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the-odd-shu · 2 days ago

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No one is coming to save me (Silco x Reader)

Previous Part <- Part 2 -> Next Part

Masterlist:

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Word Count: 12k

Summary: Reader is not beating the stray cat allegations, and a lot of charged looks are exchanged.

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

Every year, Piltover had the same celebration of fireworks and obnoxiously loud music to commemorate the shifting of the summer into autumn.

Every year, the sounds and smells of laughter and good food wafted across the bridge to taunt those living in the Undercity. It was a gross reminder of the financial divide between the opposing sides of the river. The bountiful top, laughing at the pitiful bottom feeders.

You hated them. Gods, you hated them so much. With their fancy clothes, and their obnoxious businesses and ridiculous delicacies-

A kick to your stool jolted you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, frowning when you registered that Vander had disappeared from the other side of the bar. The lights had been dimmed, whereas the bottles lining the far walls had all been neatly returned to their rightful places. The stools to your right were also suspiciously empty of Silco and Felicia, who you swore had been there bickering just moments before with Connol watching on in amusement.

Frowning, you turned to find Felicia dressed in a heavy overcoat and hat grinning down at you. She had left her coat open, displaying her belly which was significantly bigger than it had been a couple months ago. From what you had heard, the babe was growing well, which was better luck than the majority of Zaun’s pregnancies.

“What?” You barked, voice tired and quiet. Perhaps it was closing time already and you hadn’t noticed- “Stop moping, the others are waiting.” You blinked, hand tightening around your mostly empty glass. “Waiting for what?” “For you of course!” Felicia scoffed, pulling a hand from her coat pocket to tug at your sleeve. You were quick to push her hand away, eyes narrowed warningly. She rolled her eyes. “Come on! Or we’re going to miss the fireworks.” With that, she promptly turned on her heel and began striding for the front door.

You watched her stride away with drawn eyebrows. Zaunites weren’t allowed onto Piltover soil during the festivities - not that it was an official law, but the Enforcers lining both sides of the bridge were often a pretty obvious display of intent. Whereas lining the riverbank at this late hour to watch, would be a cold and uncomfortable affair-

“Come ON!” Felicia barked from the door, which she was holding open, revealing her partner, Connel, Vander and Silco all waiting out on the doorstep. All of them were wrapped up warm against the chill in the air.

Connol had been with Felicia tonight when you decided to turn up, which probably should have been your first indication that tonight was different. Usually, whilst Felicia would stop by the bar for a drink and a chat after her long shift in the mines, Connol would head straight home to sleep off his exhaustion. Your paths scarcely crossed because of it.

When had they all gotten out there?

Confused, you shot one last uneasy look across the empty bar, alarm bells going off in the back of your mind. You should have been more perceptive than this. It used to be that someone’s breathing would shift in tempo, and you’d be the first to know they were displeased. And now, these people were carrying out entire tasks, leaving rooms and sneaking up on you without you so much as registering their footsteps.

You were becoming complacent, you realised. Too comfortable.

Felicia loudly called your name again; the warning in her tone growing more severe.

Deciding to just go along with it, you slipped off your stool to follow. Something told you that regardless of how you spun it, you were about to be dragged kicking and screaming into a family tradition regardless. And somehow you knew that even making a run for it would not spare you from what was to come.

Your dinner sat heavy and warm in your belly, prepared and served by Vander as usual alongside the others. It warmed you from the inside out, as you wrapped your flimsy jacket a little tighter around yourself and stepped out of the building.

The autumnal chill hit you like a wall, immediately biting at your cheeks and causing your breath to fog in front of your nose.

Gods, you must have been in the bar long enough to forget just how unforgivingly cold it was getting after sundown. You could already tell that you were in for an uncomfortable night huddled under your blanket, when you eventually returned to your apartment.

As you shuffled further away from the heavenly warmth of the bar, Vander stepped around you to lock the doors.

“Are you going to be warm enough in that?” He absently commented, as the lock turned. “I’ll be fine, Dad.” You replied mockingly, to which his brows jumped up.

Then he shrugged, stepping back and shoving the key deep into the pocket of his thick coat. “Fine, freeze. Just know I’ll be the first to say I told you so.” He said simply before turning on his booted heel and leading the way across the weirdly empty square.

Felicia promptly looped her arm into Connol’s and followed right on Vander’s heels, whilst Silco fell into step three paces behind, also wrapped up in a coat, with a red blanket neatly folded under his arm where his hands were stuffed into his pockets.

A tiny part of you wanted to slip away whilst their backs were turned. That life-long instinct to not follow strangers to secondary locations rearing its ugly head. But you promptly squashed the thought. These weren’t strangers anymore, and you kind of knew where they were leading you anyway.

Shrugging to yourself, and silently deciding to slip away should things take a turn, you followed.

Vander led the little group down several streets, turning down seemingly random side roads without checking the street signs. The others seemed not to care. Felicia was easily carrying the conversation, and took it upon herself to drag Silco or Vander in whenever she wanted to make a point against Connol, who watched her prattle and talk with such a soft look that it made you feel raw just watching him watch her.

You were so engrossed in observing them interact with one another, that it surprised you when Vander abruptly paused at the mouth of a seemingly random alleyway.

“Ah, here we are.” He mused, before striding confidently into the darkness.

To your bafflement, the others didn’t so much as hesitate in following him in, one after the other. Brows drawn together, you paused before the opening between the two buildings, eyes jumping from Silco’s disappearing back to the stretches of empty street on either side of you. There was a measly streetlamp at the end of the path to your left, and nothing else. It would be the perfect place for an ambush.

Felicia’s impatient call of your name made you jump. “Stop being edgy and get your ass down here, Alley Cat. Safety in numbers and all that shit.”

You huffed a laugh at the insult, before gathering your whits and following.

The alley was tight. Barely wide enough for one person to slip through, with tall, dirty brick walls towering high above. And it was dark, which meant you had no choice but to skim a few fingers along the ragged brickwork to follow the path. It was deceptively twisty, you swiftly discovered.

All too quickly, the alley widened out again, and you found yourself in a small pouch of empty concrete behind a third building. A floodlight shone a solid square of obnoxiously harsh white light down on the rest of your group, who turned to watch you slip out of the alley.

You had scarcely stepped into the light before Vander, who had been fiddling with something under the floodlight, let out a victorious little hum, and pulled a fire escape ladder down from the side of the building. The thing was rickety, with its paint peeling off and visible signs of rust, but it remained in one piece, even as it hinges loudly protested being moved.

“Who wants to go up first this year?” Vander asked, hands on his hips. As if they’d been doing this long enough to deduce that taking turns was a necessary evil in the name of fairness.

“It’s my turn,” Felicia was quick to interject, a hand half raised as she eagerly stepped forward.

Vander frowned. “Are you certain? Remember that one year Connol had to fight off that pissy bird?” The man in question winced at the memory, whilst Silco openly snorted.

Felicia fixed Vander with an unimpressed look. “I’m pregnant, not incapacitated.” She told him, with a single pat to her swollen belly, before she strode right past him and took a confident step up onto the ladder. It groaned beneath her weight, but held. Judging by the way she confidently climbed despite the noise, it had a tendency to do that. She kept talking, as Connol stepped forward to follow her up. “Maybe you should focus on your brother instead, Vander, he’s more likely to eat dirt than I am.”

“I’ll be fine.” Silco dryly responded, and Felicia turned mid-step up to shoot him a grin of unfiltered glee. The floodlight illuminated the side of her face and made her teeth glint creepily.

Then her eyes swept to the side and found you already watching her. That grin turned mischievous. “Did we ever tell you of the year that Silco missed a step on the ladder and fell into that dumpster?” “Felicia!” Silco ground out, voice suddenly tight with warning.

“No, you didn’t.” You spoke over him, injecting interest into your voice, to which Silco made an offended noise and shot you a betrayed look.

Felicia shrugged dramatically with one shoulder and hauled herself up the rest of the way and briefly disappeared onto the top of the roof. Silco was the next person up the ladder, with you following, and Vander bringing up the rear. Felicia took great joy in ribbing Silco whilst he was unable to get back at her between climbing and holding onto his blanket.

“It was hilarious.” She teased innocently. “He clambered out of it covered in week-old milk and vegetable shavings, and Vander had to hose him down out front the bar before he’d let him inside for a proper bath.”

“Felicia, I swear, shut up!” Silco warned. “Now, now Felicia, try not to embarrass the poor man.” Vander mused, an equally mischievous glint in his eye. “You might give him performance anxiety.” “My arm is fine! I can climb up the bloody ladder just as well as any of you!” Silco argued sharply. You couldn’t see him very well from your vantage point, but you were fairly certain his ears were reddening.

“I dunno,” Felicia continued, as Silco cleared the top of the ladder. “My ‘ailment’ has nothing to do with my limbs and these guys surely have no faith in me.”

Silco muttered something you couldn’t hear as you hauled yourself up onto the roof and made room for Vander to join you.

Zaun already looked different from up here. The streets were dark, with only dots of lights illuminating the twisting veins of streets breaking up the buildings. Whilst the moon stood valiantly above it all, silently observing whilst offering a strong light.

Illuminated by the moonlight, you watched as Connol tried to interject into the conversation. “Honey,” he said seriously, which immediately got Felicia’s undivided attention on him. “You know that Vander didn’t mean it like that. He was just trying to be considerate.” He spoke softly, reverently, as he slowly reached for one of Felicia’s hands and grasped it between both of his own. His expression was open and loving - almost sickeningly so.

Felicia positively beamed back at him. “I know, Darling.” She reassured him. “I’m just being difficult because I love watching them squirm.” You saw Connol’s adoration for her clearly reflected in her own expression then. And the air was suddenly tense with how obviously they loved one another. It was almost difficult to watch.

Averting your eyes from the display, you accidentally caught Silco’s gaze instead. To which he raised his eyebrows and let out an over the top, exasperated sigh, as if the sight of his friends being so disgustingly in love was a great hardship for him to witness. You found yourself smiling back.

Vander clapped his hands. “Right. Enough exchanging looks everyone, we have a schedule to keep, and a display to get to.” He prompted, like a teacher wrangling his unruly students. “Felicia, lead the way, won’t you?” And so she did.

As before, the group followed Felicia - as they had Vander earlier - across the roof towards a wide plank of wood acting as a precarious bridge to the neighbouring roof. It was practiced ease that had someone holding one end of the plank, whilst the next person carefully crossed.

You had barely crossed the plank, before Felicia was bending her knees and neatly jumping across a second gap, up to a slightly higher, second roof. It was this roof that she stopped leading.

You followed the others up onto it, and found yourself being treated to a fantastically clear view of the bridge and the Piltover palace sprawled out across the horizon line. The roof itself was flat and free of debris, with a crumbled and broken fire escape taking up the stretch of roof furthest from the river.

The others were quick to get comfortable along the edge of the roof overlooking the bridge.

Felicia and Connol sat close to one another, with their feet hanging over the edge, before Connol wound his arm around his partner’s lower back and encouraged her to lean into his side. The whispers they exchanged were too low to make out.

Vander sat himself down further along the roof from them, whilst Silco shook out his blanket before sitting down at his brother’s side closest to his friends. He took great care in arranging the red fabric over his knees, before he set his hands behind him and leaned back onto them.

They looked so comfortable in one another’s company, you were abruptly reminded. Years of existing in each other's space had brought on this easy atmosphere. It had your traitorous mind wondering for just a moment, where could you possibly fit in this dynamic. It was clear they wanted you around, or at least enjoyed your company, or Felicia would have left you behind at the bar tonight. But why? What could you offer this dynamic that they didn’t already have?

“Are you going to sit down?”

You blinked your thoughts away, to find Silco had turned around to glance up at you.

“I-” Your eyes jumped from the open roof on Vander’s other side, to the gap between Silco and Felicia, to the other stretch of roof at Connol’s side. It would be weird for you to take up the middle spot right?

Felicia groaned audibly. “It’s too cold. Come and sit your ass here to give me some warmth.” She smacked the concrete between her and Silco.

You saw immediately through the act. She had Connol wrapped around her, and had enough layers to stave off the light autumn chill. It was just an excuse to help ease you into feeling more comfortable. You were ashamed that it worked.

“Maybe you should have put on more layers.” You lightly scolded, taking the excuse for what it was to sit down in the open spot.

Felicia pulled a face at you, but didn’t argue.

The moment you sat down, the chill of the concrete immediately began to seep into your thighs through your trousers. It wasn’t uncomfortable necessarily, but you could certainly feel how the roof was slowly leeching the warmth out of your legs.

Turning your attention outwards in an attempt to stave off the inevitable shivers, you were surprised to find the rest of Zaun lining up along the river bank below. A couple of other smart families had also chosen suitable roofs to witness the firework display from, but the majority of the city population were thickly crowding the streets below. It was weirdly reassuring to see so many people coexisting for once instead of biting and snapping at each other.

The smell of something warm and herbal wafted over to you on the wind. In your peripheral, you found that Vander had pulled a flask of something steaming out of his pocket, and was lightly blowing on the surface, whilst his large hands overlapped around the narrow torso of the drink.

Connol and Felicia were talking quietly in hushed voices, their inaudible words mixing in with the clammer of hundreds of bodies crowded below.

Across the river, the lights of Piltover dimmed. The council building dissolved into the night sky like a looming shadow giant, whilst the bridge’s presence fell away as its lights were switched off. The noise of the assembled Zaunites abruptly dulled, and your breath caught in your lungs in anticipation.

The entire riverbank seemed to hold its breath as the first firework was shot into the sky. Your eyes tracked it as it rocketed higher and higher, its sparking tail trailing into nothing, as it got lost for a moment amongst the inky blackness of the night and the distant white dotted stars. And then all at once the sky erupted into a shower of gold. Your eyes widened as the roof was bathed in the ochre light of the first firework, the bang roaring across the river a few heartbeats later.

And so the show began in earnest. Fireworks of gold, fuschia and blue erupted across the sky above Piltover, showering the city below in bursts of bright colour. It was a mesmerising display really. Your ears ringing from the constant booming of the previous firework dying out, only for another, bigger, louder one to immediately fill the silence.

You were so transfixed by the display, that you hadn't noticed the goosebumps that had erupted up and down your arms, nor the tremoring shake of your hands clasped tightly in your lap. All of your attention was on the display.

You had never actually sat outside to watch it before today, having instead tucked yourself into bed after exhausting days on the street, whilst silently fuming at the distant and annoying bangs of the celebration obnoxiously keeping you awake.

A gentle touch to your outer thigh, had your attention slamming back to the present as your head sharply snapped down. Silco’s hand froze, where it was trying to drape some of his blanket over your trembling legs. Your breath caught. Your head jumped up to him, but he was stubbornly not looking at you. His eyes laser focused on the ongoing display instead.

His hand remained clenched around the fabric. Hovering. Waiting.

Hesitantly, you took the offered corner, your cold fingers momentarily touching. He didn’t react, so you carefully shuffled closer to the side and draped the skin warmed blanket over your legs.

He did not look at you. So you stopped looking at him.

“Thanks,” you offered under your breath, fairly certain the word had been lost in the wind and another boom of the display before he could hear it.

A tiny smile turned up the corner of his mouth in the next burst of light, suggesting otherwise of course, but you did not dare question it. It was kind of him to share after all. Sweet.

Before you could fully tear your eyes from Silco’s profile, you found Vander watching the pair of you behind him. Your stomach turned at the mischief glinting in his eyes, as his eyebrows wiggled suggestively, all whilst he took an obnoxious slurp out of his flask.

The noise had Silco’s head turning his way. His smile dissolves into a nose wrinkled curl of disgust.

Vander just grinned back, before turning his attention back to the display.

Somehow, it felt like permission, although you could not pinpoint why or what it was for.

You really needed to stop turning up to The Last Drop injured. Not only was it getting boring, but the others were likely to put you on house arrest if you kept getting strikes put on your track record.

The one silver lining today at least, was that you had been injured on a job Vander had asked you and Sevika to complete, which entailed causing a ruckus several streets away from The Last Drop to distract the Enforcer patrols. Which the pair of you had done; beautiful, might you add.

So beautifully, that the price had been both you and Sevika ending up a bit roughed up. And the latter, actively bullying you into letting her help you make your way back to the bar, your arm slung over her shoulder. She had been heading the same way anyway, she tried to reason.

Usually, after a fight the pair of you would ensure the other was able to walk before letting each other slink away to lick their wounds. But apparently not today. Today, Sevika told you with no room for argument, that she would be helping you back to The Last Drop, and then added on something about Vander and threats, but you couldn’t really make out her mumbling.

There were glass shards sprinkled in your hair after all, and long, paper-thin cuts running up your forearms from your run in with a window. You could feel a bruise forming on your ribs too from the rim of the dumpster you’d landed in. The Enforcer who had shoved you, and you had grabbed a hold of, to drag out of the window with you, had landed hard on the concrete, and hadn’t gotten back up.

As Sevika dragged you towards The Last Drop, you idly wondered if his comrades would both to drag his body back across the river or leave him to the rats.

The warmth of the bar swept over you before you could really get into it.

Tonight, important business was being conducted in the belly of the bar, so the establishment was being manned by a Bartender you did not recognise. His eyes briefly flickered up from the customer he was serving when Sevika dragged you into the building, but apart from a tiny nod of acknowledgement and his eye pointedly darting away from the pair of you, he made no move to stop either of you from heading for the back.

The bar was loud tonight. The stereo’s setting turned up to one of its highest, forcing the crowd to yell over one another to compensate. Not even the door to the staircase down into the basement could fully dull the sheer volume of the main room, but then again, that was the purpose. After all, there was no way anyone outside of the meeting room would be able to eavesdrop with all of that going on upstairs.

“Almost there, Runt.” Sevika commentated, more to herself than to you, as she dragged you down the first flight of steps to the corridor of doors. Then she hauled you towards one of the end doors, and promptly kicked the one to the living room open, all before yanking you inside. Perhaps this rough treatment was part of the reason you didn’t normally allow her to assist you in times like these.

You would’ve preferred to have walked into this meeting unassisted, what with the people attending consisting of some Zaun’s most powerful and influential leaders, but Sevika pointedly did not give you an option.

“Let go.” You ground out under your breath, trying to wiggle your arm free of her vice-like hold, to which she just held onto you more firmly. “Sevika!” You hissed, trying again with your most lethal expression levelled at the side of her head, only for your protests to promptly die on your tongue when she glared down at you. Your cheeks promptly lit up with shame and you ducked your head.

In the living room below, the quiet chatter of the meeting had abruptly cut off at your entrance.

As Sevika dragged your battered body down the stairs, you caught sight of the usual bar trio - plus Connol - alongside various shopkeepers, and the leaders of small gangs peering back at you with various levels of unease. How Vander had the reach to be able to get so many of them to agree to meet in one spot, was beyond you. But it was probably helped along by the fact that the bar was openly advertised as neutral ground.

Sevika’s boots hit the cold flagstones first, where she paused and lifted you down the last two steps. You were not limping that badly! You grumbled as such and shot her another glare lethal, to which she blatantly ignored your protests again and set you back down at her side.

“The hell did you do now?!” Felicia’s voice burst out from across the room, having been the first to shake herself out of her shock. Beside her, Connol placed a hand on her knee, both soothing and to keep her seated. His own expression was grim as his eyes cut from the important people assembled in the room, to you and Sevika’s pitiful appearances.

More subtly, you watched with a sinking stomach as Vander sighed and raked a large hand down the side of his face.

Whereas various leaders sat on the opposite sofa on the other side of the coffee table exchanged confused and judgemental glances.

“And who might you be?” One of the braver one spoke up, an older woman with an air of authority and fiery, red hair. She sat straight on her couch cushion, a queen on her throne, despite being squished shoulder to shoulder with the others. Her expression was pinched and professional, her attention almost burning with how intently she looked at you.

“Those would be our Distraction Agents,” Silco of all people spoke up, drawing all eyes away from you and Sevika. He made a show of rising from his chair pulled up alongside the couch Vander was seated on, and motioning for Sevika to bring you forward.

To an outsider, his expression would have been politely composed, if not subtly tight with irritation to being interrupted. To you, he looked panicked.

With a grunt, Sevika wasted no time in hauling you round the back of Vander’s couch to lower you into the offered chair, whilst Silco continued to smooth over the interruption. You winced as the glass stuck in your body jolted from the rough treatment, but otherwise allowed her to work if only to get the humiliation over with quickly.

“-both of whom gave us the necessary opening to have this vital meeting without fear of Enforcer,” Silco paused in his explanation to find the correct phrase, “input.”

The confusion on a few of the newer faces morphed into expressions of understanding at the implication.

Keeping your eyes averted, you tried to arrange yourself into a more presentable seating arrangement, absently noting how Sevika retreated to hover menacingly over Vander’s shoulder behind his couch, whilst Silco remained stood beside your chair, his chin raised and his hands neatly folded behind his back.

From there, the meeting progressed smoothly. They discussed possible riot locations. Weak points within the Topside city, alongside the weaponry currently at their disposal. As well as timings, and named willing Zaunites who could be relied upon to step up when called.

To your relief, you and Sevika had joined during the tail end of the meeting, which finally began to wrap up a little after midnight, where the leaders and shopkeepers politely thanked Vander and began to filter out of the room.

Above, the din of the bar was beginning to wind down too.

As the last of the leaders filtered out, you slumped back against the backrest of your chair with a groan, the steady throb of the glass and cuts steadily beginning to consume more of your attention. Gods, what an evening.

The door at the top of the stairs had scarcely clicked shut, before Vander suddenly rounded on you. You yelped at the unexpected attention, your head instinctively ducking to avoid his burning glare.

In your peripheral vision, Silco also turned to you. His hip jutted out in the way that suggested he had crossed his arms and was also giving you a sharp, disapproving look.

You didn’t even want to look at Felicia.

Gods, when had you become so embedded in this bar and its community that you knew their reactions without looking. And when had you begun to care that you had concerned them?

“What the hell happened?” Vander ground out between tightly set teeth, his voice practically oozing with poorly concealed rage. “I asked you to distract the patrols, not offer yourself up as a punching bag.”

His choice of words stroked the defiant part of you that despised being talked down to. Abruptly, your unease and guilt mutated into annoyance as you levelled a sharp look his way.

Obviously, you didn’t look that bad. Maybe a little black and blue, with a few cuts here and there, but that was it. The other assholes looked far worse. There was no way this universal reaction was proportionate to the state of you.

“Still in one piece, aren’t we?” You challenged, to which Vander broke eye contact to squeeze his eyes closed and take a calming breath, which, rude.

Sevika, ever fearless, outright snorted at the entire display, as she limped her way round the couch to the newly vacated sofa on the other side of the coffee table. With a grunt, she sat down on one of the cushions, before spinning and laying herself down on her back. “Believe it or not,” she said calmly, kicking off her shoes and stretching out her legs, “that was tame for us.” Silco clicked his tongue in disbelief. “Really?” He asked dangerously, arms still crossed. “Because your comrade looks as though they were recently shoved through a wall.” Sevika chuckled then. “Close,” she congratulated him with a lift of her brows. “It was actually a window.”

Silco’s eyebrows jumped as his head snapped down to you, where you again ducked your head and averted your eyes.

“A second story window at that.” Sevika helpfully added, which had Vander slumping back against the backrest and groaning into his hand, whilst Felicia’s mouth audibly dropped open.

“You are not helping!” You hissed at your comrade, who simply grinned with too many teeth. She was clearly enjoying embarrassing you.

“What?” She challenged, “scared they’ll realise what a reckless idiot you are?”

“Shut. it.” You warned, eyes narrowing.

Silco shifted in the edge of your vision. You ignored him.

Sevika sat up then. Her movements slow and dangerous. Deliberate. And her brows began to draw together, as a look of mock realisation spread across her features. “No.” She drawled with mock surprise. “You’re scared they’ll think you’re incapable-”

And there went your composure. Your expression hardened as you slammed your hands down on the armrests of your chair and tried to lunge across the coffee table at her.

Vander’s head snapped up out of his hands in bewilderment, at the same time Silco lunged for your shoulders. His arms wrapped tight around your upper torso, driving slices of glass deeper into your flesh, but you didn’t care. This was why you didn’t want Sevika and The Last Drop to collide. You didn’t need her coming in here, revealing shit that had nothing to do with these people. She had seen you at your lowest. Had watched you fight and kill. Had watched in fascination as you peeled yourself off of bloodied floors, and scrambled to get back up after a heavy blow.

Before the bar, she was the closest thing you’d had to a friend. And she was about to shatter whatever careful persona you’d built for yourself here.

Even Felicia was looking at you with different eyes. As if you were suddenly some wild animal, instead of the introverted stray cat she’d always joked you were.

And like a fool, Sevika continued to provoke you. “Awe, sorry, Runt. Am I embarrassing you?” Sevika taunted, eyes glinting with challenge, stroking the part of you that wanted to stab her eye out for being so blatantly irritating.

“I’ll show you incapable, Asshole!” You snarled back, ceasing your mindless lunging, to instead bring up your leg and grab for your knife tucked into the back of your boot. To which Silco made a panicked noise and tried to grab at your wrist.

The pair of you struggled for a moment. Sevika relaxing back against her couch, whilst you tried to ward off Silco’s attempts to snatch the knife from your hold.

“Fuck off!”

“Stabbing her isn’t going to solve the problem-” “No! Actually. It very much will!”

“Alright you two, that’s enough.” Vander tried to referee, but this wasn’t a verbal sparring match between you and Felicia.

This was a slight. Sevika knew which buttons to press, and she knew what reaction it would get her. In some twisted way, it was her version of ensuring you were okay. Like how you would kick a cat to see if it was still alive enough to scratch. It was the kind of care you’d been used to, before stumbling into The Last Drop and glutting yourself on Vander’s unique version of concern.

“No no, let them-” Sevika tried to get Vander to back off. Only for her words to die on her tongue, when you finally shoved Silco’s hand off, and THREW the blade at her head. The weapon embedded itself blade down in the wall beside her ear. Close enough for her baby hairs to jump from the wind of it zinging past her cheek.

“Not bad.” She calmly complimented, “for a glass shard pin cushion.”

“I have two more if you want to keep running your mouth.” You told her bluntly, as Silco took advantage of your distraction to shove you back down into the chair. He had a weird expression on his face now. Something that could have been fear, or could have been exasperation.

“Na, I’m good. The whole, cowering whilst getting scolded look, was just freaking me out.” Sevika waved you off, effortlessly yanking the blade from the wall to toss back to you.

Felicia made a short, cut off noise as the blade was momentarily air borne, before you snatched its hilt from the air and smoothly returned the thing to your boot.

For a moment the room was still, before Vander shook himself out of his bewilderment, and turned to Sevika to ask her for further details on your side of the mission. She straightened in her seat, before explaining what had happened.

“-the Runt got a little too into it towards the end,” she finished reporting with a tired sigh. “Goaded one of the stronger Blue Bellies into tackling them, only they both went out the window.” Vander sighed again. He and Sevika share a long suffering look of camaraderie. He turned to you, one eyebrow raised. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

You gave him a dangerous little grin. “That I won.”

Vander blinked down at you in confusion, eyes briefly jumping up to Silco who audibly shrugged. “How do you win by getting shoved out of a window?” The former asked carefully.

“Well,” you replied seriously, because the answer was obvious. “Because I got up after. He didn’t.”

Which was true, because you had fallen into a dumpster instead of landing on the concrete, like the Enforcer. And where you’d been simply bruised, the other guy hadn’t been so lucky.

Vander’s eyes jumped to Sevika, who just shrugged at his helpless look. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She said as if Vander had spoken. “But they came to find me right after. I’d barely dealt with my own Enforcer when they strolled in like nothing had happened. I swear, this one is like a cockroach. No matter what happens, they always manage to get up again.”

“It’s why you keep me around.” You helpfully supplied and she snorted.

“And why I can’t get rid of you.” She playfully added, although there was no bite to her words this time.

Winter had fully set in.

Nights spent on your thin mattress with your blanket wound tight around your shivering frame, were miserable. As always when the frost set in, food across Zaun went up in price as Piltover took the better part of the shares. What you couldn’t buy or forage for yourself, you went without.

The cold made people desperate. Made the most despairing of the Undercity turn on each other in search of payment from the enemy, since betrayal was preferable to starvation. As such, your face began turning up on wanted posters, alongside Sevika’s and a few other stranglers you’d teamed up with on odd jobs throughout the year. The Enforcer’s had withdrawn their patrols from the depths of the Lanes to monitor the bridge and the main roads, but that just left the streets full of potential rats waiting for you to show your face.

You ventured out as little as possible. Ducking out of your home when the hours were quiet and cold to acquire more food or attempt to hunt down a job. It was on one of these desperate runs, that you found yourself on a road that passed The Last Drop. As always, it was the smell of something delicious cooking that had your footsteps pausing, and your hollow stomach twisting with sheer want.

Eyes hungry, you stood in the shadow of a building across the square as the bar buzzed with life. Even from where you stood, you could tell that the tables within were full. There was music blaring and actual laughter filtering out through the windows. The place was alive with restless energy and joyous shouts, that the rest of Zaun failed to muster at this time of year.

It was a stark contrast from the frozen alleyways and slow moving crowds you had grown accustomed to seeing since the first snowfall.

Against your better judgement, you found yourself striding towards the building instead of steering clear of it. With the establishment so full and your face on the wanted posters, you knew it would be suicidal to step inside, but at the same time, your fingers were so cold you could scarcely feel them. And you had hardly spoken to another person in weeks.

You were tired, and cold and feeling a little reckless. So, keeping your hood pulled down low over your eyes, you slipped inside, and wove through the crowd in search of a quiet place to hide. There was a small table left empty in one of the side alcoves, its tealight set in the centre of the tablecloth burning low.

The smell of whatever Vander was cooking had your hollow stomach writhing with want. But you made no move to approach the bar. Not tonight. You would just stay here until the cold seeped out of your limbs and you could flex your fingers again.

Instead, you subtly turned your head to check that no one had noticed you, before you sank down into the vacant seat and slumped back against the backrest. No one seemed to blink twice at the sight of another hooded figure taking up residence at an empty table. Despite the warmth of the bar, the cold still lingered, so several people still had hats on to keep ears warm, or their hair tucked close to their necks to ward off the chill.

The crowd tonight was thick enough that you felt safe to linger in the warmth, and satisfy your hunger through smell alone. Just being out of your apartment was more filling than any cold meals you’d scrapped together in the last month.

Gods, you felt like shit. But also weirdly raw. Where usually, this state would have you crawling into a hole to die, tonight, you couldn’t stomach the idea of going home to your still, silent apartment. Even if you weren’t here to socialise, you also knew that you needed company. Even just people around, despite not being part of the crowd.

The month of laying low and steering clear of the patrols and hiding your face from civilians had definitely taken its toll on you. You were jumpy. Even more so with how aware of your hunger you were. Your body was running on fumes, a persistent shake to your hands and a hollowness to your cheeks that you only ever saw in the mirror around this time of year.

It would have been pathetic if it wasn’t such a common sight in the Undercity. Clothes that hung off of bodies rather than wrapped around them, and belts had had to be cinched tighter and tighter as winter persisted.

The movement of a confident figure weaving through the crowd drew your attention up from the tea light burning low in front of you. It was a server, you observed, carrying a tray laden with bowls of soup.

She was not anyone you’d seen working at The Last Drop before. But judging by the apron and the ease in which she wove between full tables and rowdy patrons, she had been working here long enough to have worked out the lay of the land. Perhaps Vander had needed additional help. Or more likely, someone had come in looking for a meal without enough coin to pay for it, and had offered labour in return.

Knowing Vander, he would have let her run off scott free after having her fill, but his brand of care was always jarring to come across when one was so unused to kindness. Especially if you didn’t know him very well.

With quiet interest, you watched the new server make a beeline towards a table a few over from your own, where a couple and their son sat nursing drinks. She greeted the women with a cheerful smile, and began setting down a bowl in front of their son, only for one of them to begin shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but we didn’t order any food.”“It’s on the house.” The Waitress easily reassured, clearly having repeated the same phrase all night. The words had you smiling despite yourself because of course Vander would be giving out free food. “The Boss made too much, so you’d be doing us a favour in helping us get rid of it.” The woman who had spoken smiled tightly, seemingly unsure whether to believe her, whilst her partner carefully pushed the bowl already on the table towards the boy, who’s eyes hadn’t left its steaming contents since it had been placed on the table.

“Love.” The Partner quietly spoke, her smile reassuring as she put her hand to her Wife’s arm, who seemed to relax. “Thank you.” She told the Waitress, who just smiled and set down another two bowls for each of them, before continuing to another table with empty bowls set to the side.

Where the boy immediately dug in and practically groaned in delight at the taste, his parents were more hesitant in dipping their spoons into their bowls. As if they expected the Waitress to come back tutting and immediately snatch back the food.

You were so engrossed in watching the couple relax, that you were startled when a shadow suddenly appeared at the other end of your little table, and leaned over to set down a steaming bowl of soup before you. Eyes wide, your head jerked up as a spoon was carefully slid across the table as well.

“Could I get you a drink to go with that?” Silco asked, tone polite but disinterested. He also wore an apron, and had his hair pulled back into a low bun. He looked good. Healthy in a way that suggested Vander’s warm cooking and consistent meals.

Those piercing blue eyes connected with your own beneath the shadow of your hood, and his breath visibly stilled in his chest. His brows jumped before, he tucked his empty tray under his armpit and drew closer.

He quietly said your name, brows drawing together now as he squinted. You unstuck your lips from one another, ready to deny it in a made up voice, or rapidly dismiss yourself, only for him to suddenly snort and straighten up. The professional mask slipped away beneath a lopsided grin as he said playfully, “we have to stop meeting like this.”

And oh, you hadn’t realised how much you’d missed him. It had scarcely been a full season since you’d last spoken, but just those words alone soothed something jagged in you.

Silco’s tray found its way onto the table, as he pulled out the chair opposite you and sat down heavily. “So, what corner of the Undercity have you been hiding in lately?” He asked conversationally, limbs loose and relaxed as you remained rigid and quiet. “We haven’t seen you in weeks. Vander was getting ready to call for a search party, and Felicia was threatening to hunt you down herself.”

Yep, that sure sounded like them.

“The parts that are the least overrun by Enforcers.” You returned, voice tight and sore from disuse.

Silco huffed as if he completely understood where you were coming from. “Tell me about it, they’ve been relentless lately. We can scarcely get through a night without a patrol of them coming in demanding to search the patrons, and you don’t even need me to tell you how that goes down with Vander.”

And off he went into a little rant, immediately sweeping you away in the calming cadence of his voice. Enough that you felt your shoulders begin to loosen. Emboldened by his calmly spoken complaints, you sat back in your chair, head tilted in a way that had your hood sliding down the back of your head a little, revealing more of your face to the soft lighting of the room.

Silco’s eyes roamed over your face, a small smile on his face, before his words trailed off, and that smile began to dissolve. His brows knotting as those eyes jumped all over your expression, and you subconsciously rubbed at your cheek. Did you have something on your face? You hadn’t even taken a bite of soup yet, despite your rumbling stomach, so there couldn’t be any on your cheeks.

“-what happened to you? You look awful.” Silco suddenly blurted, and you frowned. Dramatically, you glanced down at yourself. Sure, your clothes had seen better days, but surely you didn’t look that bad. You weren’t even bleeding this time.

“Uh, thanks?” You replied sharply.

Silco looked like he wanted to kick himself. “No, not that you look bad.”

You decided to rib him a little for his clumsy wording. “No, of course not. You used the word ‘awful’.”

“Well, yes, because you look half starved.” He tried to argue to which you calmly reminded him, “it’s winter, Silco.”

He just frowned harder, before reaching across the table to push your bowl closer to you. “Yes, it is.” He agreed, “but if it had gotten this bad I would have assumed you would be smart enough to come to us for help.” You scowled then. “I’d like a to-go box, please. The unwanted rant is not complimenting the meal at all.”

He pulled a face, and pulled his hand back to his side of the table. “Oh, stop being difficult. You know this sort of talk isn’t one of my strong suits.”

“Yeah. You’re terrible at it.” You agreed, and he huffed out a little laugh.

For a moment, the din of the bar filled in the silence between you as Silco’s eyes dropped to the table where a finger was idly tracing the uneven woodgrains. Taking the opportunity, you took up your spoon and finally shovelled a mouthful of warm soup onto your tongue, and oh by the gods was it good!

So good that for several desperate mouthfuls, you forgot about the company you were keeping as you fully devoted yourself to consuming as much soup as humanly possible. Vaguely, you could hear one of the women you’d been watching earlier, giggling at the display, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“Gods I have missed Vander’s cooking.” You said aloud, when your belly was finally full enough that you could think about speaking in between mouthfuls.

Silco huffed out a breath but did not laugh. His attention was still on the table when he spoke up again. Either feeling too raw to meet your gaze, or wanting to give you a moment of privacy, you did not know. “You know, if you had sent word that the Enforcers were so relentless, we would have come to you, right?” “No.” You returned dismissively, pausing to scrape up another spoonful. “You wouldn’t have, because that would have been a stupid thing for me to ask or expect. You guys have lives to live, a bloody business to run. And last I checked, you don’t do home delivery.”

Silco’s look of offense morphed into fondness at the last part. “Yeah well, close friends are the exception.” He said softly. So softly, that it had alarm bells going off in the back of your head.

Your spoon froze halfway to your mouth, and you were about to correct him, when someone new approached your table.

“So sorry to interrupt folks,” Vander said by way of introduction, “but Silco, I have bowls needing to go out. Socialise in your own time-” His eyes jump up to you at the other end of the table, an apology half formed on his lips before he froze at the sight of you. Which, come on! You did NOT look that bad.

It was eerie to see Vander so still.

“Actually,” you tried to joke, “I was promised a drink, and your employee here has rudely not delivered.” Your words fell flat, and Vander did not move.

Instead, he stood menacingly on the other end of the table and simply said, “you.” And oh fuck, that’s the kind of expression that has you running away from a fight instead of reaching for a knife.

“Uh, hi?”

“Vander-” Silco jumped in, tone warning, but Vander completely ignored him, in favour of stealing a chair from a nearby table and loudly setting it down beside Silco’s chair.

His eyes burned, as he put his elbows on the table and leaned in close, something like rage bubbling low in his voice as he hissed out. “Do you want to tell me why I’ve had Enforcers knocking on my door, asking to put up your wanted poster all over the fucking place?!”

His fury made you bristle. “Was it a good photo at least?”

Silco snorted, and Vander shot him a disapproving glare. Undeterred, Silco replied, “of course not. They fucked up your ears for sure, and your nose looked all kinds of wrong-” “Silco.” Vander said sharply, “Go man the bar.” Silco tilted his head dangerously, an unspoken challenge in the way he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms instead of getting up to comply. “I don’t think I will.”

Vander’s anger visibly began to simmer, and you tried to step in before he could explode. Clearly, the man was under a lot of stress. “Guys, can we not have a pissing contest right now-” “Don’t you start.” Vander rounded on you, “I am furious with you!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Why? I haven’t even been here to piss you off?”

Vander’s rage flared, and ah, there was the problem. “Exactly!” He snarled, loudly enough for a couple of heads to turn your way. “No note! No heads up that you were going away for a few months. I thought you were fucking dead!”

“I just haven’t had time to stop by.” You tried to defend yourself, but he was having none of it.

“I don’t care! Not even Sevika has seen you around lately-” “You were asking Sevika about me again?!”

“What was I supposed to do-?” “Keep your big nose out of my business!” You roared back. “Who do you think you are? My fucking guardian angel? You may be a year or two older, Vander, but that doesn’t make you the fucking boss of me. Do you understand?” Vander’s expression had lost some of its sharpness, and had instead become almost sad. “I’m just looking out for you.” You rolled your eyes in the face of his concern, watching real offence slide onto Vander’s expression.

“Oh, I see how it is.” You mused, tone suggesting just how ludicrous you thought he was being. “So you feed me sometimes? Talk to me every now and again? And that suddenly makes us fucking friends, does it?”

“Why do you have to say it like that? Like I’m being ridiculous?” “Are you even listening to yourself right now?” You countered, “because what you’re saying right now, Vander, is fucking stupid.” “Well too bad, because I surely think of you as my friend. And I look out for my friends.”

You scoffed again. “You can’t be friends with every stray that wanders in here.” “Watch me.” He challenged outright, crossing his arms and levelling you with a look that just oozed stubborn determination.

From his seat, Silco outright chuckled. His head had been snapping to and fro between you and Vander throughout the entire debate. Where he found amusement in what was being said, you had no idea.

“I would quit whilst you’re ahead.” The man advised you lightly, “he is undefeated in this kind of thing. The only reason I ended up hanging around, was because he bullied me into it.” And yeah, you could see that happening rather easily. Not that Silco seemed even half as resistant as he pretended to be.

The smile that stretches onto Vander’s face from the fond comment was reserved and small, but it was no doubt there. “You would know, you’re the original stray, aren’t you Silco?” The man teased fondly, to which Silco kicked him under the table and waved him off. You noted how he did not deny the claim however.

“All that aside,” Vander continued, eyes jumping back to you. “What in The Lanes did you do to get on Top Side’s wanted list?”

You shrugged. “Winter makes Piltover’s hunting dogs bored. Someone from the window fiasco saw my face and spread it to their commander, simple as that. Sevika’s got a poster or two floating around too.”

Vander sighed heavily at your explanation. “Well then, it’s settled. You’re spending the night here.” You snorted at his sudden conclusion. “Like fuck I am.”

“Why do you always make things so difficult? I’m trying to help you-” “No, fuck off with that shit. I don’t need your fucking protection. I can take care of my damn self.”

“Clearly.” Vander replied simply, motioning to your gaunt cheeks.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t need your pity. Or your concern.” You warned him, “just keep my name out of your mouth, and stop drawing attention to me.” Vander frowned. “You know, the pattern I’ve picked up on, is that people tend to be safer when they’re known to be associated with this place.” He motioned to the bar.

“Oh really,” you challenged, “well, my continued existence in this hell hole of a city, suggests that laying low and remaining in the background works out just as well.”

“And how’s that going for you?” Vander retorted. “You’re reduced to cowering in the shadows. That’s not living-”

“Nor is hiding under your stupid bar!”

“Vander!” A new voice interrupted your fight before it could pick up pace again. “Vander!” The voice yelled out, louder and more insistent as the Waitress from before suddenly burst out of the crowd.

Vander sat up straighter in his chair. His undivided attention on the girl as she scrambled for the correct words. “Enforcers!” She blurted out, startling a couple of the tables closest to yours. She winced and lowered her voice before continuing. “Enforcers are trying to get in. I’ve got the boys manning the door, but they want to do a sweep.”

“At this hour?” Silco ground out, sounding royally pissed.

Vander just sighed, and pushed himself up to his feet. Like the smug bastard he was, he shot you a meaningful look. “Looks like your lying low shtick isn’t working out so well, is it?”

“You’re not seriously implying that I led them here, are you?” You retorted, to which Vander shook his head.

“You’re not the only fugitive hiding out beneath this roof, and you won’t be the last.” He turned to go, pausing when your chair made a loud squeak as you shoved it back and rose to your feet. The determination on your face had Vander already beginning to shake his head despite you not yet having uttered a word.

“Not that I’m trying to repay you for the meal or anything,” you began seriously, to which both brothers fondly shook their heads. “But how dramatic of a distraction do you want?” Vander’s eyebrows jumped at the offer. “Don’t be daft.” He told you firmly, “I’ll deal with this. You keep your head down like you always do.”

With that, he followed the Waitress into the crowd. “Bobby! I’ve told you, no RUNNING in the bar!” His voice boomed out amongst the din, before his voice became indistinguishable from the rest.

Across the table, Silco rose to his feet with a sight. Carefully, he picked up your empty bowl and spoon, and set them on his tray, before stepping out from in front of his chair and neatly tucking it in. “Come on. Best we get you to the back before they start scouring the tables.”

There was no force behind his words. No compulsory element that made your hackles raise, or your body instinctively want to break away from him and escape. It was a solution. A safe alternative to simply making a run from it.

Hesitantly, you followed his lead. Head turning to the front of the bar, where you could vaguely make out Vander’s back amongst the sea of bodies, alongside the blue uniform of several Enforcers. “Will he be okay?” You asked, noting the tension to Vander’s shoulders. “Against the Enforcers?” Silco asked, following the direction of your gaze before shrugging. “If anything, he needs the confrontation to get some stress out.” Turning neatly on his heel, Silco began to lead you away from the front of the building towards the counter and the door to the back. You fell into step a few paces behind, moving slow and casual, so as not to draw the eye of the enemy.

Silco was still talking as he set his tray down on the counter, before heading to the basement door. “Please excuse Vander’s brashness. He’s had a lot on his shoulders lately. All these people needing help sets him on edge, and he gets into this mood that’s hard to pull him out of.” The man let out a fond sigh, as he turned the handle and began to descend the steps, “but that’s Vander for you. Always the bleeding heart.”

He paused on the fourth step down, turning to glance up at you hovering in the doorway. “What is it?” He asked patiently.

“Nothing. I’m just debating how quickly I can make it to the back exit before you or Vander catch me.” Silco rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you. You look like you’re about to keel over. You won’t make it five steps.” He must have seen the spark of challenge that the playful words ignited in you, because he took a hasty step back up and added enticingly, “I have my blanket already downstairs and a roaring fire going.”

You made a contemplative face. “Keep going, I’m almost tempted.”

He huffed a laugh. “You mentioned that you missed Vander’s cooking. How about a second bowl of soup? I’ll even bring you a drink this time.”

You sighed. “You drive a hard to resist bargain, Mr.” “Good.” He said, “you can rest for a bit, get some more food in you, and then maybe Vander will let you go home.”

“Oh, so I’m a captive now, am I?” You joked.

“You catch on fast.” Silco complimented with a small smile. And this time when he hesitantly took a step back down, you decided to follow him.

Something loosened in his face at the compliance, and without another word, he led you to the living room, which was in fact deliciously warm. The fire had been built high, and had bathed the room in a pleasant, orange glow.

Drawn to the spot on the couch closest to the flames, you were too weak to resist slumping down on the comfortable cushions face first and letting out a delighted groan. You got his blanket thrown over your head for your troubles, but the position was too fantastic for you to care much.

Your mattress back home had several springs that dug into you regardless of how you positioned yourself on it. The couch by comparison, was like laying on a cloud. The thick blanket obscuring your upper body from view was just a bonus.

Footsteps beyond the wall of red fabric had your eyes slipping open again. Silco was laughing quietly to himself as he drew closer and set something down on the coffee table. A boot lightly tapped the fingers of the hand hanging over the side of the couch and resting against the rough rug.

You grumbled and withdrew the hand. Snaking it back up the side of the couch to curl it against your chest.

Another huff, before gentle fingers curled around the edges of the blanket and pulled it back enough for you to catch sight of his soft expression.

Between the warmth, and the reassurance of having someone else to watch your back whilst you rested, your eyelids were already beginning to droop.

“Don’t slip out without saying goodbye,” Silco warned quietly, softening his voice when he realised how difficult you were finding it to keep from drifting off. “Or I’ll rally half of the Lanes to hunt you down.” The firm look in his eye told you just how serious he was being, so you nodded once to let him know that you were listening. “Here’s the key to the door if you’re going to have a nap,” he pulled said key out of his pocket to show to you before he set it down on the coffee table beside what you realised was another bowl of gently steaming soup and a glass of water. When he’d disappeared to go retrieve either, you had no idea. “I’m heading back upstairs to help run the food, so I’m going to lock you in with Vander’s spare.”

Which was kind of sweet. Your inability to willingly fall asleep without a locked door between you and the outside world hadn’t come up more than once before. To think that he had remembered, let alone was going out of his way to help you feel safe and secure, was endearing.

“Of course, if you don’t want us to be able to come in or out whilst you’re asleep, just leave this key in the back of the lock. I’ve woken up one too many times to Vander just looming at the end of the couch because he wasn’t sure how to wake me up without getting stabbed.”

You didn’t think you’d ever heard Silco talk so much in such a short amount of time before. It was cute. How he rambled and went down a mental checklist to attend to your needs. A stark contrast to the bumbling Waiter who had tried to check on your well being earlier. It seemed that actions of care came easier to him than soft, careful words.

“Now if you need anything-” “Silco.” You interrupted.

He bit off his sentence and turned his full attention down to you. “Yes?” “Thank you.” You said, and you both knew it wasn’t just gratitude for the soup.

His eyes widened a fraction, before he promptly swept the look aside and nodded once. With that, he let the blanket fall back over your head, to which you spluttered and wiggled to poke your head out from under it. “Don’t mention it.” He said firmly, his footsteps light on the stairs as he showed himself out.

The door closed behind him with a click. The fire popped and crackled in the grate, as you wiggled to get even more comfortable on the couch, sprawled out on your belly with your head pillowed under one of your arms.

Sleep crept up on you more quickly than it had in months. Distantly, you heard the click of a lock at the top of the stairs, and felt the last dregs of your hypervigilance melt away as the remaining tension melted from your limbs. You fell into a deep, all consuming sleep.

So deep, that when you eventually came to, you briefly did not know where you were. It was the familiar softness of the blanket pulled over your body and the absence of cold after so many weeks of shivering, that had you remembering your stupid decision to venture into The Last Drop despite the risks.

You turned your head, and there was still a glass of water and bowl of soup on the table. Although the bowl had been switched out for a different one, the food inside was still steaming, suggesting someone had recently checked in on you and given you a warm replacement. The thought did not send panic spiking through you, but instead filled you with further warmth.

Deciding not to dwell on the feeling too much, you dragged yourself up into a sitting position. The absence of aches and pains was almost a surprise. You shoved that thought aside too, and swung your legs down to the floor so you could pick up the spoon and get another meal in you. Hunched over the coffee table, swimming in the blanket, you dug in. The soup made you almost too warm, but you revelled in it. After being cold for so long, being able to sweat felt like a luxury.

There was a click of the lock above, and then the creak of the door being carefully pushed open. The hand not occupied with your spoon instinctively began to slide towards your boot, only to fall still when Silco closed the door behind him and began to climb down the stairs.

There was a weight to his strides now. A slant to his shoulders and the way he held his head that spoke of your ‘nap’ being more than a quick ten minutes.

“The Enforcers are gone.” He said by way of greeting. You expected him to set his bowl and spoon down on the opposite couch, or to at least set his stuff down in front of the other couch cushion. But nope, he put it down practically on top of your own, paused long enough to untie and toss aside his apron, before sitting down heavily beside you.

The warmth of his body sent tingles across your skin, and stalled your mind. Leaving him enough of an opening to begin to tug at the blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

“Hey!” You protested, dropping your spoon, to curl your fingers into the corners.

Silco huffed. “Just give it!”

He pried a corner out of your hands. You lunged for it. “Oi! You’re letting out all the heat.” “It’ll come back faster with two bodies.” He bit back, shoving your hands away, before giving the blanket a firm tug that freed a second corner. With a practiced smoothness, he pulled the corner in his hand over his shoulder, and slid even closer to you. Leaving the pair of you sandwiched together under it. “Besides it is my blanket, so I am entitled to at least half of it.”

“Yeah, well, finder’s keepers.” You returned, but did not try to reclaim the stolen corners.

He did however, keep one nimble hand tightly wrapped around the corner pulled over his shoulder, as he picked up his spoon and dug into his meal with the other.

The pair of you fell into a comfortable silence whilst you finished eating. The scrape of spoons at the bottom of bowls accompanied by satisfied sighs. After which Silco slumped back against the backrest and allowed his eyes to slip closed in what you could only to describe as bliss, whilst you pulled your knife out of your boot, and your whetstone from your pocket to give the blade some TLC. It hadn’t seen much action since your self-imposed hibernation, and as a result, you’d ended up neglecting its care. A wrong easily righted with a little time and care.

The fire was burning low and in need of a restock of fuel when the door to the living room unexpectedly BANGED open and cracked against the wall like a gunshot.

Silco snapped bolt upright from his nap, eyes wide and his head whipping round. Only to end up being shoved straight back down and out of your line of fire as you launched your knife at the person standing in the doorway.

Your mind supplied you with Enforcers. The panic had you scrambling for a second knife, whilst Silco remained pressed back against the back of the couch by the hand splayed firmly across the centre of his chest.

Sevika’s impressed whistle had all thoughts of threats and escape melting out of your limbs.

Fingers falling loose around the hilt of the second knife, you found her stood with one hand still holding the door open, as she contemplated the blade embedded in the wood a mere hair’s breadth from the tip of her nose.

With a sigh of relief, you unlocked the muscles in your other arm to let Silco sit forward again. He remained exactly where he was. Now fully awake and staring at you with a look of shock. You ignored him in favour of watching Sevika yank your knife out of the door.

“Some backbone you have, Runt.” She said dangerously. “Disappearing on me, then trying to kill me when I’m already fucking pissed at you.” “Oh fantastic.” You drawled back, eyes tracking her as she slammed the door closed behind her and started striding down the stairs. “Are you here to claim we’re best friends too?” “No.” Sevika said, with a suitable amount of distaste. “I’m here to kill you after you disappeared on me without warning, and got me to genuinely begin worrying you’d died in an alleyway somewhere.” “Oh fuck off. We didn’t have any jobs scheduled.” “That is besides the fucking point!” She bellowed back, now stood at the end of the couch, glaring daggers at you.

Silco - who had the misfortune of now being sat between you two - glanced back and forth between you with noticeable uncertainty.

The movement had Sevika’s dangerous eyes locking onto him. “Oi, Little Man.” His face contorted into offence. “Me?”

She made a show of looking around, then fixed him with another sharp, unimpressed glare. “Yes, you! Go back upstairs and get me a tankard of something strong. And a bowl of whatever Vander is cooking. I’ll keep an eye on the Runt, so they don’t scamper off.”

“Sure, but-” “I wasn’t asking you, just do it.”

He glared back at her, before shooting you an equally unimpressed look. You simply shrugged. “She’s a softie deep down. I’ll be fine.” “Don’t make me come over their Runt.” Sevika warned, even as she strode over to the other sofa, barely sparing you a second glare.

Her threat was a hollow one, and it made you shake your head.

You felt safe in the basement of The Last Drop with these people, despite the Enforcers who had almost discovered your here. And you suspected it was because you knew that they would not be able to get to you. Not with these two idiots and the one upstairs looking out for you. Watching your back.

Which was a weird thought, since scarcely a year ago, you couldn’t have imagined being this comfortable around anyone. Let alone Sevika. But here you were.

It was snowing tonight. Not raining. Not hailing. But actually snowing.

The dirty streets of the Undercity were lightly powdered with purifying white. They wouldn’t stay that way for long of course. Many boots would gradually work it all into a muddy slush, but for now, it was a nice thing to notice.

It was fucking cold though. The breeze was biting, even in a shirt and jacket. You tucked your head down into your collar, hands in your pockets.

The warm, orange light of the Last Drop pooled across the snow of the courtyard. Within, the building was full to bursting with bodies again. Folks hoping to hide from the cold and enjoy some good food and company for a little bit. Hoping to lose themselves in bets and games, to stop from longing for the ice to thaw.

You trudged past. Snow lightly freckling your cheeks.

The door creaked open behind you. Someone lightly called your name. Softly enough that you could easily ignore it. Pretend you hadn’t heard.

You turned anyway. And there was Silco, wearing his apron again, a small, private smile tugging at the corner of his lip as he held the door open for you.

“Vander is already dishing you up a bowl.” He said by way of greeting.

Your eyes flickered from his loose hair, to the ruckus leaking out of the open door.

You could thank him and turn away. Disappear into the growing darkness despite the early hour.

It would be cold in your apartment though. Not unbearable yet, the sun had only just set, but certainly noticeable.

Your feet move before you really make a decision, and you ducked under his arm.

Thank you so much for reading. Next chapter, WE'RE ON THE BRIDGE!! HELL YEAH!!

Previous Part <- Part 2 -> Next Part

Masterlist

#Silco x Reader #Gender Neutral Reader #HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS HAVE MORE SILCO CONTENT AS A TREAT #arcane silco #young silco #silco #silco arcane #fix-it #soft silco #found family #vander #felicia #arcane #arcane league of legends #pre-season 1

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dckweed · 2 days ago

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ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain. abuse is depicted in this one right off the bat,ptsd/nightmares, panty sniffing, face sitting, over stim, biting, squirting, i think our wolf just hates us okay? because everytime i write her, she comes out so mean.

please click this link! each click helps me earn some extra money, as well as each person that clicks the link and signs up (its completely free, and takes 0 time), a completely harmless way to earn some extra cash that doesn't involve giving me any of your own!

happy new years :) feel free to send thots/ideas to my inbox for these babes (or even for the other 141 fellas)

series masterlist here.

PART THREE: hurts si’

“You dumb bitch, look what you did!” Glass clattered and a hand made contact with your face, causing something to drop from your hands as they flew to your face for protection, a whimper leaving your puckered lips as sharp shards scatter about the ground and imbed in the skin of your legs, stinging. “Are you fuckin’ dropping shit now? Huh?” Another blow, this one landing on your ear, causing it to ring and your eyes to blur for a moment as you wobbled on the balls of your feet, swaying from side to side. The man yelling at you was larger than you, older. His breath was hot and sour as he screamed in your face, his words sounding a million miles away as you tried to focus. What had you done this time? It wasn’t you that had knocked over the glass of water..you weren’t even near that side of the table..it was all your brother, all the boy who sat and watched as your father threatened to beat you black and blue again for something that you didn’t do.

The ringing becomes too much, you fall to your knees and groan, head pounding and eyesight blurry, you barely notice the shards of whatever dish had fallen from your hands pushing further into the skin of your shins as you sink to the rough wood floor of the kitchen.

“...OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR, OMEGA!” He screamed, your hearing seeming to come back around, or maybe he just bellowed loud enough to overpower the ringing..you shook violently, fear and pain ringing through your body as he grabbed you by the hair on your scalp, dragging you across the ground, pushing the sharp bits of glass deeper into your skin..you would have to go digging to get them out now..

“No!NO! Papa, Papa please!” Your voice was frantic, shrill eyes wide as they finally focused enough to comprehend where he was pulling you off to, the familiar dingey wooden door of your own personal hell hole coming into sight. You’d only just been allowed out after..you couldn’t even remember how long..long enough that the days blurred together and you couldn’t tell how many tomorrows had come and passed. “No! I’ll be good, i’ll be good!” You clawed at his arm above you, trying desperately to pry his alpha strength off of your head, kicking your legs in an effort to slow him down, to buy yourself enough time to talk him out of it.

“There’s no such thing as a good Omega, you’re living proof!” He growls, throwing open the deadbolt to the door before swinging it open. The darkness awaiting you seemed thicker than usual. “You all deserve to be punished! To be hid, to be locked away and never looked at again! You deserve to be treated like the runts and vermin you fucking are! Your mother tricked me into thinking that she was sweet and innocent, that she needed me to protect her, to fill her with little alpha pups, and then she gave me you! And then you killed her when you breathed life and stole hers, and i saw you for what you are, nothing but a conniving, evil monster!” He held your hair tightly at the top of the stairs, forcing you to look up into his eyes as he ranted at you, for something that you didn’t even remember. Weren’t capable of remembering..

He raised you off of your feet and your eyes widened, a shrill plea leaving your chest “NO, NO! N-AHHGH!”

Simon lay in bed, hands balled into fists behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, the moon dancing across it as it shined through his window, jaw clenched as he listened to you whimper and moan through the thin wall separating your room from his. His senses were on high alert, his wolf haywire in his mind. It took every ounce of self control he had not to jerk off to the smell of you, once he started he knows he probably wouldn’t ever stop, not until he’d had the real thing and not just the thought of you. He knew that his cock was probably going to be perpetually hard now, never going to go down until he’d stuffed the meaty length of it into your sweet smelling cunt, not until he’d fucked it good and stuffed it full of his pups would he even be able to think like a normal alpha again.

The smell of you was intoxicating. It flooded his senses and over powered his mind. You were sweet smelling, decadent he could even say. He had noted it before you’d been in heat but now that you were, even in just the beginning stages, it was more powerful, more endearing and mouth watering. It was enough to make a man forget how to behave. It was enough to drive an Alpha into delirium, to trigger his own rut.

He grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to think about anything other than you, shoving a knife into someone's chest, pizza and a cheap pint, johnny- no! Not that scottish prick! His wolf howled and he grunted, fisting his own hair just to feel something to keep himself grounded. Johnny wouldn’t shut his trap, his intrusive thoughts and his lack of a thought process allowing him to just blurt out how good you smelled, he could just hear his voice in his head, could hear him “Bet that lit’le cunt is nie’ n warm, wet ‘n sloppy, eh LT? Smells like a fookin’ dream..” He was just shooting up in bed with a growl at imaginary Johnny when your scream pierced his ears, his bedroom door slammed against the wall, ricocheting as he busted through yours after flying down the hallway, practically ripping it off of its hinges. He looked around wildly, looking for any sign of an intruder, ready to fight off some stray Alpha or Beta that might have followed your pheromones from town in hopes of mating and breeding you against your will in the middle of the night.

He saw nobody, saw nothing but you thrashing wildly in the middle of the king sized bed you had built your nest upon, spotting the hoodie he’d shrugged off of his body and laid in the middle of your spot while you took a hot bath earlier in the day, satisfied that he could leave you alone with something to scent to help calm you down. He had paid enough attention in Omega anatomy class to remember that that was something that you guys craved, and just the scent of a strong Alpha could help ease the pain wrought by your heat. You were in pain, he decided, that was why you had screamed as you had, there was nothing for him to protect you from, nothing for him to keep you safe from in your vulnerable state.

He had just wrestled his wolf back from the forefront of his mind and was slowly backing away from your bed and back towards the hallway when you let loose another scream, this one was one of pure terror. You were sat straight up in bed, his fight or flight triggered, he throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around you as he throws you back down, tucking you into his body as he looses a mean growl, baring his teeth as he looked all about, trying to find what you were so terrified of.

“No!NO!” You screamed, thrashing and bucking under him, your eyes squeezed shut. He looks down at you, wolf going crazy. “Help her! HELP HER YOU BIG DUMB OAF CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S SCARED?!” His wolf whimpered, howled, only making Simon’s heart race more as he tried to form a coherent thought.

“Rosie..” He grunted, patting your face lightly, still clutching you to his body as best as he could, legs on either side of you as he hovered over you on the bed. “Rosie, lovie, wake up-wake up, lovie..” He patted your face, again, a little harder this time and your eyes finally fluttered, looking up at him.

“S’mon?” You whispered, hands clutching the chest of his tank top from where your arms were trapped between the both of your bodies, unable to move with his weight pressed against yours. “Had a bad dream..”

He sighs, head leaning down so his forehead is touching yours, noses brushing against each other. “I know, lovie, i know.” He says after a moment, shifting his body so that you’re laying on top of him, using his chest and shoulders as a pillow, legs entwined with his own. All thoughts of breeding you gone and out the window for now, his only thought and instinct to keep you safe. “Not goin’ anywhere okay? Gonna stay right

‘ere an’ keep you safe..”

And he did, letting you doze back off on top of him, his mind still reeling as he tried to imagine exactly what had happened in that head of yours to make you scream with such terror, to have you so scared that he could feel your body shaking. He wanted, no he needed to know so that he could make sure you were never scared of it again. So he could take it and obliterate it for ever making you feel anything but safe under the same roof as him.

Eventually, his wolf and his mind calmed down and he was able to lull himself into a light sleep of his own, his arms not moving from around you.

You wake to a warmth spread from your head to your toes, a dampness to your skin that had you wriggling out of your sleep shirt with eyes closed still, not registering the soft body beneath you until you went to plop your head back down and it didn’t sink into the soft down of your pillow, but the scraggly hairs of a muscular, wide chest that was poking out of the top of a gray tank top, the kind a man would wear under his tshirt if he wanted the extra layers, or sleep in, you supposed. You knew immediately that it was Simon and as if on cue your wolf fought her way to to the front of your mind, your aching cunt clenching around nothing but your sopping panties as you realized that your mound wasn’t too far from where his cock would be, your leg thrown over his waist, held there by one of his large, meaty hands gripping your equally meaty thigh.

“Look at him, our pretty Alpha..so handsome, so strong..” She wasn’t wrong, he was pretty. His skull mask was nowhere to be found, and to say it was strange to not see it adorned on his face would be an understatement, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. “Want to give him pretty little pups, let him fill us, please, please, please! I’ll be so good! I promise!” You groan, trying to shut her voice out, though it was hard to do. At this stage, your mind belonged to her, this was her time, and you had always let it be, but you hadn’t had an Alpha home during your heat in..awhile.

You let your eyes roam over his face for a while, failing to notice the way his breathing changes as he fully wakes up, aware of your gaze. He has such a strong jaw, a strong, handsome face, sweet looking even, you would say, despite the scars lingering along his pale skin. Your lips quiver at the realization that someone had probably put them there and that thought alone made you want to cry because how could anyone ever want to hurt this perfect specimen of an alpha? His nose is terribly crooked, as if it had been broken on more than one occasion..you would know, yours had been broken at least three times that you remembered. You wanted to sit on it. To feel his nose brush against your aching, throbbing clit, to feel his scruff of a beard that had grown over night against the apex of your thighs, leaving beard burn as he fucks you with his wet, strong tongue.

You don’t notice that your hips are bucking against the side of his hard stomach, don’t realize you’ve whimpered until his hand squeezes your thigh, fingers marking the skin from the way that he grips at it, brown eyes suddenly shot open and staring you down, full lips tugged into a wicked smirk.

“Easy there, babygirl..” He grunts, voice thick and raspy after not having used it for a bit.

You pout at his words, wolf whimpering. The desperate noise leaves your throat and you feel no shame as your hips buck again, needing the friction.

“Hurts Si’..” You whimper, not giving a damn to ask why he was in your bed in the first place. You remembered having a nightmare, remembered him vaguely waking you from it. You assume he had stayed to make sure you were okay. “Need you..need you to help me, Simon..please?”

He closes his own eyes at your words, fingers digging further into the fat of your thigh, as if he’s trying to control himself. You don’t want him to, you want hm to lose control, to use you in any way he saw fit, you wouldn’t fight him, would be as pliable for him as you could possibly be, you just wanted to breathe in his scent, suck his cock into your aching pussy for a bit..like a chew toy for the wolf taking over your mind.

You can’t help but to giggle for a second at the thought, you couldn’t help but to think that his cock was probably big enough to pose as a chew toy anyway, no way you could get your mouth all the way around it if he let suck it.

“Rosi-”

“Simonnn” You preen, pouting at him and you can just feel the resolve break. Oh! What a good Alpha, not making us beg! “Please help me..hurts..need you so bad..please!”

A growl bubbles in his chest and you could how in excitement knowing you’ve won, “Fine!” Knowing he’s about to bully his cock into your cunt until he’s had his fill, until you’re crying and begging him for more, until he’s knocked you up good with one of his little blonde pups- “But i’m not going to fuck you,” A whine as you pout and you watch his eyes widen, watch him fight with himself for a second as he shakes his head, as if shutting up that voice that you know he hears too. “No-don’t do that babygirl..You listen to me now.” The sternness in his voice catches your attention, your cunt pulsing at the way it radiates through you. “I want to fuck you so bad, lovie, want to sit you on my cock for fuckin’ hours, believe me, it’s all ‘ve been able to think about since I walked into that garden..but I can’t do it when you’re not all the way there, when you’re delirious in heat..” A pout that damn near breaks him, that definitely breaks the wolf in his head, howling ricocheting in his ears as he tries to talk. “I’m going to fuck you, lovie, but not until your heat is done, yeah? Don’t worry babygirl, m’still gonna help you though, know it hurts, baby, know you need my help..”

You hadn’t realized he had bunched the waistband of your panties in his hand until then, letting go of your thigh to pull at the seam of the fabric, ripping it apart and tugging it from your mound. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the soaked cotton to his crooked nose, closing his eyes as he takes a long sniff, a deep growl radiating through the room as he opens his eyes, staring straight into yours as his fist clenches around your panties.

“Cm’ere, babygirl.” He grunts, pulling at you so that you’re sitting directly on his chest, pussy leaving a wet swatch in his chest hairs as he squeezes both hips. “Wanna sit on my face, don’t you? Saw the way you were looking at me, know just what you were thinkin’ huh?” You nod your head, but make no move to actually do it. You’re so big? What if you suffocate him? Bitch shut the fuck up and let him eat your fucking pussy, you whiney brat! He’s a big boy, he can fucking take it! You had the random thought that your wolf might actually try and kill you if you didn’t let her enjoy this, if you didn’t swallow your self conscious thoughts and let this glorious man eat you for breakfast. “Aht-aht, stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking-” He pulls your hips so you’re sitting just below his neck now, your hands immediately catching yourself on the headboard, preventing him from pulling you up past his chin. He narrows his eyes at you, you see him shake his head, the firm line his plus lips are set in. A warning to behave and let him be in control. “Don’t-you want this, don’t you..want me to help you? Need me to make it better?”

“Pleas-ungh” In a show of pure strength, he has you fully sat on his face before you can finish the word, warm, thick tongue devouring you as swirls it around your clit, you can’t help the rock of your hips or the way your head throws back as you moan when his tongue teases your aching whole, nose rubbing against your clit the way you imagined it when you tilted your hips.

He groans beneath you, hands splayed on your bare ass cheeks, holding you in place as he grips so hard you’re sure his fingerprints will be permanently indented into your skin, not that you think you’d really mind it. “That’s it lovie, ride my face..”

You didn’t have to be told twice now that you had started. The way his tongue worked you open, the way he held you in place but still let you rut your hips against his face, making a slimy, glistening mess..his stubble brushed against your inner thighs, keeping you grounded from coming on the spot, though it doesn’t last for long. He’s got you coming within moments, skilled tongue going between clit and your pulsing hole, giving you what you needed as you rocked back and forth, taking what you wanted. “Tha’s a good girl, lovie..give me one more?”

You’re not sure how many ‘one more’s’ you give him, but by the time he’s got you on the brink of over stimulation, he’s got his whole tongue buried in your hole, his teeth nibbling at your clit as you buck and tremble, tears brimming your eyes as you grip his hair in each hand, tugging harshly. His hands pushed up your shirt, exposing your soft, pudgy belly to him as he squeezed your tits in each of his large palms, fingers playing with your nipples as he fucks you with his mouth, cries and whimpers leaving your own.

“Si-oh-mm, please! I can-so good, feel’s so good!” You’re a babbling mess, cheeks red as your thighs shake, still clenched around his head. He’s been at it for almost an hour and you swear he’s barely come up from air, he’s barely let you move off of his face for more than a moment, his mouth leaving your cunt only to praise you or bite into meat of your thighs, leaving a harsh imprint of his mouth, a reminder that this is in fact real. You’re on the brink of another when you realize that this one feels different, feels almost painful, even. “Si-mo-n, si-ugh-umf..hur-urts…” You screech out, swatting at the top of his head, he only grunts, pulling you down farther onto his mouth, his hands going back to grip your tighs, leaving your precious tits unattended as he does, holding you there as he brings another harsh bite to your clit, sending you over the edge. “Simon!” You shout, vision going blurry as something snaps in your lower belly, a gush of fluid coming from your cunt that has your cheeks heating as Simon groans out below you, lapping it up as quickly as it comes out, slurping even as he continues to make out with your pussy as you slouch against the headboard, being sure to avoid your overly sensitive clit as he does, leaving open mouthed kisses to your mound that honestly could have had you coming again if you weren’t entirely fucked out just from his mouth. How many was that? Five? Six?

“You okay up there babygirl?” His voice is thick and raspy, sexy as he peeks up at you from between your still shaking legs. All you can do is nod meekly, unsure of what to say, mind oddly quiet as you pant out breaths, trying to come down from such an epic high. “Squirted al’over me lovie, legs are still shakin’” He’s chuckling at you, big warm hands rubbing your thighs in an effort to soothe the shaking.

“M’sleepy, si’” You whimper out, still sagged against the headboard, mind gone numb, legs gone soft, heat and wolf satiated for the time being.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice soft as he sits up slowly, sliding you down his body. Your clit catches on his chest hairs and the fabric of his now soaked tank top on the way down and your hips jumps, your whimper ringing out as he shushes you, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “Need’ta nap baby?”

Your eyes are already closing before you can get the words out, before you can even nod your head, you barely register the way his lips kiss the side of your head as he leans back with you in his arms, the way his scent floods your senses, easing you into an easy slumber, as if that had been his plan all along. The last thing you remember before sleep takes you completely is wondering what the hell you had gotten yourself into with him..

taglist: @wise-owl @bingoz @astrxsee @gazsluckyhat @howlerwolfmax @thisbitch-6 @littlelovebug98 @ungodlydilf @madsothree

#kara writes #cod #simon riley #alpha simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #alpha simon riley smut #task force 141 #tf141 #alpha cod #john soap mactavish

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icarusredwings · 3 days ago

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Papi....Stay.

Old Man Logan x 'Papa' reader.

Post Logan movie fic.

Ft. Little Laura, Dad Logan, messy flashbacks, and woods Logan.

For @stucky-just-stucky

Cw: Blood, guns, nightmares, violence, cursing, mutant discrimination, bad spanish, forgive me.

The Night is young. The moon isn't out. The depth in which the stars cover is barren, leaving the sky bare of any light at all.

The porch light to your cabin is on. Just a small humble home. Secluded.

Ever since the mutant hunts, you didn't trust going into town much. Besides, Things were quieter out here. You liked the silence And preferred the natural white noise over any automatics that might try to sway your persuasions.

The crickets chirp, Owls hoot, mice squeak, the deer make small crunching noises somewhere distant from your land. You actually bought this place because of the dense forest around it. It was nice. To have somewhere so enclosed and hidden.

The snow drops into a pan left out for the stray dog that's been spotted in the area. At least... that's what you thought. A harsh breeze blowing in your hair.

A fox screams in the distance. The birds do not sing. No one sings anymore. It is silent. A deafening silence that made you swallow as you peak into your back yard with a grunt.

Was the bear back? The bastard had taken plenty of your rabbits and honestly you were getting quite fed up with it. You would starve if the greedy asshole kept stealing your catch.

You grunt, grabbing your gun, loading it. Kicking the back door open, There, the beast was standing, trying to undo the snare once again. Turning, it's eyes were different though, bright and reflective like a moutian lions.

Gasping, You tumble back, falling onto your ass.

The gun shot echos through the snow covered mountains. There's a growl. The animal that lurches forward snarls, a sound of knives unsheathing as you curl up, pushing the barrel against the bears strengh.

He tries to take your gun, and out of panic you're able to cock it again, blowing his fucking brains out.

Panting, you scramble backwards, wondering what in gods name has gotten into the animals around here when suddenly, you realize.. that's not a bear.

You scream, it's blood curling and the sob that follows is similar. "Oh- FUCK!" You curse, dropping back to your knees as you pull the fur off his back, trying to use it to stop the bleeding.

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck!!" You yell, crying to yourself. "Shit!! Oh yeah, great! You just had to go and SHOOT a guy didn't you!? God youre such a fucking IDIOT!" You scold yourself.

But then there's a groan. A heavy grumble of pain, a small double 'tnk... tnk' as you watch the shells fall out of his forehead, bloody and bent.

"What in the-?"

But that was a little over 10 years ago. When you dragged that heavy, bleeding man into your cabin. Wrapped up his head and laid him by the fire. Heated him up some soup and reloaded the gun again, terrified of what he was capable of. Terrified of what he might do to you. You've heard the goverment was getting serious about mutants, cracking down, tagging them like animals.

A loud groan comes from him not even half an hour later, rubbing his head as he sits up, looking at the fire like it's the first time he's been warm in weeks.

Staring at him with the gun pointed, You try to remain calm. But you reak of nervousness and anxiety. Anger and panic.

"W-why didn't you die?" You had asked him, jumping forward slightly in attempts to scare him but he only scoffed. "You aren't gonna shoot me.."

Your teeth grit, furrowing your brow. "Are you sure about that!? I already did once! Bl-blew your brains all over the snow! I'll do it again!"

"Yeah.. about that.. that hurts. So stop it. You're just wasting your ammo." He grunts, shifting to pull the soup you left near him close, sniffing it, his nose crinkling.

Swallowing, you can't help but feel intrigued. What was a guy like him doing out by himself?

"Hey! You never awnsered my question! Why aint you dead!?"

The man shrugged, sipping the hot broth. "Cursed at birth I guess."

"Bullshit. Y-you're a mutant hunter! Aren't you? You got some weird tech in ya or something!" You say. Okay, looking back- maybe it was stupid to say seeing as you just saw this man pull knives from his hands.

But that's when he laughed. A full gut busting laugh. It's genuine.

It pisses you off. "Don't laugh at me! I saved you!"

"You SHOT me!" He reiterates.

"Yeah!... well.. maybe you shouldn't have been tryna steal my rabbits!!" You shout.

You step backwards as he finishes the soup, standing. He looks around for a moment, then to you. You jerk towards him again but he dosn't flinch. "Wheres the sink?"

"What?"

"The sink. I'll just.. wash this off and get out of your hair. And I won't take your rabbits anymore. I Thought...I don't know what I thought actually. People come through these woods, set traps, and never check'em so I thought I could.." He trails off.

You pause for a second, blinking, thinking about how quickly he scarfed down the entire bowl.

You can't believe you're about to say this. But he didn't seem like a man that was too lazy to hunt, rather one that.. couldn't.. anymore. From the way he used his claws, you can tell that one day, he was a great hunter. But now his bones cracked and ached too much for that.

You look to the door, hearing the freezing wind howl as he stands here, hoping you wont notice the way hes warming his backside on the fire, gripping the warm bowl with bloodied hands.

"...Would you like more?"

The question makes him stare, weighing the opitions in his head. "....You gonna keep pointin' that thing at me if I say yes?"

And that's how you met your husband. Funny story when you think about it.

But now here he was. Gone for weeks and all he has to show for it is a kid.

"Where have you been!? You said you were working! I called the limo company and they said you done went rouge!" You yell at the man who stood in your doorway, almost guilty looking. The same man who stood there, in a different cabin up north 10 years ago.

Now you were down here in Mexico. Something about his father and how it would be better money for the two of you. He had specifically said it like that. He held you in his arms while you cried at the idea of leaving your home, "It'll be better for us." He promsied.

"I think you mean better for You." You shove him away, crossing your arms as you watched Logan pile in your entire livelyhood into a small shitty truck. Everything else was left. Everything else was gone.

Now you were warm all the time. Now it was hot. Too hot. Sticky. And it was difficult for you to breathe. You still weren't even sure why you had to come here other then the mutant hunters getting too frequent up north though now it was just as bad, if not worse down here.

Sometimes you would remember the cold nights you would spend with him. How he'd pull the fur blankets up over you and hold you close, his hot breath and body being the only thing you need to keep warm. The nightmares didn't really bother you. No the grunting and the harsh twitching never upset you. You'd only rub his chest and shush him back to sleep.

Stitching the bedsheets each morning howeber did get tedious. Not to mention him holding you by the throat. Now that was a bit more of a problem.

The first time it happened, his nightmares that is, you hadn't let him in your bed quite yet, no, that wasn't for a week. 7 days was all you could take before finally letting the puppy eyed old man into your bed.

At first it started with him on the couch, shifting, rolling over, hiding, curling into the smallest of balls before exploding into a loud scream of anguish. He'd heave and pant, shake and cry. Though you didn't let him know you saw back then. You'd simply call. "Logan? You alright?"

After a few minutes of hearing him yell.

"Y-yeah! Just... it's nothin." He'd call back, and become silent, trying his damndest not to start destroying your home. With his hands together, and laws out, he'd sit right there on your couch, praying to his own body and mind to retract his claws and go back to sleep.

By the 5th night, you got tired of hearing him get up and pace for 3 hours after his night terrors. It would drive you both mad soon enough. Lack of sleep did that to a man, so. You moved him to your bed. You already successfully got him out of the shed. How hard could it be?

"Just for the night." You told him, sticking a pillow between the two of you. What? You couldn't let your house guest freeze to death. That's not very good host etiquette, you thought, but before that he refused to even sleep in the house, staying out in the shed like a dog who prefered the snow.

"No.. I can't. I have night terrors." He says, spitting these words as if saying skin burning acid seeped from his pores at night. As if sleeping next to him would immediately bring an end to your life.

"Oh, please. Who cares if you see the boogieman in your dreams? Haven't we all?" You wave a hand dismissively.

"You don't understand." He starts, as serious as a bad case of syphilis. "I can't control myself."

"Excuse me!?" You had said, obviously thinking something much more wrong, only for his face to darken. "Not like that! Fuck.. I meant I..." He pops his claws to their full length, grunting as they bled. "I can't control them in my sleep." He says,

Sounding like he'd cry just from the idea of slicing you open.

"....that's why I sleep on the couch.."

"Well... I truly hate these sheets anyway." The sweet smile you gave him then was all it took for him to grin, hesitantly climbing into your bed, back agaisnt you as you turn off the lamp.

"Night, Logan."

But there was only a loud snore in return, out before his head even hit the pillow. You wonder how long since he's slept in an actual bed... weeks? Months?

Years?

Ever since, He's been in your bed. Next to you where ever you slept, even if that meant on the couch. It was like he couldn't sleep now without your scent. It was cute really. He'd follow you around the cabin, come hunting with you, help you with chores.

"I'm heading out soon. Don't worry about me." He'd say, washing his dishes like a domesticated house husband, drying off the bowl and putting it away like he's done it a thousand times.

"Uh-huh." You'd say, sarcastically smirking with doubt because he said the same thing 2 weeks ago.

"When you go into town, drop me off." He had said. And so you did. He got out of the beaten up truck, making a big deal out of the goodbye, lingering with nothing but the clothes on his back, a meal you forced him to take and an extra sweater that looked far better on him then you.

"Erm... Bye." He had ended, slamming the door and stomped away. You could have sworn he was pouting, pissed at himself for actually going through with it.

When you arrived home later that night, there he was. Standing in your doorway with this shamfully embaressed and guilty look.

"..I.. I forgot something."

Scoffing, you smile. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

And that's when he kissed you. Stepping forward and grabbed your shoulders, kissing you like he needed you to breathe. "You."

You wish you could say you hoped he did the same now, but you might punch him in the face if he did the same.

"Haven't you a single thing to say for yourself!? Hm?? You left me! You promised you would never leave me without telling me! You promised you weren't like that!"

Logan only stands there, head lowered slightly and looking at you the exact same way. Fuck he hasn't changed at all. It's a rip in time the way he faces you.

Guilt. Shame. Embaressed.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to.. and I would never leave my family. That's.. that's not who I am anymore."

"Oh yeah? You won't leave your family, huh?" You say, stepping closer, not afraid to get in his face as you point to the girl, gritting your teeth.

"You left the mother of your child-"

"Don't bring the girl into this." It's instant. A stern shout through his fangs tightened together, breathy and dark until he coughs, looking away as he coughs into his wrist.

He was sick. You knew that. But you alredy vowed to spend the rest of your life with him. You already promised that you'd burry him in the yard at the old cabin and drink a whiskey for him each anniversary. Though right now you are far too angry to care.

"Or what? You'll run off and not return to me for god only knows how many days? Go on! Go! Leave me. It's all you've ever been good for anyway!"

"It's not like that -"

"It's never like that, Logan! Or should I call you the Wolverine?" It's a venom you haven't spit in years. The way you say the old name is like a slur.

Things are quiet. His brow softens. Like a dog who accidently got tok rough during play and its owner just kicked it away, called him a bad dog.

"I can't believe this. 10 years. Ten FUCKING years since you gave up that life! For me! And now here you are!" Your voice strains, tightening. "For- for what? For me to find out that.. you broke your vows to me...?"

He steps towards you, grabbing your waist and puts a hand behind your neck, kissing you. It's hard not to melt into those strong arms. You've missed their hold. Missed the scratchiness of his beard. Missed the soft growl in his voice. He was your husband after all.

"She's a clone." He says, breaking away from the kiss of desperation, desperate for you to litsen. You always were a stubborn one.. maybe it's why you stayed so long.

You shake your head. He's lying. He has to be. You look at the girl again who is awkwardly standing against the door frame, glaring at you, obviously more loyal to her father then anything else on this small ranch.

You think about hitting him. He'd heal. You could crack him straight in the nose. Say something like 'thats what you get!' But you only ball your fist, keeping it there. No.. you wouldn't. Not with the girl there anyway. It's not her fault. None of this was.

Besides. If this little girl was staying with you now, you would have to be a good rolemodel for her. And hitting her father (as much as he deserves it for disappearing on you) would only start you two off on the wrong foot. You could tell because her eyes did that thing your husbands did when ever extremely annoyed, when ever he was about to snap and claw someones face off.

"No. Don't lie to me." You shake your head. You've heard about the testing centers but you didnt want to believe it. That your husband disappeared and then suddenly showed back up with a kid that he didn't need to cheat in order to have. It makes you a little jealous. You have been working for years to have kits stuffed into you despite not biologically being able to have them. And here, was the most gorgeous copy and paste, genetically his. But not yours.

"I'm not. I wouldn't... I wouldn't do that. Not to you." He reassures you, his eyes bright with innocence.

"..She's a clone?" You clairify, giving him a final chance to change his awnser.

He nods. "Just found her.. i didn't.. I didnt mean to- If I would have known.."

The hesitantcy in his voice, like he'd cry from the relief of being home, of getting to kiss what was his again. It all felt like too much. But you understand perfectly.

"...what's her name?"

He sucks in a deep breath, turning, not taking that hand off of your waist. "This is Laura. Laura.. this is my partner.. Don't hurt'em. Okay?" He taps his knuckles. "You see? No." And shook his head, trying to make it clear that there would be no stabbing of his mate.

She shifts her gaze from her father to you, crossing her arms.

"No le voy a llamar papi..."

You sniffle, wiping your tears with a giggle.

Logan makes a face, grunting with reddend cheeks. "E-en ingles, Laura." He stutters, but you only grin.

"Está bien." You crouch down, slowly so not to spook her. Still though she backs up.

"Laura.. ¿Quieres que sea mamá?"

Blinking, your husband gives you a look, as if questioning when you picked this up.

"What? We live on the border. And you're gone a lot. I needed someone to talk to other then the goats." You cross your arms, giving him a soft glare specifically on that 'You're gone a lot' part.

"No..." Laura says as you both look at her.

You frown slightly, but understand. She must have been through so much.. god.. you only hoped her temper was half your Husbands..

Then maybe you'd survive through puberty..

The girl grins, glad that she had someone to talk to in her native language.

"Eres papá."

A small smile tugs at the corner of his salt and peppered lips. "Do you want to stay here? With Papa?"

She shakes her head, coming to take his hand, squeezing it tight.

"Papi.. Stay."

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samijey · 1 year ago

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random but sami and jey just look so good together?? i can't fully explain it, but for me even just visually speaking these characters have the right amount of similarities and contrasts to fit so well together - especially lately with the whole blue/red palette they've had going on with their merch... and the blue/red contrast of their hair?? idk it's just so aesthetically pleasing to me 😌😌 add onto that the chemistry and the months of meaningful backstory together?? jail

#samijey #i just love them what can i say #anyways tl;dr samijey is top tier and also hot i'm so sorry 😌#remember when i said i was on hiatus? pure clownery #they dragged me back kicking and screaming AGAIN #hate wwe for this tbh they can't keep getting away with it #if anything soft happens on monday #i'll be in the dirt

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starculler · 10 months ago

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strap in for this week's fic flavor: the failsafe episode of season one of the young justice cartoon except the simulation just won't. fuckin. end.

(fics that inspired this at the end)

If I ever did sit down to make my own fic, I'd split it in 3 parts:

The Simulation: bits and pieces of the 40 years Dick lives after most everyone he knows has died

The Return: the immediate aftermath and healing from the trauma of having not-quite-actually lived a whole life only to wake up and find out it was all fake. nothing traumatizing about that whatsoever.

The Unintended Consequence: aka the twist I'd love to add and would hint to in the second part - finding out the simulation, through martian mind fuckery, pulled from the real world (and in many cases, from real minds). Dick meets a bunch of people he didn't think were real outside the confines of his simulated life. A bunch of rowdy, heroism-inclined teens across the years get to meet the sibling/friend/mentor figure they all dreamed up one night.

(actual idea snippets under the cut)

Dick Grayson is 14 and most of the world's heroes have died. He planned a suicide mission that left him the sole survivor of a doomed team he helped found. The invasion may have been stopped, but is this really the price he wanted to pay?

The first face he sees in the infirmary is Roy's, and he has to close his eyes and just breathe for a few minutes because for one painful moment he'd thought it was Wally. But this isn't the world where his best friend miraculously survived alongside him. This is the one where he got his best friend killed and didn't even give him the courtesy of following behind him. Behind them.

Dick Grayson is 27 and has lived longer without Bruce than with him. The invasion's anniversary is always a tough day for him, but that morning seems especially harrowing. He'll get shit for it later, but can't resist stepping out onto the balcony of the manor's master bedroom (Bruce's old bedroom) for a smoke -- his first since he'd promised to quit if Jason, just 15 then, did too.

"Bad habits tend to pile up," he'd said, a rueful quirk to his tired grin. He'd tapped the cigarette twice on the railing and added, lower, "and this one's especially nasty, huh."

He inhales, watches the sun creep across the horizon, and lets acrid smoke burn through his lungs for a long moment before blowing it out in a small cloud. His eyes water, but he doesn't cough. It tastes just as bad as it did the first time he smoked one, not even a year after the invasion and treading water as Robin proved insufficient.

There hadn't been enough heroes to go around then, and Dick had been trained by one of the best. It hadn't been fair, but it had been his plan that had ultimately stopped the invasion. His shoulders everyone's expectations fell on.

He takes another drag, then smudges the lit end against the rail he's leaned on when he hears a boot scuff purposefully against the roofing above him.

"Todd and Pennyworth will be upset with you."

He doesn't turn around. Damian doesn't jump down to join him.

Dick Grayson is 54 and wakes up in a room full of ghosts. He hears his long-dead father-figure tell his long-dead team about a simulation they weren't meant to win. A training exercise gone wrong and only half a day spent under their mentors' careful, if slightly panicked, supervision.

He looks at his hands, watching the way his gloves crease when he flexes them in and out of tight fists. He looks at his team, their eyes a little haunted but shoulders slumped with relief even as they grumble. Batman's heavy, gloved hand settles on his shoulder and the weight of it is a nauseating mix of foreign-familiar.

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

Tears prick his eyes behind his domino mask, and he tells himself the suffocating, acidic void building in his chest is just some leftover side effect of the ordeal and not the grief-guilt of outliving yet another family (no matter that they hadn't been real in the end).

Dick Grayson is 16-going-on-56 and well used to the coincidences piling up between his simulated life and the real thing. Some of it -- missions and villains he remembers cropping up -- he's marked for Bruce to review and sort as he pleases. Some -- security for the cave, team building anecdotes, and training regimens -- he's shared with the team. And some he keeps only for himself.

Tim is one of those. He knows it's not fair to the kid (so much smaller now than he ever was when Dick lived his simulated life), but he can't help being selfish just for this. Tim is the one kid he's sure he didn't make up, and if Dick's taken to babysitting the kid just to be near at least one member of the family he built for himself in the wake of the worst days of his life .... Well, anyone who says shit about it can happily stand in line to have their teeth kicked in.

Despite this, it still catches him off-guard when he sees a familiar face pop up in one of Bruce's reports.

Jason Todd, caught boosting tires off the batmobile, is nearly the same age now as he was when Dick met him. He stares at the words, but none of them really sink in beyond the kid's name and address. He's moving before he's even made the decision.

He's used to the world kicking him when he's down - lived it for 40 frustrating years. But he has Bruce again. And things with Tim have been so good. And he's always been selfish when it comes to family. If he could just see Jason. If he could just meet him. If he could talk to him.

If if if if if--

Inspirations:

Circles in Shattered Mirrors by InfinityIllusion

Fine (But Not Okay) by CharlotteDaBookworm

Verisimilitude by mutemelody

#young justice #young justice cartoon #batfam #batman #dick grayson #thoughts and headcanons #the heart wrenching inability to cope with the fact that you've lived a fully realized life #you've loved and lost and loved again in the face of every unending tragedy #until you've forcefully carved out this one little safe haven for yourself #only to be thrust back to the beginning of one of your greatest traumas - esp one you're partly responsible for!#gotta love it #anyway i am and always have been obsessed with dick grayson and no one can stop me #the simulation was fake but some psychic bs means real world elements filtered in #cue several children with weird dream-memories of half-lived experiences and a massive sense of deja-vu #when they wade into the superhero world #all i can picture is the spiderman pointing meme but it's the batkids at dick lol #my favorite idea is that once Dick gets his grubby hands on Jason and Tim it's all over from there #he's pulling late nights and researching and scouring facial recognition databases until he finds his kids #(he blurs the lines a lot when it comes to considering them his siblings vs kids #on the one hand they're not super far apart in age bar Damian #on the other he hasn't been a kid in any meaningful way since he was 14 and he very nearly raised half of them in some way #(plus side to an au is that i can space the ages out more as needed compared to the show haha)#jason and cass are firmly siblings close as they are to his age #steph tim and duke fluctuate depending on how in trouble or injured they are #i will die by dick being damian's dad tho lmao #babs is more platonic life partner than sibling but very firmly family regardless #this is the dick grabs on to any shred of family he can with both hands and drags them in kicking and screaming if he has to au

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werepuppy-steve · 3 months ago

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sometimes fandom is lonely

#the problem is that i want to write #i want to write but i don't know WHAT to write so i ask if anyone wants to brainstorm some ideas off each other #no one responds. it's radio silence.#i'm trying to drag myself kicking and screaming out of this burn out and the silence is discouraging so i end up back at square one #which is Not Writing #it feels like the fandom is smaller nowadays or that over the 2 years that steddie has been alive everyone has found their little cliques #im paranoid that what happened with fin************ spreading lies about me all over their social media #lying about me to anyone who would listen also drove a lot of people away & people who were my friends are hesitant to interact with me now #im just in my own little corner now wondering if whether or not me writing again would even matter to anyone #cj talks

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seithr · 7 months ago

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its now MIDNIGHT here which means its JUNE 15TH which means it is now

THUNDER 8TH ANNIVERSARY‼️‼️💥💥

Happy birthday to my goofball knockoff fireemblem with dragons, senseless violence, delaying your revenge but only for twenty years, the body horror of war, and of course, yuri

https://Thunder20xx.carrd.co is now LIVE after hacking away at it for a few days to get it somewhere presentable... I probably need to kick it around a little more however i dont intend to spend money on carrd site upgrade rn, so until i am willing work around that i'm taking a break but yippee! Everyone important's got a blurb, there's pictures, a short mix, the rundown of events; go take a look if you don't mind reading about the knights and lords I mention offhand every couple of minutes here. Or don't idk. I will continue to talk about em here anyway

#we are now in THUNDER SATURDAY⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️tag your least favourite sibling to tear their eye out #yay yippee ive been having a lot of fun digging my teeth into thunder again--i always have been chewing on it but a friend has been #ping-ponging back and forth with me and its kickstarted the juices of wanting to gush about it even more than i do. very fun!#Carrd REALLY hated some of my file uploads but i dragged it kicking and screaming to upload up to as much as it could. look at wolfwoman #i need an oc tag #armour clanking #my art #in the sense that webpage is a form of art and my ocs all count as it. mmmmmm. anyways that is all. goodnight #happy 8th anniversary to my darlings who i will continue to inflict events on for another near decade. thunder will release in 20xx #so please look forward to it ♡#and a thank u to anyonr who as passively asked about in interest or complimented my guys bc ohhhh it means the world to me genuinely tysm

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sagittariangirl27 · 10 months ago

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Pisces new moon tonight. 🌑♓️🦇

#synchronicity #I thought about posting here but didn't really know what #.5 seconds later I scrolled past this #I wish there was a way for me to explain the magic of this world without sounding crazy #I need proof of everything and got dragged into spirituality kicking and screaming #I have always seen myself as more of a logical person than a creative #the last few years have literally been insanity #relearning everything that I ever knew about myself #pulling it all out and picking out the good pieces #there are things I miss about myself so much #and I am grateful to get those parts back while shedding the things that never felt authentic #I have been meeting myself again a lot lately #the craziest thing to me is how fast the years fly by #i don't sleep anymore #I was doing well with that for a while #but I know all of the work I am doing will mean so much #I basically got put in speed mode in my healing journey #it's crazy to look back only months ago and feel like a whole new human being #the moral of the story is I have no idea what I am doing or what is going on #but something is guiding me #and it is the scariest coolest weirdest most terrifying thing #that's the hardest part to keep inside I think #I have to figure out what to do with all of this knowledge #and I still have no fucking idea #it's going to slap me in the face because that's how they do this shit #and then I will be like omg my whole life makes sense #this has happened more times than I can count #a lot of people wonder how the spiritual people suffer so much if they have all of this knowledge #how the fuck do you think we got that?#I have been to hell and back more times than I can count

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lyrarts · 1 year ago

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Spores.

Not meant to be any particular species, but inspired by the ringless honey mushrooms that grow in my yard every autumn.

#my art #doodles #digital art #mushrooms #mostly this was me toying with brushes and trying to drag myself kicking and screaming back into drawing again

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fstbmp-a · 1 year ago

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Clenching my fists seeing Fate stuff on the dash...

#my kingdom ;; ooc #feel the sunshine ;; dash comm #fate //#fgo //#jic... but ough...#i literally turned Olympia into a King Arthur variant Servant I am that obsessed again #samu/rai remn/ant has dragged me back in kicking and screaming

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hickeygender · 11 months ago

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the last remaining threads of my sanity are slipping through my fingers rn 🚬 😑

#i'm out of cigarettes i'm incredibly ill and i'm reconsidering my relationship to a certain fandom.#look i'm NOT saying i'm gonna stop the divorce proceedings but uh. fuck. i may have been re reading some of my older works and unfinished #fics and i MAY. i repeat MAY. have some tiny shred of interest posting about st*r w*rs again #motherfucker i'm SO hesitant to speak that into existence and will be absolutley APOPLECTIC if it happens bc i don't fucking WANNA like sw!#i divorced it! i took the kids (my ocs) & filed a restraining order & crossed state lines & broke all contact and yet! and fucking yet!!!!#i find myself in tags i havent visited in over two years on the archive like some beaten dog slinking back home to a shitty master #i honestly hate like. fucking ALL of the shit i've written from then that i reread and some of it was so bad i couldnt even bring myself to #click on it after reading the summary. like. UGH! i have a half baked fic idea i wrote a little for and i think it's more compelling than #any of the literal dogshit i posted back then so i MIGHT work on polishing that up and posting something that isn't actual garbage by my #current standards. all of this is still up in the air tho bc i dont know if the hyperfixation or even the bare minimum lvl of interest has #returned or if it's just fever induced delirium. i've been having INCREDIBLY fucked up bad horrible awful vivid dreams as of late so fever #induced brain fuckery isn't out of the question. sigh. i'm so mad abt this #even if i do regain some interest in the fandom i don't think i'll have any interest in new source material after the mando s2 finale &#tbo.bf sucking ass & the obi show being mid & everything with the ST. i plan on watching ando.r but after that? zero interest in anything #new from sw. so. if anyone still reading this and is getting excited abt me POSSIBLY MAYBE being interested in sw just know i still hate it #a bit and feel like i'm being dragged kicking and screaming back into this mess unwillingly. or it's due to a fever. god i need a smoke #len speaks #that's literally the longest tag rant i've ever gone on. fuck that's a BAD sign

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ittybittybumblebee · 1 year ago

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GoodNIGHT you smeely smelly tumblr idiots love you guys a lot bye

#i have to WORK tomorrow the demon comes to drag me back to hell again and again like that sisyphus guy and i beat his ass (go home)#at the and but then the next day he drags me kicking and screaming again

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jerichoes · 1 year ago

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gods above. i feel the need to pull out a sketchbook.

#hey i mean jere and jo dragged me kicking and screaming back into making gifs #i guess stranger things have happened #i *do* have a pile of art supplies that i stopped using once my brain shortcircuited and decided to never paint again #i could... use it

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subbmissivesuccubus · 10 months ago

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Oh God. You were going to die. This was it. It wasn't demons or Muzan that take you in the end. It was your damn husband and his insatiable lust and stamina.

Lying face down on the bed, you panted against the mattress, your face a mess of tears and sweat, hair sticking to your forehead, eyes rolled up and cheeks painted a bright red. Behind you, tugging at his cock and eager for round...whatever the next number- was your husband.

Maybe you shouldn't have riled him up the way you did. You know how possessive he can be so why on Earth did you purposefully get him jealous by flirting with another man? Oh, right. Because you wanted to get fucked rougher. Well, you got what you wanted and now you're going to die.

You jumped as you felt the familiar sensation of a fat cock press against your entrance, your stuffed cunt instantly begging for mercy. You swore that if he fucked you one more time- made you cum one more time- filled you with his seed even one more time- you'd see the pearly white gates call for you.

You gripped onto the bedsheets and pulled yourself away, your body working on autopilot as your husband had successfully fucked the brain cells out of you. You heard him chuckle as you tried to crawl away, your body feeling like jelly, your arms and legs numb and barely capable of getting you to the edge of the bed before:

A pair of hands grabbed you by the hips and dragged you back, laughing at your whine of protest. Uzui reeled his hand back and smacked you across your already beaten ass before he spread your legs and gave an equally painful spank to your pussy, making you scream. "Now, what made you think that was a smart idea? Try running away again and see what happens."

Obanai lets you think you escaped before he grabbed you by the ankles, ignoring your cries as he pulled you back towards him. He flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing, making you squeal as he took a nipple between his fingers and twisted, your back arching off the bed. "Are you trying to piss me off even more?"

Just as you reached the edge of the bed, wondering if you could make it, you felt Rengoku press himself against your back and- oh- fuck! He slid right inside you! You gasped as the man pushed his cock in with one fell swoop, taking your breath away as he instantly started moving his hips, preferring to fuck you where you were instead of dragging you back. "Get comfortable, baby. I'm not done with you."

Sanemi caught you the second you tried to move, simply reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull harshly. You yelped as your neck was forced to snap back, your back arching as your husband pulled at your hair, his other hand looping to the front to grab you by the neck before he leaned towards your ear and growled: "I'm going to give you a choice. I can fuck you here, on the bed, or I chase you and fuck you where I catch you and trust me, I won't be as nice."

Gyomei didn't say anything, even as you got off the bed and onto your wobbly feet. You wondered if you could just leave when he said, in his booming voice: "Are you sure that's what you want to do?" You froze, body trembling. Why was one sentence enough for you to rethink your whole lives decisions? You didn't know what Gyomei meant by it, but you knew it probably wouldn't be fun. With a gulp, you climbed back onto the bed before getting in front of your husband. You spread your legs wide as you lay down in front of him, reaching down to grab at his fat cock and press it against your entrance. The man smiled as he slowly started to sink inside your familiar heat. "Good girl."

Giyuu grabbed you by the legs and pulled you back while also changing his own position. To your horror, you found yourself slung over his knee, a predicament you just experienced an hour before which was why your ass was a bright red already. You started apologizing profusely, kicking your legs like a toddler but your husband simply ignored your pleas and held you down, the task quite easy for him even if one arm of his was free to do the spanking. "It seems one round wasn't enough to discipline you. Guess we have to go again."

#subby writes #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #uzui smut #rengoku smut #obanai smut #sanemi smut #gyomei smut #giyuu smut #demon slayer #obanai x reader #sanemi x reader #giyuu x reader #gyomei x reader #uzui x reader #rengoku x reader

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

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BLESS HALLOWEEN - r.c (+18)

pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au) warnings: no plot; smut

inspired by this audio (+18)

between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, you’re half asleep most days.

the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party.

sure, you’re running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that she’s been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesn’t see half her skin every night anyway).

you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.

you're not trying too hard, but you’re giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, “i might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."

you’re rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows it’s you.

the only downside is that you’re in his territory.

it could be anywhere, but it’s happening at his frat.

your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like he’s king of the idiots.

he’s hot, you’ll give him that, guy’s all charm until it’s time to work; then he’s as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.

and now you’re here, half hoping to avoid his face entirely—his smirk that screams "’m getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think he’s doing you a favor.

as if seeing him once a week in class isn’t enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that he’d recognize you through the lace, but just in case.

against all odds, you’re having a good time. the drinks are good—something sugary—and you find yourself laughing, loosening up.

mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.

“ohh, sorry,” he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorry—i didn’t mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely apologetic.

you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. “hmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."

he puts a hand up in mock innocence. “nah, i swear, completely unintentional,”

you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. it’s honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but you’re in the mood to get laid tonight.

"nice costume,” you don’t bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, “scary.”

he doesn’t catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, “what?” he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. “yeah, sorry—the music’s way too loud.”

rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i said, your costume’s scary.”

he nods, shaking his head like he’s relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isn’t hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. “oh, thanks. yeah, uh, you look…” his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. “you look pretty, uh, scary too.”

you raise a brow, "you think so?"

he nods again, “yeah, ’m terrified of hot women, so…”

the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, it’s harder to know what he’s saying when you can’t read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. “hmm?”

the guy practically jolts, “nothing, nothing—it’s, uh…” he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. “it’s a cool mask.”

you smile, amused. “thanks, ghostface. should i be, y’know, scared of you?”

“i don’t know, that depends. should i be scared of you?”

"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."

the guy’s mask tilts, there’s smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? so—so you’re into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?”

you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."

there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. “oh, okay, yeah, yeah—so what is it? do you like being scared, or?”

there’s something about a guy like him—tall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. you’ve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, who’d tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound.

the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isn’t exactly subtle either—it’s like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, it’s more fun that way.

you let out a giggle that’s only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."

“holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, that’s a nice body.

you can’t help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, “what’s wrong with liking it rough?”

he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know you’re getting to him. “there’s something a little wrong with you.”

yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truth—that your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that he’s got you feeling hornier than you’ve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing.

“you think so?” you faux-pout, giving him a look that’s all dark lashes and bad intentions.

he swallows, stumbling over his words. “y-yeah, i mean, there’s some things you need to… work on.”

you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. “would you like to help me?”

he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, “what does that mean?”

with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver.

“you find me upstairs,” you murmur, voice dripping with promise, “and ’m all yours. okay?”

instead of waiting for him to process it, you’re already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you don’t try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you don’t second guess yourself once, you know he’s coming.

by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, you’re halfway up the stairs.

at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if he’s still watching. the look on his face is priceless—like he’s not sure if he’s about to follow a dream or walk into his worst nightmare. perfect, you think.

you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.

you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. he’ll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way he’ll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into.

why make it easy for him?

rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words “find me upstairs, and i’m all yours” looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew he’d be following—fuck, it’s enough to make him hard just thinking about it.

he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but there’s no hiding the way his breathing’s quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.

you’re playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesn’t care. he’s going to go after you anyway.

pushing through the crowd, he’s half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where you’d brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, he’s with girls all the time, sure, but this—this is different.

he always been a sucker for a good challenge and you’d practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if he’d follow.

at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting.

rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. he’s like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house he’s always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so there’s no way he’s backing out now.

he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case you’re hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.

third time’s the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe.

it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like he’d run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible.

his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.

did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he can’t help but wonder if he’s been set up, if you’re somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.

rafe scans the room’s edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the corner—something. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.

“you wanna play hide and seek?” he calls out, hoping he’s not making a full out of himself, “is that it?” he’s taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, “you like this?”

a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. you’re playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.

he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. he’s caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up.

his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough.

“you want me to scare you or somethin’?” he provokes you, praying it’s enough to lure you out, “you think it’s smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. you’re all alone with me.”

“who says you’re that dangerous?”

the second the words leave your mouth, rafe’s resolve slips.

it’s maddening, the way you’re hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldn’t have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting.

you’re keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if he’s got a shot or if you’re just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expression—wants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.

“you don’t even know my name,” he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, “does that make it more fun for you? that you don’t know anything about me?”

his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if you’re something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, “not here, huh?” no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, “where are you? c’mon come out, i’ll go easy on you.”

he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed.

“be a good girl and come out.”

rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pauses—listening.

the room’s quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes.

“wait—wait,” his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where you’re hiding. “i can hear you, can hear you breathing.”

he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though he’s relishing the way you’re fighting to stay silent, to keep control.

“what’s the matter? you sound a little…” he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. “...shaken up. are you scared?”

your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.

“i know exactly where you are.” with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window.

his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open.

“caught you.”

moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, you’re pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body.

he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way you’re biting your lip.

you tilt your chin up, “maybe i just like trouble.”

rafe’s grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he can’t hide, while he’s memorizing the way you’re looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.

“you’re in trouble, alrigh’,” he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, “don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.

“maybe that’s what i want,” you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.

he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing he’d been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. he’s already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.

“you want me?” you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.

jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?

“yeah,” he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, “i want you.” his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.

you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, “’m already so wet for you.”

a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. “yeah?” he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, “lets find out.”

the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. he’s bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.

your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something.

he doesn’t think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, “all this for me?”

you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch.

he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right,

“you’re so wet, ah, yeah—you’re gonna scream for me?”

his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound you’re trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“c’me here,” his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,” you like this shit?”

“you’re gonna fuck me with the mask on?” you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way he’s making you feel, “kinky.”

he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.

“just like you wanted,” he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. “go on, let me hear it—ride my hand.”

he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind.

“fuckkkkk, do that again,” you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.

rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, “like this?” your skin is sticky with sweat—some saliva too—his. he’s never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, “ooh look at you— a fuckin mess.” he taunts.

“don’t be an asshole,” you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, “you gotta make me cum if you wanna fuck me.”

he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, he’s peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.

“you want more?” you’re so caught up in the feeling that you don’t notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, “answer me”

“another finger,” you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.

rafe doesn’t even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussy’s making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him that’s fully aware is his dick.

he’s not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. “another?”

he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff “good girl” as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.

“think you can handle more?” rafe prods, “you’re so tight, don’t think you can take me.”

the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.

“i could take t-two of you,” you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.

“the only thing you’re taking is this fucking costume off,” he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. he’s already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, “look at you. gotta get my hands on you.”

rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.

“look at these tits, fuck” he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, “this’ what you wanted?”

you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple, “i wanted your cock not your finger—"

his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, “watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

the way you’re creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell.

you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, “or what?”

he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, “fuck,” he mutters, his tone conveying that he’s just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.

“hmmm, can’t hear you ghostface.”

rafe’s too entranced to put you in your place, you’ve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.

he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.

“open your mouth.” you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, “suck my fingers, go on.”

it’s hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. you’d never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm.

“good girl, yeahhhh, that’s it,” he grunts when you prod his skin harder, “you like diggin’ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? ‘course you do,” he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, “course you fucking do.”

with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafe’s fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasn’t for his stupid mask—

“take this thing off—" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.

you let out a huff, glancing down at what’s left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, “you’re paying for those.”

“whatever you want.”

you’re already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. it’s only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers.

he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you can’t see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?

the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, “happy?”

looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. he’s so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone.

you don’t know how much longer you can let him tease you.

“so happy,” you nod, not tearing your attention from him.

“yeah?” he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way you’re eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, “you’re gonna let a stranger fuck you?”

rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.“i can always find someone el—"

you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, “this pussy, oh—so good.”

your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace.

he’s so strong.

“this good enough for ya?” he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, “hmm? you like my voice, right here?”

“you’re gonna make me cum,” you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, “oh my god.”

it’s the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.

“such a fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” he growls, “letting a stranger fuck you open—holy shit, holy shit,” he hisses, almost as if he’s in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear. “shit, you’re squeezing—fuck.”

“you’re so b-big,” you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.

“yeah? good enough for you, huh?” his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, “takin’ it so good baby.”

by now you’re seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, “harder.”

“harder?” he’s fucking into you at such a pace you feel like he’s gonna split you in half, “don’t think you can take it.”

“please.”

it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else.

he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.

“fucking take it then.” rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes.

you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while you’re still standing.

“no one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,” your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, “lemme hear those pretty noises, c’mon, scream f’me.”

you’ve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, “w-where the fuck have you b-been?”

he chuckles, though it comes out strained, “right here,” he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, “hold your leg up f’me.”

for once in your life, you do as you’re told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes.

“you look so pretty like this,” you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, “could fuck you for hours.”

the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cérvix, “not stopping you.”

“yeah? that’s how good is it?” he laughs, “can’t believe stranger cock does it for you.”

you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldn’t stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.

your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. it’s too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, he’s quite literally fucking you dumb.

“nothin’ to say now, huh?”

the better it feels, the farther gone you’re in your mind, “s-shut the fuck up.”

if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while he’s still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him.

somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing who’s behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. you’re bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussy’s still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.

“cum inside,” your head’s starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,“please.”

rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, “what?”

“inside,” you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, “want to feel you cum inside.”

he lets out a groan at the way you say it, “are you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.” he can’t help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, “you’re gonna cum around me? go on,” he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.

you nod, slipping out a high-pitched ‘mhm’, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.

rafe feels like he’s lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you.

a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, “don’t stop.”

“n-never stopping, c’mon,” you swear you see stars while he’s slipping out curses and praises that you’re not even sure make sense. “holy shit, yeahh, fuck.”

he applies a little more pressure to your clit and that’s all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you.

your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape he’s ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he can’t help but be turned on by them.

“oh! fuck, fucking—” you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.

rafe feels like a fucking creep, he can’t take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, “that’sss itt, so good, so fuckin’ perfect.”

he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

he’s chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. you’re still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, “fuckin’ take it.”

his hips don’t let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.

five minutes later, you’re both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isn’t filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then there’s an unspoken agreement that maybe, it’s time to see who’s behind the masks.

you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each other’s faces.

you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

“you gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, “what the fuck? rafe?”

he’s completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost—everything you’re hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than he’d ever admit, even to himself.

the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way you’re crossing your arms and glaring at him—it’s so perfectly you. he’s watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you weren’t looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of her attitude that only made him want you more.

but he’d never thought he’d get a moment like this.

bless halloween.

“are you even listening to me?” you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. “hello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.”

more than a mistake. you can’t believe you just fucked the reason why you didn’t want to come to the party in the very first place.

and the worst part is that you’d do it again.

“i…i just…wow,” he breathes, “it’s really you.” he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw “can’t believe it.”

you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. “are you serious right now?

“can i eat you out?”

you blink, realizing you’ve been staring, “what?”

he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, “can i eat you out?”

you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, “right now?”

rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.

“why not?”

well, fucking damnit.

dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties

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