage, which I actually did for a bit today and it 100% helped. At least, for a little bit before I woke up enough to take some tylenol.
Anyway! I hope you enjoy, it's rather short and I didn't proof-read at all, but it'll be fine since it's a just drabble. I have a few more drabble ideas, but this one was more of a random idea so apologizes that it's not formatted well!

Xavier
“Are you alright? Sorry– shouldn't have asked that.” Xavier immediately retracts his question whenever your head whips around to look at him.
You were curled up in a ball, sitting on the floor, and trying to slowly breathe until your pain medication kicks in.
The first few days of your period were always rough. The pain akin to…Well, it was hard to describe. It definitely hurt though, that's for sure.
“I'll be right back.” Xavier pats your head as he steps past you, but you wrap your arms around his leg. “Where are you going?” You couldn't tell that you were being clingy nor did you notice that your mood swings were all over the place. You honestly thought you were acting as normal as ever.
“I'm going to the store, okay?” He chuckles, kneeling down to remove your hands from his leg. He holds both of them in-between his and dips his head down to place a small kiss on your knuckles. “I'll be back in a flash. You'll never even realize I left.”
Disappointment bubbles in your chest and you let out a sigh, but nod your head. “Okay…” you didn't exactly want to be alone, but if Xavier needed to leave for a moment, you didn't want to bother him and make him stay.
And indeed, Xavier was back very soon. In record time.
He re-enters the apartment, seemingly out of breath, but the moment you look at him, he stands up straight. He has a plastic bag in his hands as he walks over to you.
He kneels back down next to you and starts sifting through the bag. “I got some chocolate…I didn't know what kind you liked so I got regular, white, dark, and mint.” As he sets them down on the coffee table, you quickly grab your favourite to open it up.
You start eating as Xavier continues with a chuckle, “I got a heating pad, some chamomile tea, some raspberries…”
“You didn't have to get all of this…” You say, but you can't hide the smile on your lips. While he really didn't need to do all of this, you did appreciate it. A lot.
“Oh, I also looked up some massages that can relieve cramps. I could do those for you later, if you want?”
Rafayel
“Hey– stop throwing brushes at me!” Rafayel huffs with a hand on his hip. “I'm sorry I got some paint on you.”
You pause mid-throw and raise a brow, “I told you I wasn't in the mood to play around.” A thick purple line of dried paint decorates your cheek.
“And I just apologized for that!” Rafayel throws his hands up in the air before he walks over to grab a washcloth. He wets it and heads back over to you. “Truce?”
“I–” you sigh before shaking your head. “Fine. I guess I'm sorry too.”
The purple-haired man chuckles as he tilts your chin up with a finger. “Look, if I knew you were on your period, I wouldn't have done that. Seriously, do I look like I want to die today?” He gently wipes your cheek with the wet cloth.
“I'll help you clean up your brushes.” You reluctantly say, a little embarrassed at your overreaction, but you did tell him you didn't want to play around today.
“I have a better idea.” Rafayel tosses the washcloth onto the table once he's done and picks up a lone paint brush from the floor. “Here. Paint on me.”
“Huh?”
“You can paint on me to your heart's content and until you feel better.” He curls your fingers around the brush and then gives you a small smile. “After that, we can make something to eat. I picked up a few boxes of cake mix, so we can bake one together.”
Sylus
“Sylus–”
“It's fine, sweetie. I just threw the bedsheets in the wash, along with your clothes.” The taller man says as he walks back into the room.
You sat, curled up against the headboard of the naked bed, with your head buried into your knees.
“I don't see why you're embarrassed over it. A period is a normal thing.” Sylus shrugs as he sits down on the bed, patting the mattress so you'd move to sit next to him. “I sent the twins out to go procure some pads, tampons, and whatever else you might need. It's a shame the N109 Zone doesn't sell any of it…I might have to fix that.” He hums.
You sigh and slowly move to sit next to Sylus, doing your best not to move too much. “It's a normal thing, yes, but it's embarrassing to wake up and have…blood all over the bed.”
“You should be glad it's only your period. I would've thought you were dying otherwise.” The white-haired man laughs before handing you a bottle of pills. “It's the only pain medication we have around here. If you can't take it, I'll have Mephisto go out and get some more.”
“Stop talking about it.” You hide your face in your hands.
“Alright, I'm sorry, kitten. Just take your medicine before the pain kicks in. I'll go make you some tea.” He pats your hand but, as he goes to stand up, you feel your body jerk forward.
“Sylus–” you bite back your anger, momentarily thinking that he was dragging you by the wrist, but when you look down you realize your wrists were connected with that annoying red light. “Seriously?” Why now of all times?
“It seems like you really didn't want me to leave you alone.” Sylus muses with a raised brow before he carefully picks you up. “I'll have to make your tea like this then.”
“Hey–”
“Would you rather I drag you around? I really don't want to piss you off. I think I'd actually fear for my life if I did.”
Zayne
“Don't get up.” You hear Zayne whisper and the bed shifts as the older man moves to get up. “I'll go make you some raspberry tea for your cramps.”
“Zayne…” Your hand pats against the bed, searching for him and you hear him sigh, his hand resting on top of yours.
“I'll be right back, snow angel.”
“Let me help you sit up.” Zayne places the mug of hot tea on the bedside table, his hand moving to rest against your back as he aids you in sitting up. “Is the pain too bad? I'd hate for you to rely on medication, but if it's hurting too much, I can get some for you.”
“It's not…too bad right now.” But your facial expression betrays you as a sharp pain floods through your lower abdomen.
“Here.” Zayne lifts a spoon from the tea, blowing on it to cool it off, and lifts the spoon to your lips. “These raspberries should help with your cramps.”
After you drink some more of the tea, Zayne gets back in bed next to you. His chest against your back and his hands rest slightly under your stomach.
“Sleep for a little while longer…I'll keep massaging here, so you won't be in pain while you sleep.” The black haired man places a soft kiss on your head.
His fingers gently push down on your lower abdomen, moving in a slow, circular motion.
It felt…soothing. It was also surprisingly taking the pain away, but that could also be from the tea.
“Do you have work today?” You tiredly ask, a yawn escaping from your lips and you feel Zayne shake his head.
“I'm taking off. A certain patient requires all of my attention, at least for today."
#lads#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#lads x reader#lads sylus#lads xavier#lads zayne#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace xavier#love and deepspace zayne#lads rafayel#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel x reader#zayne love and deepspace#zayne x reader#sylus x reader#xavier x reader#lads drabble#lnds x reader#lnds zayne#lnds xavier#lnds#lnds sylus#lnds rafayel#lads fluff
519 notes
·
View notes
Note
If you ever feel up to it - a little short story from the scom universe about reader and Joel deciding to have a second baby or finding out they're pregnant for the second time would warm my cold dead heart <3
i am. so. sorry. for the word count on this i truly do not know what happened. but i had a lot of fun with it, so. hopefully y'all do, too. happy fathers day! x
jellybean ~4k words | series masterlist warnings: pregnancy symptoms (feeling and being sick, horniness + sleepiness. aka me even when not pregnant), 99% just duckie vs her mom
Duckie spills the secret on a Friday.
The morning is lazy, slow. The breathing of the sea across a plain of beach. Your fingers sift through her hair like the breeze through sun-bleached pages. The way she and the sun tint the room peach.
Sarah sprawls out across the spot still warm on her dad’s side of the bed. She’s in a habit of waking up early to sneak through to your room, lift the bottom of the covers, and army crawl between your bodies.
Joel’s in a habit of stirring to the heat of her at his back, her tiny toes at his spine, and turning to scoop her in one arm. They sleep curled into one another, mouths catching flies.
This morning, though, she’s up to something. She brought a secret.
She’s flat-out on her stomach, pens scratching at the paper. There’s the scent of cherry and lemon and green apple tangling in the air. Taut frown on her face, tongue poked with concentration. She looks just like her dad.
She pauses and looks up at you. “What color is this part?” she asks, dabbing at the blank hubcap.
“Silver,” you reply, fixing the cap back onto the grape pen before it stains your sheets.
She huffs. “I don’t have silver, Mama.”
You tap on the page. “Daddy’s wing mirrors are black, but you did ‘em green. The colors don’t matter, do they?”
But it’s seven a.m., and you’re sharing only the red jellybeans for something of a pre-breakfast snack (the four-year-old’s idea), and you’re exhausted despite having slept the full night, and she keeps halting any time Joel’s humming quietens – just in case he spoils his birthday surprise.
She hunkers down with the lemon pen to nail the emblem of his truck, and you figure – color is just the least of it. Truthfully, to your kid – and so, to you, too – nothing has ever mattered more.
You cup her cheek and lift her gaze back to meet yours. “How about I grab you a glitter pen today, just for the wheels?”
She grins. Little milk teeth, gappy and gummy. Peach fuzz cheeks, sweet as the rest of her, a perfect fit in the palm of your hand.
I love you I love you you’re my whole world I love you, you want to say.
Instead: “Only if we tidy your room later. Deal?”
“Deal, Mama,” Sarah giggles, and her little ink-stained hands splay out across the page again.
She scribbles only a few more splotches of color before you both notice it.
The sudden silence.
The water’s stopped running. The shower screen rattles as he pulls it back. Dripdripdrip from the showerhead straight down to the empty basin.
Sarah twists to watch Joel’s disembodied arm blindly grab for a towel folded on the sink. It whips off out of sight, and he calls through from the bathroom.
“Duckie? You still there?”
“Gogogo,” you whisper, helping your daughter cover her dad’s drawing with blank sheets. “Leave the jellybeans, Duck, save yourself!”
She finds the entire thing hysterical. Swinging her masterpiece under one arm, two fistfuls of rainbow pens, springing from the mattress like it suddenly caught flame. She throws herself from the foot of the bed and dashes across the hall to her own room, candy scattering in her wake.
Joel’s head cranes around the doorframe. “Where’d she go?”
You smile, shrugging. Chewing innocently on a jellybean. “That’s funny. She was here a second ago.”
He pads over to the bed, towel slung loose around his hips. Smirks, when your hungry eyes descend his figure – the bearlike shape of him, all muscle and fur, toned where he needs it but soft where you want it.
He cages over you, dark hair dripping with the smell of citrus, skin sticky.
His lips are like velvet against yours. Tongue still singed with coffee. A low growl from his throat when you lean forward to lick into his mouth.
“Smell so goddamn good,” you murmur, dipping your head to bury into the crook of his neck.
His beard is fuzzier when it’s damp, natural masculine musk melded with the fresh soap and rich aftershave he uses. All honey and oatmeal, mixed with a woodsy scent – and fuck, it’s intoxicating. Moreso than usual – stronger and sexier.
You take his hands and lower them to your hips, letting his fingers knot around the baggy material of your – his T-shirt. Tugging on it, exposing the slip of delicate lace on your hips.
“Darlin’,” Joel warns, “we’re late. We still gotta drop Duckie off – If she walks in –”
You groan, huffing back into the mattress. The weight between your legs ripples over the horizon, pulses into weak nothing.
Joel fixes the shirt back down to your thighs just as the thunder of his daughter’s footsteps rumbles back into the room.
Tonight, he breathes, slicking some of the hair from his face.
You grin, taking his hand to pull yourself back up.
Sarah materializes in the doorway, a lingering half-girl. Smiling from behind the frame, twisting the ball of her foot into the floor.
“Hi, Duck,” Joel says, still playing with your fingers.
“Hi.”
“You look guilty.”
Her grin widens. She totters into the room, launches herself onto the bed, and nuzzles into your side. She squirms when Joel digs his fingers into her waist.
The beats of her laughter drum against your ribs, the same way her fists used to when she lived inside you.
“Alright.” You cradle her, her little head tipping back to wake the rest of Austin up with her squeals of glee. “Are we ready for some actual food, now?”
Joel chuckles, reaching for his mug.
Sarah nods from your lap. Her eyes drift down to the print on your tee. “Mama?”
“Mhm?”
“Do they like jellybeans?”
You frown. “Does who like jellybeans?”
Her finger prods lightly into your tummy. “The baby.”
Joel chokes, splattering coffee into his fist. He slams the mug down, pounds his chest clear of liquid.
“There’s no – Jesus, Joel,” you swipe mocha flecks from the sheets, “Told Sarah to be careful with her pens and then you spray coffee all over the…”
Sarah rolls off, cackling. “Silly Daddy,” she hoots, leaping on the bedroom floor.
“Hey,” you usher her over to the door, “Why don’t you go pick out what you wanna wear today? I’ll be right behind you. Quit tryna give your dad a heart attack, okay?”
“The baby, Mama,” she’s repeating, walking like a little convict. She turns over the threshold to her room like it’s a cell, her pink pajama uniform and guilty expression to go with it. Still laughing, swallowing the ticklish bursts when she notices you’re shaking your head.
“There is no baby.” You kneel before her, repeating, “No baby. Just you. How about your T-shirt with the butterflies?”
It seems to distract her enough. Thank Christ. She gasps, inspired, and twirls off to find the tee.
“Fucking hell,” you sigh, pushing back to your feet.
Joel’s flapping the sheets when you slip back into your room, still clearing his throat. Half-dressed: a white T-shirt over his broad chest and a pair of black boxers. Soaked hair clinging to the back of his neck and drying in flicks across his forehead.
Jesus, you want to pull him back over you and let him have his way.
You close the door over and spin, hands on your hips. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me?” he croaks. “Did you hear what she just said?”
“You’ve known this kid for four years, Joel, you really can’t tell when she’s fucking with you? She’s my kid, keep up.”
“Just seemed an awfully –” he thumps his chest again, “– awfully specific thing to say.”
“She’s in a phase I think,” you reply, catching the pillow he tosses across. “She’s telling stories. Last week, her pre-K teacher congratulated me our supposed wedding. Asked to see pictures of the Mickey Mouse officiant.”
“Jesus,” he grumbles. “She really bought that?”
You mimic the breezy voice: “Sarah was very convincing.”
Joel scoffs. “I don’t know if I can take a lying phase and a copying phase at the same time. Every goddamn word I say, she’s gotta repeat it.”
“She idolizes you,” you straighten the sheets, “I think it’s endearing.”
“Hm. Just wait until it’s you.”
He wanders around the bed, pulls your back against his chest. His arms cross over your tummy, lips pressing into your shoulder where his shirt has slipped.
“How much harder would two be?” he mumbles into the bare skin.
“Two Sarahs?” You scoff.
Joel laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. I forget she runs on chaos and jellybeans.”
“Yup,” you turn in his arms, linking yours behind his neck, “And there ain’t no point in talking about it anyways, because I am not fucking pregnant.”
He rolls his forehead against yours, stealing bristly kisses. “Okay.”
“I’m not, Joel.”
“I believe you, baby.”
Sarah’s bedtime is a liberal eight, eight thirty on weekends. She likes to sit up, lodged between you and Joel on the couch, and help pick the movie you two will watch once she’s in bed.
Once – and only once – Joel tried to fool her by pretending to play her choice, then switching as soon as she went down.
The kid quizzed him on the movie the next morning. He failed. She’s never forgotten.
Tonight, though, Joel’s out. Some game that you know and care too little about sports to learn the name or importance of. He’s with some buddies at the local bar, probably nursing his second beer in as many hours, and counting down the minutes until he can come home to his girls.
Sarah snores soundly, slumped at your side as though butter wouldn’t melt. The flicker from the TV across her face, the gentle mumbling of the voices onscreen. Her hands limp in her lap, fingers idling in a pink snack bowl.
You admire her, stealing a piece of her popcorn. Teeth grinding down when you remember dishing it for her earlier, hearing her curious voice ask whether or not the baby likes popcorn more than jellybeans.
Nope, you sang, tossing a handful in your mouth as you passed her the bowl. Imaginary babies don’t eat popcorn.
She snorted (which unnerved you, because what the fuck is this kid finding so funny?), and followed you to the living room so close that you could feel her toes at your heels.
Some of the kids in her class have siblings. Some older, but mostly younger. It’s the only fucking explanation, the only thing that explains this sudden interest in the real estate of your uterus.
She’s going through a phase, you tell yourself, suckling on popcorn. But then – how many fucking phases do kids go through? Which phases did you go through?
Barney & Friends. That was a fucking phase. Refusing to leave the house without the hoodie your mom bought you from the Museum of Natural History, even in the height of summer. Ketchup and broccoli, your boyfriend at seventeen, frisbeeing your neighbor’s newspaper and aiming for his flowerpots.
Phase, phase, fucking phase.
Does she know something you don’t?
…No. You took a test just last week. Shut up. Stop letting the kid into your fucking head.
Joel’s keys jangle on the other side of the door, shunting into the lock with a sound which stills your brain.
You tilt your head over the back of the couch, your man’s beard tickling your nose as he kisses you. “Evening.”
“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips. He straightens and tugs the jacket from his shoulders. “She not in bed yet?”
“She fell asleep down here,” you reply. “I got too tired to carry her up.”
He caresses your forehead, big pillowy palm. “You feelin’ okay?”
“It’s been a long day,” you grumble.
Joel smiles. He flops down onto the couch beside you, reaching over to stroke Sarah’s head.
You roll, solid as a rock, curling into his side. “She keeps saying it, Joel. She keeps fucking saying it.”
His chest jumps, tectonic plates moving with a laugh. “You’ve met your match, honey. Produced a professional little shit.”
“One of the other moms from her class is pregnant,” you mumble. “That’s gotta be it, right? That’s where she’s getting it from?”
“Maybe,” Joel muses. His fingers link with yours. “Why don’t you take a test anyways? Settle it in your mind?”
It startles you awake, even if only enough to prove the fucking point.
“No, Joel!” you hiss, body jerking. “If I take a test, and it turns out negative – which it will – she wins! My four-year-old fooled me. No,” you pluck spilled popcorn from your lap, pinging it back into the bowl, “I know this kid. I gave birth to this kid. She is not fucking winning.”
“Alright, baby,” he coos, “it’s okay. I won’t let the four-year-old fool you.”
You glower. “Thanks, asshole.”
He chuckles. “She’d make the best big sister, though. She would,” he insists, when you huff back against his chest. “She’d love being the oldest. Get to be bossy, get to call the shots. Get to protect them, no matter what.”
Your voice feels so small, as inquisitive as your daughter’s when you blink up at him. “Were you protective over Tommy?”
“Oh, yeah. I mean, he was annoying as all hell – and I told him so – but anyone else had anythin’ to say about him, and – well, they had me to deal with.”
“Big scary Joel Miller,” you whisper, yawning into his shirt. “I knew him once.”
“Mhm,” he rumbles, “You sure did.”
You look up again, blinking all doe-eyed and dreamy. Already half-asleep.
“He never scared me,” you whisper.
Joel smiles.
“Well, you scared the hell outta him.”
Saturday morning, you wake to an empty bed. No snoring man, no scribbling girl. Just you – a starfish on the mattress. Bathing in waves of late-morning sun, sheets for coral, body as heavy as though you really are at the bottom of the ocean.
Her giggles carry all the way upstairs. Sarah. They surf into the room on a sunbeam, sounds like bubbles which shatter and sprinkle over your aching body.
You smile into Joel’s pillow, breathing in the smell of him, and peel your eyes open.
It’s ten thirty. Definitely – you blink three times and rub at your eyes, just to make sure. Ten thirty, and something’s swirling behind your navel. Something that sharpens, sours, when you push yourself upright.
“Oh, shit,” you rasp, and throw yourself across the room.
You barely make it, collapsing in a heap at the toilet. Your stomach empties in seconds; three heavy, painful gags and your head is in the bowl, choking on last night’s dinner.
“Motherfucker,” you spit, gasping, “Oh, Jesus.”
You’re sick. You’re just sick. Sarah probably caught something from pre-K, passed it on without even knowing. And, hey – you feel better, now that that happened.
You’re just sick. Nothing else.
“Mornin’,” Joel calls, watching as you stagger into the kitchen.
Sarah mimics his drawl. “Mornin’, Mama.”
“Hi, Duckie.” You crumple into the chair beside her, shoulders hunched. The smell of burnt toast and grape juice twists up your nose, and you suck in a slow breath.
Joel sweeps a hand over your forehead. He tips your jaw up to face him. “You alright? Thought we heard running.”
Sarah rips a slice of toast in two. She stares at the fluffy insides, the jam dripping from the tear. The sight of it lifts the hairs on your skin, the gloopy mess splattering onto her plate.
“Just feel kinda…funny,” you slur, turning away.
“Funny? Funny how?”
“Funny how?” your daughter parrots.
You shrug. Every word, every inhale makes you feel even more nauseous. “Probably just ate something.”
“Heard that one before,” Joel drones, and you throw him a flat look.
Sarah licks the jam from her fingers. She holds her tiny hands up to her dad, snorts when he pretends to bite at them.
“Eat your breakfast, Duckie,” he says then – in his Dad voice. And in something softer, kinder: “Can I make you somethin’?”
You swat the idea away, but it’s already churning in your stomach again. “Just gotta – get over whatever it – is.”
The table falls silent. Joel and Sarah stare blankly at one another. When you turn to look at your daughter, she’s staring straight back. Smirking.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you clip, wincing again at the dribbling jam.
“Alright,” Joel utters, “I think you oughta take a test now.”
“That is not what this is,” you groan, petulantly pushing up from your chair.
He takes your hand, steadying you. “No? I was thinking about it, baby, and I don’t think we’ve been safe enough to be so sure.”
You dump your golden toast in the trash and turn, crossing your arms. Your shoulders lift. “We’re not being any less safe than we have been the last four years.”
“Safe,” Sarah says, and Joel holds a finger up.
“No,” he tells her. “No. Not that word. Go back to funny.”
She beams at him. “You’re funny, Daddy.”
He sighs, pacing over. “Look,” he lowers his plate into the sink, “I’ll take Duckie to the park. Let you rest up, give you a quiet house for the morning. But darlin’, if you’re not better by tonight, you’re takin’ a test.”
You grimace. “But she –”
“I know –” he grits his teeth, “– I know you don’t want her to be right. But I want you to be okay, more ‘n I want to prove my child wrong. Like it or not, you’re taking a damn test.”
Your eyes flit across to the kid swinging her legs in her chair, the splotch of jam down her Peppa Pig T-shirt. Your greatest accomplishment and your biggest challenge, wrapped up into a hundred-centimeter, jellybean-fueled monster.
Her cheeks lift, jam-covered and smug.
“Funny,” Sarah says, nodding.
The afternoon strings the sun high in the sky.
You’ve been home alone for the better part of an hour, busying yourself by cleaning to take your mind off the nausea tugging at your esophagus. Making and remaking beds, folding laundry until your fingers cramp.
Sarah’s room has never been tidier. Joel’s workshop has never seen so little dust. And you have never been more determined to prove your four-year-old wrong.
You’re lingering in the bathroom, the window gaping. Sucking in breath after breath of fresh air – which only serves to tickle the acid burning its way up your throat, entice it further.
You’re emptying the cabinets, reorganizing them into some senseless order. Playing Tetris with boxes of Band-Aids, slotting in tubes of toothpaste. You blindly reach behind your hip for the next box – a nearly empty thing which rattles when you lift it, jitters as though nervous.
You glance down.
“Fuck off,” you hiss, throwing it on the shelf beside some tampons.
It stares back at you, as blinding as the sun. The two display window examples, pregnant and not pregnant, like a wink peering out from the dull cabinet.
Your gums taste of bitter bile, rancid. Teeth furry and aching. Your entire body aches – though nothing quite so bad as the space below your ribs, still tender from all your retching.
Slowly, your hands slip down your front to cup your lower tummy. Rounder than before, suppler – bloated, even.
“’s from all the throwing up,” you tell nobody in particular. Maybe yourself. There’s a desperate edge to your voice, almost a plea.
But then – a plea to who? For what? There was nothing you loved more than carrying Sarah for nine months. Duck. Start saying duck. Baby Duck.
You were never on your own. She was right there. Someone to talk to, someone to complain to. Someone to weep to, in the quietest lulls of night.
Her language came to you as easily as your own. All her kicks and punches, her fucking acrobatics while you tried to sleep. It was love, in its most chaotic form.
And you loved her, the very moment you saw those two lines. The very moment you realized she’d been in there the whole time.
You realize now, squatted on your bathroom floor, that it feels the exact same. A warmth, radiating from your very core, if only you’d pay it enough attention to feel it.
Like there’s someone there. Right there.
“If you’re fucking with me,” you warn your stomach, reaching for the single test, “I will lose my shit.”
Love, in its most chaotic form bursts through your bedroom door no less than half an hour later.
“Hi, Mama!” Sarah sings, tearing through the room with her hands behind her back. Her knees bump against the side of your bed, the air about her summer-warm and pollen-sweet.
“Hi, little Duck,” you mumble, voice swollen. You wipe sleep from your eyes, asking, “How was the park?”
She answers with a wide grin on her face, whipping out a small, shabby bunch of flowers. Dandelions and daisies tangled around one another, loose petals scattering over your bedsheets.
“Oh, baby,” you push yourself up, ignoring the sickly weight in your stomach, “Are these for me?”
She nods. She dusts her hands free of grass when you take the bouquet. And then, as you smell them and hum with delight, she turns.
First, over to the dresser. She stares at her reflection, pokes at some of the makeup on the table. Then over to the window – where her breath fogs the glass. You hear the whack of Joel’s tailgate closing, and she tracks him into the house, before examining the windowsill.
You watch nervously as she drifts back over to the bed, a curious hop to her movements. Inspecting, like she knows there’s something waiting to be found. Someone.
“Did you have fun with Daddy?” you ask.
“Yep,” her small voice says, distant and distracted. She disappears into the dim bathroom.
You slump back down on the mattress, dropping the flowers in a clump on your bedside table. “I don’t even know when I fell asleep, baby girl,” you say through a yawn.
Sarah doesn’t reply.
“Duckie?”
“What’s this?”
You lift your head. “What’s wh…Oh, n-no, Duckie, wait –”
She flees past you, one fist raised and wielding the pregnancy test.
“Sarah! Jesus, fuck –”
You’re chasing after her before you have a chance to consider it – nausea be damned. She’s squealing something, roaring with laughter, blitzing out into the hallway. She swivels, ladders down the stairs backwards, leaps straight into the arms of –
“Christ, Sarah –”
Joel stumbles backwards with the force she throws at him. She’s safe in his arms by the time you reach the top of the stairs, waving the stupid stick around his head like it’s a magic wand.
“Daddy!” Sarah cries.
He glances up to you: hunched over the top step, panting, clutching your stomach. He pinches the test from her grasp. “What do we got here, baby duck?”
She kicks her feet. She has no fucking idea what they have, but she knows you didn’t want her near it – and if you know your kid, you know that’s all the catalyst she needed to fucking take it.
You slowly make your way down towards them, smirk growing the nearer you draw.
Joel glances down to the test. The creases by his eyes deepen. He hugs Sarah closer.
“Two...two means...pregnant, right?” he asks.
You sigh, nodding. “Mhm.”
His head lifts.
He breaks, the second he sees your expression. Eyes glassy, tears spilling onto your cheeks. The same smile you wore that June morning: sleep-deprived and shellshocked, a love pumping through your veins so strong that you thought you might burst with it.
Joel reaches for your hand, reels you in against his body.
“Shit,” he laughs, holding the test up.
Your shaking hands take it from him – though you already knew what it says. You were dreaming of it all when Sarah broke into your room.
Dreaming of linked hands and echoed giggles; of bunkbeds and matching surnames, of all four seats in the truck filled and all four chambers of your heart spoken for.
Dreaming of one on each hip, one in each hand. Dreaming of them tag teaming Joel, of the word kids slung with his southern twang. My kids, the kids, our kids. All ours.
Dreaming of two Sarahs, goddamn it. Because nothing ever completed your life as effortlessly as one Sarah, and – hell, she was born to follow in her dad’s footsteps and become the elder Miller sibling.
“Shit,” you agree, turning to sob into Joel’s chest.
“Duckie,” Joel says, voice hoarse and choked by tears, “You’re gonna be a big sister.”
She giggles, tracing the damp lines down your cheeks. As she reaches your jaw, the elation on her face slowly dwindles into something of a frown.
Your lips part to repeat it – a big sister, Duck – when her tiny voice steals the air from your lungs.
“Shit!”
584 notes
·
View notes
Note
hiii can i request some fluff with toge inumaki and fem!reader? like headcannons on how it would be like to date him and how their relationship grew? i love your works you do such a great job! <3
━ 𝘿𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙄𝙣𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 - Toge Inumaki x Fem!Reader
𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 - Headcanons for dating your favorite partial mute!
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - Cursing? Maybe? Alludes to death
𝗲𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘀 - My brain ran out of ink I might add more

You guys met when you joined the school as a first year and the first thing you seen was a talking panda
A surprise fr
But then you met him, and it was bonito flakes at first sight
Okay no more jokes
But seriously he was really cute and you were extremely awkward around him for the longest because it's already hard wondering what your crush thinks about you
But you couldn't physically understand yours
Not at first I mean
Inumaki thought you were also also very pretty however he knew that there was definitely going to be a barrier until you began to understand him like his friends did
It's when the notes began
He first began them when he asked you for a pencil right before an exam and it carried over
Each time he needed to communicate with you, he'd write a note
You'd pass them back and forth in class as well, when you were supposed to be being quiet
Gojo pretended he didn't see that part
Until finally his words, though very few, began to click
Like Groot, you caught on, faster than anyone else had and even Maki was impressed with that
He still likes leaving you notes though
Especially in your desk or just around where he knows you and you only will find them
And one day, a note on your desk said, DATE? YES NO
Panda couldn't stop giggling, so you knew something was up
Obviously, as seen above you said yes
I could just imagine all the ways he'd show his love without speaking it for the most part
Like the notes
Also a firm believer that he's very much a hand holder as well, he likes playing with your fingers
Also stares a lot
Especially when you're talking and telling something bro gets extremely zoned in and stares you down like you've hung the sun and stars and are the best thing that's ever happened to him
Which you are
He's whipped
All his friends know this as well, they love it
You don't get to see much happiness often in their world, all you really have is each other and long live happy relationships as long as they last
He likes taking walks, the clear his head since y'know, saying certain things might murder everyone in a few mile radius
They're very personal to him
So he starts taking you, and sometimes it's silence, sometimes he likes just hearing you talk because it helps calm him
Sometimes you both share earbuds
Whatever it is they're some of his favorite things ever and he'll take secrets pics of you if you skip ahead
Great insta posts the man CAN take a photo
He's the type of boyfriend to get in the most awkward poses if you need a good selfie
YES GIRL GIVE US SALMON
*squats*
He truly loves you and worships the ground you walk on
DIY king also btw
Idk why that thought just popped in my head but I feel like he truly can do anything if you ask him
Build you a bookshelf? Five minutes, no sweat, zero mistakes and it's done and he just stares at you like :3
Great listener obviously
HIS BITCH POSE IS NASTY
if you say something even remotely untrue he gives you the biggest most diabolical silent side eye ever seen before
Shakes the ground
Eyebrow game is strong, very expressive man it's very attractive
My thoughts are running out but he's just a king of being a boyfriend

a/n: best friend break up!!!!!!!!!!! THEY STUICJK
#toge inumaki#toge inumaki x reader#toge inumaki x you#inumaki x reader#inumaki x you#inumaki x y/n#toge x reader#toge x you#toge x y/n
523 notes
·
View notes
Text
thrill of the game - jack hughes
reader has to make a decision. keep her job as an equipment manager for the devils and keep her relationship with jack a secret, or she could quit and let the whole world know how much she loves him.
tw!: none, just the occasional kiss
-
i stand in the team equipment room, a big pad of paper and a pencil in my hand as i check things off. i pick up a pair of dougie's gloves, noticing the misplaced seam on the strap. i frown, marking down to get him a new pair in that color and size, throwing the gloves in the bin of damaged equipment.
i hum a little tune as i continue to check things off, whipping my head around when i hear the door open. it's jack, walking towards me with a smile. "hey hughes, what do you need?"
he shuffles over to me, still in his gear. "i need a kiss from my favorite staff member." he says, placing his hands on my hips, pulling me closer.
"jack...someone could walk in..." i whisper, looking up at him.
"then we should be quick." he whispers back, taking off a glove and using the now free hand to cradle my cheek up, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips.
i giggle into the kiss, placing my hands on his shoulders. the kiss is gentle but needy and it's clear he's been thinking about me based on the urgency of his lips on mine.
i pull away, looking up at him. "now, what did you tell them you were coming for?" i ask, laughing softly as i take step back, putting some distance between us just in case someone walks in.
"i told them i needed my skates sharpened." he says, taking a seat on the bench and unlacing his skates. "which isn't a lie, it's been a while since i got them sharpened last."
i take the skates from him, smiling as i walk over to the sharpening machine. i put on some protective goggles, listening as the low hum of the sharpening machine fills the small room as i carefully place the skate onto the machine. it clamps the blade securely into place, the blade perfectly aligned with the wheel that grinds the blade. with a press of a button, the wheel begins to spin, its rough surface gliding over the steel with a single smooth motion.
as the wheel makes contact with the blade, a fine spray of metal shavings fly into the air, the sharp edges of the skate slowly being reshaped with precision. the machine whirrs quietly, the grinding wheel creating a just the right curve on the blade that would give it the perfect amount of bite on the ice.
i watch as the blade shifts ever so slightly with each pass, the machine expertly sharpening both edges until they're sharp, perfect, and ready for the ice. the final polish leaves the surface of the skate gleaming, as if the skate had just been made for the first time, and i can’t help but smile.
i lift the skate off the machine, feeling the sharpness of the blade through the palm of my hand. i flick my thumb over the blade, checking the sharpness of it before i wipe off the metal shavings from the rest of the skate.
i repeat the process with both skates, turning around with a smile. "alright hughes, here you go." i hold out the skates to him, watching him stand up with a smile.
he takes the skates from me, leaning down to press a peck to my lips, quick but affectionate. he thanks me as he sits down, carefully putting the skates back on. "so, what do you want to eat for dinner later? i'll pick it up on my way to your place after practice."
"hmm...surprise me." i giggle, picking up my paper and pen. "i hate that we have to sneak around like this, jack..." i whisper, a twinge of sadness in my voice.
jack sighs, finishing putting on his skates. "me too, but you know it's not allowed for us to be together." he stands, looking at me with a frown.
i huff, "i know...i just hate having to hide my feelings for you. it's hard, jack. i have to watch other girls throw themselves at you and i can't even do anything." i say, gripping the pad of paper a little tighter.
jack takes a step closer, guilt and...fear, maybe, in his gaze. "i'm sorry, sweetheart. i really am. i wish i could show you off to everyone as mine, watch you in stands in my jersey." he whispers, sadness in his tone.
"we'll figure it out, i know we will. but for now, you need to get back to practice before it gets even more suspicious." i say, crossing my arms.
"fine, but...i want you to wear this and tell everyone that you have a boyfriend, just don't tell them who it is." he says, reaching up and pulling off the yellow gold chain, handing it to me. "it's long so it's been pretty hidden under my uniform. people shouldn't recognize it. it's cartier, if anyone asks."
"jack...this is so expensive. what if i lose it or break it?" i say, holding the chain in my hand. "i don't want to mess up your things."
"if you lose it, i'll buy you another one." he says, taking a step back. "don't worry about it, honey. i promise i won't be upset if anything happens to it." i sigh, mumbling an 'okay' as i put it on, watching him smile as i clasp it together. he walks to the door, looking at me. "it looks beautiful on you, my love." he whispers, walking out of the room.
my fingers linger on the chain, the cold metal a little wet from either his sweat or some water. it's a little gross, but it's okay. i get right back to my job, going back to taking inventory. i finish up, setting down the paper pad and grabbing my bag. i walk up to the front desk and clock out, walking to my car.
i unlock the vehicle, getting in and connecting my phone, playing some music as i start the twenty minute drive home. i sing along to the music, bopping my head to the tune as i drive. once i finally make it home, i make my way up to my apartment and leave the door unlocked, knowing jack will probably be here soon anyway. i call out to alexa, asking her to turn on my chill playlist.
i hear the music fill my apartment as i walk to my bedroom, taking off my work clothes and slipping into some comfy, around the house clothes. i put on some fluffy socks, the soft material somehow managing to warm my whole body up. i sit on my couch, watching a random nhl game on my tv. it's the lighting and the senators.
i sit and watch, wincing and whispering a small curse at the occasional hard hit of a player against the boards. eventually, the door to my apartment opens, the sound of bags and shoes walking in. "hey jack!" i smile, turning around to look at him. "we can eat on the couch today, i wanna watch the game."
jack kicks off his shoes, shuffling over to the couch and setting down the food on the coffee table, throwing off his jacket and sitting down. "who's playing?"
"lightning and senators, it's a close game." i say, looking back at the screen, the score 3-4 with the lightning winning. "if you don't wanna watch, that's okay."
"no this is fine, i kinda wanted to watch this game anyway." he laughs, opening the bags full of takeout. "i got chick-fil-a, didn't feel like getting out of the car."
i laugh, taking my food from him as he hands it to me. "thank you, sweetheart." i smile, opening the sandwich box. i reach over and turn down the volume on the tv, "so, how was practice?"
"it was good, nobody questioned why i was gone so long when i had to get my skates sharpened." he says, sitting back on the couch. "but i'm glad nico's back, we were a mess without him. how was work?"
"yeah, i could tell the team dynamic was a bit off. and it was good, i left not long after you got your skates sharpened." i say, taking a sip of my drink. "just had to finish up doing some inventory and that was about it for the day."
jack nods, his mouth full of food. "i wanf tawf wif youf abut somefing."
i look over at him, my brows furrowed and a laugh leaving my mouth. "honey, don't talk with your mouth full."
"sorryf mom." he says, rolling his eyes playfully. he finally swallows his food, "i said, i wanna talk with you about something." his expression suddenly turns serious.
"sure, what's on your mind?" i shift in my seat, turning to face him while i continue to eat my dinner.
he sets his food down on the coffee table, turning to face me as well. "well, we've been together for a few months now and we love each other, right?" he asks, to which i nod my head with a smile. "i was thinking...and if you don't want to. that's okay too, but i was thinking you quit your job? if you do that, then in a few weeks we can finally stop hiding our relationship."
i sigh, setting my food down as well. "i guess i'm okay with that..." his face lights up a little, "but jack, i don't want people thinking i'm only with you for your money, me quitting my job won't help with that."
"i don't care what people think. we love each other and we know the truth, that's all that matters." jack says reassuringly, placing a hand on my knee. "but if you don't want to quit, i understand. you seem to really love your job and i don't want to take that from you."
i contemplate his words, taking a deep breath. "i guess if i quit my job at the arena, then i can take up part time with my friend at her bridal store. i've helped her out there a few times when it got really busy, it was pretty fun."
i see jacks face light up, a large smile gracing his face. "that sounds awesome! and if you go part time, you can still come see games and go on roadies with me!" he suggests.
i smile wide as well, "then it's settled, i'll quit my job tomorrow." i say as jack cheers, throwing his arms around me. "wait...that part time job won't be enough to pay for my apartment...i'll have to find a smaller apartment."
"no! come stay with me and luke, we have an extra room, or you can stay in my room with me!" jack says, looking at me with a pleading look. "luke loves you anyway, i can't tell you how many times he's suggested me and you get together."
i laugh, "are you sure? i don't want to intrude and i have a lot of stuff."
"i'm positive! the extra room is pretty big and what you don't want to keep we can sell. actually...i know dawson's looking for a new place. you could probably leave quite a bit of it here for him if he wants to buy, if that's okay with you." jack says, looking around the main room.
"actually, that sounds great! i like dawson, he seems like a pretty good guy." i say, watching jack pull out his phone and click on the phone app. "wait, who are you calling?"
"luke," he says, clicking on his contact, the silly photo of luke filling the screen as the phone rings.
"hey jack, where are you?" luke asks, his voice coming through the phone.
"i'm at my girlfriends place, we need to start getting the guest room ready? she's gonna start living with us soon." jack explains, and i wonder why he wants me to move in so quickly. "also, don't tell anyone about me having a girlfriend, you're the first person to know about her and we want to keep it on the low for a little while longer."
"who is she?" luke asks, the sound of doors opening and stuff moving around coming through. "i don't want some random hooker in our apartment, jack."
"don't worry, it's just y/n." jack says. "we're not allowed to date because she's a staff member, that's why it's a secret."
i hear a crash come though the speaker, then luke speaks. "y/n! why didn't you tell me sooner? am i on speaker? can i say hi? when is she coming?"
luke's questions come out rushed, and i can't help but laugh. "hi luke!" i say, leaning closer to the phone.
"hi y/n! i'm so excited you and jack are together!" he says excitedly.
we continue to talk a little bit, deciding all start packing tomorrow before i go to work and turn in my resignation. i text my friend, asking if the position was still open for part time and i smile when she says it is. i take the job from her, smiling as i look over at jack.
-
a week and a half later, i stand in my newly decorated room in jack and luke's apartment, watching luke attempt to hang my large picture frame on the wall "no luke, to the left! no, that's the right!" i laugh, hearing jack let out a sigh as he walks over to help him. "there! don't move it!"
jack and luke carefully take their hands off the frame and back away, "finally. thought i was gonna have to kick you out for all this hassle." luke says, laughing as we all walk out of my bedroom and into the living room.
i sit down on the couch, "again, thank you guys so much for letting me move in." i smile, taking jacks hand in mine as he sits down.
"don't even worry about it, we both love you." luke says, "jack just...has a different kind of love for you." he jokes, making all of us crack up laughing. the doorbell rings and luke stands up to go answer it.
i look up at jack, who's already looking down at me with a smile. "i'm so happy we don't have to hide anymore. when should we tell everyone? i'm down for anytime, as long as you're comfortable."
"hmm...maybe tomorrow at the game? i'll wear your jersey." i smile, "also, i still have my season tickets that i got at the beginning of the season before i got the full time job at the arena. my seats are right beside the bench."
"sounds good to me. i'm glad you're able to watch us now, not have to sit in that stinky equipment room. you couldn't even watch us play..." jack says, pouting a bit.
"yeah, good thing i was sneaky and able to watch some in the hallway." i giggle, rubbing jacks knuckles with my thumb. we sit in silence for a bit, before luke walks back in, and he's not alone. nico and timo follow behind him, their brows furrowing when they see me. "oh, hey guys!" i say, jack and i standing up to greet them.
"y/n! we miss you at the arena, the new guy sucks." timo smiles and walks over, giving me a hug. "what are you doing hanging out over here with these idiots?"
i laugh, "well..." i look over at jack, seeing him give a small nod with a smile. "i love one of those idiots." i say, leaning on jack with my hand on his back.
i see nico's eyebrows lift in surprise, "you two? you and jack? wow...i never expected that." he laughs awkwardly.
"yeah, when i would go get my skates sharpened, or get some kind of new gear because my other stuff 'ripped', i was actually just going to see her." jack replies, smiling wide. "she just moved in with us."
"is that why you quit your job? because it's not allowed for staff and players to date?" timo asks, sitting down on the seat beside the couch. "makes sense now that i think about it...jack always seemed to be a little distracted when you were around."
i laugh as they begin to realize all the signs, a wide smile on my face. luke comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand. nico looks over at me, "y/n, are you coming to the game tomorrow?"
"of course! my season tickets are still valid so..." i smile, "i'll be there!"
"in my jersey and my chain." jack says smugly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "beside the bench, so i can look over and flirt with her anytime i want."
i roll my eyes at his proud smugness, a hearty laugh leaving my mouth. remembering that the yellow gold chain is still around my neck. "i can see it now, jack hughes making kissy faces at me on the ice."
my words cause the whole room to erupt into laughter, my gaze settling on jack, who's smiling happily at me with a look that says, 'i'm glad we're free.'
-
the next day, i'm sitting in my seat, watching the guys play. the game is thrilling, and i'm on the edge of my seat every second. i wince at each hit, complain with each dumb call, and most of all, cheer on jack.
the devils are down one, with only two minutes left in the game. my leg bounces up and down anxiously, my bottom lip tugged in between my teeth.
i've almost lost hope, when suddenly, i see jack get the puck on a breakaway, heading down the ice. i stand, my hands on the glass with wide eyes as i watch him weave through the few players ahead of him. jack makes it all the way to the goalie, shooting, and scoring.
a scream erupts from my lips, a smile on my face as i jump up and down happily, jacks chain bouncing on my neck. i smile even wider when he skates over in my direction, completely skipping the celly and launching himself at the boards.
he smiles at me, his hands against mine, with only the glass separating him from me. i see his lips pucker up like he's blowing me a kiss, reminding me of my words from yesterday.
and in that exact moment, i realized i made the right decision. jack hughes is not only the thrill the game, but he's also the thrill of my heart.
#nhl#hockey#paladin's fics!#creds: paladin#new jersey devils#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes fic#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#jh86#njd#nj devils#new jersey devils x you#new jersey devils x reader#new jersey#devils#devils lb#nico hischier#timo meier#luke hughes#4 nations face off#national hockey league#hockey x reader#hockey imagine#hockey imagines
174 notes
·
View notes
Note
How do cards gain meaning in an occult sense? Like, both tarot and french-suited playing cards started as game pieces, but they have gained an understood meaning. Is it just someone whips up an organized table of connected ideas or is each card interpreted from a certain framework?
Oh good question!
Many things that we now consider staples of western magic are ideas that have been added to over generations by several layers of thinkers. Tarot Divination specifically is an excellent example of this!
In 1770, A french printmaker and occultist going by Etteilla published a book about how to do cartomancy with a 32-card Piquet deck. He writes down some simple but strict associations for the cards, and makes what is probably the first mention of reversals in carotmancy. He said that he learned the system "from an Italian." Now, its unclear how much of the system is his own invention, people have been doing cartomancy for as long as there's been cards, but the text presents a larval, bare-bones version of the cartomancy methods we know and love today.
Its 1780-ish. The Rosetta stone hasn't been discovered yet. Occult-inclined Europeans are obsessed with Egypt. That's where our boy Trismegistus is from! There's a concept in Egyptian mythology called The Book of Thoth, a mythical book of spells penned by the God of Knowledge himself. This was the Holy Grail for European Occult Egpytaboos.
In 1781, Antoine Court de Gébelin claimed that Tarot cards were the "original book of Thoth," Saying that Tarot cards had been used by ancient Egyptian priests for their own magical ceremonies, and that their designs contained ancient mystical secrets. This is 100% not true, but he writes a pretty fun pseudohistory for Tarot that involves Romani people bringing the decks to Europe through the Levant where they then taught its esoteric secrets to several Popes.
Then in 1783, Ettellia responded with another book. Manière de se récréer avec le jeu de cartes nommées tarots ("Way to recreate yourself with the deck of cards called tarots") Where Ettellia basically claims "uhm actually I knew about tarot divination way before Court de Gebelin published that big ass book. But anyway here's an interpretation of Tarot symbology that includes multiple references to Egyptian, Zoroastrian, and Greek mythology." But the smartest thing he did was include spread methods that involved Thoth and Numerology. Napoleonic Occultists fucking loved Thoth and numerology.
In 1788, he formed a little magical society for the express purpose of discussing and workshopping ideas for Tarot divination. In 1789, he made a TRULY smart decision, and published a Tarot deck that was Specifically For Magic, and that basically cemented Tarots place in magical history.
Occultists just kept iterating! Someone would speculate "maybe the suits correspond to the elements" and people went "yeah, they correspond to the elements! That makes this tool even more fun and interesting to use!" Then people go "What if the suits and the elements also correspond to parts of the Self?" and people went "Sure they do! That makes this tool even more interesting!"
But its also not just one thread. Eventually you get the Golden Dawn saying "The Major Arcana correspond to the nodes and paths on our version of the Quabbalistic Sefirot, you know, the hermetic version with a Q." and some occultists responded "Idk about that! Love what you've done with the color symbology though!"
The development of magical ideas is an iterative process. It is people whipping up a table of correspondences, but that table needs a mythology to keep it together. Originally, the mythology that gave tarot "power" was its Egyptian pseudohistory, but these days its the fact that occultists have been iterating on and fine-tuning this system for hundreds of years.
Humans don't think in tables of information, they think in stories. The cool thing about stories is that they're flexible. If magic is anything, its learning how to engineer stories to make the tables of information more effective.
I'm gonna plug my patreon where I post all of my occult research if you wanna see more stuff like this
#Tarot#Occult#I was supposed to edit today but I couldn't pass up this opportunity for a micro essay#cartomancy
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 81 of human Bill Cipher not enjoying being the Mystery Shack's prisoner but being even less keen on being the government's prisoner: the feds are snooping around the shack, nobody likes this, and so a family meeting is called to discuss how to send them packing.
####
"I just kept telling him I didn't know anything," said Soos. He was slumped bonelessly on the couch, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve and holding a soda in one shaky hand. "I accidentally said I don't know anything when he asked where he could get lunch in town!"
"You did good, Soos," Stan said. "That's how you handle feds—don't tell 'em anything."
Stan and Ford had called a household meeting, and now everyone was packed into the living room: Soos and the kids on the couch, Stan and Abuelita in the armchairs, Bill and Wendy at the living room table, and Ford out in the entryway so he could pace.
(Everyone was wearing deely boppers. Mabel had had a very productive day.)
Even Waddles and Gompers had been dragged to the mandatory meeting. Gompers had already eaten the pink pompoms off Waddle's deely boppers and was now trying to eat the hem of Dipper's shorts while Dipper tried to push him back from touching the sunburns on his legs.
"What are we gonna do?" Dipper asked. "Last year these guys tried to arrest Stan, and he was still using a fake name back then—so now, the agents could be after Stan or Ford."
"Dial back the pessimism. Right now, they're not after anybody," Bill said. "They're just following up on the eclipse from last week." And a tip about somebody dangerous in the shack. Bill pushed those worries aside. "They don't have any reason to come back!"
"Except the flash drive," Soos said. "Which they know is here. Inside the shack. Cuz they sensed it."
"Right. Yep. Except that," Bill said. "Hey, Dolores—howsabout you whip up one of your special 'welcome to the shack' dinners for them? I'm sure they'd enjoy it just as much as I did."
Dolores nodded thoughtfully. (The tiny sleigh bells on her deely boppers jingles.) "I could," she said. "But what would we do with the bodies?"
"We've got the perfect in-house body disposal! Chop 'em up and feed 'em to the pig."
"Nooo!" Mabel flung her arms protectively over Waddles. He oinked neutrally. "We're not feeding people to Waddles!"
"He'd probably love it!"
"Uh-uh."
"Fine, then the gnomes," Bill said.
Ford said, "Let's call murder 'Plan B.'"
Bill rolled his eye. "All right, smart guy, what's Plan A?"
Ford didn't immediately reply. He paced for another few seconds in the entryway, gathering his thoughts. "There are three ways this could end badly. We have to find a way to prevent all of them," he finally said. "One: the agents discover that there's something under the house and find the portal. Two: the agents remember there's something under the house, and realize they've been brainwashed. Three: the agents retrieve their flash drive, and that reminds them something's under the house."
Stan added, "And if any of those happens, we're both going to jail. Probably Soos too, as an accomplice. Kids might even be in trouble for escaping custody last year." Dipper and Mabel exchanged an alarmed look.
Bill looked at Wendy. "Hey, look who's off the hook." He held up a hand.
"Woo-hoo!" She high-fived him. "We'll visit the rest of you guys in jail."
Mournfully, Mabel asked, "If we get arrested, can you send me crayons?"
"I'll get you one of those boxes with a hundred crayons," Bill said. "And hide a shank in that yellowy green one you never use."
"Thanks."
But if any of those three scenarios came true, that meant government agents crawling all over Bill's portal. Best case scenario, it'd end up halfway across the country in a secret military base. There was tech left in the wreck in the basement that couldn't possibly be synthesized using Earth's current technology, and the Trilazzx Betian ship didn't have backup parts for all of them.
And that wasn't even taking that anonymous tip into account...
"I shouldn't have to go to jail," Ford grumbled. "I wasn't behind the crimes committed in my name, Stanley was."
"Hey," Stan said, "you're the one who impersonated a government agent! Besides, did you really not commit any crimes while building your dumb portal?"
Ford winced. "What's the statute of limitations on burgling radioactive waste?"
"Don't worry, Mothman," Bill called. (Ford self-consciously adjusted his deely boppers, which had paper moths taped to the ends.) "I tossed most of the incriminating evidence in the bottomless pit while you were asleep!"
"Wh— Is that where my lockpicking kit went?!"
"Haha, yeah!" Bill had bought Keyhole's loyalty for the next three hundred years with that.
Wendy waved a hand between Bill and Ford to interrupt their banter. "We can probably keep them from discovering the portal by just not giving them a reason to look behind the vending machine, right?"
"And if we keep them from getting Gompers, they won't get the flash drive," Dipper said.
Mabel said, "What if we put him on a plane to Japan! Do you wanna go to Japan, Gompers?"
Gompers looked at Mabel impassively.
"It's no good," Abuelita said. "It will take weeks to get a passport for the goat."
"Aww."
"There are plenty of ways we can keep their hands off the drive," Ford said. "We could just hide Gompers underground, for instance—there's no way their sensors can reach that far.
Oh no, not when it was clear someone had been down there tinkering with the portal. "Do that and they'll know we did something to hide it! We'll never get rid of them then."
"True," Ford sighed.
Bill said. "I'm most worried about them remembering something on their own. The agents mentioned the portal's gravitational anomalies from last summer—are they remembering something they shouldn't, or did you leave them with those memories?"
Ford hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Stan. Stan shrugged.
"Oh, right. You aren't the expert on how the memory gun operates." Bill rolled his eye toward Wendy. "You see how helpless he is without me around to feed him information?"
"Pshh, shut up. Keep me out of your weird old people academic grudge."
Dryly, Ford said, "Care to enlighten us with your superior knowledge, o god of wisdom?"
No, he really didn't. Not for Ford, anyway. He wouldn't even be grateful for it.
But, under the circumstances—knowing that the agents were after him, too... "Oh, why not," Bill said. "What did you enter in the gun? The exact wording."
Ford frowned, glancing toward the ceiling as he concentrated. "It was... I didn't know exactly how much they knew—I didn't even know which names they knew Stan under—so I tried to make it as broad as possible. I think it said something like 'Pines Household's Secrets'?"
Bill thought that over. "Okay. Okay, yeah, that works. That's perfect, actually—best answer you could have given. You never disappoint, IQ."
Ford was visibly unmoved by the flattery (which was just as well, because Bill had given it out of habit as he slid back into the role of teacher, and had immediately regretted it). "And I suppose you're going to explain why that wording is so important."
"I could," Bill said. "Do you want to know?"
Ford glowered at Bill, lips pressed together in a thin line. Bill stared back, brows arched expectantly. (Wendy looked between the two of them and snorted. Bill pushed her without breaking eye contact with Ford.)
Mabel said, "I wanna know."
"Good enough for me!" Bill hopped from his seat and crossed the living room to a spot where he could address the group more easily. "The memory gun doesn't actually destroy memories, it just severs the connections between those memories and the rest of the brain. Like snipping a squid's tentacles to free it from a squid king."
"What's a squid king?" Soos asked.
"It's like a rat king made of giant squid. It takes at least four to qualify because if their tentacles are knotted in a circle that's just a squid ring," Bill said. "So! Usually you find your own memories by their relationship to other memories. Driving by the grocery store reminds you that you need to go shopping, which reminds you that you're out of straws, which reminds you of when your doctor's eye got gouged out, which reminds you of those vampires in the library, which reminds you of that book you need to return, yadda yadda."
Stan said, "Wait, your doctor got what—?"
"He was fine, he had it coming, and I was nowhere nearby."
"And how's that get you to vampires?!"
"The tangy taste of blood left in your straw. Please hold any other questions to the end!" Bill said. "But, since the memory gun severs a memory from the ones connected to it, you can't be indirectly reminded of it—the chain's been broken. But the memory'sstill there. All it takes is a direct reminder to recall it, and then it starts reattaching to your other memories. Everyone with me so far?" He directed the question in Mabel's direction.
Mabel nodded. Ford opened his mouth to ask a question.
"Great," Bill said. "But! What gets severed is determined by whatever you programmed into the gun. So, for example, if you run into a vampire in the library, then get shot with a memory gun programmed with the word 'Vampires,' there's no more jumping from your doctor to that late book! And you won't remember your vampire encounter if you wander around the library—at most, you might get a sense of deja vu—but you will get back your memory of the whole thing if you run into another vampire!"
He nodded toward Ford. "So 'Pines household's secrets is the best phrase you could've picked. It means they forgot any Pines secrets—including Stanley's criminal record—any household secrets—including the machine in the basement—and since they only forgot the 'secrets,' they can run into anything that isn't secret without recovering their severed memories—like, say, the entire upstairs of the shack."
Slowly, Ford said, "Then that's why they remember last year's gravitational anomalies. The cause is one of our secrets, but the anomalies themselves aren't a secret—they're a matter of public record."
"Bingo," Bill said. "Well! That should be simple enough. Any questions?"
Mabel raised a hand.
Bill pointed at her. "Yes!"
"Are there vampires at the library?"
"Not anymore!"
"Aw."
Dipper asked, "Did you murder your doctor with a straw?"
"I did not and I won't be taking any more questions on the topic, it was a very traumatic experience" for the patient who went in after Bill.
Stan asked, "Why are you wearing a bedsheet for a skirt."
"Because somebody—" Bill shot Soos a dark look, "grabbed all my perfectly clean clothes for laundry day, and left me with a bedsheet and one dirty t-shirt."
Soos chuckled sheepishly. "Whoops. Sorry, dude."
Ford grudgingly raised a hand.
Bill grudgingly said, "What."
"Are squid kings real."
"Yes. As of last summer there were seven with at least fifty giant squid, but two were negotiating a merger so it might be six by now. I haven't had a chance to check!"
"Negotiating a merger? Do—do they combine voluntarily?"
"Oh, sure. In droves. It's a huge honor! The one I'm friends with says the psychic powers are totally worth the eventual zombification—they're ninety percent undead now and haven't regretted it once in five hundred years."
Ford opened his mouth, got stuck between three questions, and didn't manage to settle on one before��Abuelita raised a hand.
Bill's attention switched to her. "Yes!"
With an air of patience unwarranted by Bill's actions, Abuelita asked, "Why are you standing on my TV."
Bill looked down. So he was. "This is my lecture podium."
Abuelita's eyes narrowed. Bill cheerfully ignored her. "Any questions about the memory gun?"
There was a general murmured agreement that, no, that part had been pretty clear. Stan snapped, "Now get off the TV."
As Bill hopped down and caught his balance, Wendy said, "So... as long as they don't know any of the shack's secrets and we get the flash drive out of Gompers before they're back, we're cool, right? We can just erase their files and say 'hey, sorry, the goat pooped this out, totally not our fault.' If they don't remember anything, it's not like they've got a reason to keep investigating the shack."
Bill tried to imagine how they'd react if he told them someone had anonymously reported him to the agents. What if they decided scapegoating him could protect the rest of them from the investigation? (And was he sure it wasn't someone in the room who'd reported him?) "Yep! Pretty much! That'd solve our problems!"
"Okay," Wendy said. "Great. So... we're good, right?"
The room studied each other uneasily, everyone waiting for someone else to answer. "Yes," Ford said unconvincingly. "We're good. Er—kids, we need to... discuss the details of... how to handle this. You don't need to stick around." He looked at Stan. Stan gave him a slight nod. (It made the googly eyes on his deely boppers wiggle.)
Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Dipper said, "Are you sure? We could..."
"I'm sure. Maybe you should go upstairs," Ford said. "Leave Gompers here."
Mabel sat up straighter, preparing to argue, and glanced toward Bill; but when Bill shrugged rather than ready to defend her, she sighed and poked Dipper. "C'mon." ("Ow." He pushed her finger away from his sunburned arm.) They left reluctantly, Mabel escorting Waddles along with her.
Ford tilted his head toward the door. "That means you too, Miss Corduroy. Hup hup."
Wendy groaned. "Fine." She slid out of her seat and headed for the door. "Hey Goldie, let me know if anything interesting happens."
"You got it, cool girl."
Soos raised a hand. "Am I one of the kids?"
"Not today," Ford said.
"Aw."
Sensing a change in the atmosphere, Abuelita got to her feet. "I will get dinner started." She shuffled out of the room.
Bill waited until the door shut behind Wendy and he was sure the kids were upstairs; and then asked, "So are we kicking the kids out for the reason I think?"
"Afraid so. Now that the government knows the flash drive is here, they'll be back with a warrant as soon as possible. We can't waste any time." Ford knelt next to Gompers and pulled out a scalpel. "Somebody hold the goat down."
"Whoa!" Stan jumped to his feet. His deely bopper googly eyes rattled in alarm. "Were you just carrying that around?!"
Bill was abruptly reminded of one of the reasons he'd liked Ford. He squatted next to him. "All right, I can see where the drive's lodged, I can tell you where to cut—"
"Dudes!" Soos flung himself across Gompers. 'You can't cut him open! He's like part of the family! He's been eating out of the shack's garbage for years, does that mean nothing to you?!" (Gompers attempted to eat the foam lightning bolts off Soos's deely boppers.)
Bill groaned. "Come on, who cares?! It's not like he's a person anymore!"
The room stared at Bill. Stan said, "Did you say 'anymore'?"
Bill paused. "Forget I said that."
Ford sighed. "Fine, we'll try to find a solution without surgery." (But, Bill thought, he sounded a little disappointed.) "But if we're using a slower method, the agents might be back before we can retrieve the flash drive. We need a way to stop them from finding it."
"Or from finding the door behind the vending machine," Soos said. "Now that they know the drive's been here, they're gonna keep looking until they find it! What if they think it might've fallen behind the vending machine or something?"
"What we need is a distraction," Stan said. "Something that'll keep 'em from searching the shack too thoroughly."
"And ideally, something that will keep them from coming back," Ford said. "They keep returning to Gravity Falls because of the power surges and related gravity anomalies in town, correct? Obviously, the meteor shower story wasn't convincing enough. If we give them an explanation that lets them close the case completely..."
Which was all well and good, except they weren't just looking for power surges and gravity hiccups anymore. They thought somebody in the shack was a threat to national security. Bill had kept suspicion away from himself for the day by pretending to be a tourist, but if the eagles got serious, that wouldn't last long. If they were watching the shack, they'd realize Bill was a resident; and if they tried to investigate him at all, they'd quickly realize they couldn't find any legal records of his existence. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the Theraprism's reincarnation machine hadn't given him the right skin color to get away with that in this country, especially during a witch hunt for a suspected terrorist.
And, worse—what if they did identify him?
He'd heard Agent Trigger say Soos's alien keychains resembled the "real thing." The Bureau of Covert Investigations didn't tell all its agents about all its cases—but it sounded like these two had been to Hangar 618 at least once.
So had Bill.
Over 60 years ago, a military experiment had accidentally ripped open a very small hole to the Nightmare Realm. Not big enough for Bill to squeeze his full self through (HA! Not even close), but big enough to project a hologram through—something solid enough for the soldiers who'd detected the temporary rift to see and touch. And, naturally, they'd hauled his hologram to Hangar 618—the five-sensed suckers thought the projection was his real body—where they hid all their unidentified fallen objects.
It had been fun! He'd gotten to use all his army name puns (Major Pain, General Disarray, Private Shame, etc.), he'd lived out a centuries-old dream of snorting a line of gunpowder, he'd gotten Commander I-Don't-Even-Know-'Er to sing "On Top of Spaghetti" in exchange for Bill agreeing to leave the artillery room, he'd learned a dirty joke from the nurse brought in to assist with his vivisection, he'd introduced himself to half the base...
He'd introduced himself.
Somewhere, probably in some redacted appendix to Project Blue Book, the US military had a file on Bill Cipher—and so did the eagles. They knew his name. Hell, they even had his thumbprints—obviously alien thumbprints, that he'd retained when he reincarnated. Every object in the shack he'd ever touched carried the proof that he was Bill Cipher.
If whoever had sent the Bureau a tip had mentioned his name... Well, there were a lot of Bills in America, but not a lot using the last name "Cipher." There were probably under fifty living humans who knew about the triangle in Hangar 618, but for those who did, hearing that name resurface in Gravity Falls would blow their gelatinous little minds. He was sure they would love to get their hands on him again. He bet they'd be fascinated to find out how a triangle had fit into a human skin.
Getting hauled into a secret government facility had only been fun when his true self was still in the Nightmare Realm and the part of him in captivity had been a projection made of light, dreams, and lethal doses of radiation. Plus, that had been before he really, truly knew what it was like to be a captive. Now, the thought of being hauled back to that interrogation room—with the cheap metal chairs and gray floor and gray walls and stark sharp light—made him nauseous. The idea of being questioned about himself by some arrogant buzzkill in a suit sounded too much like therapy for comfort.
And it would be so much easier for them to keep him from escaping when he was weighed down by flesh.
Nobody was protecting Bill. The Pines weren't above throwing him under the bus if they thought it might save their precious little family from arrest. There was nothing for it. If he wanted to save himself—he had to help.
"Listen," Bill said. "I have an idea. It's iffy, and it'll require you all to trust me a bit..." He paused to give them an opportunity to laugh.
Only Stan chuckled. Good enough for Bill. "But, it might be our best shot."
"Okay," Ford said warily. "What is it."
"Bear with me," Bill said. "I bet I could get the head agent off our case by flirting with him a little."
And that time they laughed at him.
Bill patiently waited. "Okay, okay, ha ha, but the guy's been leering at me the last two days. Ask Wendy, she's the one who noticed! And do you know what his love life looks like? Because I do. Woof. Dry as a bone. That man's married to his work! He's lonelier than Elvis is!"
"Wait," Ford said. "What does that mean? Where's Elvis?"
"Not important. The point is, he's a soft target, he's already into this—" he gestured disdainfully at his human body, "and he's got the loosest lips in the eagles. I make a little small talk, I compliment his mustache and pretend I think working for the government is attractive, I keep him too dazzled to notice what's right in front of his face..." Bill trailed off. "And... that's as far as I've gotten. We'll figure it out as we go! Maybe I just distract him too much to do his job, maybe I strangle him in the bathroom and sell his body parts to half a dozen inhuman vendors in the Crawlspace, I don't know! I'll improvise!"
"It's barely half a plan," Ford said.
"It's the biggest fraction of a plan we have. What do we have to lose?"
"I think he might be on to something," Stan said. "I mean, consider it. Bill's an objectively beautiful woman."
The room stared at him. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to double his stare.
"What! It's just a fact!"
"Aww, Stan." Bill laced his hands together coquettishly and batted his lashes.
"Save it."
"Stanley. I had no idea you felt that way about me—"
"Can it, Cipher! " Stan curled a fist threateningly. Bill winked at him. Stan shuddered. "Eugh. Physical attraction's only gonna carry you so far, demon! Can you attract a man when you're talking to him? Because personally, I find you less appealing every time you open your mouth—and you were in the negatives the first time we met."
Bill thought about that. Bill thought about all his human cultists. Bill thought about all his human cultists whom he'd caught having scandalous dreams about endless staring eyes and cool black hands that buzzed with static and being fully exposed before the golden glory of an ever-watching false sun. Bill thought about that one time he tried to ask one of his sects to at least invite him to his own wedding and wait for him to RSVP before symbolically marrying more cult novitiates to him and they sorta nodded and said "okay" and then went and wedded him to another dozen Cipherwives anyway. "Yeah! Sure! No problem! I attract humans all the time! They can't get enough of this!"
"Okay, but can you attract a human that isn't into freaky space triangle things?"
Bill tapped his index fingers together thoughtfully. "Ummm..."
####
1981
A clubber eyed the hands of the man sitting at the bar beside him.
The man noticed the look and turned toward the clubber, grinning too wide, staring at him with yellowish slitted eyes that seemed to flash in the dim light like a cat's. "Yeah, I know." He drummed his fingers on the bar top. "Six fingers."
The clubber flinched at being caught staring. "Oh—sorry."
"Don't be! It's a built-in conversation starter!" The six-fingered yellow-eyed man laughed. "Hey! Have you ever had six fingers before?"
"Uhh," the clubber said. "Nnno?"
"Would you like to?" The man winked with both eyes, one at a time.
The clubber frowned at him in confusion, and then slowly turned away without answering.
####
"Sure," Bill cheerfully lied. "No problem!"
####
There was a knock on the attic bedroom door. Mabel opened it.
Stan and Ford stood in the doorway with a sulky Bill in between them. Stan pushed Bill into the room and said, "Teach him how to flirt."
Mabel gasped in delight.
####
(Well that took way later than I wanted it to—but it's finally out.
Head's up, I've got two zine deadlines that take priority, my workload triples at the end of the year, and I'm currently preparing the house to welcome home a new baby*, so we might skip next week's chapter. Hopefully not, though; I'd hate to start the new year that way. We'll see.
*it's a snake. the new baby is a boa constrictor.
Let me know what y'all think! I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts.)
#bill cipher#human bill cipher#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanart#fanart#my art#my writing#bill goldilocks cipher#(Edit: 'oh i did SUCH a good job remembering to draw Young Ford's hair' says artist who hasn't yet noticed the art has Old Ford's eyebrows)#(fixed now)
383 notes
·
View notes
Text
(Genshin Impact) Klee asking Jean and Eula's S/O when they're to give her a little sister
(Dark Knight and Belmont S/O, respectively)
This request was made in December 4th of 2022...I swear I'm good at answering asks guys.
Jean had S/O accompany her for an outing outside the cities of Mondstadt.
Given S/O's status as a vigilante, they were rarely seen around any heavily populated town, let alone with the Knights of Favonius.
Despite all that happened, Jean still loved S/O, and knew they were fighting for everyone just as hard as she was.
And even within the Knights, many understood that too. And for better or worse, Klee did.
In fact, this outing involved Klee, mostly just to let her "go on a secret mission for Jean". In reality, Klee needed to have some fun, lest she'd get into trouble due to the lack of explosions.
And so, Klee was having fun, skipping around while Jean watched, S/O still clad in their black armor and helmet, the red visor blocking out their face. As per usual, they said nothing in order to "protect their identity", though at this point it was just habit.
(Klee) "Master Jean?"
Jean and S/O turned to Klee, both of them sitting on a nearby log, their hands quietly intertwined with one another.
(Jean) "Klee? What is it?"
(Klee) "Are you and S/O going to have someone else I can play with?"
(Jean) "..."
S/O's helmet silently turned towards Jean, their absence of words speaking volumes, with the Acting Grandmaster being able to see her rising blush in the reflection of their visor.
Jean awkwardly cleared her throat.
(Jean) "Um...Do you mean, bring other children? Because this is official knight business.-"
S/O crossed their arms silently, tilting their head at Jean.
(Jean) "D-Don't look at me like that!"
Klee shook her head in response to Jean's question.
(Klee) "Lisa said that I would get a little sister soon from you and S/O!...But I don't know where Mom is so she can do that-"
(Jean) "Klee!...Let's go cook some lunch, okay?"
(Klee) "Oh! Okay!"
Klee walked off happily, leaving S/O and Jean alone.
To that, S/O took off their helmet to speak, their face just as red as Jean's.
(S/O) "Lisa sure has a sick sense of humor..."
(Jean) "Ugh, at least it wasn't Kaeya."
A brief an awkward silence hung in the air, neither of them sure on how to approach the subject of kids.
Though the silence was broken with S/O laughing, Jean quickly following along letting their hands hold each other once more.
(S/O) "Well, when we're not on a super secret mission of babysitting Klee...We should talk about it."
Jean playfully rolled her eyes before standing up, offering a hand to S/O gently, though the blush didn't leave either of them.
(Jean) "...Perhaps one day, S/O."
Eula was assigned to protect Klee as she went out to gather materials, though she wasn't dumb. It was just an excuse for Eula to take it easy, which after the last few weeks of reconnaissance, it wasn't entirely unwelcome.
It did help that Eula found Klee quite adorable, and Klee enjoyed Eula's presence.
Though, S/O had managed to find an excuse to join her, in spite of their whining.
(S/O) "So, the Knights have become a glorified babysitters now, have they?"
(Eula) "You know, since you're not part of the knights, nothing is exactly requiring you to stay."
Her tone was playful, much to the misery of S/O.
(S/O) "Perhaps this shit is the kind of curse people inflicted on us."
Eula chuckled, watching as Klee excitedly grabbed a lizard.
(Eula) "For the Lawrence and Belmont to breathe easy, enjoying the presence of one another?"
S/O rolled their eyes, leaning back into the tree as they adjusted the chain whip at their side.
(S/O) "If you wanna look at it that way sure."
(Eula) "You're just grumpy because Klee doesn't like you."
S/O scoffed.
(S/O) "Of course they don't. I'm a monster hunter."
(Eula) "And terrible with children."
(S/O) "Shut up already."
(Klee) "Miss Eula!"
Klee ran over to Eula, catching both of the outcasts' attention.
(Eula) "Hm? What is it, Klee?"
Eula knelt down to meet Klee at eye level, with her smiling before looking at S/O with a frown.
(Klee) "Kaeya said that I'd be having a little sister soon!"
(Eula) "Oh, is that right?"
Eula did her best to keep her tone the same, though she raised an eyebrow at Klee's frown, the answer to which came in her reply.
(Klee) "But Kaeya said S/O was going to be their dad, but they're super mean to you!"
Eula struggled to keep herself from bursting into laughter, especially hearing S/O choke at what Klee had said.
(S/O) "THAT RAT-BASTARD SAID WHAT?!"
(Klee) "The Knights of Favonius says using bad words is...bad!"
Eula pat Klee's head, giving a smug grin to S/O.
(Eula) "Right, and Kaeya is right! You are rather rude to me-"
(S/O) "Ooooh, you little!-"
S/O cut themselves off seeing Klee pout, making them sigh.
(S/O) "You got your materials, yeah? Let's go ahead and get back home before the sun sets."
Klee made a little "hmph!" noise, walking past S/O.
(Klee) "Klee will make sure her little sister is nice!"
S/O's eyes twitched as Eula joined their side, grin still present.
(S/O) "You're rather calm about the prospect of giving Alice's spawn a sibling-"
Eula flicked S/O's forehead.
(Eula) "One. Don't call Klee that. Two. It's funny to see you like this, so it helps me power through."
(S/O) "Tch, next time she's yours to handle alone."
(Eula) "Is that your idea of vengeance, S/O?"
S/O cursed under their breath, all the while Eula's smile remained.
...Maybe once her clan was gone, she'd give the consideration more thought, but not now.
Next thing she'd have to do though was come up with a name that'd make S/O cringe violently at. Maybe something like 'Treffy'.
#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#jean gunnhildr x dark knight!s/o#eula x belmont!s/o#jean gunnhildr x reader#eula x reader#jean gunnhildr#eula lawrence
157 notes
·
View notes