#I wanted Tobias to look nervous as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

archangeldyke-all · 8 months

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Hi Angelll

OBSESSED WITH COWBOY SEVIKA UNIVERSE. How about Sevika and reader meeting Caitlin’s parents. Sevika and Cassandra defo are side eyeing each other while Tobias and reader are giggling bout their daughters.

Thank you Angel!!!!!!!!

YES LETS GOOOOO

men and minors dni

violet and caitlyn have been going steady for about a year now.

caitlyn visits the inn about once a week, staying a night or two in vi's room before she continues on her trek up the river. sometimes, she takes violet with her.

the two of them are adorable together. they're clearly soulmates, and they're both fucking dorks, and even a year into their relationship, they're still so shy and awkward around each other that they can barely look each other in the eye without blushing.

and now that things between the girls are getting more serious, caitlyn's parents want to meet you all.

violet's never met them. after the jail break, you and sevika forbade the girls from ever returning to cait's town-- worried that they'd be recognized and arrested again. you're all incredibly nervous. well, all of you except jinx.

the kiramman family is insanely fucking wealthy, and they're coming to visit and stay in your dingy little inn. violet's spent the entire week deep cleaning the room they'll be staying in with your help.

sevika's worried that cassandra, caitlyn's mother, will recognize her as the weary woman of the west. apparently, the matriarch of the family is also incredibly invested in local politics and crimes, and she's been consulted by several police forces for investigations into crimes sevika committed.

jinx has been thriving in the anxious energy-- getting away with much more trouble than she's usually able to with the rest of you so preoccupied with worrying.

and now, the night before the family's arrival, you, sevika, and jinx are cuddled in bed as you watch violet pace back and forth in your room.

"come lay down vi, you're making me dizzy." sevika says.

violet continues to pace.

"she's freaking out." jinx says with a giggle. you flick her forehead.

"be nice to your sister." you say. "that'll be you someday."

jinx scoffs. "no way, i'm never falling in love."

sevika chuckles. "no?" she asks, raising her eyebrow. jinx shakes her head no. "so you and that neighbor boy don't have anything going on between the two of you?"

you giggle as you watch jinx blush. "i don't like ekko!" she exclaims. this gets violet to pause her pacing, shooting her sister a glance.

"bullshit, jinx, i saw the two of you riding teddybear yesterday." violet teases. jinx's shoulders shoot up to her ears.

"shut up!" she cries. you chuckle and wrap your arm around her shoulders.

violet grins, abandoning her pacing to squish into bed beside the rest of you. "'oh, ekko, you're a natural!'" violet imitates jinx.

"whatever. at least ekko won't dump me when his dad sees the dump we live in." jinx grumbles.

"hey! it's not a dump!" you cry. sevika snorts.

"it's a bit of a dump, babe." she says. the girls nod up at you. you roll your eyes.

"well i'm sorry if our home isn't perfect-- i've been busy raising the two little shits that tried to rob me--"

"do you really think she'll dump me once her parents meet us?" violet asks, interrupting your rant.

"no." sevika says. "cait's a sneaky shit, and she's obsessed with you. even if they ban her from you and us, she'll be back." she reassures violet. vi sighs.

"i guess."

"go to sleep. we gotta be up early tomorrow to make that fancy dinner you want." you say, turning off the oil lamp beside you. jinx settles in your arms, cuddling against you, and violet cuddles into sevika's.

twenty minutes later, when both girls are snoring, sevika reaches across their bodies to poke you. you smile at her.

"we need a bigger bed." she whispers. you chuckle.

"remember when we thought they'd outgrow their sleepover phase?" you ask. she grunts.

"we were so stupid." she says. you giggle.

"we were young, too." you say. she chuckles.

"we're still young!" she protests. "it's not our fault these shits imprinted on us when we were newlyweds."

"we're not shits, you're a shit, sevika." jinx mumbles, eyes still closed, turning in your arms. you laugh and press a kiss to your head.

"jinx." you say. she hums in your arms. "you're gonna be nice to cait and vi tomorrow, right?" you ask. she remains suspiciously quiet, a little smirk growing on her lips. sevika laughs at the silence.

"c'mon pow-pow, you know you like caitlyn." sevika says. jinx huffs.

"she's... alright."

"she taught you how to shoot!"

"yeah, but she's dating violet. there's gotta be something wrong with her." jinx responds. you snort and ruffle her hair.

"if you're on your best behavior tomorrow, i'll take you to grayson's on friday for shooting practice." sevika bribes. jinx considers this.

"that'll only work if mrs. kiramman doesn't arrest you tomorrow." she mumbles. sevika groans, and you giggle, flicking jinx's forehead again.

"you're such a shit." you say. jinx giggles.

"g'night." she says. you kiss her head again.

"goodnight jinxy."

the kiramman's are... an odd couple.

upon their arrival, violet and caitlyn immediately scooped each other up in a hug. you watched with a smile as caitlyn tried for a kiss, and violet turned her face away, far too nervous with the kiramman's watching to kiss her girlfriend.

caitlyn stiffly and awkwardly introduced you all to her parents, and you take over for her once she's done, guiding the family into the tavern.

you've got a few guests in the inn, but you've closed the bar for the night to keep the family dinner private. you don't want to overwhelm the kiramman's with too much on their first visit, and you're sure your patrons would find plenty of ways to embarrass violet.

tobias is a kind, quiet man, who seems genuinely interested in you and your business. he follows you behind the bar to help you make drinks, and you both watch in amusement as your wives awkwardly talk to one another.

since she's arrived, cassandra's been eyeing sevika suspiciously, a furrow in her brow as she tries to place her. sevika seems to have noticed, and each time she catches mrs. kiramman staring at her, she quickly flees to 'check in on jinx.'

jinx is the only one acting somewhat normal, doodling away at the table while she waits for dinner.

"you have a lovely business." tobias says to you. you smile at him.

"thank you, sir."

"oh please dear, no formalities necessary. with the way cait's been speaking about violet, i'm sure we'll be family in a few years." he says, smiling. you sigh, some of your anxiety melting away as you look up to admire caitlyn and violet where they're nervously whispering to one another at the table.

"you've raised an incredible young woman." you say to him. he smiles. "i'm surprised every day that violet managed to woo her-- she's incredibly poised and intelligent and kind and patient. she's lovely." you say. tobias chuckles.

"well, i'm glad she behaves well for you. at home, it's a bit of a different story-- but i'm sure you know all about that, with two daughters." he says. you laugh.

"they can be a handful, huh?" you ask. he nods.

"i'm just glad she's found somebody like violet. she's been so much happier since they met." he says, a sparkle in his eye. "she's always struggled to make friends. but, each time she comes home from her little trips up here, she's so full of life and excitement. all we ever hear about anymore is violet, and whatever trouble her and powder have gotten themselves into." he says. you grin.

"they're a good match, aren't they?" you ask. he smiles and nods.

"oh-- oh dear. i better go check on my missus. it's never good when she gets that look in her eye." he mumbles, rolling his eyes at you as he grabs a drink and leaves the bar.

you watch in amusement as tobias approaches cassandra, handing her a glass and gently guiding her away from where she was studying sevika with her chin pinched between her fingers.

sevika comes behind the bar to take over for tobias, helping you make drinks.

"how's it going?" you ask. she grunts.

"she's fucking onto me." she whispers. you chuckle.

"thank fuck for statute of limitations." you say. sevika groans. "it's fine, baby. what's she gonna do, accuse her daughter's girlfriend's guardian of being an infamous outlaw over a 'meet the family' dinner?" you ask.

"she could!" she says. you giggle.

"so, you'll deny it. she's got no proof-- you just look a bit like some wanted posters."

"and i've got enough gold buried beneath the garden to last us a hundred fuckin' years." she whispers. you snort.

"i doubt she'll be digging up the garden tonight, babe." you say. sevika groans.

"i'm gonna fuck this up for violet." she says. you smile. there it is.

sevika's never been this nervous to be potentially recognized before-- if anything, she kinda enjoys it when someone positively identifies her. but, when it comes to her girls' happiness, sevika worries endlessly.

you put down the bottle you're pouring from and reach out to grab sevika's hand, pulling her closer and closer toward you until you've got your arms wrapped around her.

"quit worrying." you whisper, kissing her cheek. "you're not gonna fuck anything up. an awkward dinner won't kill 'em, and i don't think there's anything we can do that'll break up those two." you say, nodding over to where caitlyn's whispering in a grinning violet's ear.

you both watch as your daughter laughs, then turns to whisper something back in her girlfriend's ear. caitlyn giggles, hiding her smile behind her hand, and violet quickly presses a kiss to her cheek. cait blushes.

sevika sighs, relaxing a bit in your grip. "i guess you're right." she says. you smile and kiss her lips.

"the only one we gotta worry about tonight is jinx." you say. sevika groans.

"fuck, i forgot about jinx." she says. you laugh.

"you forgot about me?" jinx asks, popping up on the other side of the bar. you both jump.

"fuck! we gotta put a bell on you or something, kid." sevika says. jinx chuckles.

"mr. kiramman challenged me to checkers after dinner-- i told him he better get ready to get his ass whooped." she says. you snort.

"what'd he say to that?" you ask. she shrugs.

"he laughed. i think he likes us." she says. you smile.

"he'd be stupid not to." you say. jinx smiles.

"mrs. kiramman is still on the fence though. i tried charming her with a game of hangman-- she said she's never heard of it." jinx says, rolling her eyes. you snort.

"she'll come around." you say.

"she better." sevika grunts.

dinner goes pretty smoothly. with a few drinks in her, cassandra lightens up significantly, and seemingly forgets all the apprehensions she had about sevika. the two of them spend the night swapping embarrassing stories about vi and cait, much to jinx's delight and their horror.

tobias shows jinx a few magic tricks, which she loves, and caitlyn cringes the entire time, burying her face in her hands.

the girls get more comfortable as the night goes on and the adults loosen up, and by the time dinner's over, violet's slung her arm around caitlyn's shoulders.

cassandra compliments your cooking, and when you tell her most of the ingredients came from your garden, she grins.

"well, that's just darling!" she says. "oh, i wish we had a garden on our property." she sighs.

"you say that dear, but you know you would kill anything you try to grow." tobias teases. cassandra huffs and elbows him.

"he gifted me a bonsai tree for our ten year anniversary and i killed it in a month. i'll never hear the end of it." she mumbles. you laugh.

"you're not alone mrs. k. they all call me jinx because i kill every plant i touch." jinx mumbles into her food. you snort.

"oh please, like you didn't beg us to start calling you jinx more." sevika says.

"well yeah! it's a great cowboy name!" she says.

"you want to be a cowboy, dear?" cassandra asks. jinx nods.

"yeah, just like sev." she says, smiling. beside you, sevika freezes. across the table, violet and caitlyn both cringe. you stomp on jinx's toes under the table. "ouch!" she whispers.

mrs. kiramman looks over at your wife, a suspicious look in her eye.

"you used to be a cowboy?" she asks. you grab your wife's hand under the table.

"uh..." she says.

"a rancher!" you fill in. "a few miles up outside of town." you say. cassandra hums, still eyeing sevika.

"you know, i used to help police forces investigate the outlaws that wander this desert." she says. you gulp.

"mom, nobody wants to hear about your boring side projects." caitlyn says nervously.

"and there was always one wanderer i could never forget." she continues, ignoring her daughter.

tobias' eyes are darting between sevika and his wife. he seems to catch on to the predicament pretty quickly, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. you bite your lip.

"who wants to see another magic trick?" he asks, trying to change the subject again.

"the weary woman of the west." cassandra says, ignoring her husband. sevika's grip on your hand goes shaky.

"w-well... that's interesting." you say.

"yes, very." cassandra says, looking over at you. "i always felt a certian... kinship towards her." she says. you blink, trying to process her words.

"wha?" sevika asks.

cassandra shrugs. "as one of the only women in the oil industry, i understand how much harder one has to work in a male dominated industry. the weary woman never let any of the expectations of womanhood stop her-- and she never let the expectations of her career define her either." she says. "never killed an innocent, never robbed anything that was locally run. never got caught either."

it's so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

cassandra's lips tick up at the side, and she picks up her glass, nodding at sevika.

"when she disappeared, most assumed she was killed. i always secretly hoped she took her earnings and made a life for herself." she says. sevika gulps. "i'm glad to see i was right." cassandra whispers.

you grin, and across the table, caitlyn sinks in to her chair, sighing in relief. tobias laughs, violet blinks in shock, and sevika's jaw drops. jinx bursts into laughter.

"oh, fuck yes! i like her!" jinx says. "cait, why didn't you tell me your mom was such a badass?" she asks.

the rest of you start to laugh with her, too.

after dinner, you show tobias and cassandra to their rooms. they're both 'charmed' by it, which you're pretty sure is rich person talk for not completely disgusted, so you take it.

violet finds you in the hallway after you tuck jinx in.

"hey kid." you say. she sighs, her shoulders slumping, and she melts into your arms. you giggle and wrap her up into a hug.

"oh my god, for a second there i thought there was gonna be a shootout over dinner." violet mumbles into your shoulder. you laugh.

"i did too." you say. "they're way cooler than i thought they'd be. who knew rich people could be so interesting?" you ask. violet giggles.

"i knew. cait's the coolest, richest person i know." she says. you smile and press a kiss to her head.

"you know, now that you've met the family, the next step's gonna be marriage." you say. violet scoffs.

"oh please, sevika would kill me if i tried to get married before i turned, like, twenty five." she says. you laugh.

"i'd kill you too." you say. violet laughs. "i'm just saying. me and sev know a pastor who can make it happen when the two of you are ready." violet hums.

"you really think she's gonna stick around for that long?" she asks. you smile.

"i do, kiddo. you guys are basically soulmates. your families like each other. caitlyn's constantly detouring on her treks to visit you and..." you trail off, tears welling up in your eyes as you pull away to hold violet's face in both of your hands. "and she has every fucking reason to, baby." you say. violet blinks up at you, tears welling in her own eyes as she listens. "you're incredible. you're hilarious, and kind, and you're such a good fucking sister it kills me a bit. you charm the pants off of everyone you meet, you've got a knack for getting yourself into and out of trouble, and you're like, the coolest kid i ever met. or second coolest, sorry. jinx's got you beat in that contest." you say.

violet smiles shakily up at you, then leans forward to bury her face against your shoulder again, wrapping her arms around you. you kiss her head.

"i love you." she mumbles. you smile.

"love you too, kid." you say.

"i'm so glad i tried to rob you." she says. you laugh.

"i am too." you say.

you hold her until she catches her breath, then you wipe up her snot and tears and press a kiss to her forehead, ruffling her hair.

"now, go be with your girl. i'm sure she's just as stressed out as you are after tonight." you say. vi laughs.

"i'm surprised she didn't have a heart attack." she says. you chuckle.

you find sevika in the stables, feeding teddybear and the kiramman's horses. you wrap your arms around her waist, resting your head against her solid back, sighing as you hold her. she hums, then turns around in your grip.

"that wasn't too bad." you say. sevika snorts, leaning down to kiss you.

"are you kidding? were we at the same dinner?" she asks. you laugh.

"okay, it was rocky for a bit there, but it's all good now." you say. sevika snorts. "i'd even go as far as saying that i think they like us."

"oh definitely. i think mrs. k's got a bit of a crush on the weary woman." she teases. you laugh.

"she fuckin' better not." you say, glaring at your wife. she grins.

"jealous?" she asks. you roll your eyes.

"no. i'm just worried about tobias. it would break his sweet heart if he found out his wife was leavin' him for an outlaw." you say. sevika bursts into laughter.

"well, i got good news for him, because that outlaw's off the market." she says. you smile.

"yeah?"

"yeah. happily married, two kids, picket fence and all." she says. you snort.

"damn, what happened to her?" you ask. "she turned into a fuckin' softy. used to be so badass..." you tease.

"she fell in love." sevika says. you melt in her arms, leaning forward to press your ear to her chest, listening to her heartbeat. "with the most darling, wittiest, hottest bartender this side of the mississippi." she says. you snort.

"good for her." you say. sevika hums.

"yeah. it is." she says.

you look up at her, and she's smiling down at you, a sparkle in her eye. she gently reaches up, cupping your jaw in her hand, before swooping in to press her lips against yours.

"i love you baby." you mumble against her.

"and i love you darlin'." she replies.

"c'mon. let's get to bed." you say, dragging sevika back toward the inn. she stumbles after you, giggling as she goes.

when you're at the top of the stairs, sevika pins you to your bedroom door, leaning in to kiss you, swiping her tongue against yours. you hum against her lips and she smiles.

"think we can get a quick romp in before one of the kids needs us?" she asks. you smile, reaching behind you to open the door to your room.

"only one way to find out." you reply.

you both rush into your room, only to pause when you look at the bed.

sprawled out in the center lays jinx, an open book on her chest, her eyes closed as she drools onto your pillow. sevika chuckles.

"she's such a fuckin' shit." she laughs admiringly. you giggle.

"she really is." you say.

"'m not a shit." jinx mumbles, cracking her eye open to glare at the two of you. you burst into laughter and launch yourself onto the bed, crushing jinx as you land. she squeals.

sevika crawls in beside the two of you, wrapping you up in her arms, peppering kisses to you and jinx's heads.

"you're the biggest shit to ever shit, kid." sevika teases. jinx giggles, then yawns.

"everyone else had someone to cuddle tonight, it's no fair." she says as she settles back to sleep between you and sevika. you grin, wrapping your arms around her. where your hand lays on her stomach, sevika snakes her fingers between yours, squeezing your hand and winking at you. you smile at her.

"love you guys." jinx mumbles as she drifts off to sleep.

"we love you too, jinxy-poo." sevika replies. jinx snorts at the nickname, and thirty seconds later, she and sevika are both snoring.

you're able to drift off to sleep pretty quickly after that.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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alj4890 · 2 months

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Say It

(Ethan Ramsey x F!MC) in a Choices Open Heart One Shot

As requested by @hopelessromantic1352 with the quote: "Say it!"

A/N Alright my sweet friend. Here's your last request for Ethan and Chris. Once again, I'm going back to Book 1 for you so Tobias can't interfere LOL.

Masterlist

"Chris?" Ethan stood there shocked at seeing her at his door. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" She asked a touch hesitantly.

Without a word, he stepped back and allowed her inside.

He followed her into his kitchen, curious as to why she would bother to come see him of all people. After all, he was the one to disappear on her. After everything that happened between them and with his failure to cure Naveen, he'd hoped to never have to face her again.

How could he possibly stand to see the disappointment he'd caused in those expressive eyes of hers?

"Can I get you something to drink?" He offered, reaching past her for the half empty bottle of scotch he'd been nursing the night before.

"Yes." She snatched it out of his hand then searched his cabinets for a glass.

Ethan's eyebrows lifted. He didn't think he'd ever seen her nervous before. Yet with the way she was acting, he'd swear it was himself putting her on edge.

She poured a good three fingers of scotch in a Baccarat glass tumbler. Without looking his way, she lifted it to her lips and downed half of it.

"Easy there." He said with a great deal of surprise. "You're starting to drink like I do."

She reached for the bottle again after finishing the last dregs in her glass. Glancing at him, she poured another large amount.

"Hold on." He took the glass from her. "What's going on?"

"You honestly don't know?" She asked.

"What?" He drank a few gulps then handed it back to her. "About your upcoming hearing?"

Her nose wrinkled as she leaned against his counter to sip what remained. "Yes."

He sighed, running his hands down his face. "I heard about it when it happened."

Chris's head shot up.

"You knew?" She bit out. "You knew and didn't bother to call and check on me? You arsehole."

Ethan cursed. "What in the hell could I have possibly said to you?"

"Anything!" Chris snapped. "You could have said I'm sorry you're going through this! Or how about asking me if I needed anything? Hell, I'd have preferred a kiss my arse than silence!"

Ethan glared at her. Snatching the glass out of her hands he finished off her drink then refilled it.

"Welcome to a lifetime of disappointment, Chris." He mocked in a toast to her. "Because I'm not the man who can give you what you need."

Chris took the glass and bottle away from him. Before he had a chance to argue, she dumped the remains in his sink then whirled towards him.

"What is wrong with you?" She yelled at him. "My life is crumbling and you stand there as if you don't care!"

She gripped his collar and gave him a violent shake. "Are you the heartless bastard everyone claims?"

"You think I don't care?" He growled, tearing her hands off of him.

Stepping towards her, he pinned her between himself and the counter.

"You certainly act like you don't." She replied defiantly.

"Damnit Chris!" Ethan yelled back. "I begged Harper to let me testify in your hearing. I argued with her for over an hour when she refused."

She shoved him away from her. "I don't believe you."

Ethan released a string of expletives over her stubbornness and that quick temper she possessed.

"She knew I shouldn't testify. As soon as I got up there, everyone would see why I was fighting so hard for you, which is why I can't."

Chris's chest rose and fell with each furious breath. Her cheeks were flushed as her eyes darted over him.

"Everyone would see what?" She demanded.

"You know damn well what they would see." He snapped.

"No. I don't." She hissed, stepping forward once again. "Be a man and say it!"

When he remained silent, she gripped his shirt once more. Before she could stop herself, the words she'd held back for so long came rushing out.

"Say it, Ethan! Say you don't want me! Say that I mean nothing to you!" She ordered, voice cracking with emotion. "Say that you don't think about Miami every single night like I do!"

Her eyes drifted down his body.

"Say that you want me to walk away. Forget everything between us. Find someone new."

She lifted her eyes back to his.

"Say you want me to touch and kiss someone else the way I only touched and kissed you."

She gave him a hard shake.

"Say it so I can move on!"

He grabbed her, mouth slamming down on hers, and backed her against the counter once again.

Her hands slid up his chest, arms winding around his neck as he lifted her up onto the granite surface. She pulled him closer, locking her legs around him as the anger fueled kiss went on.

"I'll never say it." He swore against her lips.

His once cold blue eyes burned with desire. Hope, one that she'd never let die, began to flicker a little more strongly with his harshly spoken words.

"And you know why I won't."

"Then tell me you want me." She pleaded, needing him to finally admit it.

He softly groaned as he kissed her once more. She moved restlessly against him. The intensity of his next kiss made her yearn for what was always out of reach when it concerned him.

"God, I want you, Chris." He said a touch breathlessly. "I've always wanted you."

She cupped his heavily stubbled cheek and brushed the corner of his unforgiving lips with her thumb. A sad smile formed the longer she looked at him.

"Why do you still fight it?" She asked.

"Us?" He shrugged, turning to kiss her palm. "I have no idea."

"Then stop." She pressed her lips to his for a tender kiss then slowly moved them down his throat. "Stop for me."

His head dropped back, eyes closed with the feel of each caress. His hands slid into her silky red hair as she continued the achingly sweet touches his heart had yearned for so long.

"Chris." He moaned under her hands. "I think we should--"

"Unless your next words are to tell me to get into your bedroom, I don't want to hear it." She snapped.

A harsh laugh slipped from his lips. He loved how even that temper of hers could not only set him in his place but also make him want her even more.

"Get in there." He ordered, his tone laced heavy with desire.

Chris smiled through another kiss before sliding off the counter. As she walked into his room, she dropped one piece of clothing after another like a trail of bread crumbs so he'd be sure to follow.

Ethan did so without any hesitation whatsoever, ripping his own clothes off to join hers, eyes never leaving her body.

After all this time fighting against it, he was finally giving in to the inevitability of them.

#choices open heart #ethan x chris #ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey #choices oh #open heart fanfic #choices fic writers creations #choices the stories you play #prompt request

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adoriels-tears-if · 1 month

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Okay I'm usually too scared to show my drawing anywhere but after the last update I just have to. So this is my little star, Esca!

Nooot exactly how I envision him but it's all I can do with my very limited skill in two dimensional arts I got from watching youtube shorts tutorials and mostly just winging it 👁👄👁

His hair is white like starlight, with midnight skin and ruby eyes.

A little bit hurt by Mama's lie but chose to go along with it (and perhaps also impressed by the audacity 😭), excited to meet Arthur. Excited about everything except when aunt Cecily drags him to the town. Very empathetic. He's energetic, not mean. Decides not to prank Arthur at the well, slows down on the run when Sachta told him to, feels bad after eavesdropping on Elianna, looks up to Telio for his approval, etc.

Kiiind of a doormatt, except towards the Renegades 💀 he's a brat there, a sweet lil' brat but a brat nonetheless. He's Lord of the Coop, Tobias bows to him alongside his feathery subjects 😌

Wants to have a familiar, doesn't matter if it's a chicken, a cricket, or a worm! He'll welcome the bond 😁

That's all, hope you like him 😅

Esca, lord of the coop, I salute you!

I love your Mc. You really have nothing to be nervous about, your art is magnificent!

He's got the same hair color as S!

And the same eyes that I imagine for Ash has in my head!

He's also too nice from what you tell me. Gotta protect him!!! 🥺🥺

#Adoriel's Tears Mc #Your Mc #Adoriel's Tears Fanart

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starzfallen · 5 months

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Ticci Toby Headcannons

This my personal head cannons and if you dont agree with them I'm sorry.

I ship TicciJack!

•Toby Rogers is his full name, he struggles with tourettes syndrome. He mostly randomly says weird stuff such as "waffles!" "Eat a metal pole" Oh his favorite is "Fish bowl!" And it's during the worst times.

•Toby has eating disorder, where he eats too little due to trauma and Jack tries his best to help Toby eat as much as he can while not pushing him.

•Cannonically Toby picks at his hands because for one he doesn't feel pain and too it's a nervous thing he does, so Toby has a bunch of bluey bandages on his fingers.

•Toby also have motor tics, the most one he does when he's stressed is hitting himself while he is having a breakdown and Jack is right there beside him.

•Toby sews he made a plush for Jack and Jack still has it till this day.

•Toby can NOT. For the life of him, he always burns something and he once almost burnt down the mansion and slenderman punished Toby by doubling his missions.

Jack: "Hey Toby what cha-"

Toby: holding a bowl of cereal while it's on fire.

Jack: "How-?"

Toby: smiling brightly "For you!"

The fire alarm goes off

...

Slenderman: "TOBIAS ROGERS."

•Toby is bisexual, it took him awhile to accept himself and Jack knew before him.

•Toby loves raccoons. He once brought a raccoon into the mansion and it attacked Jeff and gave Jeff rabies.

•Toby is the most gen z alpha person there. "That's so sigma" he says that non stop and ben got annoyed and beat the shit out of Toby.

•Ben and Toby's relationship is brotherly. They pick on each other constantly and even play fight.

•Jeff and Toby's relationship is..rather complicated. They would pull pranks on each other they, had to eventually stop because the last prank had a knife in Toby's lower abdomen.

Toby: "Oh look at that." Looks down at the knife in him.

Jeff: Runs away

Jeff got one helluva punishment but it was well deserved.

•Masky and Toby's relationship is father and son but if only the son was on spectrum.

Toby: putting stickers on maskys mask

Masky: "Toby. Put it down. Or time out for you. "

Toby: shows him the cute stickers on it "look how silly!"

Then masky will agree and help him put stickers on hoodies mask.

Okay that's it, getting lazy, I have more just don't want to dump all of my headcannons on one.

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta characters #ticcijack #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons #jeff the killer #ben drowned #masky #hoodie

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teshadraws · 1 year

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 47]

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After discovering Asra the crobat's fate, Tobias and Nia head east to seek out Edme. Along the way, memories are shared.

Tobias is vaguely aware of Nia leading them back to the road. She coaxes him into sitting against a rock on the side of the dirt path, and while she keeps an eye out for a ride he stares blankly out at the desert as night falls. His emotions and thoughts ebb away along with the desert’s heat.

Eventually, she manages to stop a cart pulled by a pair of tauros, and tugs Tobias up into the back of the cart with her. Her paws on his arm are freezing, and that’s the thing that reels Tobias back, just a bit. He sits against the side of the cart and doesn’t say anything when Nia presses her cold fur against his side.

The ride is silent, for a while. Nothing but the steady clomping of the tauros’ hooves and the gentle creaking of the cart. The occasional howl of wind. Nia’s chattering teeth slowly fall quiet as she warms up.

Tobias stares at the goods in front of him. They’re stacked in bags and crates in dark, ambiguous lumps, lit faintly by the moon and his own small tail flame. He’s holding their satchel in his lap, absently kneading it with his claws.

Distantly, he notes Nia sending him worried, probing glances. He doesn’t meet her eyes. He doesn’t want to talk right now. He doesn’t want to think, either. He doesn’t feel the raging fury or the devastating grief from earlier, but all that’s left in their wake is a sort of numbness. He feels tired. Empty.

The night rolls by, calm and quiet. Tobias should probably be grateful that they don’t have to fight off any bandits. That would give him something to do, but right now he can’t guarantee that he wouldn’t space out mid-battle and make a stupid mistake.

Nia clears her throat. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Tobias stares at her without really seeing. He feels irritation spike in him before snuffing out just as fast. He shrugs and plants his chin down in his arms.

Nia takes her time responding. Hours worth of time, if the slow lift of the moon into the sky is anything to gauge by. Tobias thinks he dozes off a few times, since the stars seem to tick by in leaps rather than at a crawl. Or maybe he’s just spacing out.

Throughout the night, Nia shifts restlessly. She opens her mouth countless times before closing it again. Tobias ignores her, lost in a tired haze. Maybe he should just go back to sleep for now. He still feels exhausted from his earlier blow-up.

It’s near midnight when Nia finally speaks, voice soft. “Would it help if I talked about something?”

Tobias shrugs again. He doesn’t particularly care either way.

Nia eyes him, deep in thought. “I…if you don’t want to hear about this, then tell me and I’ll stop. But I know you were wondering before and, well—“

Tobias grunts an impatient sound.

A pause. “I know it’s not—not anywhere near the same, but when I miss my family, it helps for me to think about them. I-I mean, it hurts too, but…I didn’t ever tell you about them, did I?”

Tobias finally looks at Nia, curious despite himself. He’s kind of surprised she brought this up now, instead of avoiding the topic like a pitfall, but it’s the first thing drudging up a sense of anything from the numbness that has settled over him. Even if that something feels sharp and painful.

“Would…you like me to? Tell you about what I remembered about my family? I-I don’t have to. I know after, uh, everything, you probably don’t want to have to think about—“

Tobias tunes Nia’s nervous rambling out. The thought of hearing about Nia’s family makes the terrible ache in his chest threaten to return, and he isn’t sure it won’t spiral from there. But…he does want to know. And maybe she can distract him from the bad thoughts he logically knows he’s keeping at bay across a moat of static and empty thoughts. No telling when those will break through.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, moving his gaze back across the cart and past it, to the moonlit expanse of the desert.

Nia still hesitates. Then, she takes a deep breath and says, “I had…dreams about them. When I was sick. More like memories, but…it was like I was there with them. My mom and my brother. Toni.”

Tobias blinks. “Toni?”

Nia smiles wistfully, relaxing a bit. “Yeah. I guess she’s not my family by blood, but she’s my best friend.” After a beat she hastily adds, “In the human world.”

Tobias doesn’t respond.

“She’s always been the brave one between us. But she made me feel braver too. Pushed me out of my comfort zone, helped me try new things. Although she does get us into trouble sometimes. Her mouth moves quicker than her head when she’s upset.”

Tobias snorts, though it’s weak. “Sounds like an annoying rookidee I know.”

“Oh. Oh wow, yeah, her and Junie would get along like a house on fire.”

“They’re never allowed to meet.”

That startles a laugh out of Nia. Tobias’ mouth twitches. “My mom loves her. Toni’s basically her second daughter.”

Tobias’ throat closes up as he thinks of his own mom. Of soft humming and a toothy grin and bright blue eyes, a mirror image to his own.

“Your mom?” Tobias rasps, a desperate sort of prompt.

Nia casts him a worried look, hesitating, but something about his expression must urge her on. “My mom is…really sweet. She’s a lot like Maggie, actually! Funny too, but she had to be stricter with us than she would’ve liked since she had to raise us on her own.”

Tobias’ brow furrows. What about her father? He doesn’t want to ask in case he’s gone but—

Nia must see the question on his face. She shrugs with a wry little smile. “He died when I was an infant, so I never really got to meet him. I could tell Mom and Clay missed him, but I never really knew him to miss him.”

Tobias isn’t sure if he should apologize or…what the proper response would be for that.

Luckily, Nia keeps talking, tipping her head back to look up at the stars. “I guess I always missed the chance to have a dad? And the person I was told he was. But that’s about it. Although Clay was definitely more protective of me because our dad was gone.”

“Clay?”

“Oh.” Nia glances at him, almost nervously, before focusing again on the sky. “Yeah, he’s…he’s my brother.”

Tobias’ breath catches, surprise warring with a sudden pang in his chest. “You had—you have a brother?”

“…Yeah. I think you two would get along really well, actually. Once I remembered Clay, it made a lot more sense why I latched onto Xander so quickly—“

Tobias makes a weak attempt at a scoff. “If he’s like Xander then we would not get along.”

Nia laughs, shaking her head. “No, they’re really different. I think it was just the protective big brother instincts that felt familiar to me. Clay is more chill. A bit of a jokester, actually. Like Ezra or Junie.”

Tobias gives her a dry look, hoping to convey that he’s even less convinced they would get along.

Nia laughs again. “Okay, he’s not exactly like either of them. You remind me a lot of him too! I just…see bits and pieces of him in different people, y’know?”

Tobias thinks of the shinx kids and orange scales and big eyes full of childish joy, gold then green, and his heart twinges. “…Yeah.”

“Other than Toni, Clay is my best friend,” Nia whispers. “I miss him. He always makes stupid jokes and distracts me if I’m sad.”

Tobias doesn’t answer, swallowing against a lump in his throat. He’d distract Vivi when she was upset, too. They’d paint the cave walls with homemade berry paint, or go out on mountain trails to explore. He couldn’t resist her teary eyes and she knew it.

Nia chuckles. Tobias sends her a questioning look.

“Sorry, I just remembered when Clay hid wasabi in my toast. He liked to mess with me, too. One second he’d be a protective brother bear and the next he’d make me spit out my breakfast.”

Tobias doesn’t know what wasabi is, but he gets the gist. He snorts. “It’s part of the big brother code. Occasionally you just have to lie about stupid stuff to mess with your younger sibling.”

“You would take his side! I bet your sister was—oh. Um."

Nia snaps her mouth shut with a click. Her ears pin back as she looks to Tobias with wide eyes. As if knowing that she’s crossing a line by mentioning his sister out loud.

For a moment, Tobias isn’t sure how he feels. He feels like he should be angry, territorial of Nia even mentioning Vivi. That’s forbidden ground, not meant to be thought of and certainly not meant to be mentioned.

But…Tobias is thinking of Vivi now as he did when she was alive, instead of the usual haunting image of her lifeless body. He’s thinking of her not with the usual crushing guilt, but instead with the fond annoyance he held for her when they were kids and he was just her older brother. Protective, sure, but not the literal barrier between life and death.

Strangely, it feels…nice.

Tobias swallows. “Vivi was…I would get so annoyed by her sometimes. When she wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Saying it feels like a confession of some horrible sin. Like he doesn’t deserve to say anything bad about her, when he let her die. But some part of him feels lighter, too, and Nia doesn’t look disgusted with him. If anything, she looks a little awed, eagerly drinking in his words.

Tobias looks down at his fists, consciously relaxing them. He takes a shuddering breath. “But she was my best friend, too. Not much to do on an isolated mountain aside from get into trouble together.”

“You lived on a mountain?” Nia whispers, spellbound.

Tobias nods. “Way up, where the air was thin and the clouds were below us sometimes. One day Vivi wouldn’t shut up so I convinced her that they were actually really big Pokemon who would attack us if she didn’t quiet down.”

Nia barks a laugh. “Clay did the same thing with me! Well, he told me clouds were made of cotton candy. I was so upset when I found out he lied that I cried for an hour. Mom went out and bought actual cotton candy from the nearest gas station just to calm me down. To be fair, I was two.”

Tobias smiles. He doesn’t really know what Nia looked like as a human—let alone a little human—so he pictures a tiny riolu pup instead, pouting with big ruby eyes.

“Told you, it’s the rule. Older siblings have to mess with their younger siblings at least a little.”

“I bet Xander never does,” Nia counters.

“Xander is literally the least fun Pokemon I’ve ever met.”

Nia pushes him with a scolding, “Tobias! Be nice!” The rebuke is ruined by her laughter, though.

Tobias grins at her, not the slightest bit remorseful. “He’s a good brother, but as company? A rock could do better. Not a geodude, but an actual, lifeless rock.”

Nia laughs harder. “Be nice! He has three little hellions to watch over!”

Tobias scoffs. “Please. Vivi got into three times the trouble with a third of the body weight.”

“Oh?” Nia asks, trying to catch her breath.

Tobias nods, trying to remember the worst offenses. He’s purposefully avoided thinking about this kind of stuff, about Vivi and his parents, for years. But it’s surprisingly easy to filter through his memories, and his chest only hurts a little as he thinks.

“Okay, so listen to this one. Every week or so our parents flew us down to one of the towns at the foot of the mountain range, right?” Tobias says. “To pick up food and supplies and let us play with other kids.”

Nia nods, leaning in closer to listen.

“Mom was a mail ‘mon,” Tobias says, clearing his throat when his voice catches. “So she knew everyone. But we had to stop by someone’s house to drop off an instrument my dad had made for them. Some kind of flute or something.”

Tobias shifts in place, feeling as if he’s dusting off his own brain. A strange mixture of mirth and heartache mixes in his chest. He doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry, so he makes a sound somewhere in the middle.

“Our dad was kind of a quiet guy, and he never complained. But this customer? He complained about him. About how much of a jerk he was and how he always had something to critique just because he didn’t like Dad. But he was rich and always paid up, so Dad must’ve figured he’d deal with the bad attitude.”

Nia nods.

“So Dad makes the guy his flute. What I didn’t know—what no one but Vivi knew—was that earlier that day Vivi had tried playing the shiny new instrument herself when Dad and I took a nap after lunch.”

“Oh no,” Nia whispers.

“Yup. And she also tried playing it when she had hiccups,” Tobias continues, giving Nia a dry look. “You can imagine what happens when a fire type gets the hiccups.”

Nia’s mouth drops. “No!”

Tobias bites back a laugh. “Yeah, she hiccupped and caught the thing on fire. Put it out, panicked, and stashed the piece of kindling back in its box like it was still good as new.”

Nia’s giggling now, and Tobias can’t help grinning with her. “No! Wait, so your dad—?”

“As far as he knew, it was in perfect condition when he put it in its box that morning! I thought Vivi seemed quiet on the trip down, but it wasn’t until the client pulled out the flute that we realized something was wrong.”

“What happened?!”

Tobias leans forward, grinning. “Okay, so this snooty gumshoos pulls out the flute, right? And the thing is charred. It is crumbling to pieces in his paws.”

Nia snorts, paws moving up over her snout.

“And this gumshoos, he looks at my dad and says—” Here Tobias straightens up and adopts a snooty expression. “‘How do you expect me to play this?! I knew you were far from an expert but this is nothing more than garbage, blah blah blah.’ And Vivi, Vivi takes one look at me and Dad and realizes that she’s definitely getting in trouble for this, and after he’s badmouthing Dad we all kind of hate him, so she might as well make this disaster funny.”

“No!” Nia shrieks, delighted.

“So Vivi steps forward, half this guy’s height, grabs the flute, and chipper as can be says, ‘You play it like this, mister!’ And she tweets the loudest, most ear-screeching note I’ve ever heard, and the flute just. Disintegrates. Just falls apart right there on this guy’s fancy rug.”

Nia cackles, loud in the night air.

Tobias laughs along with her. “A-And at this point it is dead silent in the house. And Vivi, this little brat, she turns around with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen and says, ‘I think it might need a tune-up.’”

Nia’s almost crying she’s laughing so hard, wiping at her eyes. “She didn’t.”

“She did!” Tobias stresses, laughing too. Laughing harder than he can remember doing so in…a while. “She got us kicked out of there so fast. If you think I’m bold, Vivi was a whole other story! I could tell even Dad thought it was hilarious despite losing a customer—and Mom even more so, she lost it, she always said how it wasn’t worth working for that guy—but they still had to punish Vivi somehow, so she was grounded. No flying for a whole week.”

Nia howls with laughter. “Literally grounded!”

Tobias snorts, wiping at his eyes. “Well, duh. What else would ‘grounded’ mean?”

Nia only laughs harder, trying to catch her breath in little bursts of giggles.

“C-Clay would’ve loved that,” Nia says. “He was always getting into trouble. Usually he’d drag me along and then we’d both have to face the music. I started forming a natural defense of, ‘I don’t know what’s happening here and I don’t want to know,’ but he’d just drag me along anyways and promised that I’d love it.”

Tobias raises an eyebrow. “Did you?”

“Literally not a single time. And half the time he’d try to pin it on me! One weekend him and his friends made this terrible ramp out of metal and plywood and cardboard so he could launch himself and his bike into the lake. Insisted I be there for it, like, ‘C’mon, you’ve gotta see it!’ No, that just means I’m complicit when Mom interrogates you about your missing bike!”

Tobias snorts. “Did he get in trouble for it?”

“Oh, big time. He had to use my pink tricycle with rainbow streamers when he wanted to go riding with his friends, since Mom refused to buy him a new bike. His knees hit the handlebars.”

Tobias looks up, thoughtful. “I guess I pinned a few things on Vivi, especially when she was little and I didn’t really like her yet. One time I swore she was the one who climbed on top of the storage cabinets and ate all the coal cookies.”

“Oh?”

“Would’ve been a better defense if she was old enough to crawl.”

Nia grins. “That sounds like one of my plans. Okay, so this one time, we wanted to look like a couple of cartoon characters for a game we were playing, right? So we decided we’d use markers to make these giant rainbow stripes on our faces and arms and legs. I suggested we use permanent markers so they’d stay on longer, and I mean, I wasn’t wrong. But Mom didn’t appreciate that when she was trying to scrub ink off our arms and we looked like we had a disease.”

“We did the same thing with berry paint!” Tobias laughs. “We wanted to make ourselves into ‘shinies’ and stained our scales purple for days. Do you know how hard it is to stain your skin so much even a fire bath won’t burn the color away?”

The last of their laughter dies down. Nia’s smile slowly fades into something a bit more downcast. Bittersweet. She lifts her chin to look up at the moon.

“I miss him,” Nia murmurs.

Tobias hums, the familiar pain in his chest resurfacing. He tips his head back to follow her gaze, looking up at the stars. He thinks of Vivi’s berry-stained face, framing bright green eyes and a toothy little grin. “Yeah.”

It’s quiet again.

This is the first time Tobias can remember really talking about his family since the incident, and a part of his heart feels like it’s being lanced through with sharp claws. But somehow, despite the pain, he also feels leagues better than when they’d boarded the cart. After talking, it feels like he can breathe again. At least a little.

He hasn’t thought of Vivi or his parents like that in years. Happy and smiling. Alive.

“Thanks,” Tobias murmurs.

“‘Course. Thanks for telling me. And letting me talk.”

The two of them fall silent again, and Tobias closes his eyes. He listens to the sounds around them, the creak of the wheels and the heavy steps of the tauros.

“Sooo…”

Tobias knows that tone. He rolls his head to raise a brow at Nia. “What.”

“I was just thinking. It sounds like you’ve got music in your blood, if your dad made instruments. And you can’t let Vivi show you up, so…am I going to get to hear you play that guitar you got from Granite, or..?”

The words are lighthearted, but gentle. As if Nia can sense that music is a touchy subject for him so she’s giving him an out. Tobias appreciates it.

“It wouldn’t be good. I haven’t played anything in…years. And it isn’t even the same instrument I was learning.”

Nia hums. “It’s not like I’d be any better. Pretty sure I was tone-deaf in the human world. I just…I’d like to hear it, if you ever want to try.”

Tobias doesn’t answer, stopping himself for all of ten seconds before hesitantly opening the satchel in his lap. He stares down at the sleek neck of the little guitar, its strings shining in the moonlight. His fingers twitch, itching to hold it.

Nia studiously keeps her head tipped back and her eyes closed, but Tobias can tell she’s listening. Waiting to see what he’ll do. In the end, it’s her easy acceptance of whatever decision he makes that pushes him to act.

Tobias pulls out the little guitar, setting it across his lap. Something about the sensation of sleek wood against his skin, of the shape settling against him, immediately brings to mind a flash of the past. Being held by his father, feeling the low rumble of his voice as he guided Tobias’ claws and showed him which strings to pluck. The memory hurts, but it’s warm too. Like a too-hot sip of delicious soup.

Tobias gently strums his claws across the strings, and Nia winces. The instrument, predictably, is horribly out of tune. He hesitantly gets to work putting the guitar back in order, hoping he’s remembering the basics of the process right. He needs to see if the guild has a guide he can reference when they eventually head back.

Still, even with his halfhearted attempts, Tobias gets the instrument into semi-working order. He takes another experimental strum and is satisfied when Nia doesn’t flinch away from the sound this time. Tobias tries plucking a few cords, long-buried memories rising to mind of learning scales and nursery rhymes. After a few clunky starts and stops, he starts to recall the right order and rhythm of the basic movements.

His fingers almost seem to move of their own accord, slowly building up a different tune, something gentle and sweet. It takes him a few minutes to realize what melody it is: a lullaby, once so familiar but now dancing at the edge of his mind like whispers in the wind. He blinks back a sudden rush of hot tears, trying to follow the notes of his patchy memory. There are too many moments where he has to pause, entire chunks of the song forgotten, and jump ahead to a different line. But it’s there, in bits and pieces.

When his fingers still, stinging from pulling at the wire without any callouses built up, Nia finally looks at him. She’s beaming. “I loved that!”

Tobias snorts. “It was terrible.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t love it.”

He flicks her leg with his tail and gets back to work adjusting the strings and testing out the cords again. “I was trying to play an old lullaby my mom would sing. Can’t remember all the notes, though.”

“Oh. Well…you can fill in the gaps, right?”

Tobias hesitates. He…supposes he can. Some part of him feels like that’s wrong, like it’s desecrating his mom’s memory. But…what else can he do? Leave gaping blank spaces throughout the melody? He doesn’t know where he would find the original song, so wouldn’t it be better to fill it up with something new until it’s whole again?

Tobias stretches out his hand before going back to his music.

It’s not until later, when Nia has started humming along to the melody he’s trying to solidify, that he remembers something he wanted to bring up.

“Hey. Before, back in Asra. After the mission.”

Nia sits up and tilts her head at him, expression curious and open.

“You…wanted to invite Samir to join our team. Right?”

Nia cringes. “Yeah. I’m sorry for springing that on you so suddenly. I realized right after I suggested it that it was probably a pretty big decision we’d need to decide together. Was what I said okay? About Samir coming to the Lexym Guild?”

Tobias nods. “Yeah. Arceus knows Samir deserves a better situation than whatever they’ve got going on out here. And August would make sure they got that.”

There’s a moment of hesitation as Nia looks at him. “So…how would you feel? About Samir possibly joining our team in the future?”

Tobias’ immediate impulse is a no. But the guitar under his fingers gives him something do while he thinks. He strums idly at it, trying to slow down his thought process and question why his immediate reaction is so vehement.

“Samir worked well with us,” Tobias agrees, slowly. Grudgingly. “I think they round out our team well.”

“Me too!” Nia agrees, eyes sparkling. “But..?”

Tobias takes a moment longer to stall. Because he knows why he’s hesitating and it’s, quite frankly, embarrassing. Sure, he’d be hesitating anyways just because it’s a big deal basically signing on to be life partners with someone. But he knows the main reason.

His gaze drifts up to meet Nia’s. She’s watching him patiently with ruby red eyes. He flushes and looks away. How can he say that he doesn’t want it to be anyone else but the two of them without it sounding horribly desperate?

“I’d just be worried,” Tobias eventually says, awkward and stilted. “About the team dynamic changing.”

Nia’s expression softens. “That’s understandable. I thought maybe you just didn’t like them or something.”

Tobias snorts. “Oh, they’re annoying all right. But most Pokemon are.”

Nia laughs, sitting back to look out at the passing scenery. Everything is bathed in silver moonlight. “You know, I don’t think you’d have to worry too much about what we’ve got here changing.”

Tobias gives Nia a prompting look.

“I mean…we’re around a lot of different people every day, right?” Nia says. She looks back to him with a warm smile. “But that’s never stopped us from getting along. It’s still always me and you at the end of the day, right? We’re partners. That wouldn’t change.”

Tobias’ fingers stumble over the cords as he stares back, feeling his face heat even as something anxious in his chest settles.

What does he say to something like that?

Luckily, Nia seems equally embarrassed after her words register. She hurriedly looks away. “I’m just saying, you know? It’d still be us. Just…with more friends along for the ride. More people watching our backs.”

Tobias swallows and rips his gaze away, back to the guitar as he tries to find his place. He still feels jittery and embarrassed, but in a pleased sort of way.

“Right. I…guess I wouldn’t be against it. If Samir wants to.”

Nia is clearly thrilled at that, tail thudding happily against the wood of the cart. She smiles and looks back out at the desert.

Tobias could see it, actually. Vaguely. Him and Nia and Samir, maybe a fourth ‘mon. Catching the pangoro and arcanine and continuing on to become top-tier Seekers. The world will need them more than ever, with the slow increase in mystery dungeons and other phenomena cropping up. And Nia—

Nia…isn’t planning on staying, once she finds a way home.

Tobias’ hand falters. Nia’s ears twitch at the jarring sound, and she glances at him. Something on his face makes her sit up.

“You’re going back to the human world, once you find a way home,” Tobias whispers. He doesn’t like how his voice shakes.

There’s a loaded silence left in the wake of his words. Nia’s mouth opens and closes as she blinks at him with wide, off-guard eyes. Tobias regrets bringing it up. Wishes he’d just kept his mouth shut and not ruined the peace that had fallen over them.

“Hey,” Nia finally says, voice tentative. She puts a paw on his arm until he looks up at her, then continues with a strained smile. “You never know. Maybe we’ll find a way to go back and forth or something! So that way I can come back here and visit, but still live with my family in the human world.”

Something in Tobias’ chest clenches. Because even Nia, ever the optimist, doesn’t sound very hopeful about such an easy answer. And because the selfish part of Tobias doesn’t want Nia to leave, at all. Even temporarily. He wants his partner here, with him.

Is that why she’s pushing to bring Samir on? So he isn’t left a pathetic, lonely mess all on his own when she leaves? Hah. Like he’d stay on a team with just him and Samir. Tobias doesn’t want to be a Seeker at all if Nia isn’t his teammate.

Tobias shoves the ugly thoughts and the grief already boiling under his skin further down. Bottle it up, Tobias. You’ve had enough meltdowns for today.

In the end, all he says is a quiet, much less convincing, “Maybe.”

He dives back into his music, but can’t help thinking that the notes sound colder now, somehow. Sharper. Nia must be able to tell he doesn’t want to talk anymore—or maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it, either—because she sighs but falls silent.

One moment. Two.

Nia scoots closer. Then, she leans heavily against him and plops her head onto his shoulder.

Tobias tenses. “What—“

“Could you just…play some more?” Nia asks, quiet. “Music calms me down.”

Tobias pauses. He has a feeling she actually wants him to play to make himself feel better, but it would probably work. So Tobias grumbles quietly, comforted despite himself by the warm, soft weight leaning against him. He goes back to playing, and readjusts the instrument to accommodate Nia on his shoulder and in his elbow space. She taps her fingers along to the melody, likely as lost in thought as he is.

The moon sinks overhead as the hours pass.

Tobias must fall asleep eventually, because he finds himself back in his family’s cave, beneath the warm tent of his Papa’s wing with Vivi asleep at his side. A melody is still being hummed somewhere nearby, near the front entrance of their home, the voice a bit off-key but familiar enough to be soothing.

This time around, Toby recognizes the old lullaby for what it is, even when the song skips over the parts he doesn’t recall.

Toby shifts, trying to get comfortable. Vivi snuffles in her sleep, pushing her head into the crook of his neck. Normally, Toby would push her away. This time, for some reason, he lets her be. Her soft breaths puff warm and soothing against his skin.

Papa shifts, getting more comfortable in his own nest, and Toby can tell by the quiet way he moves that he’s still awake.

“Papa?” Toby whispers.

Papa stills, then rumbles a quiet, questioning noise that Tobias can feel in his chest.

“Did the clouds go away? Are the stars out yet?” Maybe if they are, Toby can go and sit with Mama until he gets sleepy again.

Papa doesn’t answer, but he does turn to duck his head under his own wing. In the warm, dim light cast by Toby and Vivi’s tails, Papa’s face comes into view. Somehow, it feels like Toby hasn’t seen him in forever, and he’s transfixed by the crystal-clear clarity of his features. Bright green eyes that he passed on to Vivi. Sleek but powerful edges to his jaw and horns. His mouth is curled into a warm, sleepy smile, his lower fangs peeking out.

For some reason, the sight makes Toby’s chest ache. His breath hitches.

“You’re all right,” Papa says, nuzzling him.

“I don’t know why I’m sad,” Toby murmurs, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

“That’s all right. Sometimes we don’t know. It will pass.”

Tobias wakes with a start, throat tight and eyes wet. He blinks rapidly against a cloudy pre-dawn sky and sits up, trying to figure out where he is. The warm weight that was on his shoulder whines as it’s displaced, and Tobias looks down to see a sleepy Nia curl up against the side of the cart with a disgruntled expression.

“Oi! You awake back there? We’re taking you north with us if you don’t get up. Storm’s rolling in.”

Tobias jumps, realizing now that the loud voice must have been what woke him. It takes a moment for him to place where he is and who the voice must belong to, coming from the front of the cart. They’ve stopped moving.

“We’re up,” Tobias calls back, clearing his throat. “Where are we?”

“Near the Lilycap River. The riolu said you needed to get to the swamps around Eastern Metreja. The river is the best way to do that.”

Tobias had completely forgotten that they didn’t even have their specific destination figured out. Great. Well, hopefully someone can help them find Edme, or at least the Hollowberry Inn Nia had connected to the mysterious Pokemon.

Tobias takes a moment to scrub at his face and shake off the dregs of sleep. Then he looks at his partner and sighs. Nia is hard to wake on the best of mornings, let alone after an emotionally draining day and a long night spent awake. But they need to get going now if the tauros’ impatient tone is anything to gauge by.

Tobias shakes the riolu, ignoring her sleepy whines of protest. “C’mon, Nia. We gotta go.”

Nia growls and buries her face against a sack of rice. Tobias rolls his eyes and shakes her harder, until she cracks open her eyes, clearly irritated.

“What?”

“We gotta go. We’re here and the tauros wanna keep moving.”

Nia groans but must know that Tobias will only wake her again if she tries to go back to sleep. Slowly, she drags herself into a sitting position, rubbing at her eyes and yawning big enough to show off sharp teeth. Tobias nudges her until she groans and stumbles to her feet.

Tobias gathers their satchel and the guitar. Then, he drags himself over the side of the cart and to the ground. Nia stumbles down after him, following him to the front of the cart where the two tauros are waiting impatiently, tails lashing.

“Thank you for the ride,” Nia yawns. The normal types look a bit soothed by the thanks.

“D’you know which way to go from here to get to the river?” Tobias asks, squinting into the pre-dawn darkness. He thinks he can see a smaller footpath and hear a low, constant noise in the distance.

The nearest tauros tosses his head over his shoulder. “Quickest way is a mile or so down that path. If you’re lucky, the ferry will be there. They’ve had issues with flooding the past few months—weather going out of whack and all. But if the boat’s running it should be able to take you where you need to go.”

Tobias slumps. He knew traveling on the river likely meant they’d have to board a boat, but as a fire type that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. Plus, big bodies of water means reflections, which means Giratina. Even with what Nia said about Giratina helping down in the mines, Tobias would rather not test that tentative trust until they get some answers from Edme.

After Nia thanks them again, the tauros pull away, taking their cart down the dirt road. The ground here is tacky and cool, as if it rained recently, and tire tracks are left in their wake. Tobias and Nia watch them go. A quiet roll of thunder sounds in the distance.

Nia takes a deep breath, sniffing at the rain on the breeze and eyeing the sky. Her ears twitch, angled down the path. “I guess we just follow the path and…hope for the best?”

“I can’t believe we have to take a boat of all things,” Tobias grumbles, leading the riolu off the well-worn road and onto a much smaller footpath through the weeds. They’re heading for a forest, though the foliage looks different from the Haven’s even at a distance. Slightly more tropical. It’s still lush and green despite it being fall, and the air is a bit warmer, too, which is nice at least.

Nia gives Tobias an amused look as she starts to wake up. “I guess it makes sense you wouldn’t be a fan of boats. I mean, we can walk if you really want, but…”

“How sure are you that Giratina isn’t going to immediately yank us into the Distortion World when we board the ferry?”

“I’m like…80% sure he won’t. Probably.”

Tobias glares at her. “Only 80%?”

“85%?” Nia offers, grimacing.

Tobias groans. “We’re dead.“

“Hey, look on the bright side! I’ve thought that many, many times since coming to the Pokemon world, and I’m still alive!”

“I am not awake enough for this,” Tobias mutters. Nia snickers, apparently awake enough to tease him.

The path gets even less defined as they travel into the forest, tangled with lush foliage and weeds growing in from either side. A wooden sign sits crookedly in the soft ground, pointing ahead and saying nothing more than “FERRY.” Tobias crinkles his nose as water drips from the leaves above to sting his skin.

“They really have been getting a lot of rain here,” Nia says, stepping around a muddy puddle taking up most of the road.

Tobias pulls his poncho out from their satchel and yanks it over his head. “It must be pretty bad if the river is flooding. Usually there are systems put into place to avoid that in major waterways.”

Nia makes a troubled noise in her throat. Tobias, not eager to misstep, keeps his eyes on his feet. In the puddles they pass, he can see the gray light of dawn against the stark black outline of the treetops overhead, and he nervously eyes the flickering shapes cast by his tail flame for a hint of Giratina. He doesn’t know if it makes him more or less nervous to not see any sign of the titan.

They follow the distant, muffled sound of what Tobias now recognizes as the river. Dawn struggles to lighten the land under a heavy cover of clouds. The ground gets even sloppier and rife with water the closer they get. By time they see the trees clearing out and hear the loud rush of water right ahead, Tobias’ legs are muddied and cold.

Nia stops in her tracks. Her voice is almost drowned out by the dull roar of the river when she says a quiet, simple, “Oh.”

Tobias looks up from his careful steps to see what caused that reaction.

When the tauros mentioned the river flooding, Tobias didn’t realize how much the normal types were underselling it. The river is not just flooded but swollen to a dangerously high level, the muddied brown water stretching wide in a swift, frothy current. It swallows up the bottom halves of trees and Tobias can’t even see the dock and other structures he would expect to find, everything apparently long since swallowed by the current.

Still, a ferry is indeed present, nudged up close to the steep, muddy area serving as the river’s bank and tied to two sturdier-looking trees since there is no longer a dock in sight. The boat is fairly large, with at least two levels to it and a railed-in upper deck open to the air. A large wheel-like structure sits at the back of the boat, dipping deeper into the water every time it sways in the current. The ferry’s chipped white and orange paint is dull and muddied near its hull, but a deep blue AQUA JET is painted on its side in bold letters.

There’s a laid-back flurry of activity surrounding the ship. A croconaw wearing a coral-colored scarf is standing at the edge of the riverbank, pointing downstream and calling out directions. She’s speaking to a Pokemon who is bobbing in the river, somehow managing to stay in one place despite the powerful current. After a moment, Tobias recognizes the Pokemon’s bright orange coloring and sharp facial markings—a floatzel. A moment later, another Pokemon surfaces at his side, her sleek blue feathers bright against the muddy water. A golduck, her eyes sharp as she quietly takes in the croconaw’s words.

A call comes from the upper deck of the boat itself, and Tobias is surprised to look up and find a torkoal peering out from the railing. Tobias follows his gaze towards the trees, where a small quaxly is struggling to untie the ropes keeping the ferry ashore, pulling at the knots with his beak and flapping his little wings wildly.

The crew seems busy but at ease, calmly dealing with the conditions even as thunder rumbles in the distance. The floatzel calls out a cheery affirmative before diving under the river’s rough surface, the golduck following. The croconaw turns and heads to the quaxly’s side to help. It’s the torkoal who spots Tobias and Nia, yelling something to his crewmates.

The croconaw glances over at Tobias and Nia, clearly surprised. She finishes untying the first knot and heads over to them. “Hey! You folks wanting a ride?”

Nia tears her eyes away from where the golduck and floatzel are doing…something near the base of the boat. Clearing away debris? “Oh! Yes, please. You’re the ferry, right?”

The croconaw laughs. “One of ‘em! We’re the only one still running in this mess. Name’s Cordelia. Welcome to the Aqua Jet.”

Tobias eyes the ferry nervously. “You’re the only boat still operating?”

Cordelia grins, showing off her maw of sharp teeth, but the gesture feels more aggressive than friendly. “Someone has to. Even if it’s rare to see anyone wanting a ride nowadays, Pokemon don’t stop needing supplies just because the weather’s throwing a hissy fit.”

“Oh.” Nia looks back at the boat, clearly nervous herself now. “I-Is it, um…safe?”

Cordelia laughs again. “Any captain worth her salt would tell you that boating in a flood is never safe. But with my crew, it’s as safe as you’re going to get on the water right now. So it’s either take the long way and walk, or get on board.”

Tobias glares at Cordelia, already not a fan of the water type. He knows that walking isn’t an option—not only would it take ten times as long, but they’d likely get lost and run out of energy and provisions long before then. Not to mention having to navigate the swampy terrain and find a way to cross the treacherous river.

Nia answers for them. “We’d like a ride, if possible. S-Sorry, we’re just nervous. Not, uh, used to boating. Even in normal conditions.”

Cordelia nods. “Gotcha. Well, we’ve stayed on the water the past few months despite all this mess. We’ve got a pretty good system going. While I can’t guarantee anything 100%, we’ll try our best to get you where you need to go. Where y’all wanting to head anyways?”

Nia glances at Tobias, looking unsure.

Tobias sighs. “We’re looking for a Pokemon named Edme. All we’ve got is that they probably live in close proximity to someplace called the Hollowberry Inn and they’re somewhere in the swamps.”

“Hollowberry?” A new voice pipes up. It’s surprisingly young, and Tobias and Nia look over to see the quaxly waddling up to Cordelia’s side. He can’t be older than 10 or 11. “We go right by Hollowberry!”

Cordelia gives the little water type a proud grin, ruffling the feathers atop his head. “Hey now, little navigator, don’t go taking my job just yet!”

The quaxly preens and puffs up his little chest, flicking back the feathers atop his head.

“Cas is right,” Cordelia says, looking back to Nia and Tobias and planting her hands on her hips. “Don’t know this Edme character, but Hollowberry Inn is in a town just off the riverfront, in Shivergleam. We were heading south towards the sea anyways for our next shipment. Can’t guarantee this Edme ‘mon hasn’t left the area with all the floods, but we can get you there by tomorrow, if Suicune blesses our currents.”

“Fine,” Tobias sighs. “What’s your price?”

Surprisingly, Cordelia doesn’t charge them an arm and a leg, though it’s still a decent chunk of their remaining cash. As Tobias digs out the coins to pay, the floatzel and golduck pull themselves out of the muddy river, the former shaking his pelt free of water. The golduck rolls her eyes, but wordlessly heads over to the trees to continue untying the ropes.

The floatzel comes to their side, smiling amiably. His voice is deeper than Tobias expects as he says, “Do we actually have some customers today, Delia?”

Cordelia snorts and hands their payment to Cas. The quaxly barely manages to hold all the coins in his little wings before scurrying off and boarding the ferry. The torkoal picks himself up from the upper deck and moves out of view, presumably inside the boat to meet the little water type.

“It’s nice to see some fresh faces,” the floatzel continues, voice light. He’s older than Tobias thought at first glance, too—he’d expected the water type to be on the younger side with how easily he moved through the powerful current, but the floatzel’s fur is graying and sagging a bit with age. “I’ve missed talking to folks other than our little crew. I’m Beck.”

The water type holds out a paw, and before Tobias can try to figure out what to do with it, Nia perks up and gives it a shake. She’s clearly thrilled to meet another conversationalist. “Nia! Nice to meet you.”

From there, the little crew finishes unmooring the boat and prepping it for travel downstream. Cordelia goes to help the golduck, so Beck leads Tobias and Nia up the ramp and onto the ferry. It rocks and sways underfoot, making Tobias feel like he got hit by a confuse ray. He immediately hates it. He grabs onto the railing with a white-knuckled grip.

Beck shifts naturally with the motions of the boat, clearly used to it. He gives Tobias a sympathetic smile and says that as long as they’re careful, they’re welcome to stay outside on the upper deck as long as it doesn’t start raining or the ferry doesn’t run into any unexpected trouble.

Tobias doesn’t respond. He’s too busy trying to keep his nauseous stomach from throwing up his last meal.

“And if anything does happen,” Beck says, catching Tobias’ eye. “Nori and I will be keeping an eye out while we clear debris. We’re pretty experienced rescue ‘mon in the water.”

Tobias isn’t sure whether to feel reassured or offended that he was singled out for that statement. He should probably go inside, but he hasn’t worked up the strength in his jelly-like legs to make the five steps to the door.

Beck dives off the side of the boat and disappears into the frothy, muddy current, streaming through the water effortlessly. The golduck, Nori, glides past to the other side of the boat. Cordelia passes by Tobias and Nia to head to the front of the boat, while Cas runs around making sure everything is tied down before departure. The torkoal is nowhere to be seen. Maybe the ‘mon in charge of the steam system?

Finally, the boat starts to move. Tobias clings to the railing and stares down at the river, heart pounding. He isn’t sure if he would even notice Giratina appearing in the broken reflections right now, tense as he is.

Nia comes to his side, lightly holding the railing and looking out excitedly at the forest and water as they start to move. She glances at him, happiness faltering into something sympathetic.

“You wanna head inside?” She asks.

Tobias glares at her. She doesn’t have to use that tone of voice. He isn’t a lost child in a dungeon. He wants to snap at her but he doesn’t think he can without stuttering.

Nia, pathetically, must see right through him. Her mouth twitches with a smile. She wordlessly pries his fingers off the railing, thankfully ignoring the way he grabs her paws in a vice grip, and tugs his stumbling feet after her to the door. He isn’t too proud once inside the cabin to collapse against the first seat he sees, claws digging into the tough material. The rocking is still making Tobias’ stomach turn uncomfortably, but at least in here he can pretend they aren’t floating downstream on a death-trap of a river.

Nia bites back another smile but doesn’t say a word, turning to the open window to watch the trees go by.

#pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd #pokemon #charmander #riolu #pmd seekers of soul #tesha draws #tesha writes

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kahvilahuhut · 5 months

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some great reward will be coming my way

teehee long hair era toby oneshot fic. AND a depeche mode song lyric. it's more likely than you think

summary: Tobias is getting ready for a work event when Jack comes by. They have a Conversation(tm).

Tobias heard the apartment door open. "I'm in the bathroom," he said loudly, while trying to untangle his fingers from the mess that appeared while trying to tie a tie.

He heard footsteps behind the bathroom door, and soon Jack was perking from behind it. "Hey, didn't think you'd be awake so early."

"Miracles happen, eh?" Tobias smirked and turned to him, "I knew this thing-," he gestured at the tie, "-would bring problems, so I woke up early enough to actually get it done. Still failed. It's so ridiculous, who thought that creating something like this would be a fun thing." He leaned on the counter and opened his shirt a little. "God I am not used to this kind of outfits, like, at all. Why are turtlenecks not part of semi-formal attire. Anyway! What are you doing here?"

Jack walked in and stood in front of him. "I thought I could come in and wake you up, you know. Maybe take you to the coffee shop."

"Mm, sounds kinda nice. Would love to go for a quick coffee."

"Or something else, maybe?" Jack murmured as he reached for the tie hanging miserably on Toby's shirt. "Can't tell if I wanna help you tie this or take everything off."

"Maybe take it off later," Tobias smirked, "Now, if you'd help me out, I would definitely owe you."

"Sounds exciting," Jack got vloser, maybe more closer than necessary, and started tying the tie. "Why are you dressing up like this, anyway?"

"Jack, c'mon, I told you like twice already-"

"Going to some nature lovers' party? With all the...green."

"Come on, Jack. Who do we work for? Got this from the office. Not like I want to go look for some suits at stores on my non-existent free time."

"Office? You mean, you're going to some corpo event?"

"You really don't remember, do you?"

Jack stared at him, clueless. "Honestly, no idea. Don't we have a normal work day today. And then all the planning in the evening..." He leaned in closer, "...unless we reschedule it."

"Is that all what you think of?" Tobias looked at him for a moment and sighed. "Christ, you can't be serious. I told you two times, and you even sounded sooo excited when I was telling you about it-", he turned around and looked in the mirror, "-unless you weren't actually listening to me."

"Wait, you're talking about that...eh...the prize or something?" Jack's hands froze. "You're actually agreeing on it?"

"You're telling me I shouldn't accept something I earned?"

"Two years of work and all you get is a piece of paper. Nothing special in that. You'd deserve so much more."

"It is what it is, though. Why shouldn't I be happy about getting a prize for my hard work?"

"A corporation prize. I thought you're better than that, honestly," Jack muttured, "Say, why do you even want to be in the team if you're happily accepting pieces of paper from someone who you're fighting against?"

"I-what? I am only in it because I want to show what happened to people. Not because-", he paused and took a deep breath. "God, okay. Let's calm down. I'm going to the event because I want a pretty piece of paper telling that I coded something that no one has ever done, and because I'm the youngest person to everget that kind of thing. You know, just in case I'm gonna look for a job in the future, okay? It's not like I want to do random gigs and tasks forever as a side-job instead of having a stable job."

"Uh-huh, sure, whatever."

"Think I don't deserve it?"

Jack finished his tie. "No. I think you deserve much more."

"Well, you don't really sound like it...Sorry. I'm just a bit nervous."

"Toby, do whatever you want. Just remember what we're gonna do."

"Okay, yeah. Uh."

"So, what about the evening?"

"I-I'll think about it. I'll message you?"

"Yeah, sure," Jack kissed him quickly, "See you then."

Tobias watched him leave and waited for the sound of closing door, turned back to face the mirror and leaned on the sink. Hopefully I still have the leftover make up to hide those puffy eyes.

#☔️ ch: tobias #☔️ ch: jack #whatever i'm gonna write more long hair toby fics so. new emoji for those #my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #oc writing #original character #original writing

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gatefleet · 1 year

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Girlfriends and Confusion

Scorpion: Walter O'Brien, Paige Dineen, Tobias Curtis. WordCount: 610 T(W): Threat of violence Request: Yes; "for the Walter O’Brien x reader, if you could make it like the team finds out Walter has a girlfriend. use your imagination for it, but I want to see Toby confused. 😆" – Anon A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for, apologies it took so long. Apologies for the GIF choice, I couldn't find one of Toby being speechless.

When it came to light that you were, not only a real human being, but also that you were involved with Walter, shocked was the understatement of the garage. You had heard so much about the team and were nervous to meet them all, you weren’t exactly sure what to expect from each of the team. You had heard about all of them, in great detail according to Walter’s interpretation of them. You couldn’t figure out whether to let mess with them and switch their name’s around or suppress your sarcastic nature and just go with the flow. You sat in the booth at Nemo’s fidgeting with anything in front of you, from the ends of your hair to the napkin you had twisted apart. You jumped slightly as Walter returned to the booth with drinks and a portion of fries to share. He answered his phone and gave brief responses to whoever was on the other end of the call. Then relayed that the team would be there soon. You took a deep breath and looked to the table as you released the breath. Walter looked at you clearly trying hard to work out the right response. He was ‘saved’ from the effort by the bell above the door ringing signalling someone entering. Walter looked to the door, stood up holding the bottom of his tie and greeted the newcomer allowing them to take a seat in the booth next to him, you looked up when you heard your name. You looked up and apologised for not greeting them when they first arrived. You could tell from how the person interacted with you that this was clearly Paige, but your brain was focussed on the earlier conversation with yourself and you, jokingly, assumed this was Happy. The look of confusion on both faces fuelled your fear of embarrassing yourself in front of his friends. Thankfully, Paige didn’t seem to be too offended, but it didn’t prevent the now heightened emotion you were feeling regarding meeting the rest of the team. You mentally scolded yourself and Paige assured you there was no offense taken and that she hoped you could both be friends.

You heard the door go again and felt yourself tense up again. This time you stood up with Walter to greet the newcomer, “Hey Walter, I got your message, why’d you wanna meet he- damn, who’s this?” From the hat and erratic speed of speech you could only assume this was Dr. Curtis. When Walter introduced the speedy doctor, confirming your suspicion, and introduced you to Toby as his girlfriend. The speechless look on the good doctor’s face was amusing to say the least. He couldn’t figure out the words to use and was just looking between the two of you and pointing with his index finger. You weren’t too sure if the doctor had broken or not and looked nervously towards Walter. He looked stoic as he waited for Toby’s brain to engage again and crossed his arms adjusting his stance to stare him out until he had re-engaged and the information settled with him. “What the- how the? Walter!” Toby went back and forth like that for a while, and even when he had sat down, he was still in a state of shock, even when the others arrived, and couldn’t believe that he hadn’t figured out that Walter had a girlfriend. Happy became increasingly annoyed at Toby’s return to the fact that you existed and threatened physical violence on more than one occasion which Gabe tried to diffuse. On the whole, you thought that the meeting went well, even if Toby was completely bamboozled.

Tags;

@lastwandastan, @lollipopsandlandmines

#scorpion #scorpion x reader #walter obrien #walter obrien x reader #tobias curtis #toby curtis #reader insert #requests open

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coffeeheartaddict2 · 2 months

Text

Adventures in Monogamy

Book: Open Heart (post series)

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Harper Emery

Word count:1256

Warnings: none that I could see

Category: fluff

Rating: General audiences

Summary: The relationship between Harper and Tobias.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry

Authors note: continuation of An unlikely occurrence.

😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

Harper and Tobias met with HR and disclosed their relationship. Given that neither were in a position to be supervising each other, it was not essential that they did but they felt it prudent to have it on the record. The next step was disclosing to Aurora, Ethan and Casey. Both felt work was not the place to do so so they decided to host a dinner party. They set it for Friday. They chose Harper’s apartment to have the party.

The day came and Tobias for some reason was nervous. He had his fair share of arrangements with those he had worked with and sure, he and Harper were no longer working together, however, given how closely he worked with Aurora and also Casey, he did want this to go well. For some reason he was least concerned about how Ethan would react. Harper was nervous also. She never really did relationships either but announcing a relationship, especially this early in the game felt odd to her but again, given her working and personal relationships, she not only felt it prudent but also hoped that all involved were going to be ok with it.

Aurora was the first to arrive. Being invited to Harper’s was not uncommon but she was surprised to see Tobias there and in the kitchen. Aurora had suspicions piqued a little recently, Tobias and Harper’s more relaxed and good moods being the catalyst. Seeing Tobias in her aunt’s kitchen did indeed fuel her suspicions further.

Shortly after, Casey and Ethan arrive. Tobias lets out a small chuckle when he sees Ethan looking slightly disheveled and Casey with a slightly smug grin on her face. Everyone has a drink and light hearted conversation before dinner is served. Dinner was served and everyone enjoyed the meal.

“Before we serve dessert, myself and Tobias have some news.” Said Harper. Tobias continued. “Myself and Harper have entered into a romantic relationship, we met with HR the other day to disclose, we both felt this prudent even though we are no longer in the same supervisory stream.”

“Well, that would explain some of the good moods we have observed most recently, wouldn’t agree Casey?” Said Aurora.

“It most certainly would, we are happy for you both.” Said Casey as she got up to hug both.

Ethan for a few moments was pleasantly surprised but ultimately happy for both of his friends. The evening continued and the group split up. Casey spoke with Aurora whilst Ethan spoke with Harper and Tobias.

“I am glad you are happy for us buddy” said Tobias.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Asked Ethan.

“I know you and Harper were a long time ago but still, I was nervous.” Said Tobias.

“It was so long ago that I am surprised you were concerned about my reaction. I am surprised, yes but really happy for you both.”

Tobias breathed a sigh of relief. The dinner party ended and everyone except Tobias left Harper’s.

They kiss briefly. “Well that went well” said Harper. “Yes it did, I am glad.” Said Tobias and he kissed her briefly again. They cleaned up the kitchen and retired to the bedroom.

Nothing changed much for anyone once they returned to work. Tobias assured Aurora that his romantic relationship with Harper would have no impact on their working relationship. Aurora was appreciative for the reassurance.

Time went on, Tobias and Harper continued their relationship. They celebrated the engagement of Ethan and Casey. Harper met Tobias’s mum, Beth. She was quite taken by Harper. Their romantic relationship enhanced their prior friendship and even had an offshoot of garnering more professional respect for each other. The longer they were in a relationship, the more happy they were not only as a couple but also individually.

They celebrated holidays together, they hosted thanksgiving whilst Ethan and Casey hosted Christmas. As much as they enjoyed being a couple, they still led very separate lives. Even though they said I love you and truly meant it, they both did start to wonder if it was indeed enough.

They met at his town house for dinner. They sat down for their meal. They ate in companionable silence, both knowing that a rather serious discussion had to start.

“Where are headed ,Harper?” Tobias asked. “I am sure we are both surprised that we have lasted but we can not be in this holding pattern forever.”

“I agree Tobias, on both points.”

“I do love you and have always had the utmost respect for you…”

“Same here Tobias but where too… I mean, I have always been focussed on my career, gosh the only other serious relationship I have had was with Ethan, and well that did end.”

“You were on a different page feeling wise, but we are both rapidly approaching the mid 40’s. What is marriage for? Not like we are in a position for children? Companionship, surely we do not need a license for that.” Said Tobias. “Relationships do not come the most naturally for me either, I do find arrangements given where I am career wise easier to manage but we hit the end haven’t we?”

“I must concede, the holding pattern we are in does feel more like an arrangement.”

“I agree, I know we both have had our fair share of them, but we are an us, not an arrangement between two consenting adults.”

“You are right, it was never that and I feel bad it has turned this way” said Harper in a maudlin tone.

“In a way though, I do feel that it is better that we have recognised that now, and addressed it than letting it die a slow death in which resentment could have built.” Said Tobias.

“This is true” said Harper as she poured a wine for both of them. “A toast, to an amicable split and a continuation of friendship.”

“To friendship” echoed Tobias and they drank their wine. After the wine they parted ways, sad that the relationship had ended but happy that they were to remain friends.

Next day came and Tobias arrived at work early. He was sitting in the office researching when Ethan walked in.

“Is everything alright Tobias?” Asked Ethan with a hint of concern.

Tobias took a deep breath.

“I am alive.” Said Tobias

“I can see that but you look like you had a rough night” said Ethan.

“That obvious is it?” Chuckled Tobias. “Myself and Harper ended our romantic relationship last night.”

Ethan was shocked. “You two appeared to be in such a good place..”

“Yeah we were but we were also at an impasse and despite that we love each other, it was not meant to be.”

“So…where to from here?” Asked Ethan.

“We are still friends, which we are both happy that won’t change.”

Just then Aurora walks in.

“I heard about you and my aunt, I am glad you are both still friends.”

“So am I, Aurora, so am I” said Tobias.

Ethan took his leave and headed to his office. He was saddened at the demise of their relationship but he was also happy that they were able to end things amicably.

Later that day, Tobias’s and Harper’s paths crossed. Both in a way we’re expecting it to be awkward but it was not. They mainly spoke about their patient, but they also exchanged pleasantries and it felt good. They finished their discussion and went their separate ways, happy that their dalliance had not affected not only their working relationship but also their friendship.

——-

Authors note: I headcanon that they were in the relationship for a little over a year. I do see them having a great friendship, maybe the occasional benefit. I have always head cannoned that my Tobias is happily single. What happened to his parents did colour his outlook on marriage but he grew up also seeing his mum happy being single and not remarrying, yes she did date and she did have a long term partner when he was in his 20’s so he got to a point where he did not see the advantages, I mean if he found someone who challenged his view then things would be different.

Tagging: @jerzwriter @alj4890 @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @potionsprefect @liaromancewriter @youlookappropriate @bex-la-get @a-crepusculo @crazy-loca-blog @zealouscanonindeer @trappedinfanfiction @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985 @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #choices fanfic writers creations #tobias carrick #harper emery #asked and answered #thanks for the request Elsa

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bubblepopsims · 9 months

Text

T: “.. why didn’t you tell me..?”

R: “I… I didn’t know how too….. I just…fuck…. I didn’t want it to be done over the phone… I didn’t want it to be first thing I said when you walked in....I didn’t want it to be real…”

Tobias took cautious steps towards Ruby, not knowing how she would react... she can be quite unpredictable.. and in moments when he felt like she needed a hug, she actually wanted space. T: "Ruby.."

R: “I just wanted it to be you and me…. Okay… I just…”

T: "I am so fucking sorry..."

T: "Going through that alone... making you feel like you couldn't tell me right when you found out...by having you in this position where you have to make this choice.. you know that last thing I want you to feel is alone….”

R: "its not just my choice… its yours too and I’m sorry for thinking that i couldn't tell you...I’m really sorry… I told myself the last thing I want to do it hurt you..”

Ruby gently twirled the curls around her finger on the back of his neck feeling him get quite heavy on her shoulder. "come on lets sit you down..."

Once Tobias sat he couldn't help but stare at her stomach, something that they made together had now found home in there... growing at each passing day, and to see the worrisome and concern rise in Ruby's eye once he lift his head to meet her gaze.

He knew he was going to have to be fast with his questions, if he wanted the answers he was seeking. Made it a point to keep the questions to the point and short.

T: “You’re pregnant?”

R: “I am pregnant.”

T: “do you know how far along you are?”

R: “nope.”

T: “do you know what you want to do?”

R: "yeah..no…..I am sorry... i don't... god.. i don't even know how to go about this... and quite frankly i have been in fucking denial about it.. so you asking me so directly just shattered my delusions..I had a whole speech and you ruined it.." she gave him a small defeated smile Tobias gave a quick glance up and down and sighed "I mean on a lighter note.. you look absolutely beautiful…."

T: "because i mean you are already pregnant... -he shrugged- and these ribbons seem very easy to just undo right about now. but besides that - he paused realizing there was no relation to his very pervert comment moments ago- wow you didn't hit me.."

Ruby sighed "Well... i am letting it slide... it's letting me know you don't hate me at least." she stated with a nervous chuckle

Tobias brows bunched and relaxed with her words only to be taken aback at the word hate coming from her lips. with a bit of force, he pulled Ruby to him and kissed her, reminding her not just with words but with actions that he couldn't hate her even if he had a reason which he didn't.

T: "Ruby.." Tobias cupped her cheek and caressed his thumb along her skin "Don't ever say that. I could never hate you.. i am more fucking worried about you hating me for getting you pregnant.. but here you are worried more about my feelings on it than your own..."

T: "i could never hate you Ruby and to even think that i would, when i had just as much fault in this as you did. Is absurd."

T: "i love you, you stubborn woman." Ruby sighed at his words and folded into him. he was so soft, so caring with her, despite the situation...he was so much more calmer than her and first she thought he could just be faking it but he genuinely was just calm, she could see it in his eyes when he looked at her, how his touch moved gently across her skin.

R: you really can’t do no wrong can you..”

Tobias pulled ruby against him and sighed trying to think on what they were going to do.. trying to figure out what was the right thing to do.. He too came to the realization that neither one of them ever took the time to discuss what they would do if this happened.. but now they had no choice but to discuss it.

T: “Baby I am not perfect… I do things wrong too.. I am just trying to be here for you in the best way I can.. because you might not want to admit it but I know you need me right now..”

Ruby was silent at his words only to nuzzle her nose into his shirt “I do need you… i missed you.. and I should have told you.. i should have”

Tobias hand gently caressed along her back leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

T: “whenever you need me and I mean whenever, i am here no matter what day, time, what I am doing? you are my priority..”

R: "okay.. i want to know.. how do you feel about kids? Do you see yourself being a father one day? It seems only right under these circumstances that i ask..”

previous - next

#ts4 simblr #ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #the tribe #sims 4 #my sims #oc:ruby #oc:tobias

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outerbanksp4l27 · 3 months

Text

Tobias Eaton

WARNINGS - Language

Your divergent and your life begins now.

_________________________________________________

“Mom just because I was born Amity doesn’t mean I’m gonna choose it.” You said as calm as you can.

“What would you chose then?! Abnegation is perfect and calm why would you want anything else!” She raised her voice at you, she never has before, “I’m sorry it’s just what would you choose?”

“I just want to see what my test says, we leave in minutes whatever it says I will most likely choose but if it’s Abnegation I won’t, mom this life I have here is boring and not for me something else will fit me, I know it.”

“Well you must get going, your brothers calling you.” You nod at your mother and walk towards the door.

“I love you mom” She says it back then you and your brother head out.

_____

You are on your way home and your mind is scrambling, your divergent. Your brother didn’t tell you his results, but you didn’t plan on telling anybody your results anyway the lady who took your test told you not too or lie about your results. Tomorrow you chose where you would go, you knew you didn’t want a boring life so tomorrow when you choose it will be adventurous.

_____

It’s the next day and you and your brother are nervous for the day. Your family walk in and take seats at the ceremony on choosing and they do there little peach and you roll your eyes. They start calling names. It’s goes a while before they call your brothers name “Luke Y/L/N”

You knew you were next, you watched your brother choose and he chose Erudite, “smart ass” you mumble.

“Y/n Y/l/n” You get up and your mom squeezes your hand as you leave your seat. You get down to the bottom and look at your options. You grab the knife and cut yourself then drop your blood into dauntless. Your parents gasped, but you didn’t care and you walked over to your “new people”.

_____

The choosing was over and all of dauntless ran out and you followed with them, cause you are now one of them. You run out and climb up to the train tracks and you have to jump on the train. “Well shit” you mumbled as you watch the train come and this girl Christina was next to you from Candor.

“True that, how the hell am I gonna jump on this” Christina said.

“Well we’re dauntless now I don’t think we have a choice unless you want to be factionless.” You said too her as the train in getting real close and you jump on without a thought. Christina followed you cause I don’t think her being factionless was her idea of a life. It wasn’t to anybody.

You are on the train and it takes a while before you notice the people getting ready and standing up so you do as well, then they jump out onto the roof of a building. “I’m guessing this is a good preview of what dauntless is gonna be like” you say right before you say screw it and jump out of the train, luckily you had a pretty good landing and didn’t hurt anything. After you land everyone huddles up around the edge of the roof where a huge hole is.

“So who’s jumping first?” Everyone but the dauntless born were a little shocked. You raised your hand.

“I’ll do it”you said without thinking twice. Some laughed behind you.

“A stiff jumping give me a break” Some ass Peter said from Candor. You ignored his comment and got up on the ledge and looked at the drop.

“You gonna jump or what we don’t have all day” one of the dauntless leaders said. And you jumped, landed on a net, you thought it was actually pretty fun. Then you feel the net move and somebody grabbing you, he is beautiful but is face is stone cold as he grabs you and takes you off the net.

“What you get pushed?” He said judging your outfit seeing your from amity.

“No” You said with an annoyed tone.

“Name?” He said.

“Y/n” You said.

“First jumper Y/n! Welcome to Dauntless Y/n” He said with a smirk.

Everyone else eventually jumped and got down here and they sent all born dauntless away since the already know the way around. “Most of the time I work in intelligence but during your training I’ll be your instructor, my names Four.”

“Four, like the number?” Christina said.

“Exactly like the number”. He said calmly.

“What happened 1-3 were taken?” Christina said with a chuckle.

You could tell he was annoyed with Christina, “What’s your name?”

“Christina” She said.

“Well Christina, the first lesson you learn from me is if you want to survive here, keep your mouth shut.” He said will a cold face a stern tone. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir” Christina said.

“Good, Follow me” Four gives you all a tour. And your life at dauntless begins.

Part 2 will be soon.

#four #tobias eaton #divergent #four divergent

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jerzwriter · 1 year

Text

A Different Fate... Part 4 - Glass Door

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (past)

Featuring: Tobias Carrick, Sienna Trinh

Rating: Teen

Words: 2.4 k

Category: Short-Series/AU/Lost Love

Summary: Ethan's in New York, and he's got backup... but when he fails to heed their advice and follow his own path, what will the results be?

A/N: I said the next installment would be the last, didn't I? Well, I lied. lol But the next one TRULY is. I went in a different direction and decided to torture them a little longer. 😏 @choiceschallenge-may2023 | ex-lover, love @choicesflashfics Prompt in bold Series Masterlist Ethan/Kaycee Masterlist Full Masterlist

“Well, look at you,” Tobias smirked as he sauntered toward the bar. “What brings you to New York City, young man?”

Ethan gazed wearily at his friend, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“There’s nothing young about me,” he muttered. “And I think you know the answer to that question.”

Tobias shook his head as he claimed the barstool beside Ethan.

“I’d chastise you for being rude, but I’m sure you’re nervous, so I’ll give you a break this time, Tobias grinned. “Wow, I’ve been trying to talk you into this for years, but just one conversation with Sienna, and you’re booking a flight! Hats off to her… I’m duly impressed.”

“As you should be,” a small but powerful voice belted.

Tobias spun around, astonished to find the diminutive doctor walking toward them. “And what brings you here?” he teased.

“Him,” Sienna pointed to Ethan as she hopped on the last vacant stool. “Do you think I was about to leave him to his own devices after all this time?”

“Smart move,” Tobias agreed. “I’m sure he’d mess it up in less than ten minutes.”

“Thank you!” Ethan groused. “I feel so much better knowing how much faith the two of you have in me.”

“OK, then tell us your plan,” Sienna insisted, keeping Ethan’s gaze as he looked like a deer that had stepped into the headlights.

“Well… I uhm. I thought I’d… uh… In the morning, I could….”

“Exactly,” Sienna chirped.

“I could send her flowers!” He blurted.

“After all this time… I don’t think overwhelming her is the way to go. My advice? Be upfront and lowkey. Send her a text; let her know you’re in town and you’d love to see her. Offer to take her for coffee or lunch.”

“Alone?” Ethan asked.

“Is this really a conversation you want to have in front of me and Tobias?”

“Point taken.” Ethan sighed, his forlorn expression adding years to his appearance.

“She mentioned a place,” Tobias said, snapping his fingers as he tried to recall the name. “The Perfect Pint! She said that she loved that place over dinner tonight. Take her there!”

“Over dinner tonight?” Ethan seethed. “You took her to dinner?”

“Relax, Romeo,” Tobias barked. “I’m not putting moves on your Juliet. Kaycee happens to be my old friend, too, and… I’ve missed her.”

“Yeah…” Ethan muttered, voice full of defeat. “Nowhere near as much as I have.”

“And we’re here to change that,” Sienna redirected. Dr. Ramsey was not bringing the mood down on her watch. She shot a look at Tobias. “Now, do you see why I came?”

“Oh,” he laughed. “I never had any doubt.”

~~~~~

The following morning, as Kaycee was on a subway platform heading to work, Ethan and Tobias stood over the breakfast buffet at their hotel. Tobias smiled approvingly when Ethan scooped up the remaining bacon in the chafing dish.

“Eating crispy, delicious processed meats… I’m impressed!”

“Everything is fine in moderation,” Ethan clapped back. “Besides, this place is known for its bacon, and I don’t intend to miss out.”

“That’s the attitude. Speaking of not missing out… I assume you’ve texted Kaycee?”

“No,” Ethan sighed as Sienna approached. “I haven’t.”

“Good morning, guys!” She chirped. “It’s such a beautiful day!”

“It could be,” Tobias snickered.

“Oh no!” Sienna grimaced. “They’re out of bacon. I heard it is to die for here.”

“I’m sure they’ll bring more out momentarily,” Ethan offered.

But Tobias had a better idea. “Hey!” Ethan hollered as he plucked the bacon off his plate and placed it on Sienna’s. “What are you doing!?”

“You can have bacon when you text Kaycee. Until then, no treats for you! We’re going all Pavlovian here.”

Sienna’s face visibly fell. “Ethan! You haven’t texted her?”

“No,” he replied, attempting to steal a strip of bacon from Sienna’s plate, but her reflexes were quick. “If either of you would let me finish! I had another idea. Dr. Choi and I have been in communication about a case he’s working on….”

“…and Dr. Choi happens to work at Langone,” Tobias inserted.

“Exactly,” Ethan stated as the trio sat at a corner booth. “So I made an appointment to see him today, and I thought that…. What?”

Sienna shook her head with a grimace. “Ethan… are you trying to ‘accidentally’ bump into her? So she can think she’s an afterthought? That you were in town and didn’t even bother to let her know? Just when I was going to give you some of my bacon!”

“But, Sienna,” Ethan sighed, emotion heavy in his voice. “What if she said no.”

The table went silent, and Sienna quietly placed that slice of bacon on Ethan’s plate. He smiled sadly, hoping this wouldn’t be his consolation prize.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think she would.”

“But there are no guarantees… and… I don’t think I could handle that rejection again. I need to do this my way.”

“Hey, Buddy. It’s your call,” Tobias smiled. “Either way, we have your back.”

~~~~~

“I’m so glad you stopped in,” Dr. Choi beamed as he escorted Ethan down the hallway. “We should make it a point to do this more frequently.”

“I agree,” Ethan nodded. “Sometimes a thirty-minute conversation in person can yield better results than a dozen emails topped with a Zoom call.”

“I will always take human interaction over technology,” the elderly doctor agreed. “How about I come to Boston next time. I’ll never admit it around here, but I’m a bit of a Red Sox fan.”

“Definitely keep your voice down,” Ethan chuckled. “And it would be my pleasure to bring you to a game. Say, Dr. Choi… is Dr. MacClennan’s office on this floor?”

“It used to be, but she’s on the eighth floor now. Take this elevator and make two rights when you exit. That will get you to the nurses’ station, and they can direct you from there.”

“Thank you,” Ethan smiled. “I’ll be in touch.”

His heart was racing as the elevator doors shut. Before allowing himself time to think, he pressed eight and hoped for the best.

~~~~~

The eighth-floor nurses' station was especially quiet this morning. All heads turned in Kaycee’s direction when she placed a tray of cookies on the counter with a smile. A young nurse – who had forgotten to eat breakfast – perked up at once.

“Oh! What are these for?” She beamed.

“For going over and beyond with Mrs. Mitchell yesterday. I really appreciate all the hard work everyone put in.”

“It was a pleasure,” the nurse replied, with her mouth full. “And if I knew we’d get these....”

“My best friend makes them,” Kaycee smiled. “She ships me a box at least every few months, and this time, you all deserve them more than me.”

Kaycee noticed a change in the nurse's expression.

“What? Don’t you like them?” Kaycee asked.

“No, they’re wonderful. It’s just…” the nurse leaned over and whispered into her ear. “Dr. Douglas is heading this way.”

“Ugh…” Kaycee shuddered. “Thanks for the heads up.”

But the warning came moments too late. As she went to take a step away, her escape was thwarted.

“Dr. MacClennan!” The dark-haired doctor with a smarmy smile shouted. “Fancy running into you here!”

“Is it?” She shrugged. “Considering we’re standing just feet from my office, I don’t think it should be all that surprising.”

“I guess you’re right,” he chuckled. “But what was surprising was seeing you at Gabriel’s last night!”

“At Gabriel's? I don’t recall seeing you there.”

“Well, you appeared engrossed, so I didn’t dare interrupt. The gentleman you were with… he looked familiar…”

“Well, any educated physician should know who Dr. Carrick is.”

“Ah, that’s who it was! I didn’t realize you two were so… well acquainted. Is he a friend?”

“Yes! A very dear, old friend…” she stalled as an idea popped into her mind. “Well, at least for now.”

“Oh?” Dr. Douglas asked with a raised brow.

“Did you ever see someone you were once close with after a long time had passed, and everything is just… so clear? That was me last night. I’m sure you saw the sparks flying between us… it had to be impossible to miss. Sometimes it just takes a bit of time and distance from someone to realize that you’ve wasted far too much time… that you were meant to be so much more… and you’d do anything to make it right.”

“And… that’s how you feel about Dr. Carrick?” he grumbled.

“Very much so,” Kaycee sang, with the brightest smile adorning her face.

“Well then, I assume I’ll see the two of you at Dr. Rivera’s farewell reception tomorrow night. Being he’s in town and all….”

“Yes,” she swallowed. “I’m sure you will. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Her face was aglow as she made her way to her office. She had been searching for a way to get Dr. Douglas off her back for longer than she cared to admit… and this might be what she needed. She grabbed her phone and began texting Tobias – so engrossed with her plan that she failed to see him.

A solitary, crestfallen figure who had walked in at the worst possible moment stood slackjawed in a dark, shadow-filled corner. Ethan looked around to ensure he hadn’t been seen, then quickly turned to return down the hallway.

He stepped into the elevator with a heavy heart. Perhaps Sienna’s idea was better all along. After all, if she had ignored him or rejected him via text, it would have been better. If he had followed her lead, he wouldn’t have seen her radiant smile again; he wouldn’t have been reminded how it could light up any room. He wouldn’t have felt the butterflies in his stomach or the way his heart fluttered at the sound of her voice. It had been so long since he experienced it, but it was like greeting an old friend, warm and inviting, until it was replaced. He hadn’t experienced it in so long that he welcomed it like an old friend…then it was gone.

The elevator doors closed, and it may as well have been that night in Boston years before. He choked back a sob as his heart sank and a pit formed in his stomach. Eight years. It took him eight years to travel the two-hundred miles needed to bridge the distance between them, and in the end, it would be for naught.

He didn’t remember the three-city block walk to St. Vartan’s Park. Everything was a blur. The first thing he remembered was his back hitting the hard, weathered wood on the park bench. The sound of honking horns mingled with birds chirping and children playing soccer nearby… the sounds of the city began to pull him out of his fugue.

Tobias? He hissed.

Not for a second did he believe his friend was making a play for his former flame… the woman he was destined to love forever, but if Kaycee had feelings for Tobias, returned or not, then she couldn't possibly have any left for him.

He berated himself for allowing hope back into his heart. Eight years and a half dozen failed attempts of trying with someone new between them; he had kept tabs on her, so he knew she had tried to move on, too. She had gotten married, for Christ’s sake… and, no, it didn’t last. But why had he allowed himself to believe part of her had not never forgotten him.

His head was pounding, and he needed two things: his hotel room and a bottle of Scotch. It may not diminish the pain, but at least it would take off the edge. He took a deep breath and stood up, eager to get through the unfamiliar city to reach the solitude he desperately needed… then his phone rang.

Tobias.

He knew in his heart that his friend had nothing to do with this, but he still had no desire to speak to him. It wasn’t his fault that Kaycee was pining for him… but he sure as hell didn’t want to talk to the man who held her heart. He declined the call. But it rang again. And again. Finally, in a near fit, he answered.

“What?!”

“Hey,” Tobias replied, blissfully unaware of his friend’s state. “Are you still at Langone?”

“No. I’ve left.”

“Did… did you see her?”

“I did… but she didn’t see me, and we’re going to keep it that way. Tobias… I’m a goddamn fool. It was all a pipe dream, a foolish, foolish pipe dream. Kaycee’s moved on, and if I have any sense, that’s what I’ll do, too.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Well,” Ethan laughed sardonically. “She appears to have feelings for someone else. In fact… that dinner last night may have been a bit too romantic, intentional or not, because the person she has feelings for… is you. I don’t know, Tobias. Maybe there’s another universe where we’d have the happy ending I always wanted. But it isn’t in this one.”

The call went silent, and it lingered for an uncomfortable length of time. Frustrated with the lack of response, Ethan blurt out.

“Hello?!”

“Ethan, you are a freaking idiot. Get back there now!”

“Why? I heard her myself.”

“What you heard was her getting some douchey doctor off her back. He was one of those creeps who wouldn’t take no for an answer from her, but he’d take it from a fake boyfriend hundreds of miles away. She texted me to ask me to play along…"

Ethan stopped in his tracks. He hadn't had a chance to touch that Scotch he was longing for; still, he felt hungover.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Look!” Tobias insisted. “She’s getting out soon. Get back there now! You’re not going back to Boston without talking to her. Maybe you two can work things out, and maybe you can’t, but how many more years do you want to live with that question mark hanging over your head?”

“You know what, you’re right.”

“I usually am… now go.”

Ethan hung up the phone and ran back, pushing through crowds to return to the hospital. He was about to enter the glass doors when he heard it. The chaos and noise of the city were no match for it; he’d know her voice anywhere. His head flung in its direction, but all he could see was a tuft of blonde hair slipping into an awaiting cab.

“Kaycee,” he yelled, running toward the vehicle. “Kaycee! Wait!”

But the cab was already in motion, and, for once, there was no traffic on the city street. He watched in silence as the taillights of the car that held the one thing his heart desired most faded into the distance.

Tags in reblog.

#choices fanfic #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #tobias carrick #sienna trinh #open heart choices #choices open heart #open heart #playchoices fanfic

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cardinal-copia-popia · 2 years

Note

So apparently in an interview Tobias said that when Copia is drunk he starts humping stuff and I would be absolutely obsessed if you wrote that into a drabble. Could be him as Cardinal or Papa. Preferably female reader and leads to sexy times ;). Love love looove your work btw! <3

Thank you so much, anon!! 🥰🥰 I also love this idea, and I may include it in other writings as well 👀

Mirrored here on AO3

If anyone has any requests, send them my way (please see pinned post for more info)!

NSFW under the cut

Need You Now

You and the group you were with laughed at whatever Terzo had said, but you were honestly not paying much attention. Your focus kept drifting over to Copia, who was surrounded by a few siblings obviously flirting with him, judging by the obvious blush on his cheeks and nervous smile. You knew he had been drinking pretty steadily to calm his nerves, but you could also see the tenseness in him. You began to wonder just how much he had.

You were not jealous, not really, but your relationship with the cardinal was still relatively new. It had only been recently that the two of you had become intimate, and from how nervous he had been about that, you were not worried he would fall into bed with anyone else. But still, him spending time with other siblings and not you made you feel a little down, especially knowing how he was likely feeling at the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, he had been stealing glances at you all evening as well, wishing you would come to save him, but between Terzo and your friend, they kept you securely occupied. Speaking of your friend, she had you roped into a conversation for a few minutes, long enough that when you looked back toward Copia, you saw that he was gone, the group of siblings left behind, looking a bit dejected.

Frowning, you scanned the room, not seeing your lover anywhere. You finally took that moment to excuse yourself, going over to the refreshment table to get yourself another drink, wondering the whole time where Copia could have gone. Surely he would not have left without you.

You stayed by the table with your back facing the wall, repeatedly looking over the room. The party was still in full swing, but without Copia there, you wondered what the point was in you staying. You had hoped for a dance or two, but perhaps that just was not in the cards.

There was sudden movement behind you, and the next thing you knew, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you tight against a warm, solid body. Copia's cologne wafted over you, immediately setting you at ease until he pushed his hips against your ass, letting you feel the bulge in his trousers.

"Copia!" you squeaked in surprise.

His lips were immediately on your neck, his mustache tickling your skin. "Cara mia," he murmured, his hands pawing at your habit. "I need you."

“Here? Now?” you asked, smirking.

Now you knew for sure just how much he had been drinking, and your dear Cardinal got rather… needy when he was drinking. The first time you experienced a drunk Copia had been nearly two weeks ago at another one of Terzo’s parties. The pair of you had not even made it to his bed, content to have a romp on the floor in front of the bed.

“Maybe not here,” Copia said between kisses, “but now.”

He was restlessly grinding his hips against you, his lips and touch insistent. Knowing he wanted you this much turned you on, even if his need was amplified by alcohol. The need was always there, as you had quickly learned, but the drinks lowered his inhibitions to the point that he was willing to be far more forward than usual. Even going so far as to try to hump you in public.

Without a word, you turned and grabbed his hand, quickly leading him out of the dining hall. You could feel eyes on you, but you could not care less. Copia might have been a bit embarrassed by their stares had he been sober, but you were not ashamed. You wanted them to stop talking badly about Copia behind his back about being “too awkward” to “get any.” Once he was comfortable, that awkwardness was all but forgotten. He was still your sweet Cardinal but also the horny, desperate, and needy version who just wanted to please.

You had the intention of taking Copia back to his office, which was closer than either of your rooms, but he suddenly pulled you into a broom closet and pressed you up against the door. He slid his leg between yours and crushed his mouth to yours. You moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers in his hair as he growled and bucked his hips against your leg and hip. You could not help but smile.

“What’s funny, cara mia?” he asked, moving to kiss your jaw.

You shook your head. “You. I’m beginning to realize this is just how you are when you’ve been drinking.”

Copia leaned back to look at you, frowning. “How am I?”

With a smirk, you trailed a hand down his chest. “Needy.” Your fingers came to rest on the waistband of his sinfully tight trousers that left nothing to the imagination. “Horny.” You cupped his erection through the taut material, drawing a breathy whine from him as he ground against your hand. “You like to hump things when you’re drunk.”

He groaned, bracing his hands on the door on either side of you. “Because I need to fuck. Specifically, I need to fuck you. Please, cara mia, I need you. I need to be inside you.”

You tugged on his hair, forcing his chin up slightly. "Then what are you waiting for?"

A whimper left him as his hips bucked against you again. He lifted your dress and groaned when his fingers met your bare flesh. “Oh, tesoro mio… You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

You sighed as his fingers teased you, his middle finger nudging against your entrance before sliding up to circle your clit.

“I hoped it would. Though maybe not in a closet.” Copia looked a little embarrassed, so you quickly kissed him. “I’m not complaining,” you insisted, your hands moving to undo his belt and pants. “I love it that you’re this insatiable.”

Copia whined as you freed him from the confines of his pants. He kissed you again and began rubbing the hot, heavy length of his cock on your leg, essentially humping your thigh. At this point, you were happy to let him do whatever he wanted. You enjoyed seeing him this needy and horny, knowing you were the only one who ever got to see this side of him. And knowing he wanted you this much only made you want to give him whatever he wanted.

Copia's lips trailed along your skin as he lowered his face to your neck. The next thing you knew, he had hooked his hand under your thighs, lifted you up, and buried himself to the hilt within you. Both of you moaned, not caring who heard you.

"Cara mia," he rasped, beginning to thrust into you. "Ne ho tanto bisogno. Ho bisogno di te. Cazzo, ti amo, cara mia."

"Copia," you gasped, tilting his head up, so you were face to face. You had known he loved you, but he had yet to say it so directly to you, even if it was in Italian. His pace did not falter, but he seemed to realize what he had said. "I love you, too."

Copia moaned and kissed you again, his relief palpable. You kept kissing, sighing and moaning into each other's mouths as you were both steadily pushed closer and closer to the edge.

The feeling of him pounding into you, of his grunts and whines, of the sound of wet flesh meeting repeatedly, made you feel overwhelmed with pleasure. You felt like you simply could not get enough of him.

"Copia," you moaned again. "I'm so close."

"Sì, amore mio, so am I. Cum with me!"

You threw your head back against the door, crying out in pleasure with increased frequency as you were pushed over the edge. You could feel Copia trembling in his attempts to hold you up as he followed you over, kicking and spilling inside you. Your name left his lips on a whine as he pressed you harder to the door.

Once he had quieted and stilled except for the labored breaths, you peppered his face with kisses and soothingly stroked his hair. After a few moments of this, he lowered you down to your feet and kissed you gently again before you set about righting each other clothes.

"Amore mio," he sighed, still leaning heavily against you. "Thank you."

You grinned and pecked his lips. "For what, love?"

He smiled, too, at the term of endearment and gazed into your eyes, his eyes full of love. "Thank you for indulging me, even in my… inebriated state."

"You never have to thank me for this, but you're welcome all the same. And besides, I like this needy side of you…"

Copia raised his eyebrows. "You do?"

"I do," you replied with a smirk. "But I hope you don't feel the need to be drunk in order to let me see it."

He smiled bashfully. "You entice me enough on your own, amore. I do not need any outside help to want you as much as I do."

"Good," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Because I want you just as badly. Now, you think we could sneak back in there and dance a little, or would you rather retire to your room for round two?"

"Ah," he chuckled, his hands holding your hips. "Why not both? Give me a chance to recuperate."

"Alright, but no more drinking! I'd like to take things a little slower later."

Copia hummed and kissed you again, slowly and languidly this time. "Sì, I would love nothing more, cara mia."

Translations:

Ne ho tanto bisogno. Ho bisogno di te. Cazzo, ti amo - I need this so much, I need you. Fuck, I love you

#ask #fic request #ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic #the band ghost #ghost band #my writing #copia #reader

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weltraum-vaquero · 1 year

Text

You could have it all (my empire of dirt)

3. when the last light warms the rocks (and the rattlesnakes unfold)

[Chapter 1] ↠ [Chapter 2] ↠ [Chapter 3] ↠ [Chapter 4] ↠ [Chapter 5] (coming soon)

[AO3 link]

Western AU

18+

Jayce Talis x GN AFAB Reader

Word count: 17.5k+

Synopsis: Jayce’s relationship with you changes — for the better, and for the worse.

Tags/warnings: cowboys in love, anal fingering, Jayce being head over heels but also an anxious mess, angst, crying after sex, reader being emotionally constipated

Notes: Hi. This is what I've been pouring my heart and soul into for the past 6 months. Rest assured that we've still got a long way to go, and that this is NOT the final chapter of this fic. We're only about halfway there. Strap in, strap on, and get ready for porn town, and also pain town. As always, a huge thanks to @valaruakars and @heraldeez for helping me polish this bad boy. It wouldn't be here without you :].

“What has got you smiling through the meatloaf you usually despise so deeply, Jayce?”

Swallowing an unchewed bite of the meatloaf he usually despises so deeply, Jayce straightens up in his chair, glancing Cassandra’s way. The sound his throat makes when he swallows is almost cartoonish — he wants to curl in on himself then and there. Instead, he clears his throat, his smile now long gone.

She watches him intently, like a cat on the prowl, while she awaits her prey — his reply.

“I wasn’t—“ Jayce manages a nervous, dumb little laugh. He’s screwed. “I mean… was I? I don’t think I was.”

“I think you mean who’s got him smiling,” Cait chimes in. As she shifts in her seat, Jayce realizes she’s tucked her legs under her chair specifically so that they’d be far out of his kicking range.

God, he hates when she does this.

“Oh?” Cassandra’s brows raise with interest, and she sets her fork down on the fine china gracefully before her gaze rests on him, icy blue and downright relentless. “Is that so?”

His stomach seems to physically sink while he scrambles for words and finds none. Bounty hunter, protector, hardened outdoorsman, and yet both of the Kiramman women can outdo him in a handful of sentences or less.

Tobias gives him a sympathetic smile, like he pities him already, and like he knows what he’s about to go through all too well.

Being at the mercy of Kiramman women does evoke a certain sense of camaraderie.

“I, uh–” Jayce clears his throat to stall for time; he reaches for the wine glass he hadn’t touched throughout the whole dinner so far. “Sort of.”

“It would be wonderful to meet them sometime,” Cassandra says.

Jayce has never taken a bigger gulp of anything in his whole life than this godawful wine. Caitlyn muffles a laugh into her napkin.

It tastes horrendous. He still fails to understand what exactly Cassandra loves about this expensive, bitter vintage and hates about the sweet cheap bottles he buys at the general store. He swallows it down even though it scratches at his throat and weighs heavy on his tongue. He realizes that all his stalling counted for nothing, because he still has no idea what to say.

“I’m not, uhm–”

“Look at him, he’s redder than a steamed lobster. Let the poor boy be,” Mr Kiramman interrupts. He tops up his wife’s wine glass — a peace offering of sorts, before he claps his hand on Jayce’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Jayce ”

“We all are.” Cassandra pauses briefly, and though her voice has gone soft, Jayce can feel her scrutiny weighing down on him. She’d love to know more, he can tell, but much like her daughter, she knows that information takes patience to obtain. Unfortunately for him, she has it in spades. “As a matter of fact, Tobias and I were starting to wonder how much longer bounty hunting and tinkering with guns would keep you busy.”

“Oh.” Jayce swallows thickly. “I-I’m still… very much focused on my job. This is, really, it’s nothing… serious,” he lies.

Because it is, now.

Has been for longer than he’d like to admit. He’s been hung up and restless and devoted, even while he was still waiting for you to return to Piltover for your tent.

(And for him, god, hopefully for him too.)

He’d ridden up to that spot under that weeping willow, and spent the afternoon waiting and wondering and ignoring the leaden feeling in his stomach that maybe you wouldn't show. What’s an outlaw’s promise worth, after all?

But you had.

He’d spotted you, possibly before you’d even spotted him from under the drooping branches. Your hand had clutched tight at the strap of your rifle, ready to unshoulder it, while you’d been cautiously approaching the riverside.

It was only then he’d realized how much of your previously held power you’d relinquished simply by returning.

There were ways he could have used this against you — ways he could’ve set up an ambush. A few of Marcus’ men tucked under the ridge you’d pushed him off of, another one perched up on a tree in the not so distant forest with a scoping rifle, and you’d have been done for.

And Jayce had wondered how naïve, how trusting and gullible and utterly unaware he had to be, to not have had that thought cross his mind even once until now.

But that lasted just until you spotted him, and your hand had fallen loosely from the strap of your rifle to your hip.

You’d still approached slowly, not skittish in any way, but merely cautious. You’d tried to be subtle when you had briefly glanced towardthe riverbank (in the search of footprints that didn’t belong to him, Jayce could only assume), then met his gaze with sinking shoulders and an unclenching jaw.

He’d not been sure if he should’ve felt insulted that you’d thought he’d have used this opportunity to catch you, or flattered at the fact that you’d still taken a chance on him and returned anyway.

There wasn’t much to see much of your face, not until you’d raised your chin and met his gaze, one brow quirked expectantly, an amused little smile growing ever wider as you’d watched and waited. Waited for him, he’d realized, nearly choking on his spit. All the words inside his head had seemed to form a sticky, stupid mass he hadn’t been able pluck anything coherent out of.

“I, uh, hello.” Jayce had swallowed thickly, awkwardly, before he realized he’d curled in on himself, and rushed to straighten out his posture. If your growing smile had been anything to go by, you’d noticed. But you had the decency to not point it out — or maybe you were saving it for later.

“Howdy.” You’d cleared your throat, and though the way you’d set your hand on your hip could have seemed relaxed, practiced, Jayce could tell you were practically gripping it with how the leather of your black glove creased deep with the pressure. Your posture had seemed unusually… stiff.

“I, uh…brought your tent.” Jayce had gestured to the gear tucked under his arm, before mentally cursing himself for being such a conversationalist.

“Thank you kindly,” you’d replied, significantly less suave than you’d been the last night he’d seen you, yet significantly suaver than anything he could ever muster up. Reluctantly, you’d shifted your weight off one foot onto the other before you’d looked at him with a small, but still oh-so-winning smile and told him: “I’ve brought you something, too.”

Jayce had found the amorphous mass of words to have tangled and turned even stickier, just like his throat, tight with surprise, anticipation and anxiety.

You’d brought him something?

You’d thought of him, in the weeks you’d spent apart, you’d picked something out for him, you’d–

You’d likely done this just to get him into your bed. Well, sleeping bag, probably, but there had been no other plausible explanation, had there? You’d never seemed the kind of person to pay mind to such… sentimental matters, unless there was something to gain.

If Caitlyn would’ve been there with him, she would’ve told him to give you your gear and leave. And perhaps he should’ve brought her, to keep him from doing something as stupid as accepting a gift from an outlaw, but he hadn’t.

“Here,” you’d encouraged, stepping closer and holding it out to him. “I hope it suits you just as much as I thought it would.”

And how could he have said no to that?

Jayce’s hands had almost been shaking when he’d taken it from you, driven only by willful ignorance and curiosity as he slowly cupped his hands around the fabric you’d dropped in them, swallowing though his mouth had gone dry the moment the weight pressed against his palms.

He’d risked a glance back at you and had found not malicious expectancy, didn’t find you looking at him like he was prey about to fall into your trap, but with genuine excitement.

So Jayce had pushed the foreboding feelings to the back of his head and then pushed the fabric in his hands apart with his thumbs to peek at what was wrapped within.

A pendant. Dark golden gemstone, no bigger than the tip of his index, wrapped in delicate wire to hang onto a leather cord just long enough to reach around his neck.

“The woman that sold me this,” you’d told him, “didn’t speak a word of English. But I saw this pretty little thing with the rest of her wares, I knew I had to have it. All golden and pretty, it looked just like your eyes shining by the campfire that last night I saw you. And when I pointed at it and asked what it was, do you know what she told me?”

Jayce had taken it from the fabric to inspect it in a shaky hand, half-confident in what he could still remember from all the books on gemstones he’d consumed in his youth.

And it had looked… like citrine, most likely. It was common enough to be readily available and not cost too much, and he knew for a fact it couldn’t be amber after he pressed his fingernail against it and found it to be rigid.

Jayce’s heart plunged all the way into his stomach then bounced back up into his throat with excitement when he realized — could this be Topaz?

No. Considering its price range, absolutely not. It was not cheap or even readily available gemstone, especially not in a shade this dark. It had to be citrine. Most definitely.

“Topacio,” you’d answered, like you’d followed every step of his thought process and were eager to turn it all belly-up with just one word.

“I, wh— Topaz?” Jayce had blurted, feeling very much like you’d cracked his skull open and peeked at his thoughts. The prospect of having been gifted something so rare and expensive — it… well, he had liked to consider himself a man above materialism, to believe himself not so easily swayed by an expensive little gift, because it wasn’t like he lacked the money to buy himself pretty gemstones, it was just…

Different when you did it.

“What do you think?”

He hadn’t dared saying it, but he’d remembered that first night at the saloon, when you’d set your eyes on him and figured out everything he needed and wanted to hear with just one glance.

Didn’t dare telling you it had felt like you’d been there, when his mother had put her knobby, laundry-soap-cracked hands over his and thunked the heavy mineralogy book shut and told him that there were other things, more important things, that needed his focus. That this useless passion was not something he could indulge in right now, with his father gone so soon. Not with so many new responsibilities waiting to lay heavy on the shoulders of the new man of the house.

He hadn’t let go right away. Had still fallen asleep on his books after a day spent shoveling shit and herding cattle and unearthing vegetables and shooting practice. But it had become increasingly obvious over the years that all his gemstones and books best belonged under his bed in his childhood home.

You’d found and pulled them out — though metaphorically — without the slightest idea they even existed in the first place.

Jayce had been downright terrified of how little you knew about him, and yet how much you’d already seemed to understand.

“I can’t accept this,” he’d said, though he wanted nothing more than to stroke his thumb over the uneven ridges of the gemstone in his hand over and over until they were etched into his fingertips. “I— this must’ve cost quite a pretty penny.”

You’d winked.

“Not nearly as pretty as you.” Hadn’t given him the chance to insist before you changed the subject. “‘S your stallion’s name, too, ain’t it?”

And Jayce hadn’t quite fathomed that such a detail mattered to you enough to not only recall, but bring up.

“Yes,” Jayce had confirmed, overwhelmed with a passion he’d long buried and forgotten because it just wasn’t something he could afford to indulge in, now reawakened by you. “I didn’t… Didn’t think you’d remember. It’s been a few weeks.”

You’d offered up a smile unlike your usual ones. It was warmer, more genuine, but didn’t lack an ounce of your usual smugness.

“I did say I would be missing you fondly, didn’t I?”

You say it like it’s plain and simple. Like Jayce could’ve easily anticipated you buying this for him, regardless of the price — because topaz is by miles pricier than citrine — all because it had reminded you of his eyes.

Over the past weeks, he’d held and stared at and touched each and every curved letter in the note you’d left him, like it meant touching you, seeing you. But he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t crossed his mind that you might’ve lied when you said you would be missing him just to get another fuck out of him when you’d be returning.

(He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about letting you.)

“I just–” You’d shrugged, suddenly stumbling in the sweet talk that used to come so enviously easily to you. Not that it had been obvious. It never was, not when it came to you; he’d suspected you’d long outgrown anything more insecure than faltering in your words. “I knew it had to be yours. Do you like it?”

To have you looking for reassurance had made his face run hot and his chest run hotter. His throat had started to close and — oh, those were tears clouding his vision, of course they were. He’d rushed to push them down with a thorough exhale, but of course his throat had started whistling with its growing tightness. Perfect.

“Yes,” Jayce had spoken through the tears he hadn’t yet managed to swallow wholly. “Yes. Will— help me put it on?”

“Of course.”

You’d rushed to, literally. Had closed what little space there was between the two of you in the blink of an eye, hands coming up to tie both strings behind his neck, forearms resting against his shoulders in something that desperately wanted to be a hug, but didn’t dare to.

And you’d been quick to finish, too. Nimble hands had tied a sturdy knot before you’d retreated, hands lingering on his shoulders, running down his arms, barely ghosting over his palms before you stepped back.

The gemstone had laid heavy and cold against his collarbone, like a promise.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Jayce had said. “It’s— it’s wonderful.”

Possibly the most wonderful gift he’d ever gotten.

And how much sadder that thought would’ve sounded had it left the confines of his brain. The most meaningful gift he’d ever received — coming from an outlaw who’d fucked and tricked him not once but twice. Laughable, pathetic, but most of all simply sad.

He’d spent the rest of the night worrying when you’d demand something in return for your gift, because he’d been well aware keeping and returning a tent could not compare to a gemstone so pricey.

But you hadn’t. You’d left it at that. Had spent the rest of the night simply talking to him, telling him of little things that had happened to you in your weeks away, and he’d clung onto every word, had offered some of his own, which had been revered equally.

That was that. You hadn’t kissed him, hadn’t touched more than what you had when you’d put the necklace on him. Once dawn had broken through the clouds and he’d caught himself yawning through his sentences, you’d dragged yourself up to your feet. And you’d told him that you’d best get going, you had places to be by next week, places he hadn’t dared asking about. If this was going to be the last time he’d see you, Jayce had figured you might as well linger in his memory fondly, and that he’d rather not worry about who you’d rob and where you’d strike next.

This — you bathed in the early morning light — would have been a much nicer way to remember you. The outlaw who fucked him once, fooled him twice, and treated him fairly, gently at the very end in spite of it all.

But you’d said, right after you’d swung your leg over your stallion’s back and Jayce had started staring at the tips of his boots to hide budding tears, that you would be passing through Piltover again in a few weeks' time. Had told him you’d be here, shall he want to see you.

And then you’d left.

He’d spent the whole night and the following week holding back tears whenever he’d remembered the pendant – which had been often, given how unfamiliar it felt, hanging above his collarbone, steadily soaking up his body’s ecstatic heat. A new part of him now, a constant reminder of you.

And that you’d be coming back.

By the third time you’d stopped by to see him – and Jayce had started suspecting you were taking unnecessary detours specifically to pass through Piltover – you’d started sending letters. Small things – just a few affectionate words, pressed leaves or petals (or sea glass, when you’d spent some weeks in Bilgewater). But you hadn’t kissed him for months on end. Not once in all the times you’d come to visit him.

He’d had to ask for it.

Even though your nose had been nudging his after he’d leaned in with laughter from a particularly corny joke of yours, Jayce had to close his eyes to gather his courage and swallow his beating heart before he could get out the words, just a mere whisper: “Please kiss me.”

They’d weighed so heavy for a moment; he’d wondered why he’d had to ask in the first place, when you’d been so brazen when you first met him. Did you not want to anymore, or had you just been waiting for him to ask?

You’d confirmed the latter when you’d dived into it like you’d restrained yourself for months. You’d licked into his mouth, starved, had sucked on his lips and charted out the taste and texture of his tongue like it was something to be savored. Like you’d been aching to rediscover it – rediscover him, but do it properly this time.

Which you had.

One thing had lead to another, touches had lingered, kisses had dipped lower, teeth had scraped sensitive skin, lips had followed suit to soothe. And your lips always soothed, always known where to latch on and how to coax him right where you wanted him – panting and spent and boneless and wrung absolutely dry–

Jayce startles when Cassandra clears her throat and leans in her seat with a knowing smile.

“Well, if it does get… serious, I simply hope that special someone won’t distract you from your duties – you’re still in your prime, you know. Retiring now would be a shame.” She smiles over the rim of her wine glass.

Jayce can only nod, although the seed has been planted.

“It would be,” he agrees, but the thought of settling down with you lingers in his mind from then on, and grows stronger every time he wakes up next to you, knowing you will have to bid your goodbyes come noon.

It’s during one of those late mornings after a long night spent with you that it dawns on him. He wants to taste your kiss – still bitter from sleep and coffee – every single morning for the rest of his life. He wants to hold you every night before he drifts off to sleep, wants to cook every meal with two people in mind, and wants your scents to mingle until they become indistinguishable, present in every room of the house, unidentifiable to either of you.

He wants to spend his life with you.

And he’s downright terrified of asking for that.

–

“This better be worth it, darlin’.”

“Have I ever let you down before?” He says it in a light tone, like he knows the answer to it without needing to hear it, and yet he finds his own shoulders slouching and gaze dropping to the tips of his boots and the tree roots below them.

It’s a question he’d rather not know the genuine answer to. It worries him more than he’d like to admit that one day, without warning, you will stop returning to Piltover. Stop replying to his letters. That he won’t even know where to send them, because you never stay in one place for too long, and you always have to tell him which post office to send them to before you go, or in a letter you send his way first.

He shouldn’t be having those thoughts, not when you’ve been accommodating him these past months, with the number of your visits steadily increasing, and your letters becoming more frequent. There is nothing to worry about, there should be nothing to worry about, especially not right now.

He chooses to draw in a steadying breath and chase those thoughts from his mind, which is made easy when you catch up to him and brush your gloved hand against his.

“Never,” you reply. He wants to believe that.

“Besides,” Jayce changes the subject, “if you could endure the ride from Bandle City all the way back here, you can endure a short hike, can’t you?”

“How short are we talkin’?” you ask. Your pinky threads around his index, and when you lean in, your voice is warm, leaves him shivering with the first brush of your cheek against his own. Your breath is humid and warm at his earlobe and your voice reverberates in the nerves of his spine, leaving his brain a pliant mush. “Because I’ve got something of my own planned for you, too.”

You’re sporting a grin that’s practically dripping with desire to consume when you pull away; reminiscent, although only briefly, of the first night you’d spent together all those months ago. He knows you’re not that same person anymore – not towards him, at least. He doesn’t know how you make a living outside of Piltover these days, and frankly he’d rather not think about it.

It shouldn’t matter. You’re— you’re not harming him, or the Kirammans, or anyone else in Piltover, for that matter, and that’s as far as his duty extends anyway. It should be easy to ignore that part of you when you’re here, with him. What you do and who you are outside of your relationship should be packed into a box and shoved away like his embarrassing rock collection from when he was fourteen. Out of sight, out of mind.

Except for when he’s listening to the sounds of the night and staring at the high ceiling of his room in the Kiramman estate or at the inside of his tent and wondering whose blood you might have on your hands at that moment. When he kisses and sucks on the fingers of those same hands, when he shivers at their touch, Jayce wonders how much of that blood has rubbed off on him.

And yet all that blood becomes trivial when your hand, metaphorically bloodied as it is, squeezes his own, and he finds himself quite content with the warmth.

“Oh, ain’t this the place that pretty little Pilt offshoot flows through?” You ask, focused little frown on your face. Once Jayce manages to stop listening to his beating heart (and self-doubt), he realizes you must have picked up on the faint sound of the river nearby.

“It is,” and it hits him now that there’s a good chance his surprise might fall flat if— “you’ve been here before?”

You shake your head. Thank god.

“Much further upstream,” you clarify, “though it’s perfect. We’ll need to take a quick dip tonight.”

“We will?” Jayce questions, head tilting with confusion. Oh, god, he doesn’t— sure, he’s been working up a slight sweat riding out and about through the morning and noon heat, sure, but he bathed just last night, it can’t be that bad.

“To properly enjoy my present for you, we’ll probably have to, yes.”

Oh.

Which opens up about another ten questions and piques his curiosity with a confusing mix of anxiety and anticipation. Your expression is as impenetrably smug as always; a practiced poker face he’s more than envious of. Jayce settles for finding out the answers later, and gives your hand a squeeze instead.

You reply with a squeeze of your own, walking with him in silence until you stop in your tracks, eyes wide, and he realizes that his plan for this rendezvous did not fail him.

You’re bolting like a freshly shot bullet, hand gripping his wrist tight as you drag him with you until he regains his footing and keeps pace.

You don’t stop until you make it to the edge of the forest, field of bluebells is laid out in front of you, as far as the eye can see, blue as the late afternoon sky, dense enough to blur the line of the horizon and make it seem like there is no limit between the very ground you’re standing on and the vastness above. Just as he remembers.

Now, for the second doubt he’d had about tonight — will it disappoint?

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” You ask, and for a moment he tries to sniff out any kind of concealed let-down between your words, although he knows he’s vastly untrained for that.

“Yeah,” he says, cautious. Careful. Resists the urge to ask if you like it here, or if you think it’s boring. In retrospect, he should’ve come up with something better. Maybe he should’ve brought his six-string to play you a song, or his gramophone to teach you another high society dance for you to make fun of, maybe he should’ve just bit the bullet and rented a boat for a ride down Pilt.

In retrospect, the idea of taking you — seasoned outlaw, well-traveled saddle tramp — on a picnic to a flower field is just bound to fall flat.

You notice. Jayce is not one for monosyllabic replies unless he’s anxious.

“It’s gorgeous, sweetheart,” you assure, because you know he has an affinity for that word by now.

Oh. Maybe he’d been too quick to jump to conclusions.

The tension fades from his shoulders, and Jayce gently twists his wrist out of your grip, until his hand slides into yours and you intertwine your fingers. You crouch down to pick one of the blue flowers at your feet, inspecting it for a moment, before your face turns smug. Not the teasing kind; rather the kind that seeks to diffuse and reassure through humor. “Aw, did you bring me here to make me flip bluebells with you?”

“I— uh… no.” Jayce frowns, though his curiosity is piqued. “Why would we do that?”

“Oh, come on, there ain’t no way you didn’t do that with other kids way back when you was little.”

Jayce resists the urge to tell you that there were not a lot of friends to speak of, in his childhood (or even now, really. It’s not like that department has seen a vast improvement once he’s hit adulthood, all things considered). An unfortunate combination between the remoteness of his childhood home and the simple fact that he’d just been awkward as hell.

Still is, Jayce realizes when you stare at him expectantly, a little confused with his prolonged silence.

“Uh, show me,” he says instead.

“Well,” you begin, plucking a bluebell off the stem of the flower, “it’s simple. Not so different from loves me, loves me not, really. You just flip a bluebell inside out, like so. If it don’t rip, it’s supposed to mean you’ll, uh, what was it? Win the one you love over, I believe.”

Jayce huffs as he glances down at the flipped flower in your hands, which you proudly present a moment later.

He can’t hold back a smile before he looks back up to you, and recognizes the hunger you’re watching him with instantly. Ravenous, just waiting for approval. An approval he’s itching to give. “I’d say that’s gone pretty well.”

You slide your index under his chin as you lean in, and tuck what remains of the flower behind his ear with the other. Your lips brush his own with your words, dripping down his spine and clinging at his lower belly sweet and warm like molten honey.

“I’d say so, too.”

—

“Lower your head for me.”

Jayce eagerly complies, closes his eyes while you wrap the string of braided flowers around the crown of his head, and find that it’s still too short.

“One more should do it,” you mumble. “Maybe two.”

“Take your time, we’ve got plenty of it.” And maybe that’s only half the truth; the other being the fact that there is something he just loves about watching you work — intense, focused, silent. To emphasize his point, he leans back on his elbows, briefly regretful about all the flowers he’s crushed under his forearms. When you don’t offer up a reply, he glances back to you, questioning. “Don’t we?”

There’s been times when you’d promised you’d stay, only to leave after one night or less. And it’s been months since that’s last happened, sure, but he can’t help the uncertainty.

“We do. But you’d wish I wouldn’t take my time if you knew what I had in store for you.” You glance up at him from under the rim of your hat, wink at him so briefly he wonders if he’s imagined it, before you switch your focus back to your work in progress.

Tease.

Curious, Jayce turns to flop on his stomach to be granted a better glimpse of your expression, but finds it as mischievously indecipherable as ever. So he does what he’s realized he does best: glances up at you with a convincing little smile and makes sure to bat his lashes the way you like.

“Can I at least get a little hint?”

Your mean smile answers before you do.

“Nah. Patience, sweetheart,” you coo, in all your teasing hypocrisy. Your hand finds the back of his head a moment later, scratches gently at his nape before easing his head to rest on your thigh. And Jayce can’t find it in him to refute, not when he gets to rub his clean shaven cheek against the coarse material of your jeans and bask in your scent like a cat in the afternoon sun. He’s quite content to simply watch your hands work away and your frown return when the flowers don’t cooperate with what you have in mind.

Your handiwork is sloppy, stems braided together messily, but when you flip the chain right side up, there’s just the smallest hint at the mess below. The twined, tangled stems hide well enough behind the blue flowers. Not that it matters — he’d wear it even if it were horrendously ugly, just because you’d made it. Because you’d told him less than ten minutes ago that there was something about his skin and his eyes that simply harmonized with the vivid blue you’d tucked behind his ear, and you’d asked him if he knew how to make a flower crown, and if he could show you.

Jayce knows that sort of… tenderness doesn’t come easily to you. So he treasures it when it does come his way — even like this, in crumbs. He clings to them, because without those, he has nothing of substance.

You’re yet to say those three words he’s all too eager to blurt with every opportunity and has to bite down on before they leave his mouth. He’s said them before, three times. Right after you’d made him cum for the first time since… well, since things had become serious. Another time, in a letter. And a third, with his head on your lap while you’d hummed songs from your home region to him.

You’d never said it back. Had always rushed to distract him with a kiss or saccharine words, neither as sweet as reciprocation, and he’d made do with just that at the time.

When you flip the crown to check the other side, one of the blooms drops to your lap, so close to Jayce’s face he sees it doubled. He carefully plucks it off your jeans with two fingers, gives his gentlest attempt at flipping over.

And tries to ignore how it rips.

Swallowing an unwanted and unwarranted knot in his throat, he flicks it into the grass.

Whatever. Whatever.

“This should do.” Jayce turns to look your way instead of depressively where the ripped bloom disappeared in a sea of blue and green. “Sit up?”

Frankly, he’d rather keep seeking comfort in the warmth positively radiating off of you, but above all that, Jayce wants to please. So he raises his head up off your lap, but doesn’t turn over to sit, just leans on his elbows, pressing his hips into the ground to raise his head to a comfortable height for you.

You’re quick to tie the flower crown around his head securely. Before Jayce gets to ask how it looks, he finds two hands cupping his face on either side, raising it until your lips brush his.

He hums with delight at the taste of your tongue, but doesn’t get the chance to revel in how you suckle at his bottom lip, because you move on dizzyingly fast. To the corner of lips, to the apple of his cheek, to his closed eyelids, and finally, to the spot between his brows.

“Gorgeous,” you whisper, and he finds himself pressing his face into your hands, into your lips, desperate for more. More warmth, more praise, more love. The next of your words are squished against his forehead, but not lost on him regardless. “My pretty flower princess.”

Choking on his own heart and surprise, he pulls back just enough to glance up at you. The word’s still ringing in his head, new and strange, and before he knows it, he’s blurting it out as if to taste it.

“Princess?” Jayce’s voice pitches up embarrassingly high with uncertainty at the end of his question. There’s the impulse to hide his blush beneath your palms, still cradling his cheeks, but judging by how your thumb rubs at them suddenly, you’ve picked up on the heat already.

“Yeah.” You laugh is the kind that diffuses and soothes, and when you ask, you do so genuinely: “Too much?”

And Jayce finds he feels the opposite.

“I wouldn’t… mind hearing it again.”

Your expression goes from uncertain to devious stomach-flippingly fast. “You will,” you promise, sealing it with one final kiss that lingers and nibbles at his bottom lip. Not enough to leave him dazed, more than enough to leave him wanting. “I believe my surprise might help with that.”

Your surprise. He’d pushed that notion to the back of his head to avoid dying of curiosity, but it becomes irresistible when you dangle it in front of him like that.

“How?”

The look you shoot him tells him he’ll have to bite through a lot more impatience before he gets the sweet relief of knowledge.

At this rate, he’s going to explode. God, he’s going to explode.

“We should bathe first,” you decide, hands running down his face, his neck, stopping at his shoulders, where they give a pat-and-squeeze at his deltoid. Though Jayce still burns with curiosity, there’s no part of him that minds stepping into a cold river with you and being forced to rub against you for warmth while you wash his back. “Did you bring your city boy soap, or are we using mine today?”

Jayce frowns. “What’s wrong with my lavender soap?”

“Nothing wrong with it, city boy.”

—

He hasn’t got the slightest clue how, but Jayce’s skin is set on fire with anticipation in spite of being dripping goddamn wet while he watches you sort through your satchel.

How you can make even that painfully erotic (though, you are naked and sopping wet yourself, so there’s a definitive advantage) is beyond him, but he’s not about to complain if he gets to watch your hardened nipples and perfect ass and what’s left of the water you’d left minutes ago still dripping down between your muscles. He’s holding his hat atop his slowly hardening cock — which might’ve gone harder even sooner, if it hadn’t been for the positively freezing river and the chilly summer night wind.

Waiting, he shifts his weight from one foot on the other, making an awkward step to the side when his balls stick to the inside of his left thigh. Which is the wrong move, apparently, because next thing he knows there’s the edge of a rock under his foot, making his entire frame wobble with it. He winces, barely remembering to not drop the hat, then looks your way to check if you’ve noticed – and you have. You look at him briefly, questioningly, but he waves you off, so you continue pawing through your bag, and he goes back to waiting dutifully.

“Come here.” Your voice is overflowing with barely masked excitement as you’re slowly pulling something out of your bag. Jayce nearly makes a run for it.

Whatever surprise you’ve brought him will not disappoint — not only because he will love almost anything you’d give him, but because you have him figured out more thoroughly than he has himself figured out. He trusts your choice, whatever it is.

Even if it’s…

“Leather… straps?”

You nod, glance up at him through your wet lashes, before you take them — four leather hoops bound together by one triangular piece, adorned with some kind of… ring.

Jayce feels stupid for briefly assuming it might be some sort of strange belt.

“Not just any kind of straps,” you say, spreading the hoops with your hands. Almost giddy with excitement, you demonstratively hold his… gift over your hips. Visual aid aside, he still cannot, for the life of him, figure out what it’s supposed to be.

“These,” you say, pointing at the first set of leather straps, “would go over here,” your index traces above the notch of your pelvic bone. “And these, down here,” you point at the second set, then around your thighs, under the swell of your ass.

And Jayce still has no idea what the hell that’s supposed to do. But his cock twitches with interest, so he can’t help but feel like he’ll definitely be into whatever that is.

“And, uh, what…” He clears his throat, desperately trying to understand what this sort of…harness is supposed to even do. The center piece seems like it would settle right above his cock, which, frankly, seems uncomfortable.

Maybe that’s the point?

Or maybe he’s just being a sad, horny pervert because this is the first time you’ve come to see him this month, and just minutes ago, your naked bodies were smushed against each other while he tried to not be desperate and focus on lathering himself in soap, had tried to focus on not grinding himself off on your thigh like a stupid mutt when your fingers had dipped between his asscheeks and rubbed at his hole—

Holy shit.

As if you’d figured out that the cogs in his head had finally, finally turned enough to generate one coherent thought, you grin up at him, set the leather straps down, before you pick up a piece of linen that is obviously wrapped around… something.

“They hold this in place.” You’re eager when you unwrap it, stepping closer to sate his curiosity as he leans in to peek at what’s in your hands.

Wood, most certainly, but it’s shaped… like a cock. Has roughly the size of it, too, while it seems to be smooth and lacquered, flaring at the base.

A glance back to the harness — to the circle on the main piece, to the smaller, daintier straps he realizes are obviously meant to secure the circle into place, it… it has to be—

“Go ahead,” you encourage, holding out the leather for him to take.

So he does, gingerly lifts it from your hands, and finds that the leather is soft, malleable, but undoubtedly sturdy — of very good quality. The smaller loops that hold the circle flush to the triangular plate of leather come undone with a little bit of fidgeting, and Jayce looks to the cock one last time, to confirm his burning suspicion (and hopes). The ring was definitely made to hold the cock in place. But what for? He has— it’s not like he has any need to wear this. Sure, he knows his size is not the most impressive there is, but, surely, this isn’t… it has to be… for you.

“Will you… be the one wearing this?”

You nod.

“Unless there’s anyone else you’d like to fuck you full of wooden dick, yes.”

Jayce is not proud of how he chokes on his spit.

Or of how you have to pat the space between his shoulder blades while he tries to calm himself down and straighten himself back up, before he realizes it’s quite difficult to hold your gaze now.

“How did you know?”

Your smile grows wide now, cracks into a self-satisfied little grin. Damn you. Goddamn you; you have him figured out down to his barest, most depraved thoughts. Have had him figured out since you’d first set eyes on him, in that saloon.

“When… I was touching you one night a few weeks ago, you said you would like it if I… were the one who fucked you. You told me you wanted me to take you. Do you remember?”

There’s nobody on this big, green earth who gets him the way you do. Jayce wonders if he’s dreaming, because there’s no—

There’s no way a thing like this even exists. This has to be some conjuring up of his imagination, a product of his naked, shameful, deluded desire. There just isn’t any way that someone not only made a cock you could fuck him with, but that you’d found and bought it.

You grab his shaky hand, bring it up next to the one that’s still clutching the linen around the wooden cock. “This — along with that harness I just showed you — would let me do that. If you still wanted me to.”

If he still wanted to? Like he hadn’t fantasized about… your fingers massaging at his insides, about you doing to him what only he can do to you, like he hadn’t spent months suppressing those thoughts and only had one slip through, once. Like he hadn’t rushed to sweep it under a rug of shame, even then, when you’d looked at him with invigorated interest. And yet you’d caught onto it, you’d found and bought this thing which he had never fathomed could even exist. And you’re asking him if he wants to, like the answer isn’t fucking obvious.

“Would you?” You ask again, in a rare moment of uncertainty caused by his prolonged, panicked, delighted, disbelieving silence. “Want me to? We don’t have to, Jayce, if it’s not—”

“I would— yes.” He realizes he sounds uncertain. Which he’s— he’s not. He wants this, god, he still has to wrap his head around the fact that it’s even possible. But there is not a chance he’s turning down you fucking him. “I would love… for you to be inside me. I’ve wanted you to for… so long, now.” He says, glancing down at the wooden cock with reluctant eyes.

He lifts his hand, but he lacks the courage to just… reach out and take it. So his hand awkwardly hovers between your chests, fingers clenching and unclenching like he’s preparing himself to touch the hot end of a branding iron and not a piece of wood.

“Go on,” you encourage, and he realizes there is no challenge to brave through. But there are discoveries to be made, and he does not shy away from those.

Slowly, he wraps his hand around the linen, fingers dipping the give of it until they prod at the hardness of the wood.

It’s not heavy. And when he strokes his thumb over the lacquered part that peeks out from the fabric, he realizes it’s smooth to the touch in a silky way, that it doesn't catch on his skin. Like it was made to feel pleasant — which it is.

“It’s just— god. How did you even— where did you find— how—“

You laugh, but it’s not mocking. It’s delighted, the sweet and light kind of giggle that used to be rare from you, but which has grown so abundant over these past few months that it makes his heart full.

“I’m glad you like it.” You say, lean in to kiss his cheek, and along with his brain, his heart seems to burst, too. “It was a bit of a hassle to find a well-made one. I wanted something proper. Well-sanded wood, quality lacquer, comfortable leather. I did have to do some shopping around, but…” You shrug like you’re stating a simple truth. “Only the best for you.”

How is he supposed to not swoon at that? How is he supposed to not sit in a puddle of his own overjoyed tears while he sobs about how much he loves you?

“Here,” you thankfully interrupt his thoughts — and his oncoming tears.

Jayce gulps when you slide the wood out of the linen, realizing that it’s— well, it’s not necessarily an intimidating size in and of itself, but… it is intimidating for a first attempt.

You must’ve caught on, because your hand is at the hollow of his cheek, stroking slowly, gently.

“I remember you told me you hadn’t done this before,” you don’t say it like it’s a fact or an observation, but rather, reassurance. “Way back then, when you’d mentioned wanting me to fuck you that night. Have you, since then?”

Jayce shakes his head, shaken with the question. He wonders how you ask it so easily, like he’d let just about anyone touch him the way you do.

“You know there’s no one else I’d—“

“I know,” you interrupt. “I meant, by yourself. Have you… fingered yourself, since then?”

Ah. Of course that’s what you’d meant.

Jayce swallows thickly. “I wanted to,” he admits. “Often. But I— I always wanted to let you… do it to me, first.”

The way you stop breathing briefly, then rush to fill your lungs with a shaky inhale through your nose tells him all he needs to know.

“I would love to be the first one to do this to you,” you say, and though your words are paced, your voice comes out dry, elated. “Even if it’s just with my fingers. We don’t have to use the cock tonight.”

And he’s not sure what to say, because on one hand, he wants you to fuck him into the dirt right here and now, but on the other, he’d be lying if he said the prospect of it didn’t scare him a bit.

“We should start slow, work you up to it,” you add, seemingly having read his mind, “until you feel ready — be that tonight or in a month.”

“Okay,” he says, sucking in a tense breath. That sounds good. Just a taste for now, more to look forward to later. He’s sold. Has been already, if he’s honest, but your reassurance seals the deal. “Okay. I’d like that.”

“Now?”

“Now. Please.”

You grin, sliding a hand over the back of his head to pull him close, closer than before, to press an ecstatic kiss at the corner of his lips. “God, you’re more excited for this than I’d ever dreamt you’d be. Fucking perfect, that’s what you are.”

Jayce bites back on the urge to say he loves you — he doesn’t want to risk ruining anything with it, not right now. It’d be stupid to spoil this moment, just because he can’t swallow his feelings and because you’re probably going to resort to some method of not reciprocating them the way he wants them to be reciprocated. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

He resorts to letting you settle him down on the bedroll, and briefly prays it won’t rain tonight. Neither of you have bothered setting up a tent.

Your other hand slides up his leg, to the middle of his thigh, where it pushes gently. Though he hasn’t felt this tense since the first time you’d stripped him naked all those months ago, it comes more easily to follow your commands, silent as they are now.

You must’ve figured your words would be much better spent on coos of reassurance or smug purrs; and you’d been right. Right now, though, there is no room for the latter, and you can tell. He knows, which is why he lets his legs fall open for you to crawl between them, even though he’s so nervous he can feel his heart pounding all the way up to the bottom of his Adam’s apple with every anxious beat.

“Easy, princess,” you repeat the nickname half-jokingly; though it does tremendous things for his confidence. And for his dick. “I just wanna make you feel good.”

It’s not that Jayce needs reminding that the person settling between his legs and petting his thighs is the very same one who hugs him in cold rivers and braids him flower crowns. But it still helps.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling the familiar scent of you. Jayce only realizes his legs have fallen open further apart when you give a little laugh. He doesn’t get to bask in it, not when you muffle it against the side of his neck, where his pulse hammers hard, quick, and icy-hot.

You put your weight into seaming your body against his, focusing not on his pulsing half-hard cock tucked between the two of you, but on covering as much of his skin with your own as your anatomy allows. Jayce lets you use your weight to guide him until he’s pressed into the bedroll, delightfully crushed between you and the ground below.

At your mercy is a wonderful place to be.

“That's it, lay all the way back for me,” you breathe into the skin below his jaw. Jayce suppresses a shiver, badly. The hand you dont brace beside his head for support comes brushing at his naked back, like you’re trying to soothe him, while your tongue does the very opposite — drawing circles into his pulse point that shoot down his spine like electricity.

Your hand slips further down his spine to cup at his ass, then under his thigh, the callused skin of your fingers catching against his own, dry with the thoroughness of the soap you’d used. And Jayce realizes there might be a problem. A big one.

“I, uh—“ he swallows nervously, squirms under your weight and hand. “There’s no— don’t you, I mean, shouldn’t we use… oil?”

He can feel your grin at his neck, sharp teeth pricking his pulse point.

“Did you really think I’d flip Runeterra upside down to find a cock to fuck you with but forget to bring oil, Jayce?”

Oh.

Jayce can’t help a smile, winding one thick arm around your shoulders. He doesn’t know why he’s ever doubted you. You, always so thoughtful of his wants, always so thorough when it comes to him, to his pleasure, so gentle and passionate and perfect—

He can’t help it, that you pull away so fast it leaves him dazed and confused and empty, and that his knee jerk reaction is to whine about it. But once Jayce cracks his eyes open and sees you’ve tucked your hand into your satchel with a searching expression, he understands.

You notice, though, how he suffers for the momentary loss.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, even though it’s obvious. And it helps, even though it’s obvious.

You uncork the bottle of oil differently than how you uncork bottles of moonshine. You don’t thumb at the wood til it’s sent flying; you pluck at it carefully, set it somewhere to the side, before you position your hand above his cock and pour.

Whatever oil comes dripping off your palm trickles down onto his dick, and though he twitches for it and for more, you choose not to comment on it. He has to resist grabbing his cock and fucking into his fist just from this – from being ignored. Something, Jayce thinks, is most definitely wrong with him.

You set the bottle somewhere near where you’d put the cork, then slide your dry hand under his knee, easing it up onto your shoulder. Pliant, soft, Jayce simply lets you, his breath catching with excitement.

He’s never felt more spread open and vulnerable than now, and mind you, you’ve spread his legs quite a few times now. He’s felt the cold air, has felt your tongue lapping at his taint, has felt your hands, squeezing at his thighs and forcing them apart after he’d come once already and was writhing with the post orgasm pleasure-pain. But knowing what’s to come now — it’s different, new, has him tensing.

You notice.

“I’m just gonna touch you for now.” Your voice comes out less methodical, more soft when you speak again, breath tickling the curls on his inner thigh. A kind kiss pressed to the meat of it follows your reassurance, reinforces it enough for Jayce to rush to obey your following command. “Relax. You know I’d never hurt you, sweetheart.”

Attempting to sync his breath to your own, Jayce finds himself at a lack of air when your fingers prod at his taint, smearing it with oil. You work off the pleasurable and familiar, circling his perineum in a way that draws out sparks — the kind that burns into an easy, comfortable heat in his stomach. Jayce finds his hips tilting up to meet more of your touch.

“There you are, good boy, so eager for me,” you breathe. Thumb still rubbing circles at his taint, your other slick fingers dip lower, lower, until Jayce chokes on his own breath because he has to focus on not kicking out the leg on your shoulder with surprise.

“Hey, look at me,” you breathe, not a command but a gentle instruction. He does, and you meet his gaze with reverence, the kind that tells him he’s in good hands — in your hands. “Keep looking. I want to see your face, sweetheart, want to hear you when I touch you.”

Jayce nods, hands clutching at the bedroll while your fingers slide back down again. You rub in slow, careful circles at his rim, cooing with delight when he makes a barely-contained little noise. He’s fantasized about your touch… there. Had maybe let one of his hands drift there, sometimes, while he rubbed himself into completion, but he’d lacked the courage to… well, to do what you’re about to do.

“How does it feel?” You ask.

“Mm-hm,” he stammers stupidly. “Yes, good. Mh-more, please.”

The heel of your palm grinds against his taint while your middle and index finger rub at his slick hole, and Jayce’s hips tilt for it. Whatever touching he’d attempted there, he’d done shyly, just barely, hadn’t– hadn’t focused on it like you do now, and it’s different. It’s not the thing he does to himself when he’s teetering over the edge to push himself into completion, not the usual spark of electric warmth up his spine, no, it’s ebbing with tension in his tummy, the unfamiliar but pleasant kind that has him squeezing his eyes shut and muscles clenching. Your expression shifts from focus to interest, and your smile is wicked with your new discovery. “Aw, you like that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he replies, “feels— s-so good when you touch me, baby.”

And to encourage you to do so, Jayce grabs the leg that isn’t on your shoulder and hugs it tight against his chest.

The way your breath catches, your eyes go wide, fixated on him – you look like you’re about to faint. Only for a second, because the next, you’re moaning and biting his thigh hard enough to leave the red imprints of your teeth, all the way back to your molars, like you want to devour him. When you’re pulling away from his saliva-matted fuzzy thighs with a string of spit, you lick your lips hungrily.

“God, you’re so perfect, princess,” you groan, “so delicate and pretty, presenting your hole like you’re begging me to fuckin’… ruin you.”

It makes him shiver, your words reverberate up his spine, in his brain, then shoot all the way down to his cock again. Jayce feels himself dripping, doesn’t even need to look down at himself to feel the tingle of a drop of precum dripping off his cockhead and onto his tummy.

You do, though, mesmerized and utterly fucking ravenous.

“You’ve been aching to hear that, haven’t you?”

Damn you for reading him so well. For knowing exactly what he needs to be told.

“Yes. Please do it, please fuck me… full,” he says, like his body hasn’t been screaming it at you. Almost as if to bask in his words, in how he yearns for you, you stop, breathing him in, before you speak.

“I will, baby, you’re so fucking leaky for it, leaky for me.” Your fingers don't grant reprieve, tips circling at his hole and palm rubbing at his perineum. “I can’t believe this is all it takes. What’ll you do when I finally fuck you open on my fingers, sweetheart? Are you gonna cum then and there?”

As you say it, your index dips just so, tip hooking into his hole to rub at the inside of his rim, massaging him open. He finds his body acting on its own accord, pulsing around what little you’ve fed into him as if to say more, please. You don’t give it to him yet.

Jayce sucks in a shallow breath that comes out shaky, slow.

“I can feel you clenching,” you say, and it’s obvious how your gentleness is slipping, replaced with ecstatic obsession, “like it’s trying to pull my fingers inside, holy fuck. Tell me when I can fill you up—”

“More oil,” Jayce rasps, even though he doesn’t necessarily feel the need for it; just in case. As much as he wants this, he also just wants to avoid any unnecessary pain – at least for now. You comply, gently pulling at his rim with your fingertip, and pour the oil straight into him and—

He finds himself clenching his eyes shut and wincing, trying not to focus on how weird it feels, cold and slippery and just seeping up into what feels like his guts.

Definitely not his favorite part.

Your finger retracts, slick hand resting on his asscheek and squeezing absentmindedly. Worried, almost, you focus on his face, and Jayce swears he can feel himself melting under the attention a little bit. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah. Just felt a little weird — uh, cold. Sorry. You can— you can go ahead.”

He must not have sounded very convincing, because your frown deepens. “We can always stop for a bit — or altogether. Jayce, you know that.”

And he does, by now, truly, but— “That’s the last thing I wanna do right now.”

You go silent for a moment, awe-struck.

Then there’s a near painful stretch at the back of his thighs as you lean over him aggressively, pressing both his knees to his pecs. You brace one hand beside his head on the ground, while the other, now tucked between your bodies, still works his slick rim slowly, gently.

Your lips press at his collarbone feverishly, your breath comes out hot against his neck, like he’s struck something inside of you that made your restraint crack. You inhale at his neck, shivering with a moan that makes him feel much like a delightful meal about to be devoured.

“I want to make you cum until you go dry,” your voice comes out wrecked, breathless, “until there’s nothing you can give me anymore.”

Jayce feels his entire spine rattle with your words. All he manages is a punched out whine, and he wishes he could hug you, if it weren’t for his thighs being in the way. He settles for clenching around your fingertip, tilting his hips into your palm, swallowing a mouthful of saliva before he speaks, heated and raspy.

“Please, please.”

“Tell me,” you say, voice shaky with adoration and excitement, “if it hurts, or you need me to go slower, or— anything. Anything.”

And, well, since you said anything…

“Kiss me.”

It’s near terrifying, how voraciously you dive for it, not quite hitting the mark with your rabid enthusiasm; kissing and licking at the corner of his lips before Jayce turns his head to accommodate you. You take his demand seriously, deliver what you’ve denied so far. And you deliver it tenfold, tongue tracing over his teeth, sucking at his lips, before Jayce remembers he can do more than just breathlessly sit and take what you’re giving and smooths his tongue against yours, earning himself a salacious moan.

“Mmf, you taste so good,” you mumble against his lips, and though he angles his head to chase another kiss, you’re long gone, nipping at his jaw and neck while you talk. “Can’t wait to open you up on both ends, stuff you… stuff you fuckin’ full of everything I can give you. Fingers, tongue, cock, anything, sweetheart, anything you want.”

Jayce briefly wonders what the fuck is wrong with him when he finds himself wanting that — being full of you — along with being suffocated by you. He wants you everywhere; inside, outside, taking, stifling, enveloping, swallowing. You, all of you—

“Need all of it,” he says, because he’s afraid of even trying to verbalize the rest of his blurry, foggy thoughts.

“Yeah?” Your index and middle finger both dip into just his rim — he finds himself clenching around the intrusion, shivering when you scissor them apart and tug him open. “Now?”

He nods. Begs for it, too.

“Okay,” you say, almost as if to calm yourself down, too. You breathe in, deep, before your weight lifts off him, and he finds you sitting back on your knees, both his thighs resting on either of your shoulders loosely, boneless. Jayce tries not to be disappointed with the loss of contact, with how cold and plain the air he breathes in suddenly feels without your scent thickening in every inhale, without you pressed against his body.

The other hand, the one you’d used to brace yourself against the ground before, now grabs a firm handful of his asscheek and spreads.

The way you positively purr with delight has him squirming.

“Oh, look at you, so pink and pretty,” you croon, eyes lidded and fixated on where his rim flutters around your warm fingers. “I’m gonna start pushing in, yeah? If it hurts, tell me.”

You don’t start until Jayce gives an affirmative hum, and even then, it takes him a second to realize that you’ve started pushing in. Your fingers don’t relent in massaging at his walls, and it’s enjoyable enough to be distracting until they must have sunk in down to maybe the first half.

Although you go slow, painstakingly slow, the intrusion is palpable now. Jayce finds himself clenching around it, gripping your slick fingers, while he comes to grips with the new sensation of something inside him. He knows it’s small, realistically, it is just two fingers, after all, but he can’t shake the feeling of it feeling like it’s much deeper, almost touching at the back of his bellybutton, which is– it’s stupid. He’s just being paranoid, he knows he is.

That’s when it pinches, just barely, an amount of pain that Jayce would shrug off, normally, but now it’s… inside him and it’s different and he finds himself wanting to close his legs and tilting his hips away and—

“Hey, hey, breathe.” You inhale audibly, demonstratively, and Jayce instinctively follows you, your pace, slow and deep. That helps; the thoroughness of the inhale, the fact that all he has to do is focus on your lead and let his lungs go full, then empty. The pain subsides, but the unfamiliar sensation of having something inside him doesn’t, and he hates that it overpowers the pleasure he’d so been looking forward to. “Good,” you assure. “Don’t forget to breathe, sweetheart. How does it feel?”

You haven’t pushed in all the way, Jayce can tell, because your palm hasn’t settled against his taint yet. Your fingers don’t move — not into him, not out of him, not apart. You seem content to just wait, and when Jayce opens his eyes to glance your way, he finds you looking at his face already. Focused, but gentle, present, and waiting for an answer.

“Weird. Uuh, not… not the bad kind, but,” he swallows, uncertain, shrugs in the most unsuccessful attempt at nonchalance he’s managed in a long time. “It’s just new.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart.” Soft lips brush at the inside of his thigh with a kiss. “Take your time, ‘n let me know when I can move.”

“Okay.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and you occupy it by petting at his fuzzy stomach with your free hand, nuzzling his thighs with delighted little hums.

He wishes there could be… more of that. More of you, touching him all over, than just inside him.

“I would—“ he swallows, looking away once he realizes he’s already started saying what’s on his mind. But you cock your head attentively, squeeze at the pudge right above his hips as if to say I’m listening. So he continues. “I would like it if you could… hold me.”

You go silent for a beat, gears visibly turning in your head while you chew on the inside of your cheek. It’s obvious when you do figure out how you want to go about it, and he already burns with the anticipation for more contact, more of you.

“We can arrange that. I’m gonna pull out, okay?” Your warning is appreciated, though Jayce is not exactly sure how to prepare for it — when you do it feels weird, and he doesn’t know how to keep himself from squeezing your fingers on their entire way out. It’s a sensation that tingles all the way up his body, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but intense and strange enough to leave him squirmy.

Too caught up in the unfamiliarity of it, Jayce doesn’t even notice you settle down next to him, not until your chest is pressed firmly to his shoulder, and your arm slips under the back of his neck, cradling his head.

Fingernails scratch at his scalp, and Jayce can’t do much but watch through dreamy, lidded eyes as you lean over to kiss his hairline.

He’s never felt safer than now. More cherished than now.

“Better, princess?” Your words come out smushed against his hair. Jayce nods gently, as to not knock his skull against your teeth, and suddenly finds himself smiling so hard it hurts his cheeks a little.

“Yes,” he sighs, tucking his face against your neck. There you are. If he could’ve smelled your warmth and scent throughout all of this, he doubts he would’ve needed a reminder to breathe. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got you.” Your still slick hand trails down between his legs again, doesn’t stop to rub at his half-hard cock (though he kind of wishes you would) and instead, prods at his hole once again, rubbing at the rim. “I’m gonna put them back in, okay?”

“Please.”

It’s different this time. The entry is marginally smoother, and when your finger slips back in, just one, then two, the positioning is… better. Jayce can’t figure out what exactly it is that does it for him this time — your warmth, the kisses you press to the side of his face, the heel of your palm pressing to his taint, or your fingers slowly sinking into him, waiting, before you start to draw them out. But you don’t do it all the way this time, you do it purposefully, searchingly, almost. They curl towards his tummy, fingerpads pressing, rubbing, circling—

“Ah-hnn!”

With the first brush of your fingers at some certain spot he had no idea even existed, sparks erupt, and though Jayce doesn’t know where, they prickle all the way across his entire body, licking with heat at his spine and brainstem and stomach and holy fucking shit, you’re doing it again. And again and again and again and you want him gone, you must want him broken and useless and dead if you keep going. How his body is capable of producing, and of holding so, so much… pleasure is beyond him. Beyond his brain, rendered a mess of goo and broken synapses.

“Gh-god, fuck, ah-mmh,” he mewls, mouth falling open the next second. You don’t miss a beat, you never do, licking at the inside of his open mouth while his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“There it is,” you purr, like you aren’t making his brain melt and disintegrate and break and boil just with— with the steady, unrelenting circling of your fingertips. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” you say, and he believes you. You’ve got him, you always have, always so considerate, everything he’s ever wanted and yearned for in this world is you, and you’re inside him, and it’s too much. “Just let me make you feel good.”

It’s going to break him. He’s sure of it now, the closer you get to rubbing him into completion, and he’s getting closer, closer steadily, he thinks it’ll be the last thing he’ll be feeling. Exploding ecstasy, so vehement that all that’s left of him will be shaky, soulless, brainless, whimpering, useless. He’s terrified and he wants it so, so very badly.

“Don’t— don’t stop,” he sobs, “please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart,” you promise, and you could tell him anything right now in that saccharine tone and he’d believe it, he’d take it as gospel. Jayce realizes what he’s saying only after he’s been repeating it over and over and over for god knows how long and holding onto you while he mutters it like they’re the only two words he knows.

Thank you.

Except that they’re not, there’s two more, but by some miracle he has the presence of mind not to blurt them out now.

“You’re gorgeous, princess,” you whisper, kissing at his forehead, then at his shut eyelids once he can’t be bothered to keep them open anymore. The hand that had been scratching at his scalp comes up to cradle his head, keeps him still enough to kiss further — down the bridge of his nose, over his cupid’s bow, before you smooth your mouth over his and swallow his moans like they’re feeding you. Like you want to keep each and every one of them somewhere inside your lungs to cherish forever.

When you pull back, it’s with a wet, pleasant sound. You lick your lips like you’ve savored each and every one of his mewls, before you lean in close to his ear, and shush him.

The mere sound of it floods him with warmth and goosebumps; you’re shushing him. You hold him like he’s fragile, Jayce clings to you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered — and you are, you are, and he loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

“I— hah, nnnh… I love—“

You lips are back on his in an instant, eating up the only words he wishes you wouldn’t, or at least wishes you could spit them back into his mouth once you’re done chewing on them, wishes you would accept them.

You don’t; but when you pull back and look at him so reverently, Jayce settles for it. It’s enough, it’s entirely enough that you’re doing all this for him, that you’re spoiling him like this, that you’re holding him and kissing him and sucking the tear that pearls down his cheek between your lips. That you’re taking care of him.

It’s enough.

It has to be enough.

“Almost there, sweetheart, ain’t you?”

Jayce nods, wants to tell you so, but finds that he’s entirely incapable of it without moaning like a well-fucked whore.

“I can tell.” Meaningfully, you glance down at his tummy, where he realizes his red, swollen cock has drooled, holy fuck, what looks like an entire puddle of something clearer, runnier than his own cum into the groove of his bellybutton. “Look at you, getting so wet and messy for me.”

Something about the mere fact that his body had reacted like this for you, that you’ve made him leaky, it does something tremendous for his fucked-out brain. It flips a switch that has his dick visibly convulsing, feeling like it’s going to explode with an orgasm that’s built up so high but can’t, won’t tip over in spite of how dangerously it teeters.

The ridge at the underside of his cockhead aches for the slightest touch. Just a brush of something, anything, please, would probably do him in.

But Jayce is nothing, if not obedient, even as his fists clench into the meat of his thighs.

“C-can I— let me touch m-my cock— please. Please.”

You hum, as if deep in thought, though Jayce knows the answer without even looking at you, just based on the mean and playful tone of your sound. You decide, cruelly: “No.”

Jayce gasps for breath, just about ready to debase himself any way you’d want him to, just to reach that unattainable, terrifying high.

“I want you to cum from my fingers inside you, sweetheart.” But you’re gentle. And you love him, you have to, because your tone softens, spoken encouragingly right against his temple, and his skull rattles with your words in spite of their gentleness. “Just a little longer. Try for me, focus on my fingers, focus on how it feels.”

Your hand stops thrusting for a moment, simply rubs at where his prostate swells. “Clench,” you instruct, so he does.

Your grin nips at the corner of his lips while you practically purr at him with delight. “Yeah, that’s exactly it, so warm and soft, pulling me in… you needed this, didn’t you?” Jayce nods, desperately, and thank god, you’re pounding his prostate again, pounding it so hard it fucks all the way up into his emtpy, dumb brain. “Needed to be fucked full. ‘M gonna give you… gonna give you everything you can take, gonna use my fingers and then my cock on you until you shoot nothin’ but blanks for me.”

Jayce’s abdomen goes concave at the very thought of that — of being wrung so dry there’s nothing in him left, of being ruined so thoroughly. Ruined by you.

The pressure behind his cock becomes unbearable; he fears, briefly, that he’s gonna explode with it. But there’s no place for fear when you start fucking him with your fingers in earnest now, pummeling that spot inside with every push, palm settling against his slick taint with wet slaps, over and over and over. All there’s left — all his body can even carry anymore — is pure fucking extasy. The overwhelming kind that renders him so stupid he can’t even moan anymore, simply whining out little ah’s with every hit at his prostate.

It starts at the edges, in spite of what he’s used to. His orgasm was something localized, heat gathered in his tummy, his cock, his balls, but this is something else. It’s not in waves — it’s one big wave, growing, fizzling at his extremities, inching closer and closer to his core, at first just warmth, then heat, then pressure. It overpowers his eardrums with the rush of his own blood, makes the backs of his eyes spot with white even though they’re clenched shut, drowns out the world until there’s nothing left in it but you.

You, kissing him senseless, you, fucking him into oblivion with nothing but your fingers, you, cradling his head. He buries his face against you, doesn’t manage to find a spot that allows it, that isn’t in that awkward, hard place between your collarbone, chest and shoulder, but then your hand is at his face, coaxing him away, and you’re cooing at him.

“No, no, don’t hide from me.” Your breath brushes warm and humid against his cupid’s bow, the tip of your nose grazes his own, your forehead settled against his. “I wanna see you. Let me see you.”

It’s with great difficulty that Jayce manages to open his eyes, and once they’re open that he finds himself gazing deep into your eyes, sharing your mouthful, tasting your breath. You half purr, half gasp with just the sight of him, and it makes his heart full.

“There you are.” Reverent, your palm cups his cheek like you’re holding the only thing that’s ever mattered — him. Tears glisten at your waterline before you swallow them back down, as if the sight of him is too precious to be soiled with their fog. “There you are, oh, gorgeous. Look at me, wanna see you when you cum, Jayce.”

“Y-yes,” he gasps, trying to lick at your lips through his moans, succeeding at just grazing the tip of his tongue over the sharp edge of your upper teeth. Your pace increases, knocks against his prostate with every shove of your wrist. Jayce fights against letting his lashes flutter or his eyes roll back, stares at you with determination while he writhes and mewls and takes everything you’re giving him. “Yes, I— ah, I will, baby, I will, I promise.”

You’ve always loved him, from the moment you’d first set your eyes on him and decided you were going to devour him, you’ve loved him with every letter, loved him with every flower you’d braided into his long forgotten crown, loved him with every push and pull of pleasure you’d spoiled him with. You’re holding and fucking and kissing and cherishing him, you love him, he knows it, in how your lips ghost over his cheeks and in how you whisper lovesick nothings to him, you love him, you love him, you love him.

Just the thought of it, reinforced by the way you hold him, the way you make his body bend to your will like he’s glowing hot glass molding into whatever you want, hot iron being hammered into what you need, he’s always been yours, just waiting to he claimed, remade into what he was meant to be.

He loves you.

The sound he makes is embarrassingly high, feminine almost, though he finds himself quite content with it, rather than ashamed. You kiss the front of his throat like you’re thankful for it.

“I think I’m-mh…”

“I know, baby boy, I know.” And he believes you. How could anyone else know how ruined he is, except for the one person tearing him apart. He feels himself go taut like a bowstring, feels the muscles at the root of his cock flex and twitch until they’re painfully rigid. “Let go.”

So he does.

And it’s like diving underwater. There’s not much he remembers — except for the pleasure that swallows him and seems to chew through him like he’s nothing but meat, that spits him out reborn. He remembers the pressure, blooming behind his eyelids, exploding in the rest of him, remembers the soreness in his throat, but doesn’t remember his sounds, doesn’t remember how he ends up holding onto your arm for dear life, doesn’t remember when hot tears started spilling down his cheeks.

He remembers your chuckle — the first thing he hears once his muscles go limp and useless and his hearing returns. He swallows a mouthful of thick saliva, but breathing doesn’t feel any easier. Jayce wonders if it ever will again, when the reminder of how good it felt to go breathless for you is soaked in his lungs now. Why would he ever want to breathe comfortably anymore, when he could let you wring it out of him instead until he’s left gasping for it?

“Oh, look at you.” Jayce finds that’s the last thing he wants to do, when he could be looking at you instead. He inhales another cold lungful, forcing his eyes open even though they’re heavier than anything he’s had to carry in a long time. “My pretty boy. The prettiest.”

He squeezes your hand, wants to say something, anything, but with his brain drained of thoughts and his vocal chords used and raw like his prostate, there’s little he can say.

“That was so good, Jayce, so very good. I knew you could cum for me, but… this is more than I could have asked for.” Your thumb (of the hand you’d used to support his head) comes to swipe at his chin. “You messy little thing,” you joke, bringing your finger, now slick, up to your lips to suck it clean. “Shot your load all the way up to here. Not to mention you’ve been leaking for me all over yourself, you’re unbelievable.”

So that’s where his brain went.

“Wha… huh, I…I did?”

In disbelief, he looks down at himself, and can’t believe the sight below. Cum streaks his collarbone, his chest, pools of it across his stomach, matted into his dark body hair. The first thing — the only thing — he can do is laugh in disbelief.

“I’ve never… not this much,” he confesses with a raspy voice, “not even in two loads. Jesus. Jesus Christ.”

“Tends to happen with this kind of… stimulation,” you assure, drinking in the sight of him before you continue. “God, you look good enough to eat, all covered in it.” You gently knock your fingers against his prostate, and his entire being both sings and recoils with it, and you’re gigglimg when he writhes and shivers and his cock drools out even more, somehow. It feels good just as much as it feels ruining. Jayce considers asking for more before you say, “I’m gonna take ‘em out, alright?”

He’s not so sure how to feel about the prospect of emptiness, now that he’s realized just how good being full can be. But he doesn’t get to worry about it long. Slow, reverent, you pull out your fingers, ghost them up his perineum, smearing his cum over himself, watching the swirls of your own fingers raptly. “Beautiful. If I could keep you like this forever, all to myself, I would.”

He shivers with your words. “I’d let you.”

“I know,” you purr, licking up his torso, lapping up his cum. He watches you intently, mouth already watering at the prospect of what he already knows you’ll do – either spit his spend into his mouth, or feed it to him with a kiss.

It’s with delight that he accepts the latter as you brace one hand beside his head, licking at the seam of his lips just halfway before he eagerly parts them, and lets you lick into his mouth with a groan. One wobbly, orgasm-numb arm raises to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close like he needs it. And he does, especially now, after the new experience, Jayce finds comfort in the familiar. He lets you massage your tongue against his until he’s somehow even more lightheaded, drunk off the lack of oxygen, and follows your kiss even as you pull back.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper against his mouth, cupping at his cheek to ease him away.

Still, you press one last peck to his lips before you stand, taking a rag with you, trotting down to the riverside. Jayce is content to simply watch you crouch beside the water, smile when he sees you wobbling and wincing when you step on the gravel at the riverside.

And it’s only now that your warmth is gone that Jayce realizes just how cold the night is, now that you’re not whispering to him when he realizes how loud the crickets are. And it’s now that you’re not at his side when he realizes how drained he is, in every sense of the word. It’s the good kind of exhausted, though. The kind that’ll knock him out quick and easy the moment you get back beside him.

He closes his eyes and savors it, boneless and happy. The crickets chirping away, the rush of the river, the gravel under your steps, getting louder, closer.

“This’ll be a little cold,” you warn once you’ve reached his side, kneeling beside him on the bedroll. It doesn’t really help – Jayce still flinches and sucks in a breath with the first contact, feels all the content exhaustion practically jump out of his muscles.

“Aw, sorry, princess.” You grin as you run the rag down his heated, sticky tits, down his tummy. “Let me kiss it better?”

Jayce hums, and, a moment’s consideration later, pushes himself up on his elbows and presents himself in the hopes of egging you on. With a laugh, he wiggles his eyebrows at you. The laugh he earns is priceless. “If you insist.”

You spend minutes like that. Indulging in the cold wetness of his now clean skin, the fluttering of his muscles under your lips. Sucking at licking at his nipples, lavishing his tummy and sensitive hips with attention until you’ve had your fill.

And then you settle beside him, brushing your hand through his damp hair, over the scar at his cheekbone, as if he himself is something utterly delectable to look at, to touch, to love.

“You were wonderful,” you tell him. “I wish you could’ve seen yourself when you came, sweetheart. So bright, I coulda sworn the stars paled for you.”

Jayce doesn’t want to choke on fresh tears. He doesn’t want to be too much, doesn’t want to bury his head in your chest and let you coo at him, doesn’t want to say he loves you. But he aches with it, it’s bubbling out of him.

“Oh, don’t cry, Jayce.”

He sobs, and the only thing he can think of doing is hiding his face against the heat of your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he says. And he is — sorry for the tears he’s wiping on your skin, sorry for the way he’s reacting to your words, sorry for what he’s about to say. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You sweet thing. Don’t be.” Your hand cups at the back of his head, pulls him impossibly closer, while you kiss the top of his head. “There is nothing in this world you oughta be sorry for.”

He wants to believe you’ve read his mind. Wants to believe you know what he means, because you always do, you know him so intimately he sometimes wonder if you don’t crack his skull open to peek inside every so often. And maybe you mean it, maybe you do mean it, that he shouldn’t be sorry he loves you so vehemently when you’re not there yet.

Maybe now you will be.

“I love you,” he mutters, a fourth in all these months he’s been seeing you, but no less truthful than the three previous times. You kiss at the top of his head again, squeeze him tight.

But you’re wordless.

Fuck, you’re wordless, and he’s been too much again, when things had been just right so shortly before.

All in due time, he rationalizes, swallowing his disappointment like bitter medicine. You’ve waited on him, too, in other ways. Waited for him to decide when and if you would ever get to kiss or touch him like this again, waited for him to grow comfortable with you, waited until your touch was associated with comfort just as much as it was with excitement. Maybe it was only fair that he had to do some waiting now, too, Jayce thinks while he lets you lick between his lips and brush his tongue with your own.

He pulls back soon enough, doesn’t quite feel like letting you kiss him after… that.

“Do you, um,” he swallows his disappointment, tries to mimic your characteristic, gentle smoothness. “Do you want me to do something for you, too?”

You shake your head. “Trust me, sweetheart, getting to be the first one to fuck your ass is enough to think about for the rest of my days. I could die happily now, but—“ you glance to where the wooden cock and strap lay, forgotten for tonight, “we have more to look forward to. Don’t we?”

And that’s enough to stifle the pit in his chest, for now. Jayce grins, pulls you into another kiss, one that he eases out of once his breath comes out short, letting his head fall against your chest. You’re right. You do. And you’re not going anywhere.

“How much longer will you be staying?” He asks, trying to make a mental estimate of how much… getting used to this it’d take him until you can actually use the cock you’ve bought.

The way you go tense, not visibly, but palpably, your chest going rigid with a held breath under his cheek—

Oh, no.

Your silence answers for you. He can hear it reverberate in your chest, how you swallow then sigh. He knows what you’re going to say before you even say it — but that doesn’t make it sting any less.

“I’ll have to leave by Wednesday evening. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I am.” You sigh. He thinks you’re going to leave it at that — it’s a silent pact by now, the fact that you don’t talk about your jobs, the fact that he doesn’t talk about his.

It’s obvious that you hesitate, that you dread the silence. You play with his hair nervously now, focused on distracting yourself rather than making it pleasurable for him, unlike the way you usually touch him. Jayce listens to your heartbeat, how it speeds up, before he loses track of it as your voice covers it up so suddenly he almost startles.

“There’s this job — a big one, in Ionia. I have to make it.”

Jayce lifts his head from the safety of your arms, looks to your face, but finds nothing other than the warm underside of your jaw. You’re looking away, he feels your throat bob under his cheekbone when you swallow.

He’s not sure he wants to know, but… you’re letting him in, and that, in and of itself, means more to him than anything else, so he hums, to let you know he’s listening. Even though he wishes he wouldn’t.

You find the resolve to continue.

“If I pull it off right — and I should, because the people I’m working with, they know what they’re doing, I know them, and it’s… it’ll be huge. Jayce, I could live comfortably for months.”

The way you talk about it so longingly, it emboldens him. Stupidly. He’d decided, somewhere in the back of his head, that he wouldn’t bring it up, not tonight. But he can’t, not that he now knows you want it. That you long for the idea of comfort, of not having to spend your days worrying about where you’ll sleep next, what you’ll eat.

Because he can change that for you. He wants to change that for you — and the only missing piece is you.

“I… have a better idea.” His voice is already weak and hushed; the fact that it’s muffled against your skin doesn’t help. Your arms around him slacken just enough so you can pull away, and look at him now, properly.

God, he’s doing this.

Alright. He’s doing this.

“A way you could live comfortably… for years,” Jayce continues. “For as long as you want to.”

First, you laugh in disbelief. A short little snort, like you think he’s made an attempt at a bad joke, but then you glance down at him, intrigued and confused all at once.

“What?”

Oh, god. No backing out now.

As he looks back at you, Jayce wonders, briefly, if what he’s going to ask you has even crossed your mind.

He swallows thickly, can’t stomach to look you in the eye when he blurts out the rest of it. “Before I became a bounty hunter, my parents… we had a cattle farm — a big ranch, it’s not… it’s not too far from here. Just a little further downstream. It’s abandoned now.”

Your brows shoot up, clearly surprised with the implication, before they furrow, confused. You’re either hiding from his implication because it scares you, or because you want to hear him say it. “What about it?”

You want to hear it.

Fine. He can say it.

He’s going to say it. If there’s even a chance at a future with you, even if it involves a gamble (and Jayce has always fucking sucked at poker, if he’s being honest), he’s going all in.

“I’ve been thinking that we could…” Jayce’s voice falters, but he presses on, even though it’s shaking, barely above a whisper. “Over the years I’ve worked for the Kirammans as a bodyguard, and for all the bounties I’ve brought in at the sheriff’s, I’ve saved up… enough to sustain two people for… a decade, probably. Possibly even more, maybe even… the rest of our lives, if I go back to herding cattle, if we… if we grow our own produce. The land there is… very fertile, perfect for it, and it’s desolate, really, we could… if you wanted to…”

You’re silent for a beat. He internally begs for a yes, a nod, even a stinging little ‘I’ll think about it’. Anything but a no.

“What?”

There’s fear, actual, genuine fear that flashes in your eyes before you regain yourself. You’ve even pulled away as he’d been saying it, the hand at the back of his head had fallen to his shoulder, and there’s a slight tremor to it now.

And then you laugh, the meek and nervous kind that he’s only ever really heard from himself, never from you.

“Jayce, I…”

You don’t even look him in the eye.

It’s the desperate thing to do, he knows it is, but he reaches out for your face, slides his index under your chin, as if to beg, please look at me. You grab his wrist before he gets to.

“It’s very remote,” he tries again, like that’s going to change anything, “if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s the last place anyone would expect you to be.”

You shake your head. And he forces your grip, until he does get to touch your face and cup your cheek, but you’re still not looking at him. You’re still not fucking looking at him.

“You’d be… you’d be safe.” His thumb rubs at the dip of your cheekbone as if to remind you, I love you, as if to beg you to give him a chance. Let him make it good for you, please. “I’d make sure of it. You wouldn’t have to run anymore. I could— take care of you. Of us. You could take care of me, we could, we could…”

But it’s all for nothing when you stare off into the distance, cold and wordless and Jayce can feel his windpipe being tied into a deft knot that’s not coming undone anytime soon.

“Please.” He hates how desperate he sounds, how downright fucking pathetic — begging to be loved. Begging you to love him, or to let yourself be loved at the very least. If you won’t give him what he needs, let him at least give you what he’s overflowing with so abundantly.

It feels like fucking forever until you speak again.

“I can’t do that.” Your thumb rubs a circle at his arm, like that’s going to dampen the blow of some of the most hurtful words he’s had to hear. “I’m not made for this kind of life. You know that.”

“I still thought you might try. I thought I was— I thought we were—” He sighs again, but it sounds significantly less like a sigh and more like a whimper as it passes through the knot in his throat and past his quivering vocal chords.

Jayce swallows back tears that still overflow in spite of it all. He looks down as he lets his hand fall from your cheek and instead wipes at the annoying tear that’s rolling down his face.

He understands, then.

You’ve been avoiding his love down for months, and he’d been a fucking idiot to think that would change now. He’d been a fucking idiot to think you would change now, just because he’d let you be the first person to finger him open and just because you’d talked sweet about it.

Had you even meant it?

“Jayce,” you say, in a way that’s both soft — laden with pity, and chastising all at once, like it’s his fault for thinking you’d even want this. “It’s not about trying. You can’t just ask me to leave everything I know behind for, for—“

“For me?”

Jayce freezes with his own question, and realizes that, above all else, he’s scared of your answer.

You don’t deny it. That hurts more than anything you could’ve hurled at him. He’s not enough for you, and you didn’t even need to say it to make it ring in his head loud and clear.

“Jayce, that’s not what this is about…” You try.

Not what this is about his ass. He’s not stupid.

You don’t want him. Not like this. You want him when he’s pliant and stupid and horny, you don’t want him when he’s thinking of more. You don’t want him when he’s in love. You don’t want him when he lays his heart and the rest of what he has at your feet.

“Forget it,” he spits. “It was such a stupid thing to ask. Such a stupid thing to think you’d even want to.”

It aches how it makes him so briefly hopeful, how it’s almost a balm on his pain and still making it hurt tenfold, when your eyes go wide, flashing with the very real fear of losing him.

You do care about him, in some halfhearted way. But just not enough, Jayce realizes. He’d been clinging to just the crumbs of it, the taste of your affection, hoping there’d be more, someday, some way, somehow. But there never was. Never would be.

Are you even capable of something as devoted, as genuine as loving? Were you ever?

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you try to rectify.

He never thought you’d had the audacity to lie to his face again. But you did.

“It’s just that you don’t love me.” He bites back, hoping so very desperately for a rebuttal. A genuine, tear filled but oh, Jayce, I do, I love you, I could just never work up the courage to tell you, but there’s none of that. There’s none of that. Never was. Everything he’s ever thought there was had been in his head. He’d been aching to be loved so bad he’d conjured it up in his imagination. God, he’s pathetic.

“Jayce, I— When have I said I don’t love you?”

“When have you ever said you do?”

And you can’t argue with that. You can’t say it, not even now, when he looks at you for a beat, clinging to some deluded hope.

Of course you don’t.

God, he’s fucking stupid.

Jayce bows his head, standing abruptly. He kicks pebbles into the campfire, doesn’t look at you even when you call out his name. He picks up his clothes, slipping on his pants, not bothering to button his shirt, slapping on his hat.

You call out his name a few times. He doesn’t register it. Doesn’t want to. The same way you don’t want him, not when he asks for more than sex and a few letters every month, not when he asks for more. He struggles to breathe through his tears without wheezing, and he manages, he manages even as he shoves his feet into his boots, he managed like a fucking champ even while he turns to leave.

But when you call him sweetheart, it bounces around in his brain like a punch straight to the eye socket.

Jayce looks to you for a moment, searching, through the warm fog of his tears, for your face, searching for some truth on it.

Had you ever even meant it, calling him that? Had he ever even been something as precious as a sweetheart to you? Or had it just been another way to keep him under your boot, buttered up with just enough affection to keep him eager and dumb? Just another way to get in his pants?

“Sweetheart,” you try again, because of course you’ve realized it’s worked in making him stall, making him falter, worked in getting through to him, “please.”

Fucking liar.

“Don’t call me that.” He wishes there were less hurt and more venom in his voice. But how could there be anything but hurt as he’s trying to hide his hot, bitter tears under the brim of his hat? When the campfire smoke stings in his eyes, his lungs, or is it his chest aching with the realization that all the love he’d basked in had been his depraved delusion and a part of your toying with him concocted into something dizzying enough to make him think he’d been loved.

God, he’s fucking stupid.

The entirety of his body recoils as you approach, like a spooked animal looking for a way out. And he nearly does it, nearly makes a run for the trees, but then your fingers are wrapping around his wrist, holding firm.

How dare you?

“Please, don’t hide from me. Look at me, Jayce, let me see you. Talk to me.”

How fucking dare you use the echo of the words he’d swallowed up like honey mere minutes ago? It’s a potent weapon, because it nearly has him sobbing then and there, to think where you’d had him less than an hour ago, all vulnerable and eager and yours. And now you have the gall to act like you’re in any position to tell him what to do. Like you have the right to touch him.

His wrist seems to burn, just the way it had the morning after he’d rubbed it raw against the rope in the bed you’d shared, where you’d left him robbed of dignity, robbed of affection.

Just like now.

You’d never changed your intentions. You’d just changed your methods.

“Don’t touch me.” And oh, there it is, the venom that’s been boiling surfacing. It feels so satisfying in some wrong, horrid way, amidst all of the pain, to spit it out at you. He rips his hand from your grasp. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

This is the first time it truly gets to you, the realty of the situation. You’d been scared, yes, but now, the corners of your mouth twitch downward, and that squint — he knows that squint. Not on you, but on himself, the attempt to hold back tears.

“You’re being unfair.”

You’ve never sounded this meek.

It doesn’t suit you.

“I’m being unfair?” Jayce’s blood boils with the accusation. “I’m being unfair, for letting you get away scot free after everything you did, for loving you, for offering you a home, for offering to give up everything so we could— sure, I’m being unfair.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You don’t scream it, you don’t grit it out through tears. You say it like an afterthought, like it doesn’t even matter anymore.

And you’re right, it doesn’t matter anymore.

He would have given you everything. All you had to do was take it, and you couldn’t even do that. It makes him want to scream.

You don’t say anything. Not that Jayce thinks there even would be anything on this green earth you could say that could make him change his mind now. There’s nothing else for him here. Never was, except for a waste of his love, his time, his hope.

He swallows his heartful of tears when he looks you dead in the eye.

“Don’t write me any letters.” He decides, and he means it. The tone he takes on is familiar, he’s used it countless of times on his bounties, but never on you, and that alone makes it fit like a glove that’s one size too small and won’t bend around the fingers. But he uses it regardless, heavyhandedly, hoping it fucking hurts you just as much as it hurts him. “If you come back to Piltover, I am having you arrested, one way or another.”

He hates that he doesn’t even believe himself. But he turns away, because even though leaving you behind is the last thing he wants to do, it’s the one thing he owes himself.

#jayce talis #jayce arcane #arcane jayce #jayce talis x reader #reader insert #my writing #you could have it all (my empire of dirt)#cowboy AU #western AU

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