#tries to impress him with how bad my hands are shaking

[ckret2]

Chapter 85 of human Bill Cipher getting a ✨💅 makeover 💇‍♀️✨ so he can seduce a government agent into not arresting him and/or the Mystery Shack gang: a flashback to Scalene & Euclid on Bill's birthday, Pacifica receiving the world's most inept lesson about fatphobia, and the continued adventures of the Pines family attempting to get a flash drive out of a goat's guts.

####

Scalene braced one shaking hand with the other as she reapplied her lipstick—a red so bright it was nearly orange, all the better to make her look a little less sickly than she felt.

She tried to pretend she didn't notice Euclid glaring daggers at her.

She'd come out of her swoon as she was being helped outside by several shapes, including Euclid supporting her with one arm and carrying Bill in the other. Once they were outdoors, someone had shoved the trophy and knives Bill had won into Euclid's hands, and then they'd been left outside as everyone else's attention turned to dealing with the mysterious fire that had spontaneously ignited inside; and for the past few minutes, Scalene had been putting herself back together while Euclid tried to soothe Bill.

Finally, once she deemed herself sufficiently presentable, she held out her arms to Euclid and their still-whimpering child. "All right, I can take him."

Euclid didn't move.

"Come on! You're not gonna hold a grudge against me for fainting, are you?"

Euclid said, "What did I tell you?"

"I brought my cane," Scalene said indignantly.

"Well, where was it?"

There was a long silence.

"Lene..."

"Oh, don't give me that look, it was just behind the curtain! I wasn't about to bring it on stage, I had to make sure Billy looked good!"

"What does your cane have to do with how good he looks?!"

"And the mayor didn't hand over the trophy fast enough," she said, ignoring Euclid's question. "If he had, I could have leaned on that. But no, he just kept yammering on..."

Euclid's copper blue eye had the most piercing glare in town. The fact that he also had the worst eyesight in town did nothing to dispel its power. Scalene much preferred when it was aimed at other people.

But then Bill wiggled his tiny hands toward Scalene with a displeased coo; and with a warning, "Careful," Euclid finally handed him over. "So. He didn't do too bad for his first outing. We've got a winner on our hands?"

Scalene was off the hook. She relaxed. "I think we do. The judges were very impressed he showed up to his first contest on his birthday." 

"You'll only be able to do that once," Euclid pointed out.

"Sure, but for the rest of his life he can tell judges he went to his first pageant on the day he was born—can't you?" She directed the question to Bill. "Yes you can! That shows real ambition!" She poked one of his sides just beneath his eye. "And they were impressed by his good looks and how calm he is."

That was well deserved. Bill had entered the world with eye wide open—rather than face scrunched up and eye retracted to cry like most infants—and looking around for his parents, as though he were already used to the light and recognized his surroundings.

"Glad the judges didn't find it creepy, at least," Euclid said.

Scalene waved him off. "What did those nurses know? They should've been grateful to get a kid that isn't wailing in their faces! They couldn't appreciate how adorable he is—but look at him. From the front you'd think he's an oval." It was true: his corners were soft and rounded, and his angles were so flexible that his top angle squashed down toward his feet, making it look more like a right angle than acute. On top of that, his bright, shining pupil was so wide it took up half his face. "One of the judges said he looks downright cherubic. That's going on your resumé, young triangle."

Bill blinked sweetly up at his mother. He would never in his life need to write a resumé, for all the worst reasons.

"And—" Euclid lowered his voice, "—none of them realized how many birth defects he has?"

She swatted his arm. "Shh! No. Everything we've got is too obscure. As far as the pageant circuit is concerned, they're birth assets. My corners were still round when I started competing, and the judges thought I was adorable, too. As long as he goes on stage without braces on, they'll think he looks unique instead of deformed—just like I did."

"If he keeps going on stage without braces, he'll need a cane before he's middle-aged, just like you do."

"Not until his best pageant years are behind him," Scalene said icily. "Besides, we'll do better by him than my mother did for me. We already know what he has—"

"—we think we do, you left before the doctors could examine him—"

"—and I've already got appointments lined up for him with the best orthopedic doctor in the county and your and Euler's optometrist. We'll make sure his face stays pretty, his angles sharpen up, and his organs don't collapse in on themselves. He's just lucky he's got a mother that knows how to make that big eye of his look cute instead of bulgy." She pointed at the trophy, "As long as his good looks keep winning prizes, he'll be able to pay off his own medical bills and bring home a few bonuses."

For the first time, Euclid turned his attention to the trophy and the Knifeco gift box, and he laughed sharply. "Knifeco's still got the myor convinced that the next sample set he gives away for free will get everybody excited to order a full set from him, huh?"

Scalene scoffed. "I don't know why anybody would bother to order one. If they wait long enough and show up to a few city events, eventually they'll win a full set. How much of his own money has he spent on knife sample sets by now?"

"Last I heard? 30, 40k? We probably won't find out how much he's embezzled from city funds 'til next election."

"Otto's an idiot," Scalene said. "After all these years, you'd think he'd figure out the only way to make money at that company is to recruit more salesmen and get a cut of the profits from the kits they sell."

"You'd think." Euclid shrugged impassively. "But as long as I'm still getting 5% from each of his sales to himself, I'm not about to tell him that." He rubbed a thumb on one of Scalene's corners, rubbing off a bit of waxy red side liner to expose the duller pink underneath. "We probably wouldn't be able to afford your makeup habit without him."

Scalene swatted Euclid's hand away. "Well, we can throw away your old chipped set." She patted the dark wood box. "From now on, we're using the set Billy won for us—isn't that right, Billy?" She bounced Bill lightly by her side. He was staring at the box, transfixed. "I think he likes it! That's right, these are your birthday knives, sweetheart."

When his parents looked at the box, they only saw the dark wood; but Bill saw through the wood—over the wood—to the silvery needlelike knives within. They gleamed with starlight shining down from a higher dimension. And then Bill looked up at the stars, glittering far above. He wiggled in Scalene's arm, but couldn't figure out how to move his limbs in the direction he saw above.

Euclid looked at the wiggling child, and tensed up. "Lene. Look at his eye."

She did, and sucked in a sharp breath. "What happened to him?"

"If this is because you dropped him..."

Bill's pupil had disappeared, leaving his eye looking empty and bloodshot silver. But at the change in the tone of his parents' voices, he blinked and focused on them curiously, his pupil back where it belonged like it had never disappeared.

They stared speechlessly at him.

"Did you and Euler's eyes ever do that?" Scalene asked. "Before those surgeries you got as kids?"

"Not—not that I remember. But I could ask Mom and Dad," he said, already knowing the answer would be no.

She stared at Bill's eye a moment longer; but when he didn't do anything but stare back innocently, she sighed. "Well, that's something else we can ask your optometrist. Maybe he'll have a fix for it."

####

While Pacifica was in the bathroom cleaning up after their makeup experimentation, Goldie stood from his folding chair to lean on the desk next to Mabel, staring with a look of intense concentration into the air over the chair about where his head had been.

"What's up?" Pacifica asked, leaning out of the bathroom.

Distractedly, Goldie said, "Nothing, just watching you do my face."

Pacifica frowned. "What? I'm over here?"

Mabel leaned between them, laughing nervously. "What he means is, he does this thing where he, uhh, imagines that he can see what happened around him in the past, so he's... pretending he's watching you put makeup on his face a few minutes ago." At Pacifica's skeptical look, Mabel hastily added, "It's not like a psychic thing or anything! It's just a... um..."

Goldie mumbled, "Mindfulness visualization exercise."

"Yeah! It helps him memorize stuff! Right?"

"You bet. All the best venture capitalists are doing it."

Pacifica said, "Oh, I think a CEO my dad invited over was talking about that. Is it like a meditation thing? You think about what you want to get it?"

"Say it until you believe it, believe it until it's true!" Mabel said.

Goldie elbowed her. "Look who's been paying attention." She beamed at him.

Pacifica packed the makeup, brushes, and spare hair ties and pins he'd need in a bag, and handed it over. "Okay, that should take care of your face. When you shower tonight, remember to wash all the makeup off, you do not want this messing with your pores; remember to moisturize or your skin will crack apart like a mummy's"—one of her mother's favorite threats—"get Mabel to help pin your curls tomorrow, and just do what I showed you for the rest. Now we just have to worry about clothing." She sized up his hair color, his skin color—couldn't quite bring herself to look at his eye color, though. "I think you're a spring. You can probably pull off some autumn colors too. But usually springs are supposed to tan easier than they burn..."

"I do!" He gestured at himself, sunburns and all, and said proudly, "This took hard work!"

That answered a question she'd been asking herself all day, and brought up half a dozen more. "Not going to ask. So, you want to go for bright, clear, warm colors. And you'll look better in gold accessories."

"I know," he said smugly.

Colors were the easy part. She wished she'd had time to call up her personal tailor to bring by some dresses that could be adjusted. Goldie had such a weird body shape—narrow shoulders, sticklike arms, slender calves, and then a wide waist and even wider hips. There couldn't be much clothing that fit him, masculine or feminine. "Do you have any cute clothes in colors that flatter you? Feminine clothes?"

"What's feminine? Dresses?" Goldie turned to Mabel. "Everything else is hit-or-miss, but dresses and skirts are still universally feminine around here, right?" Pacifica was dying to know what Goldie's life had been like.

"Yeah," Mabel said, "I think we managed to get that yellow summer dress at the mall."

Pacifica winced. "Is a summer dress all you've got?" Not the worse choice, depending on the cut, but it probably wouldn't do his figure any favors.

"It's either that or Jesús's grandma's skirts," Goldie said, shrugging. "Did we manage to snag that sparkly dress with all the pink peacock feathers?"

"That's more of a third date dress. You don't want him to think you're out of his league," Mabel said. "It's too bad we didn't get that galaxy print skirt."

"You know what I could really use? Halter top trapeze dress. Maybe stick a petticoat under the skirt for extra volume. They've gotta make trapeze dresses with petticoats somewhere."

"I could probably make one," said Mabel (who wasn't even sure what a trapeze dress was but was over the moon to see him voluntarily express an interest in human clothing).

Pacifica's face twisted in a grimace. Pityingly, she said, "Oh, you really don't know your body type at all."

He gave her an unimpressed look. "Don't I?"

The thing was, a trapeze dress in and of itself wasn't a bad idea: it was tight around the bust, flared out like a tent underneath, and stopped before the knees; so it could highlight his slim shoulders and arms, let him show off his thin calves, and do at least a bit to conceal those thunder thighs and flabby waistline. But... "A halter top would make your shoulders look way too narrow; and a petticoat would completely undermine the flattering effects of a trapeze dress, and—where would you even position the petticoat? Trapeze dresses doesn't have a waistline."

"About where the skirt starts," Goldie said, drawing a line in the air around bust height.

He couldn't be serious. "Absolutely not. You'd look like a walking triangle."

A smile of near maniacal glee stretched across Goldie's face. Before he could say anything, Mabel grabbed his arm and said, "I think you should just go with what Pacifica says! Pacifica, what do you think?"

"Just—stick with the dress you already have." Between a triangle trapeze dress, the threat of pink feathers, and galaxy print, suddenly Pacifica was grateful for the yellow summer dress. "It's great. Summer dresses are flirty. Do you have shoes that match it?"

Goldie pointed at his fish slippers. "It's these, black oxfords, or foam clogs."

"No," Pacifica said. "Sandals, flats, or open toe heels. And throw away the fish slippers."

"Never."

Mabel said, "You could reuse the sandals you borrowed from Dipper for your Summerween costume?"

"Please don't tell me what they look like," Pacifica said. "Okay, dress, shoes—accessories... just, get something nice but understated. And classy. Do I need to explain what 'classy' looks like?"

"Relax, I used to have a collection of gold that put Albion Art to shame," Goldie said. "I know how to do 'classy.'"

"I'm going to pretend I trust you," Pacifica said. "Okay, underwear—got to wear a bra unless the dress has built-in support; and if you hurry, it's probably not too late to go wherever poor people shop and grab some shapewear for your..." she gestured vaguely toward Goldie's abdomen, "problem area..."

"No," Goldie said flatly. "I'm drawing the line at shapewear. I look fine."

Ooh, not good. His attitude toward everything else about his looks ranged from "apathy" to "disgust," why was flaunting his not-flauntworthy curves the point where he chose to push back? She should've been more direct with him.  "Hon, I love the confidence, but..." Pacifica grimaced apologetically. "You're fat. Like, really fat. And you're not gonna win this guy if he thinks you've let yourself go."

Mabel shot from slouching to sitting straight up. "Pacifica!"

"What, it's true! He probably thinks having skinny arms hides it, but back me up here—it is not subtle."

"Don't say that, he's beautiful!!"

Pacifica had been braced for Goldie to be outraged, embarrassed, ashamed, go into denial, something—just about anything except snort with laughter. He waved them off when they looked at him. Pacifica wondered whether he'd misunderstood the conversation. "Listen to you two! You're letting the subtext do so much of the heavy lifting that you don't even realize half the things you're saying." His gaze on them was cold and faintly amused; and for a moment Pacifica felt like a bug whose behavior was being studied by some immense alien being, and who had been judged inferior.

"Anyway, I'm not trying to hide anything—and I'd make it less subtle if I could. I love my shape!" He pantomimed his shape with his hands—although, where most people would sort of draw an hourglass shape if they wanted to their body's curves, the shape he drew in the air looked more like a triangle. Which, admittedly, was more true to his actual appearance. "And you're changing it over my dead bo—" He winced, muttering, "Maybe not the best way to put that."

Now Pacifica wondered if she'd misunderstood him. "What."

"Look, kid..." Goldie stood straighter, put a hand on Pacifica's shoulder, and adopted the most patronizing tone she'd ever heard. "I know your parents taught you the only things contributing to your personal worth are how rich you are and how attractive other people find you, so let's agree that's all that really matters, right?"

"Um," said Pacifica, who was pretty sure she was about to receive some twee lesson about 'inner beauty' but had never heard one that started with the lecturer agreeing that wealth and looks were the most important things.

"And I know Missy Priscy's got you convinced that your beauty and your weight are engaged in a battle to the death over the right to terraform your flesh. So this might blow your mind—but you've been lied to! The sight of a human female over size 4 doesn't cause the contents of a human male's gonads to curdle! Fat chicks have been successfully getting hitched and passing the genetic baton to their offspring for all of human history—and reproduction is the only objective benchmark evolution has to measure who's hot and who's not, so you can rate that higher than the opinion of a tarnished trophy who thinks enough botox will make her immortal. Hear what I'm saying, Alpaca. Absorb it. Incorporate it into your worldview."

She bristled at the description of her mother, but swallowed back the urge to lash out. He was bitter and taking it out on her. He was feeding her a load of sour grapes. This was just the kind of thing fat people told themselves to feel less bad about being fat. "Riiight."

Goldie's patronizing smirk curled down at one corner in irritation. "Ah, who'm I kidding! You're not gonna believe me! Your mom, your modeling job, the pageant world, the beauty industry—they've burrowed way too deep in your head, and there's no digging them back out without a lobotomy." He scoffed. "You're one snide jab at the wrong time away from an eating disorder."

"Hey! How dare you!" Pacifica thought that was way meaner than anything she'd said.

Mabel snapped, "B—Goldie! Be nice! What's gotten into you two!"

"Yeesh, touched a nerve! Excuse me!" He raised his hands apologetically, but he was grinning impishly. "Anyway—" he raised his voice as the girls attempted to scold him again, "Anyway! More to the point—our target looked me up and down in a bikini and asked if he could help slather sunscreen around my waist, so I think he thinks my body looks great in the shape it's already in. And getting the guy is the only important thing—right?"

If Goldie was telling the truth, Pacifica couldn't think of any other reason some guy would volunteer to rub sunscreen on him—even if she found it hard to believe. And if he was making it up, then whatever, he could sabotage himself if he wanted, she didn't care. She rolled her eyes, grit her teeth, and muttered, "Fine."

"Not fine! Both of you hold on!" Mabel stood, decided she wasn't tall enough, and climbed on the folding chair.  "You two were just really mean to each other! That's terrible—especially after you were getting along so great! Apologize to each other!" She crossed her arms, glaring them down.

Pacifica stared at her in disbelief, brows raised. "I beg your pardon?"

But Goldie didn't look like this was odd to him at all. He just rolled his eyes—"All right, all right,"—and looked at Pacifica. "C'mon. You can't be that mad. You've heard worse."

She scowled at him, but she supposed she had. From her mom, her old pageant coach, her manager that got her modeling jobs—she was just more used to warnings about getting fat than she was to warnings about fearing getting fat. "So have you."

"Worse than you can imagine," Goldie said. "We're good?"

"We're good," Pacifica said.

Goldie looked at Mabel. "We're good!"

Mabel looked between the two of them suspiciously. "That was an apology?"

"Got the job done, didn't it?"

Mabel didn't look pleased, but she sat down on the folding chair and crossed her arms.

Pacifica said, "Okay, you're off the hook for shapewear—but if he thinks you look like a slob, it's on you."

He rolled his eyes. "Noted!"

"But you've got to wear a bra. What are the straps like on the summer dress, do you have a bra that'll fit under it okay?"

Goldie groaned. "We can reuse my bikini and pad the cups or something. We don't have time to go to the mall and figure out what size I am."

In horror, Pacifica quietly asked, "Do... do you not even own a bra."

"Why would��I?" Goldie asked, like he couldn't imagine a single practical reason. Hard to tell his size through an oversized t-shirt; he was definitely small, but it wasn't like he was flat. "I've never really cared about local fashion outside of batiks, brocades, tie dyes, and sarcastic t-shirts, but now that it's affecting me personally? I cannot wait for that particular fad to die."

Since when were batiks local. And who calls bras a fad. That's like calling shoes a fad. "What is your life like," Pacifica asked.

Goldie grinned. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

####

"That's it. That's all I can do for you," Pacifica said. "Good luck on... whatever it is you're doing. Because I'm pretty sure you're not actually into this guy?"

Mabel said, "Wooing a federal agent to avoid getting the whole family arrested!"

Pacifica nodded. "Oh, cool. Let me know how that goes."

Mabel stopped to hug Giorgio on the way out.

As they left Pacifica's barn, Bill turned to face Mabel. "Welp!" He pantomimed like he was playing a violin, "Ready to bow on some poor sucker's heartstrings until we yank out his aorta?"

"Ha ha. Yeah. Sure." Mabel tried to smile and it came out as a grimace. "Sounds great."

"Hey, don't give me that look!" He shoved Mabel's shoulder. "You've heard me say gorier things than that!" He flashed her a grin she could only describe as bloodthirsty, and bounced off toward the road back to town, so cheerful he was very nearly floating.

And she watched him go, biting her lip.

Something had been bothering her since his argument with Pacifica:

She couldn't figure out why he wasn't better.

####

Bill nudged Mabel. "Hey. Am I in trouble?"

"What?"

"You've been giving me the silent treatment since we left." That had been about fifteen minutes earlier. "Is it because of the eating disorder thing? Do I have to apologize to you for that? It's not like I was insulting her! If anything, I did her a favor by warning her—"

She gave him a sour look—that had been very rude, even if not Bill's typical existential horror cosmic nightmare level rudeness—but said, "No, it's not that. I'm just thinking about stuff."

"Are you gonna share it, or do I have to wait until I can crawl inside your head again to find out?"

Mabel was silent a moment. "Do you actually like tie-dye?"

"That's what's bothering you?" He pulled his eyepatch back on—Pacifica had told him putting it back on would probably mess up his makeup, but that didn't really matter until tomorrow. "Of course I do, who doesn't! It's chaos on a shirt." He shrugged. "I've never had any—but, y'know, it's nice to look at, anyway."

"Wait, never? We should do tie-dye together! I can get us some white shirts and we can dye them outside," Mabel said. "Maybe I can invite Grenda and Candy!"

"Sounds like a party! Let me know when, you know what my schedule looks like."

"Great!" She beamed at him.

But as they walked, her smile slowly faded as she drifted back into her own thoughts.

His ideas about flirting were very hit or miss, but Mabel thought they were probably hits more often with aliens that thought dead salmon smelled sexy. He'd had a girlfriend, at any rate.

And he'd gotten chummy with Abuelita (even after she tried to poison him), he'd charmed Gideon's mom in like ten seconds, Wendy thought he was cool and so did half her gang, Candy and Grenda said he was fun, Mabel was pretty sure Stan kinda liked him even if he wouldn't admit it... He'd even managed to develop a rapport with Pacifica—Pacifica!—which had taken Mabel like two-thirds of the summer!—and he'd done it even though they'd insulted each other!

He was charming, he was fun, he clearly got romance...

So how come he didn't have true love and best friends that weren't evil?

The question itched at her brain.

Mabel firmly believed that the only thing that made people bad was not getting enough love. Family love, friend love, romance love, adorable cuddly pet love, whatever. Put love in, get love out; put nothing in, get a swirling vortex of loneliness and hatred where the love should have been stored. Like Prickly Bee in Color Critters! Who during season one had been one of the color-hating bad guys, but in season two had inexplicably joined the good guys due to network executive meddling, and it wasn't until season three that they did a flashback episode showing that the critters had won her over by showing her the kindness and caring that her old boss Serpent Grey never had!

And at the beginning of summer, after Mabel helped Bill get his hair back, he'd said it had been a long time since anyone had been nice to him; and he'd been nice to her since then, so that seemed to support her theory. All it took was a little love!

She just couldn't figure out why he didn't already have enough.

He had all those monster friends he'd tried to conquer the world with last year, but maybe they were those "people who claim to be friends but are actually allies who hate each other" that you see amongst cartoon villains. (Like Serpent Grey's minions.) Was it because they were aliens? Were aliens not good at friendship? Had he been deprived until now?

She remembered how heavy even the smallest glimpse at his pain had been—listening to him grieve over his own death. It was clear that, whatever he'd had before, what he needed now was better love, more friends—enough to share that psychological weight without collapsing—but how much would be enough to untwist his crooked morality?

Mabel was running out of time. Summer was almost halfway over. She only had seven more weeks to reintegrate Bill into society—to help him make amends for everything he'd done last summer—or else... or else she'd failed. She'd failed him. 

And she knew she was making progress with Bill, but she didn't know if it was enough. She wished he'd go faster. She wished summer would go slower. She wished she had more time.

She remembered what had happened the last time she'd wished for a little more summer.

So she'd just have to figure out how to save him in the time they had left. She couldn't just pick up a broken teacup, glue half the pieces together, then abandon it half-repaired to leak tea all over the floor. She was a problem solver, it was what she did. She had to solve this problem—or else everything she'd done this past year would be for nothing.

As they walked, she reached out to grab Bill's hand. He gave her a curious look, but he didn't pull it back.

"Was all that stuff true about you doing pageants as a kid?" (There must have been something in his past to explain why he didn't have enough love—maybe in his childhood.) "Or did you just make that up to make Pacifica relax?" (She guiltily remembered him accusing her of trying to "fix" him—how badly he'd been hurt by the thought.)

She felt his hand tense in her grip, but he shrugged dismissively. "They're not exactly identical to human beauty pageants—no real fashion component, for one thing—but, yeah. Did 'em as a kid. I went to my first pageant on the day I was born."

"So you lied when you told me you didn't do them yourself?"

"I did not," Bill said indignantly. "I just didn't correct you when you guessed wrong!"

At Mabel's sour look, Bill rolled his eye and said, "What, am I supposed to correct you every time you say something wrong? Because humans are wrong about just about everything—"

"Bill."

He huffed. "The specifics weren't any of your business, okay? It's—not something I talk about with humans. Or any other aliens, for that matter."

"Why not? Was it—"

"Because it's ancient history," he said sharply.

Mabel gave him a worried look. When he didn't elaborate, she said, "So, is it really as stressful as you and Pacifica made it sound?"

"Stressful!" Bill scoffed. "Name a part of life that isn't stressful. School, work, breeding a family, yadda yadda—better to learn how to handle it early, right? And it's only stressful if you're bad at it! I was good. I was very good."

"Good at what?" Mabel asked.

"Uh..." Bill had to grasp for a moment. "Being... cute. Charming the judges. Wowing 'em at the talent portion—when I wasn't starting fires. I really did play the piano! I mean—not a piano, but the closest equivalent my world had. There's nothing cuter than a kid playing an instrument he can hardly reach each end of." At Mabel's continued worried look, he said, "What! It was harmless. It was just a bunch of baby shapes bumbling around the stage looking adorable, that's all! It wasn't that bad!"

He was quiet for a moment; and then he repeated to himself, "It wasn't that bad."

####

"Don't get any closer," Stan said. "This place is about to be a toxic waste dump."

Bill and Mabel looked around Stan. In the middle of the clearing behind the Mystery Shack, a tent had been set up. Inside, a goat bleated in a plea for help.

Mabel asked, "Why?"

"Poindexter and your brother's plan to get that computer doohickey out of the goat the old-fashioned way didn't work. He wouldn't eat the concoction they mixed up. So they're getting it out of him the other old-fashioned way."

"Vivisection?" Bill asked hopefully.

"No—" Stan fell silent, squinted at Bill's face, and decided not to comment on his new look. "Vomit. You remember that witch's brew we used to chase off the flying eyeball that you—er—you knew?"

Mabel screwed up her face. "Oh, yuck, that was the worst thing I ever smelled."

Stan tipped his head toward the tent. "Well, they're about to detonate what's left of it."

"'Detonate'?"

Ford's voice came from the tent: "On the count of three! One... two..."

There was a muffled boom. The walls of the tent billowed outward and an orange ball of fire illuminated Ford, Dipper, and Gomper's silhouettes. Gompers let out a loud bleat of distress.

Voice strained, Dipper said, "Ugh, that smell—I think I'm gonna be—" He had to try a couple of times to unzip the tent, then stumbled out and landed on his hands and knees in the dirt, gasping for fresh air.

Ford—wearing a gas mask—ducked out of the tent. "I told you you'd want a mask."

"Smelling it in close quarters is way—" He clapped a hand over his mouth and gagged, "—way worse than I thought."

"Well?" Stan called. "Did anything come up?"

Ford peered back into the tent. "No."

Stan flung his hands up.

"Don't lose hope," Ford said. "I have a spell to induce vertigo somewhere. I don't remember all the words, but..."

Bill spent several seconds pretending he didn't notice Ford was staring directly at him before he said, "Can I help you?"

"You know the spell, don't you?"

"What, the Maximus Vertiginous? 'Course I do. Classic prank."

Ford stared at him expectantly. Bill said, "What?"

"How does it go?" Ford asked impatiently.

"Oh, you expect me to teach you?" Bill rolled his eye.

Mabel frowned up at him. "Come on, Bill, don't be a jerk."

The back of his neck started heating up as he realized the whole family was staring at him. He stood a little straighter. "Listen to you, ya little hypocrite! Aren't you the one who keeps showing me those cute cartoons telling me to be myself?" To Stanford, he said, "I don't tutor my dropouts. Go find your own notes, Stanford Pines."

Ford glowered at Bill, but then he left the tent, zipped it shut behind himself, and trudged toward the shack. His irritated muttering was muffled by the gas mask.

As soon as the door shut, Stan clapped his hands. "Okay! Ford's gone, now we're doing this my way." As he passed Dipper, he said, "C'mon, kid, chop chop. I need your help, your hands are smaller than mine."

Dipper groaned, but got back to his feet, pulled his shirt over his nose, and trudged back to the tent with Stan. "What are we doing?"

"The same thing you and Ford were—but more assertive! Sixer nixed my plan, but his obviously didn't work." Stan unzipped the tent's flap. "All right. I'll hold the goat's mouth open, you reach in."

"Ohhh no."

Bill's face lit up. "Heeey, that sounds fun! Let me try! My hands are small and I can actually see the flash drive!"

"Oh no you don't," Stan said. "We can't risk you picking up the eyeball repellant stink, you've gotta stay pretty until loverboy shows up!"

"What, so suddenly I'm too pretty to grope a goat's guts?" Bill stared at Mabel in disbelief, waiting for her to commiserate over this injustice.

Mabel—who was still a bit miffed about being called a hypocrite—said, "Let's just go in." As they walked to the porch, she said, "'Be yourself' doesn't mean be a jerk. It means 'don't hide your talents' and 'keep doing your hobbies even if other people think they're boring' and stuff."

"Yeah, well, what if one of my talents is being a jerk?"

Mabel groaned. "There's gotta be an episode that covers this."

As Stan entered the tent, he said, "Phew, that reeks! Hey, zip the tent when you come in."

Dipper hung back nervously, half in the tent and pinching his nose shut. "Grunkle Stan, I'm not sure about this idea."

"Come on, it—it can't be hard! Farmers do this. I think. Look, I'm doing the hard part, all you have to do is reach down his throat! Lemme just... get my fingers between his jaws...

Gompers bleated angrily. Stan hollered in pain.

"Oh, no!" Dipper dove for Gompers and landed in the dirt as the goat shot past. From the porch, Mabel and Bill could only watch as Gompers headed the other way.

Soos walked around the corner of the shack. "Hey, du—whoa!"

"Soos!" Dipper shouted. "Catch him!"

Soos dove to the side to get out of the way of the charging goat, watched him vanish into the forest, and said, "Aw—dude, I just did the opposite of what you asked me to do. That's totally my bad."

Ford opened the back door with a handful of papers and his gas mask pushed up on his forehead. "I heard shouting, what happened?"

"Uhhh," Soos said. "Gompers just escaped into the forest."

"What?! How?!"

Stan stumbled through the tent's flap, cradling a hand. "It was—it was totally unexpected. Just ran off for no reason. Completely unprompted," he said. "He also bit my hand. Don't ask why my hand was so close to his mouth."

Ford said, "Which way?! We have to follow him immediately! If the agents detect the drive's signal before we retrieve him—"

"Don't bother," Bill said. "As long as he's in the forest, if he doesn't want to be caught, he won't be. There's nothing you can do until he comes out."

Ford narrowed his eyes. "How are you so sure?"

"He ate some magic rocks."

"Ah. Well." He shrugged in defeat. Nothing they could do if he'd eaten magic rocks. "But what if he does want to be caught?"

Bill gestured toward the forest with a flourish. "If you think he's eager for more of the hors d'oeuvres and perfume you've been offering him today, go get 'im."

Stan cleared his throat. "Well—the good news is, when the agents get here, they won't find the thingamajig in the Mystery Shack! Eh? Ehhh?"

"Oh, yeah, that's what I was coming over to tell you guys," Soos said. "I was taking out the trash, and I saw this car parked just up the road, and it looked like the car the government dudes were in today, so, I think they're watching the shack now?"

There was a long silence as the group processed that.

"We can't be outside," Ford said. "If they see Stan they'll want to interrogate him, if they see Bill here after hours they'll know he's not a passing tourist, and if they see me they'll realize I'm not a superior officer from Washington—"

Bill slammed his fist on the back door. "Then stop rambling and let me in!"

Ford opened the door and ushered everyone inside. "Hurry!"

"But what about Gompers?" Dipper asked. "We've gotta at least try to find him before the agents do!"

"What if the agents follow you to Gompers?" Ford asked. Dipper hesitated.

Mabel said, "We can make disguises so they won't recognize us!" She took off her half of the enchanted friendship bracelets, chucked it toward the coat rack just inside the door, and ran upstairs. "Come on!"

Dipper shot one last worried look toward the forest, then followed her.

Ford shut the door and asked Stan in a low voice, "How long is Gompers usually gone when he wanders off?"

"No telling. Sometimes I don't see him for weeks at a time."

Soos said, "So if they're gonna keep looking until they find that drive, but we can't go looking because they're watching us, and Gompers doesn't come back, so we can't find the drive, and they can't find the drive... then, how do we get rid of them?"

"We don't," Stan said. "Unless they find something more interesting than the drive."

As Bill added his end of the bracelet to the coat rack, he was keenly aware of three sets of eyes on him. He could see the cold gray walls of his cell in the— of the surgical suite in Hangar 618. Oh, he was certainly a billion times more interesting than some lousy drive; and if the eagles figured that out...

"Distracting them for a few hours won't cut it, will it," Ford asked him.

Bill pushed away the phantom psychological weight of heavy ankle cuffs and cheap orange fabric. "Doesn't look like it. You'll need some other way to make them leave."

Grimly, Ford said, "It looks like your job just got a lot more important."

####

(Your "what was edited due to TBOB" roundup: as mentioned in an earlier chapter, some of the specifics of the pageant scene came from TBOB—the name of the "best baby ever" award and the mayor handing out free knives. But everything else was plotted well before TBOB—including Bill being born able to see the stars, having a condition that makes him unusually flexible (which lines up with Baby Bill's squishy look quite well), and his parents getting him medical treatment at a very young age due to, among other things, his weird eye. Most of the rest of the chapter was written pre-TBOB.

Although my god did i rewrite the conversation about Bill's weight a hundred times. This has been a high priority to work into the fic for some time! I wanted to make it clear that Bill's body shape isn't merely a cosmetic part of his character design but something with actual in-world impact, that for him it's a positive and not meant to be punitive or a joke, and that Pacifica's got issues and we're gonna be dealing with them. The hard part was doing all that while avoiding Bill sounding like an enlightened angel spreading the gospel of fat positivity to the ignorant masses, rather than what he actually is: a selfish alien who realizes humans are being stupid but whose only personally investment in this issue is convincing a 13-year-old not to make him wear spanx. 

Next week, the agents are finally back, and Bill gets to put all that flirting practice into action! I'm sure he'll do a great job.)

[sunrotdropbrain]

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141!(Part 5)

The shithead owner decides that he needs to sign up for a "restaurant renovation" show. Chaos ensues.

"A fucking TV show?"

Gaz frowns while polishing glasses.

"Told him it was a bad idea."

Price shrugs, lighting a cigar. You are horrified, being on the screen for millions of people to see was nerve wracking. And it'll be the first time you meet the owner.

"Restaurant renovation... Lik' he gives twa fucks aboot renovating this shitehole."

Johnny ashes his smoke and passes it to you. You take a deep drag and sigh, this is gonna be a disaster.

~

Cameras are set up everywhere, everyone's mic'd up, there are too many people in too small of a space. Some obnoxiously loud man introduces himself. He seems to be an amalgamation of every TV host you've ever seen, wearing too much cologne and too much hair gel. He puts a hand on your shoulder,

"The place looks terrible but at least they got something nice to look at here."

He flashes a smile, cheap veneer blindingly white. You awkwardly laugh while Price steps in, introducing himself. You scurry away to the back where the rest of the boys are,

"I want everyone to be on their best behavior today. No fucking around. Don't make me look bad."

The owner is a bland man, average height and weight, with a shitty haircut and wearing an ugly flashy shirt. He turns around and briefly introduces himself, he already smells like liquor. Great. He gets waved over to get interviewed by the host. You and the guys watch from the other end of the restaurant. It's quite embarrassing, the host pointing out how run down the place looks, the menu is confusing and overwhelming, and then asks if he's drunk,

"I can smell the alcohol from here Carl... it's only 11am buddy."

The owner stutters and blinks,

"I- just uh, just a crazy night is all."

The host stares, unconvinced. Carl shifts awkwardly in his chair. The next segment was ordering food apparently, so you were up. You walk up to the table as the host asks you a barrage of questions,

"How would you say the fish is here? Is everything fresh? What do you think of the steak? Do you have any recommendations?"

When you say you only ate the fries from here and he laughs loudly,

"That is not a good sign folks!"

He stares at the camera, showing off teeth that were too big for his mouth before you walk off and punch in the order. There's a cameraman recording John and Simon cooking,

"Steak and potatoes."

John reads the slip out loud, they move around the kitchen while the owner watches. For such a simple dish there's a lot of chaos, Carl is yelling at them to move faster and cook properly, John is busy arguing with Carl and burns the steak, Simon plates up the food and hands it off to you. You place the plate down in front of the host,

"Oh...oh my God..."

You keep a straight face, hands behind your back. The host looks back up at you,

"Does the food usually come out like this?"

There's a tone of disgust and concern, his eyebrows turned up, you shrug. He stares back down at the filet and cuts into it,

"It's very impressive that one is able to overcook such a large piece of meat. That takes...skill."

You watch concertedly as he picks up a piece and puts it into his mouth, it looks like he wants to cry.

He goes on to complain about the quality of the food to the camera as he walks to the kitchen,

"At least it's clean back here. I've seen kitchens in wors- is that a fucking pigeon?"

Sure enough, there is. How the fuck did it get in here?

"Oh! I just left the door open to let some fresh air in..."

Carl awkwardly tries to catch the bird while the boys watch amusedly, even the camera crew stifle a laugh.

"Christ Almighty, what is wrong with you man?"

The host shakes his head, watching the whole scene in disbelief. Eventually, the bird is out of the building and the sweep of the kitchen continues.

"Food is not expired, everything is stored properly, it's all very well organized. I was honestly expecting worse."

The host walks up to the bar next, plucking up bottles and examining them,

"So, Kyle is it? How long have you been working here for?"

"Just a little over five years."

Gaz leans against the bar. There's a gasp and the host waves the camera over,

"Look at this shit,"

He points at the label,

"Expired in August,"

You look over at Gaz and Soap, they look like they're about to piss themselves, holding back laughs.

"Of 2012!"

The host looks disgusted,

"Why didn't you throw this away?"

"Carl told me to not toss anything."

Kyle shrugged. Soap is almost in tears, shaking, trying to bite back a howl of laughter.

The next two days are like this, you don't know why Carl hasn't pulled the plug on this fiasco yet,

"I think he's getting drunker as the days go by."

Johnny says, ashing his cigarette. There's a nod from Simon,

"I think he enjoys being embarrassed, seems like the type to get off on that."

'The big finale' as the host calls it, means getting a new menu, refreshing the cooks(John's) skills, and cleaning out the bar. The place is opened and there's a line out of the door. It's overwhelming, the customers are putting on a show, acting like dickheads and sending everything back even when there's nothing wrong with the food. Simon and John are on top of everything, putting out food as fast as possible, Carl is shitting himself running around the kitchen like a headless chicken. The night goes by fast and everyone is at the bar,

"So the cooks are for the most part competent, the waitress is amazing, and the bartender is well... The man can do no wrong. The problem here is you,"

The host points at Carl who is fucking sloshed swaying back and forth,

"I genuinely think this restaurant would be better off without you."

Carl starts bawling. The host is visibly uncomfortable. The boys and you are looking at each other. Then when all the cameras and lights are gone, it's all back to normal. Carl is looking for reassurance from anyone and you and the boys just pack up and head home, Price patting him on the back,

"You'll be alright."

~

A few months later, you're all sat on the couch watching the TV. Johnny's over the moon pointing at the screen,

"Look thare A am! See hou sexy A look?"

He's smiling and waving at the camera in the background of the scene where Carl is crying his eyes out. That gets a laugh out of Gaz,

"You're a sick bastard, Soap."

Once the episode dropped, the restaurant got busy for a few months. Most of the customers are horny women ogling at Kyle. On occasion you get the request to bring out "the scary looking one" and you just laugh it off.

"You're so lucky working with all these guys, I don't know if I'd be able to control myself,"

A particularly drunk woman said to you one day. You just smile while Kyle winks at you over his shoulder.

[kashverse]

Nanami and yuuji? Or maybe jst Nanami..You can choose the prompt! I jst wanna see more of them

i live to write for papamin and yuuji <3 thanks for requesting

there were many things people didn’t know about nanami. for instance, his impressive ability to make five different kinds of soufflés, his uncanny knack for always finding the best parking spots, and, of course, his surprisingly adept skill with a guitar. whenever he strummed those strings, the rich, mellow notes would fill the room like warm honey, each chord carefully played, each song a testament to years of practice. and, of course, yuuji noticed.

"papa," yuuji announced one day, struggling to drag nanami’s acoustic guitar across the floor, the instrument’s body screeching horribly against the tiles. “i wanna be a moosician like you!” nanami, cringing at the sacrilegious sound of his beloved guitar being manhandled, managed a tight smile. "that’s great, yuuji. but maybe we should start with something… smaller."

and so, enter the ukulele. a tiny, four-stringed instrument that seemed perfectly sized for yuuji’s chubby little hands. yuuji took to it immediately, strumming with all the enthusiasm of a rockstar playing a sold-out concert at madison square garden. "TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAaaaRRRRR!" he belted out in a voice that could only be described as beautifully tone-deaf. "HOW I WONDER WHAT YOU AaaaREEEE!"

you tried to hide your smile behind your hand as yuuji’s fingers fumbled clumsily over the strings, creating a unique version of the song that could only be described as experimental jazz. nanami, sipping his coffee with the resignation of a man who knew he’d never experience silence again, watched as his son poured his entire soul into the performance.

"up above the world so high! like a diamond… in the… pie?" yuuji paused, face scrunching in confusion. "no… in the sky!"

nanami chuckled softly. "almost, yuuji."

but the grand finale was yet to come. as yuuji reached the dramatic end, he went for a flourish, fingers flying wildly over the strings—and the ukulele pick slipped from his fingers, disappearing into the sound hole with a soft thunk.

there was a moment of silence. yuuji blinked down at the instrument, poking a chubby finger inside. 

"papa… it ate my pick."

you snorted, trying to hold back a laugh, while nanami set down his coffee, hiding his grin behind his hand.

"papa, is it hungry? do i need to feed it more picks?"

nanami shook his head. "no, yuuji. we just have to get it out."

"okay!" yuuji turned the ukulele upside down, shaking it violently, tiny brows furrowed in concentration. "give it back, you bad ukey-lely!"

you finally let out a giggle, watching as nanami tried to calm yuuji down, showing him how to gently retrieve the pick instead of waterboarding the poor instrument. and later, when the ukulele was pick-free and yuuji was tucked in for the night, you glanced over at nanami, who was softly strumming his guitar in the dim light of the living room.

"i think he gets his musical talent from you," you murmured. nanami chuckled, plucking a gentle melody. “he certainly gets the enthusiasm.” 

you leaned into his side, a soft smile playing on your lips. "and the dramatics."

he hummed, fingers dancing over the strings. "we’ll work on the lyrics next."

from his room, yuuji’s voice called out, "papa, can i sing twinkle twinkle again tomorrow?"

nanami sighed, setting his guitar down. "of course, yuuji. every night if you want."

"yay!"

and though it meant endless nights of off-key lullabies and missing ukulele picks, nanami couldn’t help but think that, these were the moments he’d remember forever.

plus, he figured he could write a pretty great song about it one day.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

pink princess

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, p in v sex, female receiving oral, girly!reader, violence, blood, rafe beats someone up, kelce is the bad guy in this D:

“i just don't get it rafe.” kelce shakes his head.

“what?” rafe mumbles, barely paying attention to his friend. even topper seems barely interested, both too focused on the football game playing on the television.

“how you could date a girl like y/n.” 

your name has rafe snapping to attention, turning to glare at kelce. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” rafe has only been your boyfriend for a couple months now, but he wouldn't question beating the shit out of his friend if he insulted you.

“don't get me wrong, the girl is nice and all. i like her she's just so… girly.” kelce says like it's an insult. “she only ever wears pink, she's all sweet and innocent. she's just not your type, that's all. im surprised.”

you let out a little sound, all of the boys attention snapping to you, kelces eyes widening when he realizes you have entered the living room.

“baby.” rafe coos softly. “come here.”

you cross over to rafe, rounding the couch to plop on his lap, keeping your head down to avoid looking at kelce.

“don't listen to him, princess.” rafe says softly, his voice so sweet, in contrast to the scared look on kelces face. “you're exactly my type.”

“shit rafe, i-i-didn’t mean-i didn't know she was-”

“get the fuck out.” rafe says, voice still soft as he pets his hand over your back, hating the pout that graces your sparkly gloss painted lips.

“rafe-” kelce tries to argue.

“no. get the fuck out. you're lucky im not beating your ass into the ground for upsetting my girl. now get the fuck out.”

kelce scrambles, rushing out of tanneyhill as the game continues on the tv, topper rightly deciding to remain silent.

“baby, talk to me.” rafe says softly, seeing tears still brimming in your eyes.

“im fine.” your voice is hoarse when the words finally escape your mouth.

“darling.” rafe sighs, tugging your bodies closer together, letting your head bury in his shoulder, not caring if you leave makeup stains on his shirt.

rafe knows the best thing to do is just let you breath, not wanting to work you up more with his words as his hand strokes over your back, hoping it's bringing you some sort of comfort.

“i had no idea he felt that way.” you finally pick your head up. you weren't close to very many girls, so when you and rafe started dating, you tried to quickly assimilate into his friend group and consider his few friends yours as well.

“he's just being a dick. don't worry, alright bunny? you're absolutely my type, and i love how girly you are, mkay?” rafe waits for you to nod and agree with him before he pulls you into a kiss, topper keeping his eyes trained on the tv while you make out.

--

“you ready to go princess?” rafe calls up the stairs, tapping his foot against the wood floor, waiting for you to finish getting ready to attend the gala he promised his dad he would be at.

“coming now!” you say before rushing down the stairs, but still being careful not to trip in your heels.

“you look gorgeous, honey.” rafe admires your outfit. its a new dress, or at least one that he hasn’t seen before. rafe takes your hand in his as you finish your descent, frowning when he realizes the glittery polish that was on your fingers has been scrubbed off, replaced with a creamy white that matches your dress, the only pink thing on your body being your lipstick.

“is that what you are wearing?” rafe questions.

“why, is something wrong with it?” you frown as you look down at your body.

“no-no.” rafe shakes his head. “not at all baby its just… very formal.” he figures the wording is better than blatantly asking why you’re not covered in pink and sparkles.

“well, it’s a formal event.” you roll your eyes, heading towards the door, not wanting to give ward a bad impression, and you know you’re already running late.

“yeah, right.” rafe nods, but his mind whirls in secret, wondering if there could be more to your change in appearance than that.

--

“you're going golfing with top today right?” you ask, rubbing your fingers through rafes hair, massaging his head. 

rafe knows you said something, but he's too relaxed to actually make out your words, struggling to blink his eyes open before humming, “what?”

you giggle at his blissed out expression, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “you're going golfing with topper later today right?”

“mhm.” rafe nods, letting out a soft moan when your long acrylics gently scratch over his scalp.

“maybe you can take me. ya know, i could learn how to golf. probably start with just putting.” you shrug.

“baby-” rafe has to take your hands and move them away, knowing he won't be able to focus on the conversation. “why do you want to learn how to golf? you hate sports.”

“that's not true!” you complain. “i like um… gymnastics and figure skating.”

rafe rolls his eyes “you like them for the sparkly outfits and music.”

you pout, moving yourself from straddling rafes lap to next to him on the couch. “aren't i allowed to be interested in the things you're interested in?”

“yes, of course.” rafe sighs, moving to kneel between your knees on the floor, taking your face in his hands, not letting you look away. “and if you really want to come, id love to have you. but if you are asking because you're trying to be less girly, then baby-” rafe leans in to press a kiss to your pouty lips- “i don't want you to change. i love you for who you are.”

“promise you don't mind?” your fingers play with the collar on his shirt, distracting yourself.

“promise.” rafe nods.

“okay, thank god.” you let out a giggle. “golf is so boring.”

--

you have your laptop and phone opened up, intensely scrolling as you switch between them, brow furrowed as you do your research.

“y/n-” 

you slam shut the laptop and turn the screen off on your phone as rafe walks into the room.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions. 

“nothing.” you smile at rafe. “just some online shopping.” you hope it's believable, but you can tell by rafes hesitation that he doesn't fully trust your explanation.

“okay…” rafe slowly approaches the bed, and you quickly move your laptop and phone to the bedside table as rafe crawls up next to you.

you distract him from asking more questions as you press your lips against his, pushing him to lay back on the bed as you grind down.

“ah, fuck.” rafe moans when you pull away, pulling your shirt off over your head to reveal that you aren't wearing anything underneath.

rafes hands cup your tits, massaging them in his large palms before suddenly flipping so you're the one laying down against the bed, completely forgetting about your suspicious behavior when he entered the room.

what rafe doesn't know, as he lowers down your body and flicks your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, is that you weren't online shopping, rather scowering through social media, trying to find all of rafes ex girlfriends or anyone he interacted with, all while you compared the girls to yourself.

you wish kelces words didn't still echo in your head, especially after rafes insistence they weren't true.

--

“gonna take a shower.” you tell rafe, setting your bags down in the foyer, knowing you'll get around to them later.

“you sure not a bath? i can run one for you.” rafe offers, following you up the stairs.

“nah, that's fine.” you shrug, frowning slightly when you see your display of lush bath bombs. you're trying to be less high maintenance, more easy going. 

“come on, what if i wanna soak with you in the bath?” rafe pouts. “please baby.”

you can't help but giggle at his doe eyes blinking at you. “okay, sure.”

“good.” rafe hums before placing a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss before he heads towards the bath, turning the hot tap on. you watch as he looks at your bath bombs before selecting a light blue bath bomb with star embeds.

rafe sets the bath bomb down on the edge of the large tub before turning to you. “what should we do while we wait for the bath to fill?” you question, tugging your ponytail out to let your hair fall.

“mmm, i know exactly what i want to do.” rafe says.

in only a few moments he has your shorts down, perched on the edge of the bathtub while his head is buried in between your legs, tongue licking greedy stripes over your cunt.

--

“missed you.” you whine, burying your face into rafes chest as he rocks gently, holding you tight to him.

“missed you too, princess.” rafe is relieved to finally have you back in his arms. hes been away for an entire week, and you came to the airport to get him despite rafe insisting that he was fine to get himself home. you just couldn't wait any longer.

you whine when rafe pulls away slightly, making him laugh and tug you back into him.

“clingy baby.” rafe coos, but the words make your cheeks hot as you pull away. 

“hey, hey.” rafe grabs your hand, tugging you back against his chest. “i didn't mean it like that.”

“okay.” you whisper with a nod, tears brimming in your eyes. with rafe being gone, you spiraled even further, going as far as to befriend a couple of his exes to compare yourself even more to them. you also attended a party that kelce was at, and while he didn't speak at all to you, you could occasionally feel his eyes on you, disapproval in his gaze.

“love you so much bunny.” rafe says, rubbing his large hands over your shoulders. “let's get home so i can show you how much i missed you, yeah?”

you perk up as you nod, making sure your hand is clasp together with rafes as you head out of the airport and towards the parking lot, your keys hanging from your finger that isn't intertwined with rafes.

“here, baby.” rafe opens the passenger side door for you, but you frown and don't move towards it.

“you just got off a flight, rafe. i can drive.” 

“nope.” rafe snatches the keys out of your grasp. “you're my girl, and as long as im here you have no need to drive yourself. now get in, my passenger princess.”

--

“ready for the party?” you ask rafe, adjusting your skirt as rafe walks down the stairs.

“of course.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips before looking down at your outfit.

“baby… is this really what you want to wear?” rafe asks. he likes any clothes you put on, but the black skirt paired with a plain white cropped tee, not even accented by any jewelry just isn't you.

“i just…” you swallow. “i just know kelce is gonna be there. wanna show him that i don't need to be wearing sparkly pink every second.”

rafe can't speak, the anger quickly rising when he realizes that months later you still haven't let go of kelces words, still worrying that you arent the right person for rafe.

“go put on a sparkly dress.” rafe simply says, not able to keep his voice soft, despite addressing you. you hustle upstairs, changing into the outfit you really wanted to wear, adding some jewelry and colourpop super shock shadow to your lid.

you bounce down the stairs, feeling much more yourself now.

“theres my pretty girl.” rafe says, his words sweet but his face still angry as he places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out towards his truck.

he speeds to the party as you sit there silently, playing with your rings, worried about what is going to happen when you get to the party, especially knowing kelce is gonna be there.

“rafey, don’t do anythi-” you tell him as he helps you down after parking, but you can’t even finish your sentence.

rafe eyes kelce standing on the front lawn, a red solo cup in his hand. he hasn’t spotted rafe yet, but you know as soon as he does the smile is going to drop from his face.

rafe begins to stalk towards him while you trail behind, grimacing when rafe throws a punch, landing right on kelces cheek.

“fuck you!” rafe shouts, shoving him back before kelce can even realize what is happening.

“yo, man, stop!” some guy you recognize but don’t know his name yells, but doesn’t try to get in the middle as rafe punches kelce again.

you can’t help the smile on your face, watching your man defend you throughout anything, even if it involves turning one of his close friends into a bloody pulp.

“y/n… it’s gone on long enough, stop him.” topper comes up behind you, making you jump.

you turn to look at him before back at kelce, eyes glazed over as rafe shouts at him again. you rush to rafes side, grabbing at his fist. “okay, okay.” you tell him softly. “he gets it.”

rafe steps away as kelce falls to the ground, his chest heaving as his lip and nose drip blood. “let this be a lesson.” rafe turns to the crowd that has grown. “no one shit talk me or my girlfriend or this is what happens to you.” rafe points at kelce, not giving another word before stalking away, literally grabbing you and picking you up to carry you back towards his truck. you stay quiet as rafe sets you in the passenger seat.

“are your knuckles hurt?” you ask, petting your hand gently over his wrist as rafe shifts the car into gear, rushing away from the party.

“i’ll be fine, baby.” rafe says, glancing at his reddened fingers. “just need to get you home.”

“oh.” you nod, knowing that while rafe got some of his anger out on kelce, he’s certainly going to get the rest of his pent up energy out on you. 

it takes minutes from the time you get home for rafe to have your back flat on the bed, his large cock thrusting into you. 

you moan out, hands gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving scratches against his tanned skin. 

“you’re. my. fucking. girl.” rafe says, accentuating each word by pounding his cock inside of you.

you let out a moan, kelces mean words thoroughly beat out of your head as you nod. “im yours.”

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[lexithwrites]

first time. (wolfstar)

@wolfstarkinktober2024 | 1792 words | smut | trans/nonbinary sirius | virgin remus

Remus had never done this before, and it was becoming very obvious.

He had fumbled with his buttons when Sirius asked him to take off his shirt, shaking fingers finding each one and trying to pull them apart. He swallowed, and then felt softer hands touch his, covering them and taking over his movements.

"Let me, darling." Sirius said softly, light eyes meeting Remus'. They comforted him immediately and he sighed, nodding in agreement.

Sirius knew what they were doing, just let them take the lead. Remus couldn't take his eyes away from Sirius' face, concentrating on the buttons, the small scrunch of their brow when one button didn't cooperate, the way their hair cascaded over their shoulders, then his eyes went lower and he caught the sight of the garter belt and his mouth went dry. He felt his breath hitch. When Sirius had first walked in wearing it he almost let his knees buckle underneath him. They looked breath taking, beyond anything he'd ever seen before, and Sirius wanted him. Why, he didn't know, but he would be stupid to question it right now. So instead he let Sirius undress him in silence, just allowing himself soft touches of their hip. It made them shiver and Remus smiled.

"I'm sorry about the scars." He whispered and Sirius shook their head.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You're beautiful. Always have been." And they pushed the shirt from Remus' shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and expose his chest and arms. Remus wanted to cover up, cover up the frail, awkward body in front of Sirius' perfect one, but he held back. He didn't want to ruin the moment, not tonight. His insecurities could be ignored for tonight. He wanted this, he wanted it so bad it ached in the best way, and Sirius clearly did as well. Sirius smiled up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Jeans as well?" Remus took a moment of pause then nodded, watching Sirius reach down for his belt buckle.

Remus wondered if Sirius was just as desperate for this as he was, if they were just as horny and if their brain was fogged over with desire. He wanted to fall to his knees and bury his face between their thighs for hours, but he'd never done that before. He wouldn't be any good at it. Not yet, anyway. He wanted Sirius to tell him what they wanted, how they wanted it. He'd listen to every single instruction and follow it perfectly if it meant Sirius felt good and enjoyed themselves. That's all Remus wanted. He could care less if he came, even if his cock thought differently. They'd get to him eventually. Sirius, with Remus' jeans now undone, chuckled a little.

"You've been hiding this from me?" Their hand reached into the jeans and Remus' choked out an embarrassing noise as he was cupped through his boxers. He felt his mouth go dry as he tried to form words.

"I...I didn't think it was that impressive." Sirius shrugged.

"I like what I see so far. And what I feel. Come, love." Sirius took Remus' hand this time, and slowly led him to the bed. "I know you're nervous, but it's just me." Sirius told him in a soothing tone. Remus smiled.

"Sorry, I wish I wasn't nervous right now."

"I was my first time, it's okay. I'll make it feel so good, love." And Remus knew they were telling the truth. Sirius made everything better.

Remus sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at them with wide eyes as Sirius planted themselves in his lap, wrapping their arms around his neck and nuzzling their noses together. "You're safe with me, Moony. Always. Just try and relax."

They were kissing then, soft and slow and deep, just like Remus wanted. He had been told he was an amazing kisser by Sirius, but he feared that was a biased opinion. Either way, Sirius was sighing and rocking down against his bulge as they kissed and that's what mattered right now. Remus felt the wet heat between their legs and he moaned, hands going to their waist and keeping Sirius right where they were. Sirius moaned into his mouth and played with the soft curls at the nape of Remus' neck to make him tilt his head back. Sirius was on his neck in an instant, and Remus felt his hips buck up before he could stop them, and Sirius moaned.

"You love that, don't you?" Sirius fingers curled into Remus' hair as they sucked at the edge of his jaw, and Remus let out a strangled whine. "Good boy, just relax for me. Let yourself feel good with me." Sirius hips were still moving and Remus began to move his along with them. He wanted that friction to stay, that tug in his belly getting stronger as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, he was lying back on the bed with Sirius looming over him, and he stroked their cheek. Sirius, surprisingly, went red at that.

"You're so beautiful." Remus whispered, and Sirius nuzzled their cheek into his palm. "Can you...I want you to..." Remus' words escaped him and Sirius frowned a little

"What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

Remus swallowed and licked his lips, which Sirius' eyes followed. "I want you to sit on my face." Sirius suddenly bit their lip and tensed their thighs around Remus' hips.

"Are you sure? We can take it slow."

Remus nodded. "You'll still be in control, right? I'm just lying here." There was a whine from the back of Sirius' throat and they smiled.

"Okay. Lay back." And Remus did as he was told.

Sirius straightened their back and shimmied up his body, thighs settling on either side of Remus' head. They looked down at their boyfriend, seeing the lust in his eyes, and reached down to pull their lace underwear to one side. Sirius exhaled. "Hope you're hungry, my love." They purred, and the moment they were exposed they sank down. Remus stuck out his tongue on instinct, eyes locked on Sirius', and from the moment he felt the soft wetness he moaned. Loudly.

Sirius' breath hitched and they grabbed onto they headboard in front of them for stability. They had done this before, a couple times with other partners, but they had never been as sensitive as they were the first time feeling Remus' tongue against their clit. They bit their lip and watched, and felt, Remus start to explore them. His tongue was soft and curious, licking gently in circles to get used to it and to see if Sirius liked it.

Of course they did, Remus made them burn brighter than the sun and he had no idea. Sirius had only even been this nervous, this turned on, this confident and this desperate all at once for Remus Lupin. No one else even came close to comparing. And they never would.

Sirius gently rocked their hips down and moaned, their head tilting back as Remus seemed to get a little braver, using slow, long licks against their clit and between their folds. "There you go." Sirius nodded in encouragement, hands flexing against the headboard as Remus' tongue dipped inside for a fleeting second. "Oh fuck, can you do that again sweetheart?" Remus made a noise and moved his tongue back, and Sirius felt their eyes roll back into their head as Remus started to tongue fuck them, making them shiver and grind their hips down a little harder. "Remus, oh my god-" Their voice was higher pitched this time, more desperate, like they were begging.

Remus felt his own cock twitch in his jeans and his hands went to Sirius' thighs to ground himself. He didn't want to drop into a space he couldn't get out of, but Sirius' noises were making his brain go fuzzy. He kneaded their thighs and rolled his tongue before using his lips to suck gently at their clit, hoping that felt good as well. From the way Sirius suddenly pressed harder against him it must have. He watched their expressions change over time; that scrunched up face of pleasure to one more relaxed, filled with ecstasy. Remus was doing that to them, Remus was making them feel this good. He could have cum on the spot.

"Keep going, love. Don't stop." Sirius swallowed and finally opened their eyes again, looking down at him. "You're so good, baby. So good, holy shit." Their left hand moved from the headboard down to Remus' hair and they tugged with a lazy smile. "My good boy, doing so well." Remus whimpered and pushed his tongue inside them, catching Sirius off guard and making them whimper as well. "Right there, shit!" Sirius kept a firm hold on Remus' hair and started to fuck his face, rocking and squirming and almost bouncing at one point. They were already so close that it was torturous. No one had ever gotten them off from oral alone, and the idea of it being Remus was turning them on so much they could feel their slick between their thighs, coating Remus' mouth and chin. They tugged again, wanting Remus to look up at them.

"I'm gonna cum, okay? Do you want me to mo-" Sirius didn't even finished their sentence before feeling Remus latch onto their clit and start sucking. His hands wrapped around their thighs and Sirius cried out, covering their mouth so they didn't piss off the neighbours. "Baby-" Remus didn't say anything, just kept using his mouth to get them off, and Sirius starting moaning and whimpering louder and louder behind their hand, feeling their pussy pulse as Remus brought them right to the edge. "Please, please, please!"

Sirius threw their head back the the moment they started to cum but Remus kept them stable. He watched in awe as he felt Sirius cum on his tongue, feeling the wetness seep down his chin. His lashes fluttered, but he refused to let them close. He wanted this moment burnt into his brain, forever. He felt his start to throb uncomfortably in his jeans but he ignored it, moving his tongue and lips until his jaw burned, and only stopped when Sirius flopped over beside him, sitting there dazed and panting.

"You...you've never done that before?" They asked, clearly stunned. Remus just blushed and shook his head.

"No...was I okay?" Sirius let out a laugh and pushed some hair from their face.

"Baby, you've unlocked something dangerous." They suddenly got a look of hunger on their face and their eyes flickered to the very obvious bulge in Remus' jeans. Sirius grinned wickedly. "Your turn, sweet thing."

[sukunas-wife]

i just wanna start and say that i luvvv ur blog and the dad sukuna fics are giving me life (🙏🏾). plsss could i ask 4 a scenario of yuuji being a menace 4 once. like 1 of the things he and sukuna can agree on is that no one touches or speaks 2 momma without permission, but a new servant doesn't know that?

🤔 I see what’s going on you want Yuji to bite people well he NOT KINDA BRAT, he latches on and shakes his head like a feral dog 😭😭 grrr

Idk what I was doing and where my plot came from I think I just pulled it out the air 😭

“Lady Y/n!” You turned looking over at the eunuch who had been persistently following you all week. The poor young man according to the servants and your hand maids had grown “quite fond” of you. You looked over at Yuji, he had long run into the garden, sighing when your hand maids were stuck between going after Yuji or staying by your side. You waved them off when the eunuch got closer, “Ah, feels like I’ve been seeing you a lot lately. Especially outside the Palace walls.” You looked past him and he smiled, eyes becoming lidded. Silence filled the space and you gave him a sympathetic smile, “Did you need something or did you just run all this way to greet me Kamo?” You risked your arms into your sleeves eyeing the way he fidgeted with his hands. “I guess I came here just to greet you Lady Y/n..” he looked away, the blush on his cheeks was proof enough your ladies in waiting were right… Before you could dismiss him he spoke up with a hopeful look, “would you mind if I stood by your side for today Lady Y/n?” As much as you hated the idea of letting someone who’s not your husband or son be by your side all day, you had to think about it. You should say no because it would look bad if anyone were to notice him constantly at your side. Second, you don’t want to make a bad impression on Sukuna, he was your husband and you didn’t want to make him believe the rumours running around his own Palace.

“I appreciate your eagerness but the answer is no. I’m spending today with Yuji and I’m not allowing anything to take away from his time.” You dismissed him with a wave and he still smiled, “It’s alright, thank you Lady y/n. Maybe I can join you for the next time you feel like taking a walk in the garden.” You had already turned away but he held out hope, “Thank you for the offer Kamo but you really should get back to work.” You look over your shoulder at him with a faint smile, he nodded and ran off back to place and into the Curses den. The poor kid didn’t see Lord Sukuna lurking about watching the entire scene unfold. Sukun watched as you smiled over your shoulder in his general direction making his chest swell with pride, he knew he didn’t have to worry about you. It was that fool of a eunuch who would need to be taught his place.

————-

Yuji was by your side pulling your sleeve’s, “cmmooonnn mooomm Wanna goooooo” he ended up falling and lying on the floor looking up at you. He was spread out and he huffed. “I don’t want that eunuch to come he talks too mucchhhaaaahhh” his whine turned into a scream while he shook his head back and forth on the ground, “Yuji baby get up your gonna dirty.” You tried to help him up and he just laid limp in your hold, “Are we leaving now?”

“Yes we can go before Kamo shows up if you really don’t like him THAT much.” Yuji laid there while you tried to stand him up before he got “Mkay let’s go.” Yuji took your hand guiding you to the door and right when he opened it there was the voice that made him squint over his shoulder, “NO! GO AWAY KAMO!” You were amused how Yuji stuck his tongue out at the Eunuch while trying to drag you through the door into the garden again. You didn’t fight him and let him drag you doing your best to keep up. When he finally stopped, Yuji looked around, even jumping to look over a bush, “daddy doesn’t like him, he says he tried to talk to you toooo much.” He was waving his hands around exaggerating his point, “he said next time he tried to get close to take you away or fight him!” You watch as Yuji looked up at you holding little fists, his little round face was full of determination. You could help but kneel and place your hand on his head running it over the side of his face cupping his cheek. “Yuji you don’t have to worry about fighting that poor eunuch, there is nothing I would choose over you or Ryomen.”

He shook his head back and forth vigorously “nuh uh! Daddy said you’d say that and I shouldn’t listen!” You hugged Yuji, confusing him “awww my little Yu.” He leaned against you taking in your hug. “What else did daddy tell you, hm?”

———

There you sat with your husband, dressed up in vibrant Junihitoe with over 20 layers. Sukuna wore his usual attire, you were holding onto one of his arms listening to him talk about how Yuji had done well in his own training and along those lines. It was well into spring when the days were getting hotter and becoming longer summer days. Sukuna watched how you’d fan yourself closing your eyes for a brief moment of relief before leaning your head on his arm. He could feel your heat and there was no doubt in his mind it was all those layers in your silly little robes. He had a great idea, slowly he led you inside where you found relief out of the sun but those layers were still clinging to you in uncomfortable ways. When you were going to pull away Sukuna pulled you back into his side leaning down to whisper into your ear, “Now let’s get you out of those robes, your skins burning like all those nights I spent memorising every curve of your body.” The flush on your face flared up when you held onto him tighter, burying your face in his arm, “Ryomen!” You tried to scold him while he led you to the large bathing room. He took you in kissing you once the door was closed, he spared no time in stripping himself taking a step into the pool of cold water. A second step his hands were on your waist while you held his face kissing him, he mumbled against your lips “Let’s get these off of you.” He pressed his lips against your neck grazing you with his teeth, you tried to hold in your giggles when his hands opened your robes, letting his hands run over your sides while he bit into your skin sucking and marking you with a bright red mark, grazing his teeth over your skin when he made it to your chest. Your laughed and playful whispers could be heard outside the room and it left nothing to the imagination of what could be happening. This was a sign most servants took as “Don’t interrupt Lord Sukuna and Lady Y/n.” All except for one who walked in immediately after knocking. Kamo.. he was damn lucky Sukuna was just starting to slide your robes off your shoulders, you would’ve tried to push yourself away from Sukuna but he was your husband, what did you have to hide. Sukuna was too proud of his own physique to even think about maybe committing some form of decency. There you stood in his tight hold pulling you closer to the water, he rested his chin on your shoulder looking past you right at Kamo. He was smug about his situation, staring right at the eunuch, “What is it Kamo.” He couldn’t say anything, just staring at the both of you trying to think of something before Ryomen became annoyed, “I’ve killed better people for less,” he stood up, a set of arms still holding your waist and robes in place, there was no missing that Ryomen was in fact a man gifted not once but twice. He took that to his advantage when he noticed Kamo take a second look after he stepped from around you, “Speak now or lose your life, you better have a damn good reason for interrupting MY time with MY WIFE.” Just as Kamo was going to speak up, Yuji came running “Daddy DADDDY DADDY!” He stopped seeing his dad standing there in his full glory, “naked naked naked!” He closed his eyes when he pointed and laughed at his dad who just dead panned before turning to the eunuch, “Stop staring at my wife before you lose your living privileges and bring some towels.” He sent Kamo off and Yuji was still laughing behind his hand seeing his dad naked. You closed your robes, “Now that you're here Yuji you do need a bath.” You snatched him up before he could run out the door, Sukuna rolled his eyes “Great interrupted by the Eunuch and now that he’s gone you invite the brat.” Sukuna stared unamused as Yuji stripped jumping into the water, “‘m a fish”

———

It was a few days later when you were talking to one of your ladies in waiting and Yuji saw it. The way Kamo approached you reaching out to touch you to get your attention. He went running and screaming, the three of you turned to look at him, each of you confused until you noticed Yuji wasn’t running at you. He was running at Kamo who was about to touch you without your permission. It happens in slow motion how he jumped, little legs wrapping around his knee, the way his hands were clinging to the eunuch. He opened his mouth wide, threw his head back and made an exaggerated biting sound before he latched onto Kamo’s side. Your lady in waiting was shocked and you were just as speechless watching the eunuch try to pull Yuji off only for him to bite harder. Through the yells and little growls you could hear “don toufch mhh mhmmy” and he went back to shaking his head left and right.

Finally you came to your senses and tried to help take Yuji off of him, just as you took hold of Yuji Kamo winced and managed to hit you. Yuji let go and gasped very dramatically, he slipped out of your hands when your lady in waiting ran over to you to see if you were okay. You stood up holding your cheek staring at Kamo, as much as you’d like to take blame for Yuji biting him he shouldn’t have been trying to touch in the first place. You saw Yuji with his fists up “YOU HIT MY MOMMY” he swung hitting Kamo right in his manhood.

It didn’t take long for the word to spread, before you knew it Sukuna had you sitting in your seperate room. Yuji was going to follow his dad out of the room until he gave him a silent look, making him turn around and run back to you. He stood in front of you laying his chest and arms on your lap looking up at you with a small smile, “you're so pretty mommy.”

You laughed at his words shaking your head with a smile, “Aw my little prince Yuji here to make me feel better hm?” He stretched his arms up so you’d pull him into your lap. You did and he smiled at his reflection, you were sitting in front of the vanity in your room. He pouted looking up at you, “you okay?” He started to bite his finger when you looked down at him with teary eyes, you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault in some way. “Yeah it’s just been a long day Yu.”

He hummed, swinging his legs and falling limp in your arms, “daddy said he’s gonna fix him..” you were confused there was no doubt in your mind Ryomen would kill the man on sight once he faced him.

Time passed to the point that both of you got bored of waiting and ended up on the bed listening to Yuji ramble about how he was so cool and how could beat Sukuna in a fight. One day he was gonna have his own big temple and you could live with him because there wouldn’t be nasty old eunuchs running around.

“Hey brat, that's my wife, she's not going with you to your house or anywhere at all.” Yuji was quick to jump up and run over when you slowly sat up on the bed, “Dad!” Sukuna grabbed him by the back of his shirt pulling him up and onto his shoulder giving him a little bag, Yuji opened it, looked in and closed it throwing it on the floor making a loud “eeeewww”

Sukuna looked at you, you looked back at him, he didn’t seem too happy. He walked over to you bringing his hand up, you didn’t look away when he took your face in his hand shaking his head.

“I’m alright Ryo…” his thumb rubbed your cheek, “He’s not.” Yuji shivered, leaning over on his dads head to tell you “Look in the bag.”

Sukuna side eyed Yuji who looked away, “what’s in the- the balls he had that made him think he could lift his hand.”

“But he’s a- he wasn’t, he became a eunuch a few hours ago and now he is gone.” Sukuna’s face was smug when he flipped Yuji off his shoulder and onto your bed, “Now there’s something I want to finish that he interrupted.” He nodded at the door and you felt your face heat up, “y-yeah.” Yuji was busy laughing and rolling over in your bed to notice his parents little game of bedroom eyes.😭

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[aspenmissing]

ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ

4362 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴɪɴɢ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɴɪᴄᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ/ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

Jayce Talis was fresh-faced and full of ambition when he first arrived in Piltover. Accepted into the academy (19) as a promising young inventor, he was determined to make a name for himself. But ambition wasn’t enough to build the dreams he had in his mind. The academy had resources, yes, but they were cautious, slow-moving—bound by tradition. Jayce’s ideas demanded materials and ingenuity that Piltover wasn’t ready to supply.

That’s how he found himself wandering into the Undercity one fateful evening.

The narrow streets of Zaun were a stark contrast to the polished halls of the academy. Steam hissed from broken pipes, and the air smelled of oil and metal. Jayce clutched a hastily scribbled map in his hand, given to him by a fellow student who claimed there was a workshop deep in Zaun where you could find anything—if you were brave enough to look.

He nearly missed the place entirely, tucked away in a crooked alley. A flickering sign above the door read: “Y/N’s Fixes & Finds.”

Pushing the door open, Jayce was greeted by the faint hum of machinery and the clatter of tools. The workshop was a chaotic haven of gears, wires, and half-finished devices. At the centre of it all stood a young woman, roughly about the same age as him, goggles perched on their head, a smudge of grease streaked across their cheek as they worked on a mechanical contraption.

The sound of the door creaking drew their attention. They turned, narrowing their eyes at the well-dressed stranger. “Lost, academy boy?” they asked, their tone sharp but not unkind.

Jayce hesitated, taken aback by the directness. “Not lost,” he said, stepping further into the room. “Looking for something I can’t find in Piltover.”

Y/N leaned against the workbench, crossing their arms. “You’ve got the wrong place if you’re looking for shiny toys and fancy gadgets.”

“That’s not what I’m after,” Jayce replied earnestly. “I’m working on an idea—something that could change everything. But I need better materials, better tools. Someone told me you could help.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite themselves. “Big words for someone who doesn’t look like they’ve built anything that’s actually worked.”

Jayce smirked, feeling a flicker of determination. “I can prove it.”

They tossed him a battered device from the workbench—a mangled mess of gears and wires. “Fix that. If you’re half as smart as you think you are, it shouldn’t take you long.”

Jayce took the challenge without hesitation, sitting down at the workbench. The device was poorly assembled but fixable. With a few careful adjustments, he realigned the gears and connected the wires properly. Within minutes, the device clicked and whirred to life, emitting a faint pulse of light.

Y/N was impressed but tried not to show it. “Not bad, academy boy. Maybe you’re worth my time after all. Names Y/N” She holds her hand out to him.

"Jayce." He responded, shaking her hand.

They spent the next few hours talking, trading ideas and challenges. Y/N’s resourcefulness fascinated Jayce—they solved problems with a practicality born from necessity, creating brilliance out of scraps. In turn, Y/N couldn’t help but admire Jayce’s vision and his almost reckless drive to push boundaries.

When it was finally time for Jayce to leave, Y/N handed him a small pouch filled with rare components. “Call it a loan,” they said with a sly smile. “Don’t screw it up.”

Jayce smiled back, his grip tightening on the pouch. “I won’t,” he promised.

As he walked back to Piltover, the weight of the pouch felt heavier than it should. It wasn’t just components—it was trust. And for the first time, Jayce felt like his dreams weren’t so far away. He didn’t know it yet, but this meeting was the start of something that would change not just his life, but the world.

VIKTOR

The halls of the academy were always bustling, students rushing between lectures, papers scattered across desks, and the constant hum of ambition hanging in the air. Y/N was no exception, constantly moving, juggling tasks, and brimming with ideas. It was her first semester, and she was already feeling the pressure of living up to the academy’s towering expectations.

Lost in her thoughts about an upcoming presentation, her arms full of papers and books, Y/N’s focus slipped for just a moment too long. Her foot caught on the corner of a rug, and the next thing she knew, her carefully organized notes and diagrams were flying out of her grasp, scattering like autumn leaves across the polished floor.

Before she could fully register what had happened, a soft but firm voice broke through her embarrassment. “Careful now. The floor may not be as forgiving as it looks.”

Startled, Y/N glanced up to see a young man crouched beside her, already gathering her scattered papers. His lean frame was accentuated by the slightly oversized academy uniform, his posture careful as he balanced against a sturdy cane. His unruly brown hair seemed perpetually at odds with the studious air he carried. Most striking, though, were his golden-brown eyes—intense and thoughtful, but not unkind.

“I—uh, thank you,” Y/N stammered, still flustered as she scrambled to pick up the rest of her notes.

“It happens,” the young man replied in a calm, measured tone, his Czech accent thick. He leaned slightly on his cane as he handed her a stack of neatly organized papers. “You’re not the first to underestimate how much these corridors demand your attention.”

She managed a sheepish smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah, I suppose balance isn’t my strong suit.”

“Balance,” he mused, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His cane tapped lightly against the floor as he shifted his weight. “An elusive concept, especially here. The academy is good at keeping everyone on edge.”

Y/N accepted the papers, her initial embarrassment giving way to curiosity. “Thanks again. I guess I owe you one.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “No debt incurred,” he said with a faint chuckle. “Just… perhaps slow down a little next time. Rushing rarely yields the best results.”

As the weight of her papers settled back in her arms, Y/N hesitated. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Viktor,” he said simply, his cane tapping softly as he adjusted his stance. He offered a slight nod, polite but reserved. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” she replied, finally feeling steady on her feet. “First semester, and clearly still figuring out how to survive the academy.”

“You’re not alone in that,” Viktor said, his tone thoughtful as he studied her. “Even those of us who’ve been here longer still stumble now and then—metaphorically, of course.” A faint flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.

Y/N smiled, her initial awkwardness fading into warmth. “Well, Viktor, thanks for the save. I’ll try not to make this a habit.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “See that you don’t. But… if you do find yourself in need of assistance, you know where to find me.” With a slight dip of his head, Viktor turned and walked down the corridor, his cane tapping a quiet rhythm on the polished floor.

As Y/N watched him disappear into the crowd of students, she couldn’t help but feel that this brief encounter was the start of something far more meaningful than a simple rescue.

JAYVIK

The flickering fluorescent lights of the lab cast long shadows over the scattered blueprints, glowing crystals, and intricate machinery. It was late—most of the academy's halls were silent, the usual bustle of students and researchers replaced by an eerie stillness. Perfect timing for someone who didn’t belong.

Y/N moved carefully, her footsteps light as she navigated the sprawling lab. Her Zaunite instincts guided her, sharp and survival-driven. The tools and devices on the workbenches were unlike anything she had seen back home—polished, cutting-edge, and dripping with the wealth of Piltover’s privileged elite.

It wasn’t personal. She didn’t particularly want to steal from anyone. But things in Zaun had been dire lately, and every stolen blueprint or shard of hextech crystal could mean another week of food, another day of keeping her family afloat.

Her gloved hand reached for a shimmering blue crystal embedded in an ornate device when a sharp voice cut through the silence.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Y/N froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned slowly, her mind racing for an excuse. Behind her stood a tall man with broad shoulders, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. His piercing brown eyes bore into hers, his expression a mix of suspicion and annoyance.

“I—uh…” Y/N began, but another voice interrupted her.

“She doesn’t look like one of the academy staff,” Viktor said, stepping out from behind a stack of blueprints. He leaned on his cane, his golden-brown eyes sharp and calculating as they swept over her. “Too quiet. Too... resourceful.”

Y/N’s gaze darted between the two men. She was cornered. Jayce’s strong, commanding presence on one side, and Viktor’s sharp intellect on the other. Her hands instinctively tightened around the crystal, but she knew she wouldn’t get far if she tried to run.

“I can explain,” Y/N said quickly, raising her hands in mock surrender, the crystal still clutched in one fist. “I wasn’t going to take much, I swear. Just... borrowing.”

Jayce raised an eyebrow, his skepticism evident. “Borrowing? From our lab?” His tone was incredulous. “You know, breaking in and stealing aren’t exactly the best ways to ask for a favor.”

Viktor tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “You’re from Zaun, aren’t you?” he asked, his accent softening as he studied her.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard.

“Your tools,” Viktor interrupted, nodding toward the small pouch at her hip. “Zaunite make. Efficient but improvised. And your shoes—worn from the chemical streets.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You’re observant,” she muttered, uneasy under his scrutiny.

Jayce glanced at Viktor, his frustration softening slightly. “So, what now?” he asked, clearly deferring to his partner.

Viktor considered Y/N for a long moment before speaking. “Running won’t help you. Security will catch you before you leave the building. And if they don’t, Piltover’s lawkeepers will. But…” His gaze flicked to the device she had tried to steal. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

Y/N frowned, her suspicion evident. “An arrangement?”

“You’re resourceful,” Viktor said simply, his tone calm and measured. “And I assume you wouldn’t be risking your neck unless you truly needed to. If you’re willing to explain your situation, perhaps we can find a way to help each other.”

Jayce crossed his arms but nodded, his earlier irritation giving way to a grudging respect. “We’re not heartless. If there’s something you need, just tell us. Stealing isn’t the only way.”

Y/N hesitated, her eyes darting between the two of them. There was no malice in their words, only curiosity and... understanding? She wasn’t sure what she expected when she’d broken into this lab, but it definitely wasn’t this.

“Fine,” she said at last, lowering her hands and relinquishing the crystal. “I’ll talk. But don’t think for a second that I trust either of you.”

Jayce chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Trust takes time.”

Viktor gave a faint smile, his grip on his cane tightening as he gestured toward a nearby stool. “Then let’s start now. Sit. We’re listening.”

As Y/N sat down, her nerves still buzzing, she realized that she might have just stumbled into something far more complicated—and far more intriguing—than she’d anticipated.

VANDER

The Last Drop wasn’t much to look at back then. It wasn’t the thriving hub it would later become, but a small, rough-hewn bar tucked into the heart of Zaun’s chaos. The air inside carried a mix of sweat, cheap ale, and the faint metallic tang of machinery. It was a refuge for the weary and the desperate—a place where even the broken found a moment of peace.

Vander was behind the bar, as usual, wiping down the stained counter with a rag that had seen better days. He wasn’t much older than twenty, broad-shouldered and already carrying the weight of the Undercity on his back. Silco sat at a bar, drinking from a glass as he writes in a journal.

The door creaked open, and Vander glanced up out of habit. He expected another familiar face, maybe a regular, or some poor soul looking for a drink to drown their troubles. What he didn’t expect was her.

Felicia strode in first, her usual swagger in place, but behind her was someone new—a woman he’d never seen before. Y/N stepped into the dim light of the bar, and for a moment, Vander forgot how to breathe.

She didn’t belong here—not in the way most people did. Zaun had a way of dulling beauty, grinding it down with grime and despair, but she seemed untouched by it. Her eyes carried a spark of resilience, her posture a quiet defiance against the city that tried to break everyone. To Vander, she was a flower blooming in the middle of a wasteland.

“Oi, Vander!” Felicia’s voice snapped him out of his daze. “Quit staring and come over here.”

Silco smirked from his seat, clearly catching Vander’s momentary lapse. Vander muttered something under his breath and stepped around the bar, doing his best to play it cool as Felicia waved him over.

“This is Y/N,” Felicia said, gesturing toward her companion. “She’s new to this part of Zaun, figured I’d show her around. Thought it’d be good for her to meet the famous Vander.”

“Famous, huh?” Vander said, his voice gruff as he extended a hand.

Y/N smiled, and the warmth in it caught him off guard. She took his hand, her grip firm but gentle. “I’ve heard a bit about you,” she said. “Felicia talks like you’re some kind of legend.”

Vander chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Don’t believe everything she says. I’m just a guy with a bar.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Felicia chimed in, slapping Vander on the shoulder. “He’s got a heart as big as this place—and fists to match.”

Vander shot Felicia a warning look, but she only grinned. Y/N laughed softly, the sound light and melodic, and Vander felt something stir in his chest.

“Well,” Y/N said, her gaze meeting his, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Vander. This place has a charm to it.”

“Charm, huh?” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “That’s not a word I hear much around here.”

She shrugged. “It’s all in how you look at it.”

Vander nodded, his respect for her growing. It wasn’t often someone saw Zaun with anything other than disdain or despair. “Can I get you a drink?” he offered, his voice softening.

“Sure,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But only if you join me for one.”

For the first time in a long while, Vander felt a flicker of something he’d thought Zaun had taken from him—hope. He poured two drinks and joined her at the bar, Felicia smirking knowingly as she goes to Silco’s side, the two watching with a smirk

As the night went on, Vander found himself captivated by Y/N’s stories, her laughter, and the way she seemed to light up the dim room. In a city that thrived on shadows, she was a rare glimpse of light, and Vander couldn’t help but wonder if meeting her was the beginning of something he’d been waiting for his whole life.

SILCO

The night Vander betrayed him was etched into Silco’s mind like a blade carving into flesh. The cold waters of the canal still burned in his lungs, and the searing pain from his infected eye was a constant reminder of the man who had once called him brother.

He’d managed to escape, his hands slick with blood, the knife he used to fend off Vander still trembling in his grasp. Every step felt heavier than the last as he stumbled through the labyrinthine streets of Zaun, his vision blurring from pain and exhaustion.

When he finally collapsed in a dark, narrow alleyway, Silco wasn’t sure if he’d ever rise again. The city around him was a blur of muffled sounds and shifting shadows before everything went black.

==

Silco awoke with a start, his instincts kicking in before his body could fully respond. He bolted upright, only to be met with a sharp, stabbing pain radiating from his face and ribs. His hand instinctively reached for his eye, but a firm, unfamiliar voice cut through the haze.

“Don’t touch that.”

His head snapped toward the source, his remaining eye narrowing. A woman stood in the doorway, holding a small basin of water and a cloth. She looked calm, her expression unreadable, but there was an undeniable edge to her tone—a warning.

“Who are you?” Silco demanded, his voice rough, his body tense despite the obvious strain it was under.

“Someone who just saved your life,” Y/N replied, stepping closer and setting the basin down on a small, rickety table. “You were half-dead when I found you. If you move too much, you’ll tear the stitches I just put in.”

Silco’s gaze flickered to his arm, now wrapped tightly in makeshift bandages. His mind raced, trying to piece together how he’d ended up here. “Why?” he asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his hostility. “Why what? Why did I help you?” She shrugged. “Let’s just say I don’t like seeing people bleed out in the streets, even in a place like this.”

“Charity is rare in Zaun,” Silco said, his suspicion evident.

She let out a dry laugh. “You don’t say.” Her tone softened slightly as she sat on a stool beside him, wringing out the cloth. “I’m no saint, but I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, sit still. Your eye’s infected, and if you want to keep what’s left of it, you’ll let me help.”

Silco hesitated, every muscle in his body screaming at him to leave, to get away from this stranger. But the throbbing in his eye and the sharp pain in his side were undeniable. Reluctantly, he leaned back against the wall, his remaining eye watching her every move.

Y/N worked in silence for a while, dabbing gently at his swollen, reddened eye. Her hands were steady, her touch careful despite the obvious discomfort it caused him.

“You’re lucky I found you when I did,” she said after a moment. “Another hour out there, and you’d have been done for.”

“Lucky,” Silco repeated bitterly, his jaw tightening. “That’s one way to put it.”

She paused, meeting his gaze. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. But whatever it was, it left you in a bad way. You should rest.”

“I can’t stay here,” Silco said firmly, starting to rise again despite the pain.

Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down. “And go where? Back into the streets? You’ll be dead by morning.”

Her words hung in the air, and for the first time, Silco found himself unable to argue. He hated the vulnerability, hated relying on someone else, but something about Y/N’s unwavering composure kept him from pushing her away.

“You’re stubborn,” he muttered, leaning back reluctantly.

She smirked, sitting back on her stool. “Takes one to know one.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Silco allowed himself to close his eye and let the tension in his body ease, if only slightly. The woman tending to him was a mystery, but as the night wore on, he couldn’t deny that her care was keeping him alive.

And in the shadows of Zaun, where trust was scarce and betrayal ran deep, that simple act of kindness was enough to plant the seed of something unexpected—something Silco would carry with him long after he left her care.

JINX/POWDER

Y/N once lived in Piltover with her mother, enjoying a modest but stable life. However, when her mother passed away unexpectedly, the weight of mounting bills and the high cost of living in the gilded city became too much for her to bear. With no other options, she made the difficult decision to move to Zaun, a place she had only heard about in whispers. The contrast was stark—Piltover's polished streets were replaced by Zaun's gritty alleys and thick, smoky air. Struggling to find her footing, she spent months navigating her new reality, unsure of where she belonged.

Fate intervened when Y/N stumbled across Silco in an alleyway, unconscious and wounded. Taking a risk, she helped him, unaware that this single act of compassion would alter the course of her life. (Silco's Part) After recovering, Silco saw something unique in Y/N—her resilience and resourcefulness—and offered her work. What began as a professional arrangement quickly deepened into a bond built on trust and mutual respect, a connection that only grew stronger over the years. Their dynamic shifted again one evening when Silco arrived at their base of operations with a new addition to their unnatural family.

Powder.

She was small, thin, with wild blue hair, and bruises marring her skin. But it wasn’t just the physical damage that caught your attention—it was the hurt in her eyes. The guilt. The grief. And something darker beneath the surface. You could see it clearly, even through the panic and shock she was clearly experiencing.

“She’s... she’s alive,” Silco muttered, almost to himself, as he carefully laid Powder down on a makeshift cot. His eyes were bloodshot, his face streaked with soot and grime from the aftermath. “She needs care.”

You nodded silently, stepping forward with a calm that belied the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You were no stranger to pain, and you knew what needed to be done. You had seen plenty of broken souls, but something about this girl... something about her was different. She wasn’t just another casualty of Zaun’s brutality—she was a spark, a raw potential waiting to be shaped.

You crouched beside her, noting how tightly she was curled in on herself. She was trembling, hands clenched into fists at her sides as though bracing for something. Her wide eyes, still filled with fear, flickered to Silco’s figure, and you could see the tension in her shoulders, the uncertainty in her gaze.

“Powder,” you said gently, your voice soft but steady. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help.”

She didn’t respond, but you saw her stiffen slightly at your words. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, and for a moment, the silence hung in the air between you both. You continued your work, not rushing, not pushing her to speak, only ensuring she was comfortable and that her injuries weren’t as severe as they seemed.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” You muttered, more to yourself than to her. “Zaun doesn’t make it easy for anyone.”

Silco stepped back, leaning against the wall. “She... doesn't talk. Hasn't since the explosion. Going to need a lot of patience with this one.”

“I can handle patience,” you said quietly, glancing at Silco with an understanding nod. There was something else there, though, that you could see behind his eyes—a recognition. Maybe even a kind of resignation. He had likely seen far too many broken people in his time, but for the first time, you saw a flicker of doubt in him. Whether it was for himself, for her, or both, you couldn’t be sure.

But the moment you looked back down at Powder, you knew she needed something more than just care. She needed someone who could see past the explosion, the destruction, and the chaos she had been a part of. She needed someone who could help her rebuild what had been torn apart—not just her body, but her heart.

“Hey,” you spoke again, this time more firmly. “You don’t have to carry this alone. I know it feels heavy right now, but you can’t carry it forever. It’s not all on you.”

The words didn’t seem to break through at first. Powder stayed silent, still as stone. But you could see the smallest tremor in her hands, the slight quiver in her lip.

The guilt was suffocating her.

"I'm a monster… A Jinx," Powder's voice was soft, barely a whisper, and laced with hesitation. "It's my fault."

You moved a little closer, sitting down beside her. You didn’t touch her, but you stayed there, just close enough for her to feel your presence, warm and steady. You understood what it was like to feel like the world was on your shoulders, to feel like you couldn’t make amends, but you knew one thing: she had to be given the chance to heal. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but it would happen.

“You're not a monster,” you said softly, placing a gentle hand on the girl's knee. "And it's not your fault. You're just a very brave girl."

For a long moment, the room was silent except for the distant hum of Zaun’s underbelly and the faint sounds of Powder’s breath. Silco didn’t respond, but you saw the sharpness in his gaze soften, just a fraction. His stance relaxed, and his lips pressed into a thin line, contemplating your words.

Finally, Powder’s voice, quiet and small, cut through the stillness. “I... I didn’t mean to...”

“I know,” you said gently, offering her a small, comforting smile. “But it’s not about what happened. It’s about what you do next.”

The weight of her past might have been too heavy to erase, but there was still time for her to change. There was still time for healing. And in that moment, you knew: whatever happened next, you would be there to guide her through it.

A new chapter had begun for both you and Powder, one where she wouldn’t have to walk alone in the shadows of Zaun any longer.

[toxicanonymity]

Bodies.

7.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader

reader has no physical description, pics are for mood

raider master | playlists: raider, sweet pea (smut) SUMMARY: Uninvited guests make a nice evening devolve into disaster, but when they're gone, Joel takes a big step 💋 A/N: follows Hunger. Ty to this ask about flirting; arm anon; @xdaddysprincessxx, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, and others who've discussed dog's name, @javier-penas-wifexx420 for asks, @milla-frenchy for listening, everyone for patience and support. @toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs. WARNINGS: I8+ canon typical violence, tension, possessive/aggressive reader, angst, self-harm scare, references to skin carving scars, hurt/comfort, Joel is a little grumpy, exhibitionism, grinding, dacryphilia, leather choker, bj with ball sucking, unsafe P in V, creampie, obsessive unhealthy toxic dynamic, Joel can hold reader, reader can hang onto Joel.

Raider POV of smut.

The dog has stuck around for more than 24 hours now. He's a good dog. He’s working on a duck foot while you, Joel, and Carter eat by the fire. The evening air is cool but mild. The sky is clear. 

Joel and his men spent most of the day working on the van and looking for parts.  The dog sat with you while you read a book. You made a wildflower crown and put it around the dog’s neck. When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed. 

-

Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black. 

“Tommy!” you call out to the dog to see if he reacts. 

Carter chokes on his food, but quickly recovers. His eyes are wide.

“What’d you say?” Joel asks, ominously quiet. When you don’t respond, he reaches over to gently turn your head toward him.  The look on his face makes your stomach turn. 

“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.

“No.” He shakes his head, “I don't like it.” He lets go of your face. “Namin’ the goddamn dog,” he grumbles under his breath. He puts down his plate and stands up.

You’re afraid to ask, but when Joel silently walks off toward the woods, you look at Carter. He asks, “He tell ya anything about his family? His brother?”

Your face is hot and your tummy feels dizzy. “He said he didn’t have any family.” 

Carter raises his eyebrows, then he's quiet for a moment and stares at the ground.  His face becomes studious. 

“What,” you ask. 

“Ain't my place,” Carter looks down apologetically.  

A few seconds later, watching your face, Carter adds the obvious: “I wouldn't go there.”

"Yeah," you whisper.  Anything about his family. The question weighs on you. You really don't know Joel, do you? 

Carter changes the subject. “He’ll come around on the dog.”

You perk up. “You think?” 

Carter nods, then adds, “Sorry ‘bout Daisy,” squinting solemnly. 

“Thanks,” you nod, then can’t resist asking, “Joel wasn’t. . .married, was he?”

Carter shakes his head and doesn’t elaborate. At least there’s that. But still. His family. 

You're unsettled, and you try to distract yourself with other dog names, mentally going through a list. Bullet. Clover. Duck. Joel doesn’t have to know he has a name. 

Apparently, Carter is thinking about the same thing. He tries to cheer you up. “Gun names, huh? Pistol, Rifle--”

“--Rifle??” You crack a smile. 

“Hey, there's no bad ideas,” Carter laughs, and you giggle. 

“What about Bullet–”

“--Shh,” Carter nods toward the tree line. Joel is on his way back. 

As you finish eating, Carter tries to make small talk with Joel to break the tension. Joel doesn't say much. You ask Carter how he makes his jerky, and he walks you through it. It doesn't sound hard. You could probably do it yourself. 

—--Carter—--

The three of you are sitting outside by the fire after dinner. You’re on Joel’s knee, and Joel slides his hand up your dress a little bit. Carter averts his eyes and watches the dog work on his duck foot, making happy little growls and wagging his tail. Hard to say whether you and Joel are about to go inside and fuck, or if Joel’s just copping a feel like he does twenty times a day. 

You have Joel wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never been like this before. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never made a girl his in the years Carter’s known him. Joel’s always been a man of focus. He’s always been a tough guy. He’s always had a temper, but at this point, he’d tear a man to shreds just for looking at you wrong. It’s scary, and it’s a lot of mess to clean up. Carter’s seen Joel do some crazy shit, but never as crazy as turning one of his own men into a scarecrow for an off-hand comment. Carter knows Joel better than anyone, and it’s clear to him that Joel is crazy about you.

The dog drops the duck foot, growls and barks, then takes off and runs toward the back of the trailer. You get off Joel’s knee to go after the dog, and Joel’s arm around your middle stops you. As Carter stands up and puts on his rifle, a high-pitched shriek comes from behind the trailer. Joel grabs his rifle off the log, and Carter says, “it’s cool,” holding his hand out. He won’t hesitate to yell if he needs Joel. “Go inside, sweet pea,” Joel tells you. You take your time going. 

Carter goes around the back of the trailer and trains his rifle on two figures cresting the hill. The dog has stopped short of them and is keeping his distance, but he’s still barking and looks ready to pounce, like he’s holding himself back. 

“DON’T MOVE,” Carter booms, then keeps his rifle fixed on the pair and slowly approaches them. When Carter reaches the dog, the dog’s barking fades into a low growl. 

They drop their backpacks and put their hands up. 

“What’re ya doin’ here?” Carter asks. 

The woman clears her throat and follows it with a demure smile.  “Went huntin’, came back ’n our house was taken.” 

Carter nods and looks back and forth between the two of them. They’re both decent looking. Some resemblance, maybe siblings. 

“What do y’all want,” Carter asks, then spits over his shoulder. 

“Nothin’,” the man claims. “Just cuttin’ through on our way to the road.” His eyes pan down Carter’s shoulders and arms. Carter squares his shoulders and adjusts his grip on the gun. 

Carter nods hesitantly. “Can ya hang tight for me? Don’t want ya walkin’ into gunfire.” 

They nod in agreement with a hint of fear. They shouldn’t be trouble. They aren’t carrying much. 

Carter walks backwards for a few slow steps, then nods and turns around toward the trailer. Carter sees you spying in the kitchen window and gives you a reassuring nod as he goes around the trailer to talk to Joel. 

-

"They're alright, I think," Carter tells Joel. 

"What do they want," Joel grumbles.

"Nothin'. . . Cuttin' through on their way to the road."

Joel nods. 

“Lost their house, didn’t say who took it.” 

Joel’s brow furrows and he nods. “Armed?” 

“Not heavily,” Carter answers. 

“Bring’em around. Let’s find out who took their house.”

“You got it,” Carter says. 

—---- 🌸you 🌸 —---

You move to the window facing the yard and the fire pit with logs around it. As they walk around the trailer, you overhear that they’ve been traveling most of the day.  When they stop by the fire, you wait a few minutes, thinking they’ll leave. Then they take a seat, and the woman sits on the log next to Joel’s, on the end of the log closest to him. Your chest tightens. When she smiles at him, you scoff out loud to yourself. You start to go out the front door, then stop and go to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and open the flannel. You run your finger over the faint, healed letters on your skin, and you leave your chest exposed. You adjust your thigh holster, then go outside. 

When the door opens, Carter looks over his shoulder and announces, “There she is.”

Joel introduces you. “This is, uh. . .” 

“Jill,” she pipes in. 

“Ron,” the man nods at you. 

A couple. They must be a couple. They look a little alike, but not enough to be siblings. Joel leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, connecting with your eyes for a moment, sharing something near a smile before his eyes fade back to serious. 

Joel doesn’t make room for you in his lap, but he doesn’t tell you to go back inside either. He looks alert and on guard. There are four logs and five of you. You sit on Joel’s log and feel satisfied when he doesn’t scoot toward Jill to make more room. He doesn’t mind you being right up against him. Carter’s on the log to your left. Jill talks about their house and what was going on when they got back from their hunting trip. Ron is quieter. He glances at Carter a few times. Jill keeps looking at Joel. She talks too much.

Jill says they saw Infected behind the trailer park. Joel and Carter look at each other. Your stomach twists, but you study her face, and you don’t trust her. Attention. She wants attention. She wants Joel’s attention. Joel is better than Ron – bigger, stronger, better looking. There were no Infected. She’s making it up for attention. 

Everyone is quiet for what feels like a full minute. You look her dead in the eye and break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No you didn’t.”  Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were there yesterday.” 

Jill raises her eyebrows, bemused.  “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of it.” She nods to Ron, and the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.  

“Where,” Joel asks flatly. You wish he wouldn’t speak to her at all. 

“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. It’s quiet again. Nothing but the fire crackling and the dog growling happily. 

“Thanks,” Carter mumbles. 

Jill’s gaze lingers on Joel. She seems pleased with herself. Joel looks away, sits back, and crosses his arms. Now she’s checking out his arms as they bulge out with his hands under them. Your heart races. Anger simmers under your ribs. 

"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips. Your heart skips a beat. It feels like a personal attack. You pop up from the log. 

Joel makes room in his lap and looks at you as he replies, "Carter here could handle'em, too,” with a nod to his left. 

Joel must have expected you to sit on his knee like you were before they showed up.  He clears his throat as it becomes clear you’re going to fully straddle him. His nose twitches and his eyes sparkle. He puts his arms around you loosely. His hands rest on your back to help you balance. You scoot closer and he helps you settle in so your crotch rests on his. Your head is in the crook of his neck, facing toward Jill to keep an eye on her. It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.  

Your arms are around Joel. Your hand runs over the handgun in the back of his pants, and he tenses. 

Jill has the nerve to speak again. “That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” you snap back. 

“Shhhh,” Joel whispers into your hair. “‘S’okay, baby.”  

“I’m comfortable,” you tell Joel.

“I know, sweet pea.” He nuzzles his nose at the top of your ear. “‘s’okay, baby,” he whispers. You rock your hips into him, feeling him grow harder. He pulls you tight, adjusting your weight. He moves one hand to your thigh. You grind yourself into him and he lets out a little “mm.” 

“Um, okay,” she mumbles in disgust. 

You snarl and turn your head away from her, back toward Joel. Then you turn your head toward Carter. Carter is absentmindedly examining the bite on his hand. Ron is spaced out, watching Carter’s face. Then, his eyes fall down to Carter’s lap. 

“You’re bit,” Jill announces. “Ron, he’s bit!” 

Ron snaps out of his daze, sits up self-consciously, and when his eyes fall on Carter’s hand, his face hardens.

Carter protests, “It’s not–” 

“--It was the dog,” your head snaps back toward Jill. “It doesn’t look anything like Infected.” She just wants attention. She wants drama. 

“It was the dog,” Joel repeats, unamused. It sounds like a warning. Joel’s hand on your thigh nudges the gun loose from your holster. Your hand wraps around the handle of the gun in the back of Joel’s pants. 

“Lemme see it,” Ron demands.  He stands up and points his gun at Carter.  He snarls with a look of disgust. His face has completely transformed since a moment ago.

“SIT DOWN,” Joel booms and grabs the gun out of your holster. 

Carter starts to offer, “I’ll show-”

“No ya won’t,” Joel snaps as he stands up with you still wrapped around him. Joel points the gun at Ron. “Come into my yard, orderin’ us around?” Joel’s deep voice vibrates in your ear, then he whispers, “Go inside,” as he tries to let you down. You take the gun out of the back of his pants. “Inside, now.” You put your feet on the ground. 

“Nobody owns this land,” Ron laughs. 

“C’mon, man, y’all know how it works,” Carter seems to try to de-escalate. “Show some respect.” 

You slowly, carefully recede into the shadows, but you don’t go inside.  

Jill points her gun at Carter and demands, “Show us.” With everyone else’s eyes fixed tensely on each other, you can approach her from behind, undetected.  Two guns are pointed at Carter and one at Ron. Carter reaches for his rifle, and Ron braces his own gun with both hands. Ron cocks the hammer, and you quietly approach Jill from behind. 

Ron adjusts his finger on the trigger, and Joel shoots him in the head.  Jill screams. 

It all happens in an instant: You lunge forward, tackling her to the ground, making her drop her gun.  You could shoot her in the head, but something makes you toss your gun aside. You can't stop yourself from putting your hands around her throat.  She claws at your chest and breasts. She slaps you, and it stings.  You elbow her in the face, keeping one hand on her neck. She keeps clawing at you. “Stupid whore,” she spits. 

“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,” you pant and put your palm over her face, covering as much of it as you can, putting all your weight on her.  Before she can bite you, Joel’s massive hands are firm around your arms, pulling you off. You resist, and he wraps an arm around your middle. 

“‘S’okay,” he repeats as he pulls you off, and lifts you into standing.  “Go inside.”

You hesitate and he firmly adds, “Now. I'll handle this.” He gives you a look that says he means it.  Then he turns his attention to Jill.  She coughs as you walk away. She whimpers and plays up how injured she is. Pathetic. 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice softens for her.  “You’ll be alright,” he tells her. You glance back and he’s what? He’s straddling her. He has his hands on her face. Is he . . .stroking her hair? You can’t see well enough. Your chest burns, and you start to turn around completely, wanting to approach them.  

But Carter whispers, “C’mon, let’s go,” and gently takes your elbow. 

Maybe it’s for the best. You walk with Carter in a daze. Maybe you were seeing things. No, Joel is comforting her. Your Joel is straddling and comforting the woman who just slapped you and called you a whore. 

“It's okay,” Joel reassures Jill again, then you hear the loud crack of her neck snapping. 

You feel a lot of things. Joy, relief, guilt–not for being happy, but for doubting Joel. 

Carter opens the trailer door and you go inside. 

-

For a few minutes, you just sit at the table. Your relief at Jill’s demise quickly fades when you realize she died thinking Joel liked her. Joel acting sweet with her even for a few seconds was more than she deserved. 

Now you can't calm down. All your muscles are tense. You start to cry, then you go to get a glass of water. Your hand is shaking and you can hardly hold the glass. You want to throw it, but you put it down, still empty, on the counter. You take a deep breath, bury your mouth in your shoulder, then scream as loud as you can, until you're out of air and your throat is sore. You cough and spit over the sink, nauseous from the effort. Then you slump down onto the kitchen floor in tears. 

Almost as soon as you hit the floor, the front door opens. It's not Joel, it's Carter. 

“What happened?” Carter rushes over to you.

“Where's Joel?”

“Haulin’ a body.” 

“Which body? Don't let him touch her!”

He looks at you, stunned for a second, then says, “Not hers.” 

“You promise?” you try to choke back tears. 

“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself. Then he hesitantly reaches for your shoulder. “Shhh, it's okay.” 

You lunge toward him on your knees and let yourself fall onto his chest.  He looks over his shoulder then hesitantly hugs you. “Okay,” he whispers with his hands very lightly touching your back but not resting their full weight. He gives you a moment, then clears his throat. “I've gotta. . . ” He lets go, stands up, and fills the glass of water.  “Here.” He puts it on the table, then comes back to you. 

“Been a long day, huh?” Carter asks. He squats down and takes your elbow in his hand. “C’mon.” You wipe your eyes on your flannel and stand up. He guides you to the table with his hand on your back and pulls out a chair for you. He leaves you at the table with your water. 

—--

You sit there for a minute, sipping your water. Then go to the bathroom to splash your face. You stop crying. You fix your hair. But your eyes are still misty.  You look at your chest in the mirror. She scratched you. You can see a couple of her scratch marks better than Joel’s name. Your chest heats up as you stare at it, and your heart beats faster. You take calming breaths. You want her to go away. You don’t want anyone on your skin but Joel. You dab your chest with a cold washcloth. The worst scratch is right over the ‘J’.  

You open the medicine cabinet, don’t find anything useful, and close it. You go to the kitchen and find a pocket knife in one of the drawers. You bring it back to the bathroom and open the sharpest blade. What if you just. . .if you make the ‘J’ a little better, maybe. It’s like she goes away.  How should you do it? You look down at yourself. You can’t really see. You look in the mirror and bring the knife to your chest. The hand-eye coordination is hard in the mirror.

You’re looking in the mirror, holding the pocket knife in your hand, when the front door opens and slams shut. Joel’s boots thud, then stop. He says your name.  “You okay?” 

You sniffle.  He approaches the bathroom door. It's not shut. You move toward the door to shut it, but you're too late. Joel stops it from closing. He's so much stronger than you, he pushes it open with ease, then his arms wrap you in a hug and the force of it walks you backward toward the sink. 

You still have the knife open in your hand. As his arms tighten, you whisper, “Careful,” and hold your hand away. 

He pulls away, looks you over, and looks at your hand. “Hell are ya doin’,” he mutters. 

You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?” 

“Makin’ it. .  .” 

Your eyes water again as you face the mirror fully. Joel turns toward the mirror, too, standing behind you. You run your fingers over your chest with one hand and hold the knife with the other. 

Joel's face changes when he realizes what you're doing. He grabs your wrist so hard you reflexively drop the knife and it clatters into the sink. “No.”

He picks it up, closes it, and puts it behind the faucet. He looks at your face in the mirror. “Can't let ya do that.” 

“You said people can’t see it.”

“Told ya we’d figure somethin’ else out.”

“Like what?” 

Joel runs his hand over your chest, and his thumb lingers on the scratch over the J. His nostrils flare, his head tilts down, and his eyes darken under his brow. “This from her?”

You nod.

Joel sighs and steps over to the bathtub. He starts a shower. He takes his shirt off over his back. You back away toward the door, and start to give him some space.

“Whoa, nuh-uh” Joel stops you. “Did I say leave?” 

“Sorry.”

“Take your clothes off.” He sits on the toilet to untie his boots, then slips out of them and takes off his socks. 

“Ya know, ya came out there. Got her all worked up,” he grumbles. What? That’s not fair.

“I just wanted you.”

“You were starin’ right at her, sweet pea.”

“I just wanted to be on you, wanted to touch you,” you insist. 

“She wanted her grubby hands on you.”

“You think that's what she wanted?”

“And she got it, didn't she?” Joel asks rhetorically, eyes fixed on your chest again. He clenches his jaw at the sight of her touch. He nods toward the shower. “That’s yours.”

“Can I have a bath?” You know it’s a long shot. He’s not in the mood to wait for water to boil. 

“Fire's out and we’re outta gas.  Gonna be cold either way.”  

You brace yourself for the water. Joel remains seated on the closed toilet and holds your hand to help you balance as you step into the tub. You're far enough back that the water only hits from your abdomen down. It's not quite as bad as you expect, but gives you a chill all over. He scans your body as it prickles in goosebumps and your nipples pebble. He reaches behind you for the soap, then lathers a washcloth. He starts with your chest. The scrape stings. 

“She wanted you, not me,” you mutter, wincing at the echo of your own words under the light beating of the water. Joel slows down and you continue, “She was looking at you, not me.” He stops the washcloth on your clavicle. Lather pours between your breasts and trickles down your sternum. 

Joel squints at you, looks from your mouth to your tits, swallows, and refocuses on the task, adjusting the washcloth in his hand. 

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweet pea,” he murmurs and begins to slide the cloth slowly across your skin. 

It’s nice to hear, but it’s not enough. Your eyes feel weak. “Well, I do worry about it,” you croak and feel the tears coming back. 

He adjusts himself, then sighs. “You always cry in the shower?” 

The coldness stings.

“Are you mad at me,” you ask shakily.

Joel curses himself under his breath. His brow furrows at your breasts and he braces his wet hand on his knee. “No, baby.” His eyes rise to meet yours, and he cups your cheek. “No. . .Just tired. . .” He searches your face. “Too many bodies in those woods. Gettin’ old.” You sniffle. You start mentally going through the bodies, and your head hurts at the thought. Joel says, “and ya can’t get in my shot like that, sweet pea.” You relax a little more. Your tears wane at the thought that he was already planning to kill her. 

Joel stands up, hands you the washcloth, and starts to undo his jeans. You watch his pants come down over his crotch, a sight that always makes your breath hitch. “Face the water,” he mumbles, and you obey, staying far enough back not to get your head wet. He braces his hand on the far wall of the shower and steps in, squeezing between you and the back of the tub. You inch forward to make room. His feet are spread around yours and his hands rest on your hips for a moment. He presses his lips into the crown of your head, then reaches around your front to take the washcloth from you. 

Joel presses himself up against your back, then continues to wash your chest. He soaps up your breasts again, then cradles one with his bare hand as he washes your trunk. You look down and watch the suds slide down your body. He washes your hips, your thighs. You’re grateful for the warmth of his groin against you. He turns you to the side and washes your sides, under your arms, your back, your ass, your legs. Then he tells you to rinse off while he washes himself. He steps all the way under the cold water without so much as flinching.  When he’s finished, he rinses off, turns off the water, and wraps you in a hug. The water rolls off your skin and the faucet drips as you stand there in his arms.

After a few minutes, Joel’s deep voice slices through the silence. “Carter's stayin’ tonight. Wait here.”  This unsettles you because you imagine Joel must be worried about something to have Carter stay. Did he believe her about the Infected?

Joel wraps a towel around himself and leaves you in the bathroom with your own towel.  You look in the mirror for a moment, then quickly avert your eyes from your reflection.  

Joel returns with clothes for you. He’s in plaid pj pants and a white t-shirt. Both are too small on him. His pockets are puckered.  You smile at the sliver of skin between his pants and shirt, and he asks, “What?” 

You shrug. “You’re wearing pjs.” 

“Yeah? Well I ain't wearin’em long,” he murmurs and you feel a twitch of need. “You're gonna finish what ya started out there.” He looks at you darkly. “Got it?”

You bite your lip and nod as desire throbs between your legs. 

“That means I ain't doin’ it, you are.” 

Your chest flutters with butterflies. 

He rests a flannel on his shoulder, while he holds up your nightie for you. You lift your arms and he puts it over your head.  He pulls it down and pats your butt. “Want it that bad. . .” He holds the flannel up for you and you stick your arms in. He brings his mouth to your ear. “Gonna show me how bad.” 

The front door opens and shuts. 

“All good?” Joel yells. 

“All good,” Carter answers, then exaggerates a loud yawn. 

“Blankets in the closet,” Joel yells. 

Joel brushes his teeth and leaves you to get ready for bed. 

-

Joel returns just as you're finishing up. He shoves his hand in the puckered pocket of the pj pants and pulls out something brown and strappy that looks small in his hands. It looks like a piece of your holster, but thinner, more delicate. His brow furrows at it and he swallows.  He sits on the closed toilet seat again. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“It's. . .” He looks at your chest. “C'mere.” You step forward. He holds the object against his thigh and with his other hand, he traces the letters on your chest. “It's better than tryin’ to . . .” he trails off. He looks at your face, then back to your chest and caresses it again. “Better than this.” Your heart swells. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to hurt you. 

He looks at the object in his lap. 

“It's for me?”

He nods. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with the belt-like closure. “Can wear a sweater or whatever, and still. . .” 

“Lemme try it on.”

He searches your eyes. “Really want to?” 

You nod.

He stands up and guides you to the sink. He stands behind you as you both look in the mirror. He wraps it around your throat. Your breath hitches when you see his name in careful, bold lettering, clear but imperfect. It’s an odd sensation, having something around your neck, but the back of it is soft against your skin. It’s smoother and more delicate than the holster is on your thigh. 

“It's beautiful,” you tell him as he concentrates on putting it on you.  

He's gentle and careful. He fastens it with enough room to breathe and swallow. You look at it in the mirror, and the fact that he made it makes you emotional. “You made it,” you whisper.

He nods. “Don't gotta wear it all the time, but-”

“I love it.” 

“Yeah?” he turns you around with his hands on your hips, and his gaze devours your form from head to toe. “Well, God damn. . .Looks good on ya, too.” 

You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. He leans back to see you wearing the choker.  “Let's go to bed.”

—-—--

You take off the flannel and get in bed. You bury your head in your pillow. Joel wraps you in his legs and arms, muscles straining his pajamas as he holds you in the dim room. His big, warm hand strokes your back. His body is like a furnace. You take deep breaths. In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go. 

It doesn't feel like you were ever really home before him, and it's impossible to imagine an after. There is no after. You're his. In the cruel, awful world, he carved out this space just for you. He kisses your forehead. You pinch your eyes shut and a tear runs down your cheek. It's a tear of relief. You press your cheek into his white t-shirt and his warm package twitches against you. He pushes his hips into you only slightly, and keeps holding you. You focus on his breathing and the beat of his heart. 

You wedge your hand between your bodies. Your knuckles slide down your abdomen, and your palm skims his tummy on its way to his pants. You cradle the warm bulge in his flannel. You press your palm into it and he grunts softly as he presses his hips forward. Then he wraps an arm over you.  He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You're on top of him, and your heart flutters as his words from the bathroom echo. That means you’re doin' it. 

-

You come to your knees, and he watches you curiously as you straddle him. You lower yourself so your panties meet his flannel, and the warmth of his bulge sends a shock to your chest. You lightly grind against him and watch his chest rise and fall as his cock swells against your neediest place. His hips lift and his eyes gloss over as he watches you move on him. You must be a vision – swollen, misty eyes, scratched up chest – but the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

That means you're doin’ it.  

You scoot back so you’re straddling his thighs.  You bring your hand just above his waistband, and your thumb traces his happy trail up under his t-shirt to his belly button, bringing the shirt up with you. You use both hands to push it up and he asks, “Want this off?” 

“It's okay,” you shake your head. “Just like to see this. You slide your hand down his stomach, once again running your thumb through the hair leading to his groin. You run your hand slowly up and down it a few times and feel his muscles tense under the light padding of his tummy. The bulge in his pants becomes more of a tent. His tummy flexes as he rises up enough to take the shirt off anyway.

“What else ya like?” He asks. By now, he knows. Oh God, does he know.  But he must want to hear it. He must want to see it, feel it. He wets his bottom lip. You back up down his legs and take his flannel pants down. His cock bounces free, and for a moment, you dismount him entirely.  Once the pjs are down below his knees, he kicks them off the rest of the way as you take off your underwear. He sucks in air through his nose as he watches you. He's still, and he’s quiet, but the look on his face is more pain than patience. 

You straddle his legs, bend at the hips, and rest your elbows on either side of his hips. You take his cock in one hand, then bring your lips to the head. He's still not at full mast. Not for him. For another man, this might be as hard as it gets, but not Joel. You suck the tip into your mouth. A masochistic part of you imagines how many women might have sucked this cock. You have, too, of course. But you want to outdo them all. You suck as much of it into your mouth as you can, and he sucks in a shaky breath as you furrow your brows and close your eyes. You suck from the back of your mouth, and your throat gurgles obscenely as his tip nudges it, then you gag. His hand rests gently on the side of your head. “You’re okay.” 

You lock eyes with him as you slowly let his shaft out of your mouth. A string connects your lips to his tip until you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist. You hold his shaft in a loose fist, thumbing his dorsal vein as you turn your attention to his balls. You cup his balls, then lick a stripe up the seam of his sack, and his hand grips the fitted sheet. When you look up at him, he releases the sheet. Your tongue circles his left nut and he closes his eyes. You have your free hand braced on his upper thigh, near where it meets his torso, and you can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock. His eyes meet yours again, and his brows are furrowed. 

“Can I have them in my mouth,” you ask and he nods encouragingly. 

You take one into your mouth and circle your tongue around it. You let it rest on your tongue then give it a gentle suck and he breathes, “oh God damn.” It’s fuzzy and soft and feels nice in your mouth.

You pinch your eyes shut and sigh, “Mm,” with your mouth full. You move to the other one, careful and gentle.  “Ohh,” he moans a little louder than you expect, and you pause. 

You look toward the bedroom door nervously, and take your mouth off. You’re about to remind him about Carter, but he cuts you off, “Shhh,” before you can. 

You lick all around his balls again, and his cock throbs angrily in your hand. You suck a ball into your mouth. You want both, but there’s no way you can do it without scraping him with your teeth, so you don’t. 

Instead, you return your lips to his tip and feel yourself throbbing as you suck his shaft into your mouth. When you look up, he’s shaking his head no.  

“This aint what ya wanted, baby.”

“Is it good?” you ask. 

“Yeah. It's good, sweet pea. . .The best.” His thumb brushes your temple. He moves his fingers to tilt your chin up to look at him.  “But this ain't what ya want *really* want.”

“Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah? You were bouncin’ on my cock out there, just to make me feel good?”

You twitch and swallow and your chest flutters with desire.  

“What’d I tell ya in the bathroom?”

“I'm gonna finish what I started”

“That’s right,” he nods. 

His cock is raging hard. You’re throbbing and gushing for it. You give the tip of it one last kiss, then get up on your knees and take your time positioning yourself over it. You press his tip against your most sensitive place for a moment and let out a whimper. The contact makes you ache for him. 

—

Joel cradles the backs of your thighs as you hold his cock. You look down as you move forward just a little more, then nestle his cockhead at your dripping hole, the very tip of it prodding just barely inside. You’re more than wet enough. You brace your hands on his tummy, near the bottom of his ribs.  Then, you begin to sink down with a whimper, letting his cock spread you open.  He growls, “God damn.”  You're biting your lip, with his big cock stretching you already. 

He nods, “go on, you can do it.” You lift yourself up and bend slightly forward, tilting your hips. He sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs your hips, and you groan as he pulls you down. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. He loosens his hands on your hips, then moves them to your thighs. You sit still on his cock with your body angled slightly forward, your clit pressing into his pubic hair.  You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him. 

You brace your hands on his chest and begin to move yourself. “Good girl,” he whispers with a gentle thrust of his hips. You whimper as his length nudges deep inside, and his hips lift you. 

You lift your ass and let most of his length out, before swallowing it up again and moaning with the delicious stretch. You slowly move yourself, and when you whimper, you feel his nipples harden under your hands. You palm his pecs as you ride his cock.  His chest rises with deep breaths as you fuck him. His eyes keep drifting to his name wrapped around your neck.

You try to be quiet, biting your lip, but you still let out little moans, you can't help it.  So does he. “Ohhh, baby—ohh.” His sounds are desperate, from deep in his chest. 

“Ya do it good,” he whispers. He cradles your ass in his massive hands and begins to move you on him, a little faster than you were going. He watches your breasts move under your nightie.  He lifts up the hem of your nightie to watch your cunt swallow his length, and he groans softly. You pause and take it off, then start moving again. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then his hands return to your ass, gently guiding your rhythm. He clenches his jaw, and you can tell he's trying not to take over entirely. 

“C’mere a minute,” he murmurs. 

His tummy pudges and wrinkles over his flexing abs, and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he sits up. He wraps his arms around you and turns to face the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off. “Hang on,” he murmurs. “Hang on, baby.” He holds your back with one arm, stands up slightly, and pulls at one of your thighs. You adjust your position so you’re seated instead of kneeling and your bent legs wrap loosely around him. Without the leverage of your knees on the bed, it’s up to him.

You have your arms around his neck and your face against his cheek. Your lips pull like a magnet to the skin just below the dark, curly hair on his head.  You plant a kiss on his neck and suck lightly. He exhales vocally. He hugs you into him and moves you up and down. He’s doing it all now. You both sigh and moan as his cock fills you up. 

Then, he loosens his arms and slides his hands to your shoulder blades. He hooks his thumbs under your arms and breathes, “Lemme see ya for a minute.” 

You hesitantly let him pull you away from his body, missing the heat of his chest against yours. 

“Ain't gonna drop ya, sweet pea.” 

You relax some of your weight into his hands, and he brings you all the way down so you're lying face up with your lower back on his lap. His hands under your arms hold you steady as he thrusts into you, like your body is a warm, wet sleeve for him. You let your head fall back in pleasure. He grunts as he moves you, and you look again to see him snarl. He looks down and watches his cock disappear again and again.

“God damn you feel good,” he whispers. His eyes roam from your eyes to your lips, to your choker, to your tits. He watches where your bodies are joined as he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel like no one ever has. Then his eyes drift up your body again. He slows down. His hands tighten, and he grunts as he brings your body upright again. Your breasts meet his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck again as he hugs you.  Your cheek rests against his jaw, and his scuff scratches you pleasantly. “Always so good,” he breathes, moving you on his cock. His breath is warm against your ear. “Ohh baby,“ he sighs. 

He tilts his chin to look up at the ceiling, and you latch onto his neck. He braces a hand on the bed and his hips lift under yours as you grind your body into his. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Oh, God, baby. You're–you’re so good for me,” he pants, barely above a whisper. “Ohhh–so good, sweet pea.” 

You release his neck with a whimper. He cradles your head with one hand, and his cheek returns to yours. 

As you ride him, his head slowly drifts back, so his breath is on your cheek instead of your ear. Your lips are dangerously close, and Joel doesn't pull away. Your mouths get closer while your bodies move as one. Soon, the corners of your lips are touching. You breathe and moan against each other's mouths. Your lips tingle at the closeness, and all you want is his mouth on yours. It feels so close. The sides of your mouths move against each other. It’s enough, just feeling his lips. You want more, but it’s enough, for now. He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths loosely connect, with his lower lip hitching on your upper lip every time you slide down his cock. You breathe each other’s breath. Your noses touch. His bottom lip tenses, and his mouth follows yours, not letting your lips slip away. You moan softly against his mouth, pinching your eyes shut, resisting the urge, resisting it.  

Then, Joel presses his open lips against yours. His lips drag lightly, clockwise, then they truly embrace you. As your mouths seal together, you half-moan, half-whine, “Mmm.” His lips are strong and desperate, pulling on yours like a hug. You can feel him taking your air and your spit. He sucks it right out of you, replacing it with an even more desperate need for him. You’re having him, you’re having all of him, but you can never have enough. Arousal floods your body. It gathers deep in your gut and bubbles up to your chest.  You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back.  It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.  

“Mmmm,” you whine at your imminent peak. 

“Mm,” he grunts into your mouth as you twitch again on his cock.  His tongue slides against yours, and the tension boils over violently, erupting from your core out to every inch of your body. Your walls clench, and you don't want to let go of his mouth, but your body jerks. Your lips begin to break away with a moan as you spasm on his cock. He holds you there by your neck. Your mouths stay half connected, and you breathe and moan against each other. Time freezes and waves of pleasure ripple through your core. Then, Joel’s thick cock twitches in the embrace of your spasming cunt. “Ugghh,” grunts, then his lips take yours again. “Mmmm.” He erupts, and you're still not finished. He holds you still, holds you tight. His hips lift slowly into you as his cock pulses. Massive bursts of warmth flood your core, and he kisses you slowly but needily as he comes. The kiss becomes sloppy. You both breathe through your noses, but your mouths still disconnect for split seconds, breathing each other’s humid breath.

When Joel finishes emptying his load into you, he gently pulls his lips from yours to take a deeper breath. He leans back and collapses on the bed. You sit there on his cock, still twitching, and your hand drifts to your tingling lips. His hands rest on your thighs. You watch his chest expand with air, and you watch his face. He opens his eyes, then silently motions c’mere with both hands. You fold at your hips and hug him. As you settle in, he strokes the nape of your neck. His chest rises and falls under your cheek. He unfastens the leather choker for you. You were planning to sleep in it, but now that he’s kissed you–and it was more than that, it felt like more–you don't feel quite as desperate for the tangible reminder that he wants you. You have it. Your lips are buzzing. Your whole body is. You can feel it in your bones. 

-

After a few minutes of caressing you, Joel murmurs, “Let's get some sleep.” 

You both get under the covers. He lies on his back. You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest.  He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.  

Soon, you drift off to the sound of him lightly snoring. 

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Raider POV: The Kiss

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So, I was writing this one when I took the detour to let Carter jack off lmao: He's only human.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I really appreciate your support and patience and love for these characters. Out of all my characters, it means so much to me when you engage with raider Joel because I pour a lot of myself into this one and have been writing it for >8 months.

Love you all so much! I can't respond to everything without spamming but I appreciate all of your commentary so much and often revisit it when I need inspo.

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not getting a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou @gab-thelamb-onthemoon

[rayhalloffame]

Early pro Art Donaldson who loves the attention he gets from his fans. He’s not bothered when they approach him in public and ask for pictures. He’ll even press a flirty kiss to their cheek when he really likes them. Which is why he’s a little taken aback when the pretty thing across the bar hasn’t looked his direction. Even while posing for pictures with fans and nursing his beer, he keeps glancing your way.

He notices the birthday tiara you’re wearing, takes it as an opportunity to buy you a drink. Art orders 2 tequila shots before heading your way, lopsided grin already prepared to charm. What he doesn’t expect is for you to notice him, roll your eyes, and turn your back to him. It stops him in his tracks.

Art sees one of your friends gesture at you. She recognizes him and he gives her a small wave. Almost begrudgingly you turn again and take the few paces to meet him where he stands. “Hey, what’s up?” you ask, very casually.

“Um,” Art sputters, then pushes the hand forward that holds your drink. “Happy birthday,” he says. You both stand blinking at each other. “I got you a drink,” he says.

“No, thanks,” you reply easily.

“Um, why?”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t?” He looks almost hurt when he asks.

You cross your arms over your chest with a huff. Art tries not to glance down at the exaggerated cleavage you created. He fails. “I know who you are, but I don’t know you. You could’ve done anything to those.”

Art looks offended. How could you think that of him? He’s a nice guy! He voices as much. You tell him if he wants to buy you a drink so bad you want to watch the bartender pour it.

Art doesn’t even know why he’s so invested. You’re clearly not impressed by him but he could point out at least 6 people who were if he glanced around. Still, he downs both shots and gestures for you to lead the way to the bar.

You lean against the bartop to indicate your interest in buying a drink. Art comes to lean beside you. “Read something in the press that has you hating on me?”

You scoff, look in his direction, then roll your eyes. “The press raves about you,” you answer, pausing to order the drinks. When you look back at him you say, “but I can tell you’re arrogant, full of yourself. It’s not hard to miss the way you bask in the attention.”

The shots are poured and you slide him his glass. The bartender chuckles when you tell him Art Donaldson is paying for your drinks tonight. Art only bats his lashes, you’re giving him whiplash. “You seem to have that same confidence,” he rebuts, but doesn’t retract your statement to the bartender.

You clink your tiny glass to his, hold eye contact a moment. You make your eyes nice and big, flash a cute smile. Art can see how young you really are, how full of life. “Well, it is my birthday.” You chuck the drink back, noticing how Art’s eyes follow the droplet that falls down the corner of your mouth. Instinctively he reaches for it, wants to swipe it into your mouth with his thumb.

You stop him with a hand to his wrist. Art watches you complete the motion on your own and he gulps. Once you pop your thumb from your mouth, you give him one more innocent smile, pop up on your tippy toes and press a kiss to his cheek. Your sticky lipgloss leaves a residue but Art can’t find himself to mind. You drop back down and look at him expectantly.

“Happy birthday,” he tells you, incredulous. You drop his wrist, then pluck the glass of tequila that he’s still holding from his other hand. He thinks you might be a witch.

“Thank you, Artie,” you say sweetly. He watches you walk away, swooning. He sits on the barstool closest him and shakes his head to wipe the fog. He takes another look over his shoulder to find you sneaking a glance at him. Art grants you his typical crooked smile. You both know: he’s going to break you.

[swarvey]

how they react to you getting hurt | sdv x g/n reader (part two)

part one

paper rings - harvey x reader

a/n: part two with the rest of the bachelors ! let me know if you guys want to see the bachelorettes <3

—

alex

this big softie starts to blame himself when he sees you with scratches and bruises

insists on following you on your adventures from that day forward

pretty much acts as a personal bodyguard for a week

you wince as you rub a disinfectant pad on the large scratch on the side of your arm, thankful your husband isn't due to be home for another couple of hours. he worries enough about you as is — the last thing he needs is something to feed his paranoia, as cute as it is. just as you're about to apply some ointment on your arm, you hear the front door open, alex's familiar voice ringing through the house.

"baby, i'm home!" he calls out, voice as bright as ever. you hear your pet pattering over to greet him. "aw, hey buddy! where's y/n, huh? have you seen 'em?" you swear under your breath as your pet betrays you, leading alex straight towards the bedroom. "are you in there, honey? grams didn't need as much help as i thought—"

you hear him suck in a sharp breath at the sight of you and the first aid kit spread out across the bed.

"i'm fine," you assure. he ignores you, eyes glued to your injured arm as he makes his way to the bed. "seriously, it's not even that bad."

"here, let me do it," he says, and you swear you've never heard him speak so softly. blinking in shock, you hand the bottle of ointment over to him, watching as he gently begins to apply it.

"alex, you're scaring me a bit," you half-joke. he's never been one to be so silent. "it's okay—"

"it's not, though!" your eyes widen as alex looks at you with gleamy eyes. "see, i knew you'd get hurt one day, and i still let you go off and do all these things alone. i should've been there to help you." his head bows in shame, and your heart breaks. "i'm sorry. i'll be by your side next time, i promise."

shaking your head, you wrap your unhurt arm around his neck and pull him into a hug. he gladly hides his face in your shoulder, his arms holding onto your midsection tightly.

"alex, there's nothing to be sorry for," you reassure, rubbing his back to provide some comfort. "this is part of my job, it's what i signed up for." he pulls away suddenly to look at you with serious eyes.

"then quit!" he exclaims. "i'll do it all, you can teach me."

you laugh. "as much as i love you, you are not taking over my grandfather's farm."

"well, i'll just do everything with you, then." alex nods to himself, grabbing the roll of bandages from the kit and beginning to wrap your arm. his eyes widen when he notices the bruises on your legs. "how did this even happen?"

"oh, i was gathering hardwood and some slimes snuck up on me. i fell, but i was able to fight them off." no response. "alex?" a dark look comes over your husband's face.

"get me a sword."

"what?!"

sebastian

seb is one of the bachelors i see respecting your strength the most, always subtly bragging about your fighting skills and the work you do on the farm (sam and abigail are thoroughly impressed)

that being said, he is all the more startled when he sees you limping home from the clinic after nearly passing out from exhaustion

tries to keep his cool, as he always does, but it's hard for him to see the person he cares about the most in pain

"wear the brace for a week, then stop by for another appointment with me so we can see how you're doing," harvey instructs, clasping the brace around your ankle. "drink plenty of water and eat something when you get back. and be mindful while you're working on the farm, i don't want this to be a regular occurrence," he chides.

the doctor had practically dragged you into his office after running into you in front of pierre's, half-conscious as you claimed you just needed some coffee.

"i will," you sigh, using his arm for support as you stand. "thanks, harvey. i owe you."

"no need to worry about that, just get some rest at home. i'm sure sebastian is wondering where you are."

shit. you chew your lip as you slowly make your way back to the farm, trying to find the right words to say to your husband. it's not like you to overwork yourself like this on the farm, but after waking up a bit too late in the morning, you'd found yourself rushing to get everything done. seb had been sound asleep as you worked, but with the sun beginning to set in the sky, you knew he had to be up and waiting for you at home.

sure enough, as you walk towards your front door, you see him already sitting on the front steps, a book in hand. his head quickly turns at the sound of your footsteps.

"you're back! did you have errands to run?" seb asks, setting his book down. "i thought you had a lot to do this morning?"

you hesitate, nodding slowly as you avoid his gaze. "i did," you answer, swallowing. "i was, ah, at the clinic."

"what? why—?" only then does he notice the bags under your eyes and the brace wrapped around your ankle. "hey, what happened?" he walks over to your side, slowly guiding you to the steps and helping you sit down.

"i'm alright," you say, though you unsuccessfully hide your discomfort as you stretch your hurt ankle out. "i twisted my ankle, is all."

"right." you know sebastian well enough to tell when he's worrying; his brow is furrowed, his eyes glued to the ground.

"come on, seb, don't be so dramatic," you joke, shoving him lightly with your shoulder. "it's not like i'm dying." he looks at you suddenly with squinted eyes, as if he's trying to decode your words. "what?"

"people tend to say that when things are worse than they are," he says, looking you up and down. "what really happened?"

"what are you talking about?"

"maybe i'll go talk to harvey." he begins to stand, but you grab his wrist and drag him back down.

"okay, okay!" the last thing you want is for him to take the doctor's words too seriously and put you on a house lockdown. "i just overworked myself in the heat, alright? seriously! harvey said i should be fine with some rest."

"really? that's all?"

"yes."

"all you hurt was your ankle?"

"yes."

"did you set up another appointment with him?"

"yes, seb, i'm fine!" you grab his arm and pull him closer, looking straight into his worried eyes. "look, see? i'm in one piece."

sebastian sighs, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly. "i know, you've always been strong," he says, smiling lightly. "just . . . don't overdo it, okay? i'm here to help you, too."

you smile back at him. "i know." you pause. "you know, harvey said i need to lay off the rest of my work today."

"yeah?" seb grins, helping you stand. "what are you thinking?"

you pretend to ponder for a moment. "maybe some dinner and TV? we still have that show we need to catch up on."

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you head inside.

"whatever you want, dear."

sam

he thinks you're invincible.

completely freaks out when he sees you actually hurt for the first time

makes you spend the rest of the day in bed and brings you some of his mom's food

(claims it has healing powers)

the sun is still high in the sky when you leave the mines. your plan had been to spend the whole day gathering resources, but after a rough tousle with some monsters, you don't have the energy to keep going. your head is throbbing, and you're mildly aware of the cut on your forehead that finally stopped bleeding.

you make your way across the farm and toward your house, and you can hear sam practicing on his skateboard. you hope you can avoid him, at least until you're able to clean up your injury.

as you open the front door, though, a loud creak fills the air, and you freeze. the sound of the skateboard stops.

"baby, is that you?" sam calls out, walking around to the front porch. you keep your back turned. "did you forget something?"

"uh, no! no, the mines were just a bit empty today, so . . ." you trail off. you turn your head away from him as sam tries to look at your face, but sigh in defeat when he cups your cheek and makes you face him.

immediately, his eyes widen. "you're hurt!"

"i'm fine—"

without another word, sam grabs your hand and drags you inside, bringing you into the bathroom. he spends the next few minutes tenderly cleaning the cut on your forehead, apologizing every time you flinch in pain. then, he brings you to your shared bedroom, covering you in the sheets and bringing you a mug of your favorite drink.

"stay here," he instructs, "i'll be right back." he turns to your pet, tail wagging as it sits at your bedside. "you're in charge while i'm gone, alright? make sure they stay put!" you laugh lightly as sam hurriedly leaves the house, hearing the sound of his skateboard rolling away. you let out a sigh, closing your eyes as you begin to fall asleep.

"baby, wake up."

your eyes open to the sound of your husband beside you once again, holding a bowl of steaming soup.

"i stopped by mom's to get some of her soup. you know i'm not the best cook," he admits, "but you need to eat something with lots of nutrients to get better."

you laugh lightly, gladly letting him feed you the first bite. the warmth of the soup makes you feel already a bit better.

"thank you, sam," you say, looking at him gratefully. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

"hey, shouldn't i be saying that?" he jokes, planting a kiss on your cheek. "here, eat up. you need all the strength you can get!"

after you finish eating, you begin to sit up, stretching your arms.

"hey, what are you doing?" sam questions, setting the bowl on your nightstand.

"i need to check on the animals one more time," you sigh, ignoring the ache in your arms. he scoffs, grabbing your arms and sitting you back down in bed.

"right, and just what kind of husband would i be if i let you do that?" he straightens his back and crosses his arms, smiling confidently. "leave it to me!"

"sam."

"yes, dear?"

"do you even know what you'd be checking for?"

he pauses, arms dropping. "right," he says, sighing. "i guess i don't." you laugh, standing back up but grabbing his hand.

"come on, you can be my assistant for tonight."

"yes!"

[sydnikov]

Being Bold || S. Jarvis

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Seth Jarvis / fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: Seth has a crush on you. A bad one, and he makes it very obvious throughout the years he’s known you, though you’ve still never taken him seriously because of his immaturity and energetic personality. Much to his chagrin, you keep denying him—until one night, scorned by thoughts of your most recent ex who never knew how to touch you right, you give in to Seth’s advances.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (birth control usage), oral (f receiving), very slight age gap (reader is 2 years older), alcohol mention, alcoholic consumption, minor mention of violence including blood, cursing

A/N: Wow. This one is something (it’s just smut with a small bit of plot don’t mind my dramatics). Here’s the jarvy debauchery as promised ✨ until the next, thanks for the support as always!

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

You’ve only seen Seth Jarvis as a kid.

Well, maybe ‘kid’ is too strong of a word to describe the immaturity gap. You’re only two years older than him, but it’s just that how he acts gives you the impression of a boy.

Not a man, but a boy. And it drives Seth absolutely insane.

He first meets you the year he joins the Hurricanes because you’re friends with the social media director (he later finds out you’re close to Lottie, Jesperi’s girlfriend, as well). He remembers the night vividly, what you were wearing, how soft your hand felt against the calluses on his own. How you looked at him, amusement and softness in the smile you flashed him.

Seth was smitten. Still is, actually, because you’re around more than ever. He sees you everywhere. After games, and even just around Raleigh because you live in the area.

He tries asking you out. Numerous times, but much to his chagrin you always turn him down.

“We just met, Seth.” A week after you first shake his hand.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Well, he did. But, in his defense, he’d just broken up with her after he moved.

“I’m too old for you.” That one hurt, because that’s when he finds out you’re only two years older.

Seth is nothing if not persistent, though. He doesn’t give up even after all the rejections. He’s also pretty sure your reluctance is because you think he’s never touched a woman in his life.

Presumptuous, right? Andrei thinks so when Seth tells him after playing Call of Duty for several hours, but he recounts a conversation you had with Lottie (he still owes her and Jesperi a drink for that, actually) after Seth begged her to slide a good word in.

“You’re not into the mustache?” Lottie had giggled, taking a sip of her martini.

You were drinking a whiskey sour, which he knows because he bought it for you but had Lottie say it was from her. Your face burned red, either because of the alcohol or the question, he doesn’t know.

“No, no,” You laughed. “I like mustaches. And a nice stubble. They feel good on the thighs.”

“So what’s the problem? He’s in love with you, basically.”

“Isn’t he, like, I don’t know… Nineteen?” You had drawled, faking indifference while mixing around the olive in your drink with the little straw it came with.

“He’s twenty-two, babe.” She smirked. “Only two years younger.”

Lottie says she thinks you’re just wary of his immaturity. When he tries defending himself, Jesperi reminds him that he scored a goal the other night, pointed at you behind the glass where you sat with Lottie, and then proceeded to griddy.

Word on the street is that you weren’t impressed.

Nonetheless, Seth can’t change his personality for you, as much as he considers it. He thinks the sun rises and sets on you, but if you truly think you’re too good for him then he does have enough self respect to walk away and get over it.

But… He just doesn’t think that’s the case, here. You only seem reluctant—that’s it.

“You can’t force her to sleep with you, Jarvy.” Andrei tells him, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“I know.” He groans, his chin falling into his hand. “What do I do, then?” And truly, he’s run out of ideas. He’s played silly, nice, gentleman… What else is there left for him to do, other than give up?

Seth thinks of your radiant smile, then groans to himself because fuck. He really doesn’t want to give up.

“Give her space?” Andrei suggests. “Have you tried, just… Going away?” He frowns for a moment, trying to think of the right words in English. “Not ‘going away’—”

“Space? You think she just needs space?”

“Well, not too much space—”

“Svechy you're a genius.” Seth interrupts, jumping out of his seat with renown vigor. “I’ll buy you a drink for this, remind me!” And then he’s springing up from the couch, grabbing his keys and sprinting out the front door.

Andrei blinks. Once, twice, then shakes his head with a laugh. He feels like he should warn you, then promptly decides this is not something he wants to get in the middle of.

Seth takes his teammate’s advice to heart, and gives you the space he thinks you need to process his zealous pursuit of you. He can tell it catches you off guard because he’s stopped following you around like a lost puppy, along with all of the antics normally associated with his creative flirting.

In fact, it’s such a sudden change from what you’re used to that it freaks you out. Hurts a little bit, too, because did he just wake up one day disgusted by the thought of you?

You tell yourself you’re disturbed because you miss the attention. It’s been a while since you’ve had a guy foam at the mouth for you, after all, so now that it’s gone you’re just going through withdrawals.

It’s more than that, though, and you won’t admit it to yourself but when you spy him chatting it up with other girls your stomach twists in a way that you know screams trouble.

Maybe it’s because you just ended things with your latest boyfriend - a bore of a man who couldn’t make time for you outside of his work - and the vulnerability of being alone yet again is getting to you.

Is Seth really so bad? You think about him sometimes, when you’re alone in your apartment or even right in front of him. You’ve always had a soft spot for him, sure, but nothing more than friendly affection.

You’re questioning this now, when his attention is no longer being directed at you, because you distinctly remember him getting into a fight with some other player on the ice, and that’s the first time you remember thinking man and not boy.

The team it was against escapes you, but you remember someone getting in Sebastian’s space with a raised arm, and then Seth came flying in with a fist to the opposing player’s face and a lot of colorful words. Your jaw had dropped as the referees tore them apart, his hair dripping with sweat and a cut welling with blood dripping down his forehead.

The moment forces you to think that maybe altogether, his energetic personality, a smile that never leaves his face, and the unwavering loyalty for his friends combined isn’t such a bad thing after all. The revelation leaves you shaking and feeling quite awkward when he’s around, or even just being brought up.

“Do you miss Scott?” Lottie asks you one day when you’re out for lunch at Perry’s - a steakhouse near her apartment in North Hills - referring to your aforementioned ex-boyfriend. Even his name is boring.

You laugh a little, unable to not roll your eyes though your ire isn’t directed at her. “No. I knew it wasn’t going to last when I got into it, anyways.”

“It’s been about two weeks since you broke up with him.” She says, a statement rather than a question. The look on her face tells you she’s trying to go somewhere with this. “Has anyone caught your eye lately? You’re too pretty to be single, you know.”

It’s obvious that Lottie is trying to ask if you’ve reconsidered Seth at all. It’s been the talk of your whole friend group, including the guys, that he’s suddenly stopped in his bold pursuit of you, though none of them think it’s because he’s lost interest.

“I don’t know.” You whine, begrudgingly stabbing a piece of potato with your fork. “I mean, he’s… Seth.”

“Seth, who has spent his entire time on the Hurricanes trying to win you over?” She says with a raised brow. “Just because he’s had his fun doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.”

You don’t have a response to that, so instead you just nod. She is right, as much as you hate to admit it. Seth is a successful professional hockey player in his prime, of course he’s been with his fair share of women and will continue to do so as long as he’s single.

If that was your case you’d certainly be having fun, too.

“If his casualness towards dating really bothers you, you should just talk to him.” Lottie says after a moment. “He’s dying for you to speak to him, I swear it.”

You concede. “I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.”

Fortunately for you, that ‘next time’ doesn’t happen for quite a few more weeks, and when you do finally run into him again it’s when you’re slightly tipsy, drinking at a bar near to PNC Arena after the boys have won a game.

You don’t even take note of his presence at first, in the middle of gossiping with some of your friends who just so happen to know the players.

The gossip? Your ex-boyfriend, Scott, and his inability to make you come.

“I mean, he wasn’t bad or anything.” You say. “He had all the knowledge and stuff, just, like, couldn’t do anything. Y’know?” You’re slurring your words a little bit, but everyone around you nods like you’re making some big, important speech.

“So did you have to fake it?” Someone asks. You can’t even remember how Scott was brought up in the first place.

You giggle; you can’t help it. “Oh my god, yes, sometimes it was so bad I had to say I was cramping just to get him to stop trying.” That sends everyone into boisterous laughter, and in your slight drunkenness you can’t help but join in.

The song changes then, and it must be one everyone knows because it scatters you and the rest of the girls into smaller groups, some running to the dance floor while others wander back to the bar. You stay seated, however, content to watch as you sip your drink.

“Whiskey sour?” That’s when Seth makes his presence known. His voice murmured in your ear catches you off guard, and you jump a little as you turn to face him. “Seth.” You greet, not unkindly. “Yeah, but it’s only my second.”

Just as soon as he appeared, he’s jumping back up from his seat next to you. “I’ll get you a third.” You don’t have time to protest as he disappears, and your affection for this rambunctious man only continues to grow as he bounds back moments later, sliding you your drink with a smug grin.

“Thank you.” You smile, a little shy, a little bashful, as you take your first sip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Anything for my girl.” Ah, there it is. You’re unable to hide the obvious roll of your eyes, but Seth’s smile doesn’t waver. “Not your girl, Seth. Just got out of a relationship, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He says. “Scott, right? Sounds like that was doomed from the start.”

You narrow your eyes, unsure of the knowing tone he’s taken on. “And how would you know?”

“He couldn’t make you come, yeah? What a tool.”

Suddenly, your throat is very dry, and you’re taking a very large sip of whiskey that has you wincing. So… He heard you say that, then. Is it hot in here? You have the sudden urge to fan yourself. Fuck fuck fuck. Seth, of all people, should not be making your thighs clench.

You don’t realize how silent you’ve gotten until he speaks up again. “I could make you, you know.”

That has you choking, and you quickly throw back the rest of your drink to soothe your throat. “What?” When you finally meet Seth’s eyes, he’s still grinning at you, though it’s more carnal. His eyes darken as he responds.

“Come. I could get you to come so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.”

Your reply is meek, knowing deep down inside you’re fighting a losing battle. “Have you even touched a girl before?” He scoffs, and you know as well as he does that he’s been with his fair share of women. It’s one of the reasons you’re so hesitant to take him seriously.

Seth is undeterred, though, as he slides even closer to you. You stare straight ahead, determined not to meet his eyes even though you’re positive there’s a red flush creeping up your neck as his breath tickles your ear.

He says your name, a low purr that’s almost mocking like he can see right through your bullshit because finally, he’s breaking through to you. “You know I have. None of them are you, though.”

You squirm in your seat as his hand creeps up your shoulders, grasping the back of your neck as he gently turns your head to face him. He squeezes reassuringly, and now you’re melting into his embrace as a gasp falls from your lips.

“I want you. You know that, baby.”

“Seth…”

“Let me show you, please?” Then those warm eyes are bearing into your own, and now you’re getting a glimpse of the boy you first met all over again. This time, though, instead of feeling innocent affection all you feel now is heat.

You were stupid to think the adoration he never hesitates to show for you wouldn’t win you over eventually.

Blinking owlishly, you move one of your hands to grip his arm, looking so dainty against the rugged muscle under his skin, and, well. You cave.

“Okay.”

Seth doesn’t expect you to give in so easily. He freezes, doesn’t move until you gain your wits back and pinch his thigh with a gentle roll of your eyes. “Are you just going to sit there or should I find someone else to entertain me?”

That gets him moving. It’s his turn to look anxious as he runs a hand through his hair, still processing the fact that he didn’t have to convince you more. He wasn’t actually expecting to get this far with you—quite literally, the woman of his dreams.

“Shit, okay.” He laughs, jumping out of his seat and lacing his fingers with yours. “You’re serious, then.”

“Somehow.” You deadpan. Somehow your legs are still clenching and your heart is beating a little too fast to be normal. “Don’t fuck it up.”

He looks to you, a little terrified, and you can’t help but break the irritated front and send him a small smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly even as your words are all snark. Truthfully, you’re also scared, but not of the sex, but rather the developing feelings that might grow deeper afterwards.

You just got out of yet another disappointing relationship. You don’t want whatever this is with Seth to end with the same result.

He does a good job of distracting you from your destructive thoughts, though, as he pulls you out of the bar like two teenagers trying to sneak away from their parents. You suppose it’s not unlike that same feeling because Jesperi catches your eye as you exit the doors, and he sends you such a shit-eating grin it has you ducking your head to avoid his obnoxious stare.

You suppose you do owe him a favor now after all.

For the first time ever, standing outside in the biting cold, Seth kisses you as you’re waiting for an Uber. You being busy trying to look like you’re not about to go hook up, he suddenly grabs you by the waist and smooths his lips against yours so good your toes curl.

“Fuck.” He murmurs into your mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.” His teeth catch your bottom lip, and you unabashedly moan. You run your hands up his chest, around his shoulders, and to the back of his neck where you card your fingers through thick strands of hair, tugging from the roots.

“Seth…” You gasp when he detaches his lips from your own only for him to smooth down your jawline, then down to your neck where he sucks wet kisses into your sensitive skin. “Fuck, we’re in public.” With a hiss, you pull him away from your neck and pointedly ignore the wetness in your panties when he groans at the loss of contact.

He looks at you like a baby getting its favorite toy taken away, and you can’t ignore how his desperation turns you on wildly. It takes everything in you to not let him go back to feasting on your neck.

“When’s the Uber getting here?” You ask after a moment. You’re both panting, tipsy from the taste of each other’s lips as you try to catch your breath.

Seth pulls out his phone, and as you admire the way the light illuminates his face you completely miss the words coming from his mouth.

You flush. “Say that again?” Seth grins wickedly, brings you in by the back of your neck and kisses you, then pulls away too soon for your liking. “The Uber. It’s right here.” He then wraps an arm around your waist, digging his fingers deliciously into your skin, and leads you into the Uber as it arrives right on time.

He rattles off his address to the driver, then settles back into the seats. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and you hum your appreciation as you sink into his chest. You feel him kiss the top of your head in response.

You could fall asleep, if you really wanted to. The sudden switch in mood from carnal desperation to gentle affection would give you whiplash if you weren’t so at ease resting against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The drive passes fairly quickly, and Seth doesn’t stop touching you as you make your way up the elevator to his apartment. His hand sneaks to your ass, giving it a squeeze before you slap his arm away.

“Cameras!” You hiss, though it’s with little mirth as a small smile curves up your lips. Seth merely laughs, slides his hand back down to rest on your lower back. “They don’t care. Now c’mere.”

You make out until you can’t breathe, and as you pull away it’s just in time as the elevator doors open. Your heart rate picks up, and you hide your nerves as he grabs your hand and practically sprints out of the elevator with you.

“We have all night, you know.” You giggle, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand. Seth groans playfully, but his words strike you as serious even as he masks it with a grin.

“Not long enough, babe.”

You don’t respond, partly because you don’t know how to and partly because he’s just unlocked his door, and you’re too busy taking in his apartment. You’ve been to Andrei’s house numerous times, Jesperi and Lottie's apartment, Jordan’s for his famous house parties… It’s just now that you’re realizing you don’t actually know Seth all that well.

What you do know, though, is that he’s eyeing you like he can’t wait to devour you, and the reminder that you don’t even know his favorite color exits your mind as you sidle up to his chest, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit to drag his lips down to yours.

“Time to impress me, lover boy.” You hum into his mouth, fighting a shiver when he nips at your bottom lip. Seth chuckles, one of his hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass, the other tugging your hair back to expose your neck.

He kisses your cheek once, twice, mouths at your collarbone with teasing bites that have your eyes fluttering shut, and then it’s like he loses patience as suddenly his hands are picking you up by your thighs and curling your legs around his waist.

You squeak in surprise. “Seth!” You admonish, because of course it turns you on that he’s able to throw you around effortlessly. He seems to have that effect on you.

Seth maneuvers the two of you through his darkened apartment with ease, knowing the route to his bedroom like the back of his hand. Your attempts at distracting him include sucking a bright red hickey on his neck, fully intending it for it to be bright enough that his teammates give him hell for it the next day.

Once he pushes open the door with his foot, he brings you to the foot of his bed and unceremoniously drops you. You scoff with indignation at his manhandling, though you know he knows you like it if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

A tiger stalking its prey, Seth crawls on top of you and meets your eager lips in another kiss. His hands smooth down the curves of your hips to your thighs, slowly spreading them open. He mumbles something, and you miss it completely.

“Hm?” You run your hands through his hair, enjoying the way the black strands are moussed from your touch. Your shirt is also already halfway up your torso as he helps you tear it off. “I said I’ll wear your marks proudly. My girl.” He coos, flicking open the clasp of your bra and immediately moving down to your chest.

“Fuck.” He groans. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”  Your laugh quickly turns to a gasp as he sucks your right nipple into his mouth.

Your other nipple is taken by his fore-finger and thumb, rolling the sensitive nub between the calloused pads. Between him sucking on one tit and playing with the other, you’re practically a whimpering mess, trying to simultaneously wiggle out of his grip yet get closer at the same time.

“Seth,” You whine. “I need you.” You’re admitting it openly, foregoing coyness in favor of your own pleasure. Yeah, so what? You like this overgrown puppy of a man, and you really want to fuck him. Pulling his head back by his hair, you eagerly slam your lips back together.

“Need me?” He grins against your lips. “Where do you need me? Gotta be specific, babe, because I can be here,” He emphasizes a quick squeeze to your tit. “Here,” The other hand smooths over your ass. “Or here...” He trails off into a low rumble, parting your eager thighs.

Based on the tortured groan he lets out, you assume he can probably feel the wetness that’s soaked through your jeans. You’re too turned on to be embarrassed, though.

“Damn it, Seth, just touch me.” You hiss, keeping his hand pressed between your thighs while the other is already working open the button of your jeans. “Fucking tease.” You mutter, though it’s light-hearted and he knows it based on his snicker.

He helps you peel off the rest of your jeans, throwing them somewhere behind you. It’ll be fun trying to hunt for those in the morning. When he sees the dainty white lace covering your pussy, he lets out his most needy sound yet.

“Shit.” He breathes. “Wore these for me? So pretty. My pretty baby.” He murmurs as he thumbs the lace, running two fingers over the soaked fabric. If you could see, you’d guarantee his pupils are blown wide.

Your hips rise at the friction, wanting more. And because you’re still hellbent on resisting him, apparently, you roll your eyes, spitting out your next words. “You knew I was coming home with you, didn’t you? Asshole.” Though your words are all snark, your tone screams laughter.

Strangely enough, the banter gets you off more than any dirty talk in the world. It’s familiar, relaxing, and Seth clearly doesn’t mind either as he merely chuckles. “I just know you that well, don't I?” The look on his face offers no room for argument.

And, well, you suppose he isn’t wrong. You are here in his bed at the end of the day, right?

You grumble something that to his ears sounds like ‘shut up’ and then you’re sliding your panties down your thighs, letting him take care of the rest as, like your other clothes, he tosses them somewhere behind him.

If you thought the sight of your covered pussy would get the best reaction from him, it’s nothing compared to the way his entire body freezes at seeing it bare.

You’d had a feeling something big was going to happen after Lottie's sly words, so you took the liberty of shaving everywhere just two nights before. You’re glad for that, as Seth is looking at the heat between your legs like he doesn’t know where to start.

Teasing him in a normal setting about not knowing how to touch a woman is one thing, but making a remark now as anxious anticipation is all over his face just feels wrong.

You do like him, after all—quite a bit, you’re coming to find.

Reaching out your hand, you wait for him to grasp it before you pull him down to hover over your awaiting form. “C’mere, baby.” The pet-name slips without thought, but you can’t make yourself regret it because the way his face lights up is a look you won’t forget any time soon.

He laughs a little as your eyes finally meet, like he can’t believe he’s actually about to fuck you and you’re going to let him. “Tell me how to touch you?” He asks, not a demand but more of a request.

Taking his right hand, you lead him down the length of your body, over your breasts and down your stomach until your hands are resting just below your navel. “You know how to find the clit?” You tease, partly joking and partly serious.

Seth scoffs like the very thought offends him, and the mild dig does its job of making him forget his earlier nervousness.

“Of course I know where the fucking clit is,” He replies, pointer and middle finger already sliding down and gathering the slickness lathered in your lower lips. “Scott is such a dumbass.”

Well, it seems the familiar, cocky Seth is back now.

“...didn’t even realize what a bombshell he had right in front of him.” You miss the first part of his sentence because he did, in fact, find your clit, and unlike your ex, knows exactly how to touch it.

Your mouth opens into an ‘o’, and Seth hums a pleased noise as his fingers work your sensitive clit into a swollen, throbbing mess. Your hips move in time with the flicks of his fingers and you don’t even realize you’re panting until Seth leans forward and licks a stripe all the way from your navel down to your soaked opening.

When you start bucking into his mouth, he grabs your hips and holds them down to the bed, forcing you to take it. You whine, hands finding purchase in his hair as his tongue laps at you like you’re his favorite meal. He dips into your entrance in time with the quick circles he’s drawing over your clit, and oh, suddenly you’re much closer than you thought.

“Tastes so good.” You hear him grunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Seth,” Gasping, you can’t decide if you want to keep him close or shove him away. “Shit. Seth, fuck, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Already?” Your confession only seems to reinvigorate his efforts, and the next thing you know two long fingers are sliding their way into your cunt. “Gonna come for me?”

Quicker than you expect he finds the sensitive wall of flesh inside you, and his fingers curl up against it which sends you keening. Loudly. You slap a hand over your mouth, but Seth quickly tears it away.

“Nobody here but me and you.” He grins, and just to rub it in, presses a hot kiss to your clit. “I wanna hear you scream.”

“What a gentleman.” You manage to squeeze out, and in revenge for your snark he immediately sucks your clit between his lips and rapidly curls his fingers inside you.

Seth watches with hooded eyes as your own squeeze shut, teeth biting into your kiss-swollen lips while your hands tug at his hair. Your thighs are shaking on each side of his head, and suddenly he wants you to come for him like his life depends on it.

“You gonna come?” He asks. Your walls clamp around his fingers and he knows you’re close. “Yeah? Can you come for me? I know you want to.”

Your entire body shakes all while he keeps you tethered to the bed. Your mind, though, is floating, and you can practically see white as his lips don’t stop sucking, his fingers don’t stop curling, and it’s too much but also not enough and you want to shove him away yet demand he never stops touching you.

And your high is right there, you can practically taste it, but your body is wound so tight and you can’t remember the last time you’ve let go that you remain stuck right on the edge.

There are tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you tug at his hair. Seth meets your eyes, looks a little concerned after reading the desperation on your face, and then understands when a broken moan tumbles past your lips.

Seth, a little shit as always, brings you back to the edge with his words alone. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” He slips in a third finger. “Bet you haven’t had anyone make you feel like this. Just me. Hopefully always me.”

“Seth,” You croak. “Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He urges. “Let go for me. You’re right there, I know it. You’re so tight, fuck, there you go.”

His mocking words echo in your mind with the low drawl of his voice, dark eyes staring at you like you’re a feast, and his damn fingers curling just right against your spongy wall.

His free hand suddenly moves, presses down over your lower abdomen, and oh. “Such a good girl.” Seth croons as you fall apart.

It’s the last thing you hear as your vision goes white, and the heat in your body explodes with wave after wave of ecstasy pumping from the tips of your toes all the way to the hair on your head. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re pretty sure you’re making some sort of strangled noise as you ride your high that seems to go on forever.

By the time you come back, your legs are still shaking and Seth is still gently stroking your inner walls with careful circles around your clit. He's my gazing up at you with pure, unbridled adoration and the emotion in his eyes makes your heart thump.

You don’t even realize your fingers are still tangled in his hair until you have to let go because they’re cramping, and then Seth finally removes his fingers and slowly crawls back up your body.

You’re still catching your breath when he presses a long, soft kiss to your lips. “How was that?” He questions almost shyly. His need for reassurance might have had a past you rolling your eyes, but right now all you want to do is hold him and thank him for making you feel so good.

Especially after Scott. Asshole.

You shudder, clit still throbbing as you wrap your arms around his heavy shoulders and bring his weight down on top of you. His very hard cock brushes against your hip with the movement, and you’re reminded that he hasn’t had any semblance of relief yet.

“Thank you.” You whisper. It’s definitely weird to thank someone after they eat you out, right? Probably, but you don’t really care.

His lips brush against your cheek in response, heart swelling at the gentle vulnerability you’re showing him. He’s planning on running to the bathroom to get you a towel, but freezes when he feels your hands peeling off the suit he totally forgot he was wearing.

“Babe?” He mumbles, a little confusingly, but all you do is kiss him and that shuts him up. He doesn’t break contact even as he shrugs off the rest of his suit, peeling off his undershirt until he’s more than halfway bare. Your hands carve lines over the hard planes of muscle on his chest, scratching lightly with your nails over his nipples which has him flinching into your mouth. Snickering, you make your way down the rest of his chest, past his waist, under his boxers, and then you’re wrapping your hand around his hot, pulsating dick.

Seth groans, almost collapsing on top of you as you squeeze lightly. It’s a dream come true, him touching you and now you touching him. He wants to close his eyes at the feeling of your gentle strokes, but he insists on keeping them open to watch the enraptured look on your face.

Then your other hand moves, unbuttoning his slacks and sliding them over his hips and that’s when he jerks back to the present. “Sweetheart,” He gasps. “You… You don’t have to.”

You smile at his breathlessness. “You don’t want to fuck me?” You pout, though it quickly turns back into a grin when his eyes widen in panic. Another day you’d blow him, when you aren’t so desperate to get him inside you.

Seth briefly removed himself from on top of you to lean over his bed, rifling through his nightstand drawer. You assume he’s looking for a condom and that his efforts fail when he eventually closes the drawer with a curse.

He looks back to you, all messy hair, swollen lips, and glistening eyes. “I don’t have a condom.” He informs regretfully.

“I’m on the pill, if you’re…” You trail off, unsure. “If you’re okay with that. And I’m clean.”

“Hell yes I’m okay with that.” He breathes. His cock hardens even more at the thought of feeling you raw, if even possible. “I’m clean too.” And then he’s kissing you again, long and slow and deep, and you’re happy to let him take the lead as your brain is still trying to play catch-up from your orgasm.

Seth eventually breaks away only to reattach to your neck, nipping at the skin likely already covered in his marks, hands now making their way back down your body. He playfully flicks your nipple as he does so, grins when you flinch upwards.

“Have I told you how much I love your body?” He says in-between kisses, almost like an afterthought. He’s in the middle of spreading your thighs open, fingers slipping through your leftover wetness and brushing your clit when you respond.

You help in his endeavors, raising your legs to curl over his hips as he situates himself on top of you. “You’ve mentioned it a few times, I think.” You reply, breath hitching when his cock presses against you.

“It’s perfect.” He continues, like he didn’t even hear you. “You’re perfect.” He wraps his hand around his dick, guides the head to your entrance and pushes in. All words escape you, and your head falls back with a moan.

He sinks into you with a pleasurable sound of his own, eyes squeezing shut as your warmth envelops him. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he thrusts slowly into you, bottoming out. “So tight.” He hisses.

“Oh, fuck,” You whimper, digging your nails into his back. Seth stills, thinking he's hurting you. “Shit, am I—”

“Don’t you dare stop.” You quickly interrupt, crying out when his tip rubs against your sensitive inner walls just right. Seth relaxes at your words, a cocky grin spreading over his face. “Sorry, sorry.” He chuckles, picking up the speed of his thrusts.

Like before when his tongue was in you, it doesn’t take you long before noises are escaping your throat uncontrollably or for your legs to tremble from where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sensations are more because you’re already so sensitive, so strung-up, and so eager for another release that you give up any pretenses of trying to play cool.

Your head lolls back onto the bed, all strength leaving your body as Seth happily does all the work on top. Quick, short pants are coming from his mouth, and his chest is heavy where it presses down against yours. With every thrust his pelvis is rocking into your clit, sending sparks up your body as you clench rhythmically around his cock. It’s burning you from the inside-out in the best way possible, and very quickly you’re already approaching the edge.

You try to express your impending release, but all that’s able to come from your mouth is one long moan. Seth, somehow, knows exactly what that noise means, and is suddenly pulling out. “What the fuck?” You practically shout with indignation, glaring at the man on top of you with squinted eyes.

Ever the comedian, he only laughs at your irritation. “Hold on, bear with me.” His hands grab your waist, then rolls you over onto your stomach. He raises your hips, pushing down on your lower back into an arch, and all previous complaints leave you as he’s unable to help himself and runs his hands over your ass.

You’ll think later on why him being unfazed with your attitude makes your heart warm.

“Spread your legs for me.” He murmurs, tapping at the junction between your thighs. You do as he says, and shiver when his fingers go to part your cunt once you’re open. You can’t see his face, but imagine the look on it to be one of enrapturement. You turn your head finally, pressing your hips down onto his hand where it remains touching you.

Your earlier guess was right; his pupils are blown wide, jaw hung open just a little bit at having this view of you from behind. Meeting his eyes, you stare imploringly.

While the sudden need for him scares you, you don’t shy away. Rather, you meet his desires head-on in the form of pushing your hips back against him when he finally pushes in, smothering a whimper as his body looms over yours.

Neither of you talk in favor of letting your pleasure speak for you. The new position feels more intimate, oddly enough; his chest presses onto you from every angle, and you can feel his breath every time he pants into your ear. At the same time his arms are wrapped around your waist, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips while he thrusts into you from behind.

All too soon you’re reaching your peak just like before, and the buildup feels so sweet because he’s hitting you deeper, unrelenting in his thrusts despite how your arms collapse from underneath you. Seth doesn’t flinch, merely picks you back up and presses a hand to your abdomen to keep you there.

With your arms free, you realize that your clit is feeling neglected, and as you sneak your right hand in-between your legs he’s suddenly beating you to it, slapping your own hand away and replacing it with his own.

When it’s all said and done, you don’t think you’ll ever forget the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub so deliciously. Between his dick rutting into your sweet spot mercilessly and the rough pads of fingers stimulating your clit, your eyes are slamming shut with your mouth opening in a silent scream as for the second time that night, Seth is sending you into release.

He carries you through it with noncommittal praise while you’re lost in white noise and starry vision. The sight of you crumbling beneath him sends sparks throughout his body, and it doesn’t take long between the rhythmic clenching of your cunt and the pleasured sounds falling from your lips for him to flood your insides with his cum.

“Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck.” Seth loses any semblance of restraint of trying to be gentle, as his last thrusts rattle your frame and have you whimpering by the time he’s done releasing, your overstimulated clit throbbing in time with the slow rocks of your calming bodies. “So good. You did so good, yeah?” Seth is rumbling into your ear, voice hoarse and tired as he carefully slides out of you. Eyes still closed, you flinch at your sensitivity. “Sorry, babe.” He whispers, having to regroup for a moment as his softening cock meets cool air after being buried inside you.

You attempt to speak, but the only sound that leaves your mouth is a groan as your aching limbs stretch. You don’t bother opening your eyes yet, either, perfectly content to lay in your post-orgasmic pleasure and not think about the future.

Seth doesn’t let you wallow for long, however, as he’s suddenly leaning over you again. “Can you turn over? I have a towel, it’s warm.” He asks, back to shy and unsure. Now that you’re not caught up in the throes of sex, he’s not quite sure how you’re going to act. “You also need to go pee.”

Your default moods of snarky and mildly irritated is what he gets. “No.” You grumble, though it’s not mean as you bury your head in his pillow, still flat on your stomach. Having no energy to move, you don’t expect Seth to do anything about it, either.

He raises a brow at your sass, not quite sure if he should be relieved or concerned. Huffing, he makes a grab for your hips. “Guess I’m carrying you to the bathroom, then.”

“Seth!” You shriek as he attempts to manhandle you, a burst of energy fueling your efforts in trying to get away. “You little shit, no, fine, fine!” And Seth wins just like that, as you concede the battle and roll from your stomach onto your back. You glare as he leans over your torso, bringing the towel down to clean up the mess in-between your thighs.

His confidence comes back, little by little, as the banter returns naturally and your dynamic doesn’t change despite indulging in your bodies’ most primal desires. “You’ll thank me in the morning.” He grins when he finishes, sliding off the bed to bring it back to the bathroom. You follow, doing your business so quickly you leave before he’s done with his own.

When he comes back you’re in the same position he left you in, like you never left. “So I’m staying the night, then?” You prompt as he goes to sit next to you, a little teasing, a little serious. Where do you stand with him now?

He shrugs, masking his nervousness. “If you want to.” He sinks his teeth into his lip, eyeing you from where he sits. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, and it slightly unnerves him.

Your mysteriousness is also what captivated him about you in the first place too, though. With that, he realizes he wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t liked him at least a little bit. Taking a deep breath, he takes the bold route, grabs your hand, and does what he does best:

Be bold.

“I want you to stay though, like, really badly.” He admits, meeting your curious eyes. You suck in a breath at his words, and Seth continues. “You know I like you. A lot. And I think you like me too.”

As if knowing he’s waiting for your reassurance, you reply quietly. “A little presumptuous of you, yeah?”

Seth grins, and you can’t help but wonder how you were able to resist it for so long.

“So… You’ll stay?” He tilts his head, reminding you of a puppy. You go to respond, maybe with another sarcastic reply, and he seems to know this even before you do. “Please?”

And, well, you can’t deny him when he’s looking at you like that; soft, brown eyes full of adoration gazing at you like you’ve hung the stars and the moon. “Okay.” You relent, grinning happily as he mouths something like ‘fuck yeah’ and rolls over next to you.

“Do you want to shower?” He suddenly asks, after you’ve already curled underneath his sheets with your body pressed against his. He makes a nice furnace, and you’re mad at yourself for not indulging in him sooner. “Because I have a big one. It has these jets that spray from different angles, and you can go alone or I can join or—”

“Seth.” You interrupt, poking his chest to get his attention. He gulps at the amused expression on your face. “Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

It’s silent for several minutes, and you’re almost asleep until he speaks up again.

“Can I be your boyfriend now?”

“Oh my god.” You hiss. “If I say yes will you let me go to sleep?”

You can’t see his face but you know for a fact there’s a stupid grin on it. “You know, I think you’re gonna fall in love with me one day.”

“Keep dreaming, babe.” You say.

But you both know he won’t be dreaming for long.

A/N: I like this one a lot tbh. But my lord I didn't realize how repetitive writing smut is so I need to have at least a little plot established before I can just jump into it 😭 regardless, I hope this is everything y’all wanted in terms of me writing for him and more! Please be sure to reblog and comment, thank youuuuu

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[zriasstuff]

You need me—Tom Riddle x reader

A very late happy kinktober from me, even with nonexistent motivation, I felt like I owed it to this blog to write something, so without further ado

Warnings: 18+, toxic relationship, rough sex, slight (verbal) humiliation, don’t read if you don’t like

Lately you didn’t know what Tom was up to at all, but that wasn’t even the thing that bothered you. All his secret missions meant less time for you, meaning you had gone a very, very long month without his touch.

Today was one of those days, where you had to have someone still your needs. What was a boyfriend good for, if he couldn’t even make you happy? But the thing is, Tom wasn’t like any other guy. You weren’t even sure how to approach the subject.

And thinking of the devil, suddenly hear someone enter your dorm. Before you could even initiate small talk, he asked you whether you still had the book he left here a while ago. Right, the book he gave you as a gift. Now he needed it back.

“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere”, you say. He looked slightly annoyed, but started to search for it himself.

“Hey listen, I thought maybe we could do something tonight, you and I, you know?”

Without even averting his gaze upward, he simply replied that he was busy. You persisted, telling him that you would appreciate him and you doing something for you once in a while, like all the other couples.

No reply

“Listen, if you can’t even do the smallest things for me, why am I with you?”

Finally, he looked up. “You don’t think I do things for you?”, he asked, but somehow it didn’t sound like a question, more like an accusation. His tone wasn’t angry though, rather challenging.

“Well, look at you- you come here without even saying hello, start rumbling through my belongings for some stupid book, you don’t even notice that I’m wearing a new dress—”

To capture his attention, you had put on a new mini dress that perfectly hugged your body and showed all the right curves in the right places.

“Is that so?”, he comes nearer as he says that. “Ye-yes, it is”, your heart stammered and you kept swallowing, at this point you weren’t so sure whether you should keep going with your confrontation or not. The closer he got to you, the less sure you became.

“You know what I’m noticing right now”, he stopped for a second to eye you top to bottom, “is how you keep clenching your legs”

“That has nothing to do with—”, but before you could finish he’d already slipped a cold hand under your dress. The tingles went up your spine, leaving you somewhat paralyzed. You couldn’t even look him in the eye because of how wet you were.

“Looks like somebody may need their good for nothing boyfriend”, he taunted, while ever so slightly brushing his fingertips against your aching clit, making you squeeze around nothing.

After all those claims of yours, you weren’t going to just let him put you on the spot like that, so instead you said the most stupid thing you could’ve,

“who says I need you to help me with this”

You did though. You did so bad. Already this morning you’d tried to make yourself cum around your fingers, to now avail, only leaving you more frustrated than ever.

“Alright, then show me, because I think you’re full of shit”, and with that he removed his fingers, his body away from you. He kept his eyes on your legs, which started to slightly shiver under his stare. “This is so stupid”, you mumble under your breath, but he catches it anyway.

“What was that?”, he cocked his head as he asked, pretending he didn’t.

“Nothing, I said if you want to, I will show you”, you hope to god he didn’t mean that, but something told you he wasn’t kidding, not even in the slightest.

“I meant it when I said it”

“Good” You couldn’t let him win now.

Fingers shaking, you start to slide them up your thighs, squeezing them and releasing soft gasps while doing so. So far Tom didn’t seem impressed. You had to put on more of a show. So, you go towards the bed and take one of your bedside pillows. His eyes widened a bit. Good. Without breaking off eye contact, you place that particular thick, cylinder shaped pillow between your legs, slowly lowering your soaking pussy onto the harsh fabric. At the moment of contact, you flutter your eyes, as if Tom had just entered you.

And as if it was his cock inside you, you start to move your hips in a back and forth motion, as if you were riding him. But nothing was hitting your sweet spot, so you sloppily hold onto the pillow with one hand, the fingers of the other entering your leaking pussy, curling, desperately trying to scratch that itch. Closing your eyes, you pretended those were his long and skilled fingers.

Pretending, it was his cock that thrusted into you, in and out, in and out, filling up your cunt to the brim every single time. Pretending you were about to chase your climax.

“I’m about to—“, you moan, “aghh fuck, ‘m gonna—”

“Quit it darling, you can’t do it”, Tom interrupts, after having stayed uncomfortably silent this whole time. “You need me”

You squeezed around your fingers as hard as you could, didn’t slow down your tempo, but something was missing.

“You’re making it worse”, you spat at him.

“I can’t stand my girl being so delusional yet so desperate at the same time”, he said as he took a few more steps toward you and shook his head.

“Want some help?”

“N-No”, you half moaned, half whined.

“Oh I think you do”, he whispered. His hand reached for your chin and tilted it upwards, almost squeezing your face too hard.

“Just say the word”

Just that one word and he would give you exactly what you needed. Just one word and everything would be alright. But then he’d win.

“Any time now, or my offer goes away”

You bit your lip so hard it started getting all blood red and puffy, because if you didn’t you were gonna give in.

“One last chance” Having said that he tilted your chin downwards, you his clearly visible hard dick in his pants. You gulp at the sight, knowing what it could do to your body. If you didn’t say it now…

“Please Tom”

“What was that?”, he cooed smugly. As he said that he was already removing his belt from and pulling down his pants that grew tighter around his area.

“I said please”, you choked out, still being barely able to move your jaw that he had a death grip on.

“Since you had a little preparation already, I think you owe me one too”

Before you realized what that meant, he shoved your head toward his thick, leaking tip. With no regard, Tom forced his tip into your hungry mouth, groaning at the feeling of the wet warmth. “Suck on it, like a good girl”. You did as you were told, until he shoved his entire length down your throat, holding your mouth at his base. You could barely breathe properly, only inhaling his scent through your nose.

“Nothing to complain about now, no?” Throat growing even tighter, Tom kept lazily thrusting into your mouth, until tears started to form in your eyes. As soon as he was done, he forcefully shoved you onto the bed and flipped you onto your stomach. Before doing anything, he took that soaked pillow, put it under your face, and shoved your face onto the wet patch. You would’ve been disgusted, if it weren’t for the anticipation for him to finally fill you up.

“Look at what you’ve done”, he mouthed, “so stupid to think that that was enough for you”

As he entered in one go from behind, you shrieked and the built up tears finally spilled. “So stupid to think that anything could make you feel like I do”, he groaned into your ear, while repeatedly hitting your spot. Obscene sounds left your mouth at the feeling of being roughly split open again and again.

You couldn’t hold it in much longer, your touch starved cunt finally getting the handling it needed. By crying out loud, gradually whimpering louder as he shoved himself into your hole, he felt you were getting close.

“Say you need me”, he demanded, slowing his pace, letting you know you weren’t gonna cum if you didn’t. He put more weight onto you and grabbed your neck from the behind, forcing your stained face to look at him.

“I need you Tom”, you whimpered, and he planted a hungry kiss on your lips.

A few more deep plunges, and you felt him shoot his load deep inside you, his liquid mixing with yours.

Before you even processed that he had flipped you onto your back again, your underwear was back on, more soaked and filthy than ever now.

“To remind you who you belong to for the rest of the day”

[pomefioredove]

Hi! This is very very specific, but…I've had a rough start to my day today, kinda relating to the topic of my request…

So I was wondering, would it be alright to request HCs of Jamil, Ruggie, Leona, Floyd and Rollo with a Reader who runs into an emotionally abusive/manipulative parent they haven't seen in a long time? The kind of subtle abuse that's hard to tell (from the inside, at least) is even abuse at all, and makes you doubt yourself a lot. Kinda narcissistic abuse

Kind of a hurt/comfort thing? Like how they'd deal with the bad parent and the Reader opening up a bit about it. Romantic or platonic, either one is good

Feel more than free to ignore if this kind of request isn't your thing: that's totally fine, I understand it's a bit heavy, not to mention very specific, so please do what makes you feel best. I hope you have a good day!

ahhh of course! I relate to this sort of thing a lot (although I don't use terms like narcissistic abuse since abuse is just abuse to me) and I know exactly what you mean. I love hurt/comfort and you're well within my boundaries since the only thing I wouldn't write pertaining to this topic is intimate partner abuse (like with an s/o). so you're perfectly fine! I enjoyed writing this <3

summary: comforting a reader with an abusive parent type of post: short fics characters: jamil, ruggie, leona, floyd, rollo additional info: reader is not specified to be yuu ("shrimpy" is used as a nickname during floyd's part tho), reader is gender neutral, food mention (ruggie's part), actual interaction w the parent happens during leona and rollo's parts, mentions/descriptions of emotional abuse, although reader is kinda vague about it

Jamil Viper

Jamil knows what it's like to feel stuck.

That's really all he has to know when he recognizes that look on your face.

Perhaps you usually wear your heart on your sleeves, or perhaps you're better at keeping your emotions to yourself, like him, but either way he can tell something is very wrong the second he sees you.

It's a bit strange, isn't it?

Surrounded by people in the cafeteria and yet no one seems to notice the shadow cast over you.

He tries to talk himself out of it for the rest of the day. He has enough on his plate as it is, and it's not his problem. He's Kalim's keeper, not yours.

But that sense of unease doesn't go away.

He drags himself out of bed and somehow finds himself at your door in the dead of night.

And even though it takes you a moment to answer, he can tell you were already awake.

"Here," he says, handing you a warm meal in a container. "I noticed you didn't eat today. We had leftovers."

You don't feel very much like eating, but you accept the gift, anyway. It smells amazing. His cooking always does.

"Thank you," you mumble.

You can't think of anything else to say.

"Are you... well, Kalim sent me to ask if you're feeling unwell," he lies through his teeth.

"I'm fine,"

Another lie, this time of your behalf, which annoys him ever-so-slightly.

"You're clearly not. Are you sick?" the question is vague enough, said in such a way that leaves you with the impression that he wasn't exactly referring to a physical illness.

"I've... had a rough day,"

Jamil is quiet for a moment, thinking to himself. And then: "Do you mind if I come in?"

He's always so careful with his words that such a direct (yet polite) request almost catches you off guard. You step to the side, letting him in your room.

"I don't mean to pry. I know it's not my place," he says, watching you close the door. "But... Kalim is worried. Yes."

You shake your head. "It's fine. I'll get over it,"

It.

What did "it" mean? Surely this couldn't just be a lousy day.

"Did something happen?"

You hesitate.

"Have you ever... ran into someone who made your life miserable? That you thought you moved on from... and it starts to feel like you're stuck in that place all over again?"

Of course. Of course he knows what that feels like.

He has to live through that exact experience every day, without even being able to move on.

But he can't just say that. And this is about you, after all.

"I'm familiar with the feeling. I suppose that's what's ruined your day, then?"

"That's one way to put it," you sigh, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Sometimes it feels like all the progress I've made is just... null. Like I'll never really move on."

He hates how much he's relating to you. How much you're affecting him, now, too.

He follows you to the bed and sits beside you.

"Someday, though, you will. It may feel hopeless now, but... you won't stay stuck forever,"

Unlike me, he thinks.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can't be. But you don't strike me as someone to give up after hardship,"

Like me.

You're quiet for a moment, seemingly considering what he told you. And then you hug him.

A nice, soft hug. Not abrasive or sudden like the ones Kalim gives. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Thank you, Jamil,"

He hugs back. "Of course,"

Ruggie Bucchi

It was almost painful, watching you fumble with your wallet like that.

You couldn't seem to get the proper amount out, shaking like a leaf and apologizing profusely. Sam keeps telling you it's okay, but the line forming behind you is starting to grow restless.

Ruggie included.

He has places to be, after all, and he's got two whole crates of energy drinks to lug back to Savanaclaw.

He has half a mind to ask what the holdup is.

And so, he peers over your shoulder, ready to- oh, no. You're crying.

Damn it. Why can't things ever be easy for him?

He can't even chew someone out for taking up all his precious time without being thrown a curveball. And now he feels bad.

Sigh.

"Hey, I got this," he says, setting his heavy crates down on the counter and flashing a card.

Your eyes widen. "Oh, no, Ruggie, you don't have to-"

"Relax, it's Leona's money, not mine," he offers a grin, ignoring the tears trailing down your face. "He won't even notice it's missing."

The line behind you two breathes a collective sigh of relief (much to your embarrassment) and Ruggie shoots them a glare.

"I... I still can't accept this-" you start, before he quickly shushes you.

"Hey, if you wanna make it up to me, you can help me carry these things. I'll call it even,"

You're silent for a moment as Sam finishes ringing you both up, and then you take a crate. As quiet as ever. It's unnerving.

You're walking back to the Hall of Mirrors when Ruggie breaks that silence by bringing up your purchase. "So, what's up with the afternoon snack? Not that I'm judging- I'm jealous. I skipped lunch, shishishi,"

"Oh, it's nothing," you mutter. "Comfort food, I guess."

The concept of comfort food is extremely appealing to him. "Huh. Long day?"

"Something like that... Why'd you skip lunch?"

Trying to change the conversation topic? Clever. But he'll bite, anyway.

"Leona forgot some of his class stuff, so I had 'ta run and get it. Too bad he forgot where he left it... I was all over campus,"

"Did you find it?"

"Eventually. Or else I'd be busy getting my neck wrung instead of 'bein here with you,"

You nod, and the conversation swiftly dies.

After another awkward beat, he clears his throat. "So you... you wanna talk about it, or something?"

"What?"

"You know, your... your day," he mutters, shrugging. He's desperately trying to remember all of the things his grandma did for him when he was upset as a child. "Talking about it might... make 'ya feel better, y'know?"

You're quiet again, and for a moment Ruggie is worried he said something to offend you.

Then, much to his relief, your voice picks up. "I ran into someone today,"

"What? Like someone was giving you trouble?"

"No, not a student. Someone I don't see very much anymore. Um... I guess it just threw me off,"

He tilts his head to the side. "Why?"

"I don't... well, we don't get along very much. Something about them just makes me feel... very... small. Insignificant,"

You don't ask if he understands what you mean, but he does. Not that he'd ever admit that so openly to you at a time like this, but being small and insignificant is basically his job.

And as much as he likes the perks, he can imagine how rough it would be to deal with that and not get to use a bottomless credit card whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He struggles to respond for a moment.

"That's rough,"

Definitely not the sympathetic response he was going for. At least you don't seem to mind.

"I-I mean, sometimes we have to act small to survive. It's a part of life, 'ya know? But that doesn't mean you are small. Just surviving on its own is an accomplishment," he recovers from his earlier blunder, trying to smile. "You should be proud of yourself, if anything."

"That's..." you say. "That's one way of looking at it."

He sighs. "I'm not expressing myself very well, am I? What I'm trying to say is that you're not small or insignificant, and living life feeling like you are is a survival tactic at best,"

The both of you stop in front of Savanaclaw, and he offers another grin.

"And if you ever wanna talk about this stuff... well, I'm around... And you can come inside now, if you want. I could definitely find more stuff to carry!"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona Kingscholar is very, very much enjoying parent weekend alone, thank you.

Of course his folks don't want to attend a school event for their disappointment of a second son. Why would they care? And on Cheka's birthday weekend, no less...

But that didn't bother him. Not at all.

As long as he slept through the weekend without being bothered by any happy-go-lucky nuclear family units, he'd live.

That plan lasts about five hours.

"You'd be better off doing something more useful with your time. Sports, or science, or... something that might help your future. But if you're so sure... I suppose it's better to cut our losses now than put any more faith in you. You just can never decide, can you?"

That voice. Unfamiliar, but drawling, laced with poison. Aggravating enough to stir Leona from his nap in the botanical gardens.

And it's getting closer.

"I just don't understand. Why get accepted into one of the most prestigious schools in the world just to spend your time goofing off?" a long sigh. "But as long as you're happy... we just want what's best for you."

Leona grumbles, turning over and trying to drift back to sleep.

"I'm trying,"

This voice is different. No- he recognizes it. It's yours.

"Are you? You know I know what's best for you, right?"

Sevens. This is your parent speaking to you? No wonder you've been acting all jittery lately.

He sits up, giving up on his nap, and continues listening in.

"I know," you say. "I really am trying, though."

"Did I say you weren't? Don't speak for me,"

This is getting ugly. Leona stands, stepping out of the shrubbery and clearing his throat behind the two of you.

You're the first to turn. "Oh- Leona! Sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you,"

"You're fine," he snaps, sharp eyes turning to your parent beside you. "Who's this, then?"

"This is-"

"Their parent," they go ahead and introduce themselves, cutting you off as if you weren't speaking at all. Like you're a piece of furniture hanging in the background. He's not a fan.

"Really? From the way you were talking, I would have guessed that you were their coach. Or boss,"

Your eyes dart between the two. "Leona-"

"You're fine," he reaffirms. "I was just looking for you, anyway. We really have to talk."

You pause, raising an eyebrow. He? Wants to talk to you? Now?

"Is it important?" your parent asks. The question is directed at you, although he answers.

"Very. I was just coming to ask you, very politely, I might add, to reconsider my offer,"

"Your... offer...?"

Your parent looks down at you. "What's he talking about?"

"Can't blame you for forgetting. I'm sure you're busy with all your... school... things. But I do have to ask you to rejoin the spelldrive club. We're in shambles without you,"

He gives you a certain look, one that clearly reads "Go along with it."

Leona Kingscholar offering an olive branch to someone is a rare occurrence. So you take it.

"Oh! Right, I have been busy with school. I've been meaning to get back to you..."

Your parent looks between the two of you with just the faintest hint of confusion, and then frustration. "You've been playing spelldrive? When was I going to hear about this?"

"They haven't been playing with us," Leona says, a small smirk already forming. "They're the team manager. They're way too smart to be out on the field- no, they're running the team, they're organizing everything, their strategy is like nothing we've ever seen. If only they were in Savanaclaw, we might have a chance at winning one of these years."

"Uhhh..." you start, looking between your parent and the oddly friendly and receptive clone that's replaced Leona. "...Yeah, right."

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we really have to discuss official club matters," he says, shooing away your parent until they eventually give in and leave.

As soon as they're out the door, you turn to him. "What w-"

"Are you alright?" he asks.

Stunned would be an understatement. "I'm fine,"

"Really? Cause you're looking at me like a gazelle caught in headlights,"

"I-I guess it's just been hard... having them here,"

Leona nods, closing his eyes as he thinks to himself. Then, he sighs.

"Yeah. I get that. Come on, then,"

You raise an eyebrow as he starts off in the opposite direction. "What? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet and warm to nap. Being around that person sucked all the energy right out of me, I can't imagine how exhausted you feel,"

He turns to look over his shoulder with a smile. "With any luck, we'll avoid them for the rest of the weekend,"

Floyd Leech

Of course, he can tell something's up right away.

Well... maybe it takes him a little while to tune into the conversation, but once he does, he notices you've been... awfully quiet throughout it.

His favorite little shrimpy? All sad? Moping around like a kicked puppy?

Now this catches his attention.

"Bored?" he asks. It's his first guess.

"Hm?" you ask, looking back at him. "No, I'm fine."

"But you're not,"

"Okay, I'm a little distracted,"

Now that, he can understand. But there's still something very off about the whole thing that he can't quite put his finger on.

"You're not telling me something," he states, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

You raise an eyebrow. "...And?"

"And I wanna know. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me,"

Your thought process is probably ranging somewhere between "oh, no," and "oh NO," by now.

"I sweaaar, it's nothing," you insist. "I just had a bad day, okay?"

"Why?"

There's no turning back now. He's invested, and until he loses interest, you're stuck here.

"It was... just... long. Can I go now? I have things to do,"

He frowns, and stands, and then puts you in a headlock. "Alright, where're we 'goin?"

"FLOYD!"

He drags you along with him, remembering not to be too rough as he takes you from place to place on his dailies. You begrudgingly learn to accept it.

When you walk back into the Mostro Lounge, Azul and Jade don't even bat an eye.

"You're thirty minutes late- ah, why do I bother?" Azul says, rifling through a stack of papers on his desk. He only looks up when he catches a glimpse of you. "Oh. Hello, there."

You wave half-heartedly. "Can I get some help?"

"Floyd. What is the meaning of this?" he asks.

Floyd pouts. "There's 'somethin wrong with them and they won't tell me what,"

"Are they ill?"

You lower your eyes at the two as they speak like you're not even there. "Hello?"

"Nah, they feel fine. They're all mopey, though,"

Azul hums to himself, lost in thought. And then: "Well, figure out what it is, and get to work, if you please,"

"Azul!" you shout. He ignores you.

Floyd drags you back outside the office and sits down with you at one of the tables, waving to concerned lounge-goers as they pass by.

"Now will you tell me?"

"Geez, alright, alright. I give up, you win," you sigh. "I... well, my parent was here earlier. At school. And we talked, and they... said some not-very-nice things to me. That's why I've been upset, okay?"

Floyd's smile immediately drops. "I win? But that's not a very good prize,"

"Tell me about it,"

"Why would anyone be mean to you, anyway? You're the best shrimpy I know!"

You avert your eyes. "It wasn't... mean... per se. Just... not nice,"

"Sounds mean to me," he mutters. "I don't get it."

"Well, sometimes these things just... don't make sense. It's my fault, anyway," you sigh.

His gaze sharpens at that. "'An who told you that? You didn't do anything! I'm starting to really dislike this parent of yours,"

His sudden mood swing doesn't phase you, but it does lift your spirits... just the tiniest bit. Even if you wouldn't admit that to yourself. "Hey, it's fine. I'm over it,"

"You sure you don't want me to squeeze 'em?"

"Heh. No, that's okay. I would like you to let me go, though,"

His eyes widen at the sudden realization he still has you in a headlock and he quickly releases you.

You sit up, stretching and rubbing the back of your neck. "Thanks,"

"My arm was starting to hurt, anyway..." he thinks for a moment, looking back to the office door. "Ya think I can use that to get out of working? I wanna spend more quality time with my favorite shrimpy. You could use it!"

You look to the door and shrug. "Hey, worth a try, right?"

Rollo Flamme

Out of all the things to ruin the day, of course it had to be your parent.

The disappointment between the two of you was palpable. And even though it was only a brief encounter, it was enough to sour the rest of the afternoon for the both of you.

The first thing Rollo noticed, of course, was the manner in which they carried themselves. As an authoritative, important figure, puffing out their chest and towering over you. What gave them the right...?

They were not a leader, nor a public figure, nor anyone of interest, if your earlier mentions of them gave him any idea. Nothing but an adult who spoke to the both of you as if you were tiny children.

He loathed being talked down to.

Perhaps he should have said something sooner than he did, and perhaps he should have said something more than the interruption he used to excuse you from the conversation.

And now you're just quiet.

"Are you well?" he asks, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

You shrug.

"I apologize for not speaking on your behalf sooner. I did not want to be rude,"

No response at all.

Your silence was driving him mad. He couldn't get a good read on what you were feeling when you kept looking away like that.

"If you'd like to return home early, I would understand and escort you promptly,"

"No,"

A response. Not a good one, but a response nonetheless.

"May I ask you a question?" though he doesn't really wait for your permission to go on. "Why do they speak to you like that?"

That comment seems to jolt you, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes. "What? Speak to me like what?"

He struggles for the right words.

How could he describe it? It was so... odd. The words they spoke to you didn't sound cruel, but there was something sinister lurking beneath them. And not even in the typical "polite for the sake of it" sense.

Each response they gave was laced with a sort of venom that seemed to sting you. You had grown quiet, distant, as if you weren't really there at all.

Of course he was familiar with such tactics. He could weave his own words with ease. But you had done nothing wrong- you were guiltless. Why were you being punished?

He couldn't quite come up with an answer.

"You seemed uncomfortable," he finally says, looking away again. "I apologize for such an experience happening to you under my watch."

"It's not your fault,"

"It certainly isn't. And it's not yours, either,"

A blanket of silence falls over the two of you until he speaks again.

"You have nothing to feel bad about," he reaffirms.

Another pause.

"And I don't mean to intrude. But if you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me,"

[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

order 86 | one-shot | Kalim | Gender Neutral

❀ NOTE: reader is shorter than Kalim, yk he’s cute or whateva this has been sitting in my drafts for a few months but i sucked it up and tried my best to finish it up

You knew things were a little too perfect when Kalim suddenly pulled you aside from the party. He lead you by the hand to the balcony where you could perfectly see the moon, which was the only thing illuminating you two in that moment. He took a deep breath and took a look at you.

He didn’t have to say anything, you were already flustered just by the atmosphere and you thought to yourself. “This better not be a confession.”

“—what I’m just trying to say is, I like you so… I want to be your boyfriend.”

You gave him an awkward smile and you could see the color in his face drain as you explain. “Can you give me some time to think about this..?”

Now you’re avoiding Kalim by any means necessary. Something must be wrong with you doing THAT to him. You don’t know who to go to about this for advice and as a result you dump it on the first person you see.

The next morning you see Deuce, he spots you as you approach and waves. You stomp over and grip his shoulders.

“Ohmyseven! LastnightKalimconfessedtomeandIwasjustsoshockedItoldhimIneedtimetothinkaboutitanditlookedlikehewasgonnacryIfeelsobadrightnowwhatdoido?!?” You blubbered out.

He pushed you off of him. “Slow down I can’t understand if you’re in hysterics?!”

He calmed you down enough to get a proper explanation of the events of last night and he was left with an impression.

“I feel bad but I don’t know what to say. It’s true I did need time but I can’t believe I just left him like that.” You had your hands on your head and pushed your forehead against the wooden desk.

Deuce pats your shoulder, “It’s okay you just need to tell him how you feel. But I’m not too sure about leaving him hanging like that but what happened, happened so…”

Ace leaned back into his chair and glanced over, “How do you feel about him?” Ace asks the hardest question.

“I have no idea.”

-

At the end of basketball practice you approach everyone with a water bottle. As you walk over to Jamil, he shakes his head.

“I don’t need water, thank you though.” He signaled to his water bottle sitting on the bench next to him.

You smile and lean in, using the towel around his neck to wipe off some sweat on his face. He cracked a small smile at you in response.

“Where are you headed after this?” You asked him.

He shrugged, “Back to Scarabia to help prepare dinner. Are you coming?”

“Ah… I’ll pass today.” You knew if Kalim saw you he would give you puppy dog eyes and pull you aside and ask for your response. Which you didn’t quite have yet. “I have too much homework.”

He blinked a few times and cranked his head your way. “Are you serious? You come everyday.”

At the very least you told him you’d walk him to the mirror room as an apology for breaking your dinner streak.

“Did I tell you I bombed an essay?”

“No, I thought you were a good student.”

“I am a good student! It’s just Mr. Trein.”

“You can rewrite it at least.”

“Yeah, speaking of which, can you read it over? I just wanna know what I did wrong.”

You turned your phone on and pulled the document up, Jamil’s taller figure leaning into you to read it as you two kept walking.

“I can’t read it, your hand is too shaky.” He put his hand over yours to steady the phone as you two walked.

You two walked in silence, reading over the essay. Jamil, in his peripheral vision, spotted a light pole you were going to walk into. With his free hand he pulled you by the waist closer to move you away from the pole. You exclaimed in surprise and turned to face Jamil after noticing the pole.

“You need to pay attention to your surroundings.” He scolded but you lightheartedly laughed.

“Jamil!” Someone called out with attitude, their voice you could never forget. You pushed Jamil off of you and faced his way.

“Kalim, you finished your practice late?”

“Yeah, we were learning a new song and lost track of time…”

You smiled at Jamil and backed away with a small wave you left without nothing but a glance to Kalim.

You had a lot to think about tonight, and a lot to talk about to Grim. You got home and immediately collapsed on the sofa where Grim half way asleep.

“Have you been napping since school finished?” You asked him.

“I was so tired…”

“I saw Kalim just now.” Grim glanced over, “I think he saw me and Jamil really close.”

He clicked his tongue, “I didn’t know you had a thing for Jamil.” He said in a surprised tone.

“That’s the thing, I don’t!!” You cried while grabbing him. “I love Kalim…”

“Okay then why don’t you accept his confession?!” Grim raised his voice and swung his paw at you.

“Kalim… as much as I love him I didn’t think it’d ever be reciprocated so I gave up on him. Now I don’t know what to do.” You confessed to him while resting your head down against the couch cushion.

You had been moping and whining about the predicament you put yourself into and you’ve more or less been saying the same things just different wording all day whenever you had the chance.

“I think what you should do is pretty obvious.” He says back to you. Your eyes flutter shut and you hum, questioning him for more.

“Just talk to him and tell him that.”

You fall silent for a minute and he assumes you’re just taking in all the information until he hears a small snore.

“Not here! Get changed first— or at least go to bed!”

You woke up early the next morning and laid there, thinking about the whole thing. He’s been waiting for over a day and you haven’t said a word to him since. Does Jamil know? Did Kalim question Jamil? Will Ace tell Jamil? Did he lose feelings now? Is he crying because of it?

Your worrying made your stomach hurt, realizing you hadn’t eaten dinner since you wanted to avoid Kalim. At least there were leftovers from a few nights ago.

You warmed up some lobster Kabsa, a bowl for you and a bowl for Grim. You had over an hour so you knew you could take your time with your meal. You sat down with him and poked your spoon into the bowl.

You two just sat in silence for a bit.

“I want milk.” He stood up and waltzed over to the fridge and got a cup. Once he returned he saw tears filling your eyes. Your eyes watered, once you blinked they all spilled out.

“Did you burn your tongue or something?!” He ran over to you in concern but you whined mid bite of your food.

“Kalim… We made this together last week…” You said with your mouth half full of rice, then swallowed your bite. All the good memories and times that made you fall for him replayed in your head. Every touch and every minute spent alone together hurt like a migraine to think about, given your sobbing.“What do I say to him?!”Grim put his paw on your hand with a sigh full of sympathy as you sobbed out.

-

“I did everything perfect. I mean it was dark, the moon was bright, and I held their hand.” Kalim stared down at his drum set. His two club members had their attention fully turned to their lovesick band mate.

Cater nodded his head empathetically, “How long has it been? Two days?”

“31 hours.” He sulked.

“Maybe it isn’t about what you did do, but what you didn’t do.” Lilia nodded his head along. “If you could redo your confession, what would you change?”

“I wouldn’t even do it if I’m just going to be ignored like this. And yesterday on my way home, I saw MC and Jamil and they were… Jamil had his arm around them and it looked like they were holding hands…”

The two of them audibly gasped in disbelief.

“How could they?!”

“This is messy.”

Cater and Lilia comforted him as he slouched over onto his drums.

“What should I do?” He asked them and the two looked at each other then back at him.

“Well…” Cater started then stopped, looking to Lilia for reassurance. “I don’t think they want you. Considering their response and how they acted with Jamil…”

“You should ask directly since you need to hear it yourself before giving up.” Lilia quickly silenced his negativity.

He went silent and slumped over again. “I miss MC, I miss saying good morning and having them over for dinner. I miss making dinner with them. Even after all this I still want to talk to them every day..”

-

“Thank you so much for rewriting my essay. I didn’t realize how much I actually had to fix.” You put down your pencil and Jamil nodded.

He was good at helping out during the study sessions, many other students also sat down with you guys and asked for help on their homework.

You noticed how tired he seemed, not that he needed to sleep but just of helping out with several different history, math, science, and language assignments.

You noticed the new necklace he was wearing was bothering him, he adjusted and constantly scratched around his neck.

“Damn necklace…” He cursed at it.

You smile, “Do you want me to get it off for you?”

“That’d be good, I couldn’t get it off myself so I gave up.”

You leaned into him and reached for the clip of his necklace to take it off for him. “Oh it’s one of these clips… give me a minute.”

You back faced the entry way and once Kalim walked out the mirror he rested his eyes on you. Then he saw Jamil.

Like last time, his heart hurt. As you pulled away from him, you smiled at straight at Jamil.

“Ah, Kalim you’re back late ag…ain?” Jamil paused as he walked up to you but he didn’t even look at him. With a surprised yelp, Kalim pulled you by the arm and tugged you away from him.

“We’ll be back.” He said firmly before pulling you out the room.

His hand held on to your wrist, he wasn’t forceful but he wouldn’t let you pull away, once it was in a quiet part of Scarabia away from the main livjng area, he let go of you but pushed you close to the wall. You weren’t sure what to say to him.

“Kalim—“

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now.” He admitted as he turned around with his hand covering his face. “What I said at the balcony, I meant it and I still do. But I see you and Jamil so…”

You objected his comment about Jamil but he gave you an empathetic stare.

“I don’t know why but I only want you to look at me… When you look at Jamil, I just want to take you away.” His face went pink while he confessed. He stepped forward and you stepped away into the wall. “Sorry there is something wrong with me. I can’t stop you from being with someone you love.”

You were always loyal to the crush you had on him, there was no other guy you felt so strongly about.

“I missed you, I didn’t talk to you because I was nervous but I regret it. Ive always known what I wanted but when I had an opportunity I ruined it.” You confessed to him, “I never thought I actually had a chance with you.”

Now your face was pink, you trailed off slowly and turned to face him again.

“Y-you’re giving me mixed signals what does any of that mean.”

“Don’t make me say it.” You shook your head.

“No, you have to say it.” He stubbornly said back.

When you unconsciously fiddled with your fingers and put them behind your back, he suddenly grabbed them and squeezed your wrists.

“Can you just tell me how you feel?” With how things were you were forced to look at him.

You opened your mouth to speak, looking around before settling your eyes back on him. He blinked for a brief moment but when he opened his eyes you were closer, way closer.

You went up in your tippy toes and pulled him into your lips. You didn’t realize how good it was, if you knew you would’ve done it sooner. It didn’t last as long as you imagined before Kalim pushed away and backed up into the other wall.

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, his face was brighter than the red feathers in his turban and eyes wider than the distance between you two.

You clenched your fists and walked up to him. “Now you’re running away from me!”

“Because you kissed me so suddenly!” He pointed his finger at you defensively.

You two bickered for a moment before returning back to the topic. “Now I don’t have to say it, right?” You looked up at him still flustered.

He crossed his arms, “I want to hear you say it.”

Damn even now he’s still stubborn about it!

You scoffed and cleared your throat while looking to the side. “Kalim, I like you too…”

The two of you got butterflies in your stomached, too nervous and confused to make the next move.

“I—“

“Kali—“

“Go ahead.”

“No you go.”

You stared at each other intently, remaining silent again.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” He stepped in closer again with his hands resting on your shoulders, moving up to cup your cheeks.

You didn’t give yourself a chance to reply, neither did he, your lips meeting together in unison.

[nicholasluvbot]

EYES OFF YOU ✶ ASAKURA JO

in which... jo tries to help you with a subject that he doesnt even take, thinking you'd be impressed.

pairing. asakura jo x gn!reader genre. fluff, jo is a complete loser and down bad for the reader wc. 644 author's note. HAPPY JO DAY !! i dont usually write for idols on their birthday, but since this was sitting in my drafts, i decided to post it! i love losers sm and jo being my fav loser i had to write this for him. // @lune-net

You sigh as you sit in your seat, feeling the weight of your frustration. Your friend Maki was supposed to help you with a chapter on biomolecules, a topic you'd been struggling with for weeks. But he had suddenly bailed, leaving you alone and stressed. Despite your best efforts, the concepts just weren't clicking.

You flip through the pages of your textbook, trying to make sense of the confusing diagrams and dense text. You barely notice when Jo approaches your desk. He hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat softly.

"Hey, uh, are you okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look up, surprised. Jo rarely ever spoke, especially not to you. Despite being in the same friend group, your interactions had been minimal at best. His sudden concern catched you off guard.

"I'm just struggling with this chapter," you admit, gesturing to the open book in front of you. "Maki was supposed to help me, but he bailed."

Jo's eyes flicker over the pages, and he nods slowly. "Biomolecules? That's easy for me. I can teach you if you want."

"Really?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know biology was your thing."

"It's not really, but I remember this part from earlier. I think I can explain it." he replies, pulling up a chair next to you.

As Jo begins to explain, you find yourself drawn not just to the subject matter, but to Jo himself. His voice, usually quiet and unassuming, takes on a gentle cadence as he tries to simplify the complexities of biomolecules. His explanations are earnest, accompanied by nervous gestures that betray his lack of confidence in the material.

You notice how his hair, usually neatly combed, falls slightly disheveled over his forehead, giving him a slightly endearing, boyish charm. His glasses, perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, slip down every so often, prompting him to push them back up absentmindedly.

Despite his efforts, Jo falters. He stumbles over definitions, his explanations occasionally trailing off into uncertain mutters. Diagrams that should clarify concepts only seem to confuse him further. You watch him closely, a furrow forming between your brows as you try to reconcile the disparity between his initial confidence and his current struggle.

"Jo," you interrupt gently, "Are you sure you're good at this? Biology isn't even one of your subjects, right?" 

Jo freezes, his face turning a shade of red you've never seen before. He stammers, "I, uh... I just wanted to help. I'm sorry. I thought I could do it."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Jo, it's okay. You don't have to apologize. It's actually kinda sweet that you tried."

He looks at you, wide-eyed and still blushing furiously. "I just... I don’t know why i said i’d do it."

"Jo, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could've just asked to meet up outside of school." you teased.

Jo's blush deepens, and he looks down at his hands. "I didn't think you'd say yes." 

Oh! He actually wanted to spend time with you? You were flattered, honestly, and you knew that you’d regret it if you didn’t do something about it.

You smile, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "Well, why don't you ask me now?"

He swallows nervously, finally meeting your gaze. "Would you... would you like to go out with me sometime? Maybe we could study together? Or, you know, do something fun?"

You grin, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'd like that, Jo. I'd like that a lot."

Jo's face lights up with a shy, relieved smile. "Okay, great. How about this weekend?"

"It's a date," you say, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

As you both gather your things, the frustration from earlier melts away. Maybe Maki bailing wasn't such a bad thing after all.