#i need him to give tommy the double kiss ok

[buckevantommy]

buck places tommy's medal around his neck and congratulates/thanks him with close words and a soft kiss which breaks from them both smiling and then buck presses in again for another small kiss

[pedge-page]

Plushies 4 - Teddy

Joel Miller x F!Reader - Yet ANOTHER plushie fic, follows Cluster

Plushies Series Masterlist

Can be read as standalone

Summary: Joel buys you two toys: a giant teddy bear from Costco. And a strap-on dildo.

Warnings: omg where to begin- stuffed animal masturbation, stuffed animal fucking, humping, 69-ing a stuffed bear, sucking dildo, dildo riding, anal play, anal sex, double penetration, pet names, daddy kink, slight cuck!Joel behavior, pussy slapping, finger fucking, vaginal fluids, language, Joel's plush obsession gone too far

18+ ONLY

- - - -

He's shopping in Costco when he sees the absolute behemoth of a Teddy Bear. Standing 7 feet tall, 75 pound of cotton belly, AND $100 off? Joel stares up at the thing and instantly knows he needs to get it for his girl. He doesn't care how ridiculous he looks lugging it into the shopping cart, women in the store eying him curiously as he checks out, and the jealous stares of children in the parking lot as hauls it in bed of the truck and speeds off home.

It just needs one more accessory and then it will be perfect.

-

Joel swipes his arm over the neatly made bed of squishmellows, not thinking twice as they clutter to the ground. He fetches big Teddy over his shoulder and slams its soft booty on the bed. The thing practically takes up the entire surface.

He hears you putting your purse and keys down on the counter in the kitchen. Quickly, he fashions his accessory to the bear before stepping away right as you open the door and are surprised to see him.

And a big fucking teddy bear on your bed.

"Joel! Oh my god!" You squeal giddily.

"You like it? This is Teddy's big brother. Like me"

"So the teddy you bought me for Valentine's day and I've buried in my pussy is...Tommy?"

Joel's hand twitches by his side as he stares at the bear. "Ok, This is Papi Teddy instead."

You kiss him on the cheek before jumping on the bed, legs spread like a starfish to latch yourself to the side. Joel laughs at how small you are compared to the monster. You wrap yourself around its side and smush your face into its dark soft curls, running your hands all over its body thinking about how Joel's hair is just as fluffy.

You go to sit in its lap to make Joel take a pic when you pause, noticing the hard thing between its chubby thighs.

"Joel. Why does this teddy have a strap on dildo?"

"Because he's a mature Teddy, baby."

Why can't I just have a normal fucking boyfriend who punches my stuffed animals' faces, you think to yourself.

"You spent $500 on a giant bear just so I could fuck it?"

"No. Of course not!" He exclaimed, hands on his hips. "It was on sale for $399."

"How much was the strap on?"

"... ok that was $79 with $20 shipping. Anyway, since you wanna fuck it so bad, go ahead. I didnt say shit. How did I end up with such a horny little girl?"

Sometimes you just wanted to slap him in his smug face.

-

Being such a hornly little girl (with your equally perverted boyfriend) is exactly how you found yourself in your current position, wearing cute lacy lingerie and bent over the enormous leg of the teddy bear, hand wrapped around it's silicon pink cock as you took it in and out of your mouth.

"Look so good swallowing Teddy's cock." Joel says. He sat in the chair opposite of the bed and watched you, leaning forward to get every detail of the way you slobbered all over it. "Like it when ya make a mess like that."

You hummed contently, bobbing your head to suck on the tip, giving Joel the show he wanted. It was like being front seat to his own private porno. He's been resisting touching himself, his bulge pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans.

You pussy throbbs with need at the scene, the pink jeweled plug Joel had placed in your rear twitching each time you felt the tip of the cock gag your throat.

"Straddle his face baby. Let Teddy get a taste of that pussy." You do as he says, pulling your lips off of him to position yourself reverse cowgirl on the enormous plush. Your thigh swings over his massive head, pressing your hips down.

"Oooooohhhhhhh, fuck Joel," you moan when his giant snout makes contact with your clit, mounting it like a horse.

"Not me, princess. Tell 'im."

"Ahhhh, OH , oh God teddy. Love riding your f-face."

Joel humms in content, watching you arch your back with each grind against the plush. "Get back to swallowin that cock with those pretty lips. Show him what a real fuckin nasty girl you are."

You push your hair back with one hand and grab the base of dildo with the other, wrapping your lips around the tip before inching it deeper. Your hips continued to hump the bears face, his massive nose parting your thong, through your folds. A guilty wetness smears against the fluff, its curls darkening to Joel's likeness from your juices.

"Yeahhh, oh baby, you should see yourself right now. Gagging on a big fuckin bear cock. My slutty little whore. Takin it so deep—yeah thats it— all the way. Put 'im in your throat."

You gagg around the plastic, holding your head there as your eyes squeeze shut. You knew Joel loved the feeling, so letting him watch it from another perspective would drive him crazy. You pull away and sucked a breath of air before going to jerk the cock with the copious amounts of saliva you had coated on it. Drool hangs out of your mouth, dripping to your tits and onto the plush but you didn't care. Not when the satisfying grind against Teddy's face brought you closer and closer.

"Wanna cum on Teddy's face, Daddy," you moan, putting the tip back in your mouth and hollowing your cheeks as your hips moved faster.

"Bet Teddy would love it. Do it, rub your slutty cunt all over his face."

Your pace slows with a long whine, eyes closing as your moan around the cock while cumming.

"Fuck, that's so fucking hot, baby. You're a goddamn dream, ya know that?" He groans, leaning back and pressing his palm to his crotch to finally put some pressure on his tented dick.

Your orgasm had barely finished before you were picking up speed again, humping your Teddy's face with your fresh arousal. Your hole twitched against the anal plug. "Daddy, need you to take care of me."

"Ah uh. Teddy might not be able to cum in you like I can but his cock still needs some lovin' from that tight pussy of yours." Joel stands and walks close to the bed, no shame in rubbing his cock through his pants. You whine at the sight, rubbing your pussy faster.

"You makin' a mess over here yet?"

You proudly lay back from Teddy's face and spread your legs, showcasing the large wet area on the stuffed animals face and the equally dripping arousal between your legs, swirling your clit with your fingertip and moaning loudly.

Joel ran his thigh hands through the matted wet fur of the bears face. "Fuck yeah, good girl, good fucking girl." His other hand finds your puffy pussy, smacking your finger away as he drove two thick digits into your wet heat. He finger fucks you aggressively, marveling at your juices splashing against your thigh and down Teddy's forehead. "God damn, got me my own little pornstar."

You throw your head back, clawing to keep your own legs parted as he works your oversensitive spot over. He presses downward, feeling the bulge of the plug through your vaginal walls. Your juices leak down to the jewel, generously coating your puckered hole.

He quickly withdraws his finger, tugging at his button and zipper with a renewed sense of pace. "Get on that dildo and ride your new teddy bear."

Joel moves away to stand close to the bed as you flipp your leg around to straddle the plush's belly. You inch your hips lower, wiggling them slightly to entice Joel. He platfully slaps your ass, making you giggle. Your hand wrapping around the width of the cock to line up at your entrance.

A high pitched moan escapes your lips as you sunk down on the toy all the way to the base in one motion. Your lips find Teddy's nose as you adjust to the girth inside you, kissing it and tasting the remnets of your slick.

"Fuck me, princess," Joel coos, running his hand over the length of your back soothingly. You look stunning like this, the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. Is this what you always look like while riding his dick?

Gently yet sternly, you feel the pressure of his palm against your back, gliding along each ridge of your spin, urging you to move up and down on the dildo. You set off a slow pace, hands fisting the fluffy chest of your new Teddy friend, slick walls clamping down on both toys buried deep inside you. The plug in your ass occasionally nudged the tip of the dildo, making you whine. You felt very full, but not entirely too much. It was just perfect.

"How's Teddy's cock feel in your tight little snatch?" Joel guides your movements into a faster pace, now bouncing on the cock, tits jiggling with each thrust.

"Fuck, Teddy, feels so good inside me, fills me up so full." You glance at Joel who's licking his lips down at you. "Not as full as my Daddy's cock makes me feel," you add, smiling and biting your lip.

His lips clash against yours at the confession. Suddenly you feel your bralette being ripped off your chest. "Joel—" Your protest muffled by his incessant mouth, biting at your lips and sucking your tongue. You couldn't help but grind faster on the bear while Joel's fingers tweak your bare nipples and cup your swaying tits.

His other hand trails down your spine, swatting your ass. He tugs the thin fabric of the thong over your crack, pressing the anal plug further imside you. You keen into his mouth, tongue swiping his. His fingers honing on your hole, tapping it to remind you of its presence. He slinks further down to where you and Teddy's cock are joined together, your slick pouring down and staining the fluff below.

He feels your wetness at where your folds part to accommodate the pink length inside you. Hand now slick with your arousal, he inches back up to the plug, pressing it further inside you.

You gasp, breaking your heated kiss. "D-daddy, oh fuck... please," you cried, leaning forward, desperate to escape his pressure.

"You want me here?"

You nod, drunk on the need to cum again.

"Cum on Teddy's dick first."

You nod hazily again, arms propping you further up to recapture Joel's lips as he used the plug, tugging and pushing it inside your ass. Your hips move faster, now bouncing on your knees to get the tip of the cock to tap your g-spot inside. Joel loves how good you are at riding, always seeking your pleasure, knowing the exact angles to get yourself to cum.

Joel's fingers wrap around the exterior of the plug and pulls the base expanding around your hole and pulling it out. You cried out in ecstacy. "TEDDY oh—fu-fuuuccckk, s'good oh shit! M'cummin'—cumming on Teddy's cock! Yesyesyes, ughhh—teddyteddyteddyteddy—" you chant, cumming hard on the dildo, arms giving way as you crashed down on Teddy's chest, pussy grinding down against the plush surroundings as you floated in your orgasm.

Joel wastes no time, mounting you from behind, one knee pressing into the mattress with his foot planted directly next to the plush bear foot. You yelp as Joel pushes your body fully flush against the bear, the dildo sinking deeper into your cunt. "Hold on to Teddy, baby."

Your arms wrap around Teddy's middle. You felt a gob of slimy liquid fall directly on your puckered hole, gaping as it swallowes down Joel's spit. His hand spread your ass to watch it twitch, rubbing the tip of his cock to smear it all over, dipping inside ever so slightly before retreating, prepping you.

"Obedient little bitch in heat, just begging to get stuffed full of cock tonight. Gonna take both our dicks at the same time?"

You whine in the bears fluffy chest, wiggling your hips in the air to entice Joel's movements into action.

He lines the tip of his cock against your pulsing little hole before pushing in just the tip, your muffled moans being swallowed by the plush below you.

"So fuckin' tight, babygirl. Holy shit. Never gonna get used to this perfect little ass," He groans, eyes fluttering at the squeeze of your walls struggling to accommodate his length. While the dildo buries in your pussy was generously sized, it was nothing compared to Joel's girth and length, practically splitting you in half.

Teeth clenching into the fluff fabric, you swallow down a cry as Joel's hips inched further, invading your guts.

Joel let out a pained breath as he bottoms out inside your ass. "Fuck, princess. How you feelin'?"

"S-so-so f-mm-fuullll."

He leaned over your body, pressing his cock further into you, his belly slotting perfectly along your arched back. He brushes your hair away from your face to kiss your cheek.

God, you loved this man so fucking much.

He sits back up, aggressive hands seaking your waist as set a brutal pace, hips rutting into the fat of your cheeks.

Nevermind, fuckJoelfuckJoelfuckJoelfuckJoel—

You were trapped between the giant head of the bear and Joel's incessant pounding. Each drive of his hips push you down further into Teddy's softness, the dildo inside you plunging deeper, rubbing against the inside of your belly. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, tongue out panting like a dog, arms wrapped so tightly around the plush as you held on for dear life.

"So fuckin' good, oh my Fuck, you're an angel. Just a doll, takin' my cock like this. Getting fucked by your Daddy and your Teddy too—FUCK—sweetest little cunt and ass, my perfect little cock slut, so amazing, 'm so lucky, love ruinin' this ass—holy s-shit!"

The combined fullness of the dildo and Joel's cock inside you rubbed all the deepest, desperate parts inside you, filling you to the brim over and over again. Both cocks rubbing against your walls, their tips nudging, lengths pressing against each other through the membrane. You could feel a drop of Joel's sweat trickle down your back, his harsh almost pained breaths filling the room along side the obscene slapping of his hips against yours.

"You like this? Like getting pounded like the little whore you are?"

"Yes,yesyes holy fuck Daddy yes! Love getting railed by your big cock in my ass, Teddy deep in my pussy—oh fuck Joel 'm cumming!"

You clenched around both Joel's and Teddy's length as you came, screaming into air, uncontrollable shaking as you hump and grind your clit into the soft plush under you, tits pressing against its fullness.

Joel's fingernails dig painfully into the sides of your hips, stuttering his pace as the feeling of you clamping down on him. Brows furrowed, he let out a pained and long growl as he stills completely, cock pulsing, dumping a massive load of his seed deep inside you.

He slips his softening cock out of you carefully before collapsing on top of your sweaty back, sandwiching you between him and the bear.

"I love you," he whispers right into your ear, only for you.

-

Afterwards, Joel cleaned you up with a warm towel, leaving you sprawled arms and legs draped over the bear in the same position he fucked you in, exhaustion preventing you from doing anything other than wince when Joel slipped the silicon cock out of you. He showered you in praise and sweet kisses all over your body, cradling you to lie on your back as he removed the soaked Teddy bear from the bed. He climbed into the sheet with you, after having tossed a few more plushies around your body to surround you in extra softness.

You slept for a few hours. When you awoke, your eyes adjusted the blurriness to see Joel luing next to you on his back, a squishy sitting on his chest as he playfully tilted it to brush again his nose, staring at it with a straight face.

"That one's cute. You wanna take him home?" You asked curiously.

"Well, I mean Kitty is there all by herself on my big bed, could use a friend..." he mumbled, not totally aware that you were watching him eye your stuffed animals on the bed. "Or that's the shit you'd say, right?" He added quickly.

You playfully pout with him, trying to hold a giggle. "He does need a friend..." You said, hoping to encourage this newfound softness of the man you love.

Joel nodded briefly before pausing his fiddling. "Kitty's a he?"

- -

Extended scene:

"Nah uh, I read all cats are girlies on the little machine at The Olive Garden."

"The what?"

"The little tablet thing at Chili's? Says all cats are ladies."

"You mean the true or false quiz that says: Calico cats are almost all female?"

"Yeah 'ats that one."

"That's ONE breed of Kitty Joel."

"I'd like to breed your kitty."

"I can't take you anywhere."

- - - -

Next: Piggy

Or more Teddy special

[southerntigress]

I got this idea but I suck at writing

So maybe you could write it

So modern day Nikki sixx and Tommy Lee are doing a meet and greet

They meet this one girl who's wearing a shirt that says I like double trouble

Nikki and Tommy give each other smirks it gives them an idea to relive is their wild terror twin days of double teaming so they do the meet and greet they whisper in her ear baby you like double trouble we'll give. Good time so after the concert security takes her backstage to Nikki and Tommy

They double penetrate her

If your comfortable writing it

If so make it the dirtiest nastiest you can make it lol 😏

Double trouble

Since I had 2 requests for a terror twin threesome I thought I would just write one for both of A/N  requests. Hope u don't mind and hope u like

Double trouble twice the fun

You were currently standing in line waiting  to meet your favorite boys the terror twins Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee this had been a dream of yours for so long you couldn't believe it was finally happening and of course you had tickets to see them rock the stage tonight. you thought it would be fun to wear a shirt that said " I like double trouble" you couldn't wait to see Nikki and Tommy's reaction when they see it. The line was insanely long and seemed to be taking forever for them to get to you. Finally it was your turn you walk up to them and Greet Nikki first he looks you up and down and smiles

"Hi" you say a little nervous

Nikki smirks and nudges Tommy "check her shirt out" he says as Tommy turns his attention to you

Tommy looks at Nikki with a smirk who in turn returns the smirk then they look at you They both pull you in close and whisper where only you can hear them "you like Double trouble huh? Baby we can definitely give you that can't we?" Nikki says looking at Tommy

"Hell yeah we can, we'll have security get tou after the show and show you a good time" Tommy said

After you got pictures with them you made your way to your seat and waited for the show to start. When they came on stage the energy was like nothing you had ever seen before they were amazing and blew you way that they could still rock out like that at their age. Just goes to show age is truly just a number.

After the show a security guard comes to get you and takes you backstage to Nikki's dressing room where both him and Tommy was sat waiting on you.

"You made it, thought you chicken out on us" Nikki joked

" I do like double trouble and since you two made a promise I had to come through" you smiled

Nikki walked up to you and grabbed your hand leading you to the couch where Tommy was he reached his hand out and slowly slid it down your body as Nikki comes up behind you and presses against you.

"You ready for a walk on the wild side baby?" Nikki asks

"Terror twin style at that" Tommy adds and you nod

That's all the confirmation they needed as they started to undress you and themselves.

You watched as Tommy slipped his pants and underwear off his dick sprung out and your eyes widen at his length he was kinda big and now you were scared he would definitely hurt you.

Nikki noticed the panic on your face and your sudden mood change. "It's ok Tommy has the effect on people naked or not" Nikki laughed as Tommy flipped him off 

"if you don't think you handle him I can fuck you as you suck him off or something" Nikki said as He turned you around facing him and he was already naked you looked him up and down and smirked

"Thanks but I was hoping for double penetration, so maybe you fuck my pussy and Tommy can take my ass" you said and they agreed

They switched positions so that Tommy was now behind you and Nikki was infront of you. Nikki started kissing you and Tommy ran his hands down your ass and rubbed your cheeks as he kissed your neck. Nikki was now sucking on your tits and had ran his hand down your body and was playing with your clit as her fingered you, it felt so good you threw your hand back against Tommy's chest and let put a moan.

Nikki and Tommy looked at each other and smirked. Nikki suddenly pulled his fingers out of you and pushed you on the couch he got infront of you as Tommy got in position behind you, you reached down and grabbed Nikki's dick and started to rub his length up and down as you reached behind you and did the same for Tommy they were both a moaning mess.

They pulled your hands away Nikki lined himself with your pussy and entered you, you bite your lip and moaned he slowly inched himself in til he was balls deep in you, he looked at you with a smirk then back at Tommy and nodded you then felt as Tommy put his tip at your ass and slowly eased his way in he eventually got all his length in and they both stilled giving you time to adjust to them

You eventually started to move your hips back and forth and this was their que Nikki started thrusting hard and fast knocking you into Tommy as he started to thrust and eventually yall sat a pace and became a sweaty, hot, moaning mess bodies thrusting into each other, sweat dripping down your bodies and theirs.

the room was filled with moans and the sounds of skin to skin slapping together.

After a good while Nikki and you both reached your highs and Tommy reached his a few seconds later they pulled out of you and you collapsed on the couch trying to catch your breath and fucked out of your mind, you wondered how you was gonna walk out of there.

Double trouble twice the fun and when it comes to the terror twins 2 is definitely better than one.

[themultifandomgal]

Peaky Blinders- Going Into Labour/Giving Birth Pt1

Arthur

You went into labour in the middle of the night. You had woken up needing the toilet. Rolling out out of bed, trying not to wake Arthur you waddle over to the toilet. However before you could get there you felt water trickle down your legs. At first you think you had wet yourself but after realising you still needed the loo and now you had pains, you realise that you are in fact in labour

"Arthur!" you shout, but he's in such a deep sleep he doesn't wake up. So you waddle over to him and shake him awake

"What? what's going on? are you ok?"

"The babies coming" you smile at him even though it's so dark in the room that he can't see you

"Now?"

"Well not this second but I've gone into labour. You best ring Polly"

"Errr yeah. Yeah ring Polly" Arthur gets up dazed and walks to the phone while you finally go to the bathroom.

Polly thankfully answered and made her way over as quick as she could

"Ok YN I can see babies head so just one big push now" with one final push you stop screaming and instead the cries of a little baby can be heard. Polly wraps the baby up in a blanket

"Congratulations YN a beautiful baby girl"

"A girl?"

"Yes" she places the baby in your arms "I'll go and get Arthur.

"She's beautiful" you say watching your husband hold her

"Just like her mother" you laugh at Arthur then yawn "go to sleep love. I'll watch her"

"I feel gross. I'd like a bath" Arthur nods passing the baby to you

"I'll run you one" with that he gives you a kiss on your forehead before leaving the room.

Tommy

While sat in one of Tommys meetings at your home, you had started to feel uncomfortable. Rubbing your stomach you tried to sooth the little one inside of you. Due to your last pregnancy you knew that before actual labour you can have pains a few weeks before hand. The meeting dragged on and the pains only seemed to get worse, but it wasn't until you noticed that they were coming in waves. You watch the clock that's behind Tommy and when you started to count 7 minutes between each pain you knew you were in labour

"So John your..."

"Tom" you say looking at his face now "the babies coming"

"Shit" he rushes over to you helping you up

"Errr YN did you pee yourself?" Finn asks

"Nope just my water breaking which means this little one will be here within the next hour or so going by my labour with Charlie.

Unfortunately Tommy didn't have time to get you upstairs and into your shared room before you said you could feel the babies head

"Fucking hell love. Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because I thought it was just those pains I had last time"

"That doesn't matter now. Lay her down on your desk" Polly instructs

"I am not having my child on.... ahhh"

"You haven't got much choice" Tommy helps you down on the desk

"Knees up"

"Everyone get out. Tommy go and find some blankets and towels" Polly says making everyone move.

Within a few minutes your holding your baby girl on your chest with the Shelby family all around

"As nice as this all is. Can someone please help me into an actual bed, my back fucking hurts" Tommy chuckles at you taking the baby from your arms and handing her to Ada. He scoops you up in his arms and carried you upstairs into your bedroom, Ada following.

John

Labour started during the night, but you had slept through the majority of it. It was actually John who woke you up the tell you you had wet the bed. You groan getting out of bed feeling annoyed and embarrassed, but as you stood up a sharp pain had you doubled over

"Ahhh I get it now. You didn't piss yourself, your in labour" John says chuckling

"Pardon?"

"Your waters have broken"

"How do you....oh Martha"

"Lay down knees up let's see if there's a head"

"You are not..."

"YN Polly is a good 2 hours away. I want to know if I bother ringing her or not" reluctantly you lay down in your bed and bend your knees

"Looks like it's going to just be me and you"

John didn't have time to ring Polly because the baby was coming. Contractions quickened and in no time you were pushing your baby out. Finally you gave birth to a little boy and when John rang the family to tell them the exciting news, Polly ended up giving him a earful.

[loversj0y]

Ohh boy ok

L’manbur my beloved. 

Here’s part two. Maybe the next part will be the angsty part

Can you imagine President Soot announcing the elections and learning that the reader immediately enrolled as a candidate. He’d be annoyed, but also a strange mixture of proud and exhilarated. 

This is another enemies AND lovers moment y’all. (want to hc that someone actually suggested impeachment or a vote of no-confidence against President Wilbur a couple times– which the reader actually refused to do, marking the one and only time that they defended wilbur on the political stage, saying that government should be run through debate and consideration and not mindless evictions, yada yada. Wilbur was looking at them like 😳). 

Anyway the day comes for the candidates to choose their running mates— I don't remember how that went down in canon, so I'll make some stuff up. Let’s assume that each candidate gives a short speech and then announces their future VP. It’s like a publicity stunt, getting their names out there for people to remember and hopefully vote for. 

There’s this one guy in L’manburg, let’s just call him Archibald or something (old man, dude in his 40s), who vehemently opposes everything the reader does. He doesn’t like Wilbur either

Despite all of this, A r c h i b a l d  is not a complete prick. He cares for L’Manburg in his own way, even if his tactics and views don’t align with his peers. He amassed quite a following, but wasn’t chosen as a political candidate, and resorted to glaring at the other contestants from his place in the audience. 

Back to the reader. Now, they know they are at an extreme disadvantage here. Public speaking is not their thing– shady, one-on-one contract deals are more their style. Talking to a crowd? Forget about it. They need to take a gamble. 

Wilbur chooses Tommy as his VP, Quacktiy chooses George, Fundy chooses Niki, and they choose…. Archibald.

The stadium goes silent, flabbergasted, as they announce their pick. Some of the reader’s close constituents look offended, and Archibald looks flabbergasted. But he isn’t going to pass up this opportunity– not yet at least. He shakes their hand and joins them on stage. 

By drawing a truce with their worst political enemy and showing the citizens that they are willing to work with opposing ideals,  the reader has pulled what we call a pro gamer move. 

Wilbur is a little impressed? Maybe?

Just imagine him standing on the other end of the stage, elbows on the podium, head resting against his fist as he just grins. 

Imagine his vaguely flirty behavior with Quackity, but doubled.  

Man knows how to roll an insult, pick-up-line, and partially-backhanded/partially-genuine compliment into one. 

Still too cocky to think he’ll lose the elections though. 

I swear i had other ideas about this but they won't come to me.

Also: no romance/jealousy scene is implied with Archibald. he's just some old guy politician who becomes a coworker.

also also: completely (?) unrelated but IMAGINE BEING PRESIDENT SOOT'S TAILOR. CAN YOU IMAGINE THE TENSION THAT COMES WITH STANDING BEHIND SOMEONE AS YOU LOOP A MEASURING TAPE AROUND THEIR WAIST---

anyway i am normal about this skrunkly./.,,,, elegeeant absastard.

god the sexual tension between wilbur soot and political opponents…….

the idea of tommy as his vp in this scenario seems to funny to me bc of the clips where tntduo would be havijg an intense discussion and tommy would just go. “ARE U GUYS KISSING” because he’d definitely do that

post debates, coming off stage, both a little sweaty and worked up from nerves, and wilbur’s just standing there looking too hot for his own good, so the reader picks something absolutely stupid to just fucking yell at him about, and they’re getting in each other’s faces, literally lips seconds apart, arguing in fancy political and business terms, and then tommy turns the corner. pauses.

“wilbuh can you stop MAKING OUT with the ENEMY”

also love the pro gamer move on readers part. thats actually a genuinely smart political show (until it becomes time to pass legislation but theres a reason they changed the law about who the VP ends up being (thanks hamilton))

also I HAVE THOUGHT ABT THAT MANY TIMES MAN OH MY GOD

he’s standing there, stressed and tired, and theres a lot of tension as you wrap your arms around him to measure his waist and in his exhaustion, he thinks you’re trying to hug him, and he just. fully leans into it, exhausted and wanting affection <3 and as his personal tailor, you will gladly do so and then help walk him to his room to make sure he sleeps well (and doesnt get any of his fancy clothes that you just made messed up ffs he loves gis gunpowder but that shit stain’s permanently!!!! hold on. my knowledge of gunpowder just gave me a separate idea but i dont have enough there to share yet so im going to ignore it BUT STILL)

[itsallyscorner]

Omg after Tom showing off his thighs in that Jimmy Fallon interview, please please please could you write something about thigh riding him 💙

Not me immediately working on this once I saw it in my inbox💀 I’m supposed to be clearing my inbox out, but when this popped in I couldn’t help it🙈 I also haven’t done smut in a while so THANK YOU for requesting this😌💞

💌.

Use Me*

Warnings: SMUT! She’s a nasty one. If this is a bit messy, I’m sorry, I haven’t written smut in ages😭

(GIF from @tomhollandnet )

“Citizen Kane!” Your boyfriend confidently blurted out to his laptop. He must’ve done something wrong because his eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, hang on a minute!” He stuttered placing his hand on his chest. You heard Jimmy Fallon laugh from the laptop and explain the rules of the game again. You let out a quiet laugh yourself from behind his set up, though your eyes drifted down to his bare legs that bounced up and down.

For the past few weeks, Tom has been doing promo for his new and highly anticipated film Cherry. While trying to balance filming Spider-Man 3 and doing promo, you guys barely had time to spend together. Not that it bothered you; you understood how hectic his job could get, so you weren’t phased by the back to back Zoom interviews or how he’d join you in bed late at night after a long day on set.

The lost time between the both of you must’ve finally caught up on Tom as he woke up clingier than usual. The moment his eyes fluttered open he felt the need to touch you, to have his skin pressed up against yours, and to feel the warmth that radiated off your body. He just wanted to have you near him—the reason to why he begged you to spend the entire day with him.

You should have been listening to Tom talking passionately about his film, but your mind drifted off to the gutter. Only a few feet away from you was your boyfriend sitting behind a desk, wearing a black shirt, topped with a black blazer, pantless. The only garments covering his bottom half were his boxers and socks, leaving his thighs bare and tempting to your eyes. You tried to avoid looking at them, forcing your attention to focus on the words coming out his mouth, but your eyes were constantly drifting down to his thighs. From the way Tom rubbed his rough hands on them to the way they flexed whenever he moved was starting to cause a pool of arousal to form in your panties.

Tom’s voice faded into the background as you stared blankly at his thighs, imagining how the smooth skin would feel against your wet cunt. You bit your lip, mind wandering to the thought of Tom flexing his thigh while you grinded your hips against him. The ideas in your head caused you to unconsciously squeeze your thighs together. Trying to relieve yourself of the hot tension forming in your body. Though, the action doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, who had a small smirk on his face after catching you in the corner of his eyes.

A few more minutes pass and he was already finishing up his interview with Jimmy. Though you didn’t notice since your attention was still fixated on his sculpted thighs. That and you were constantly adjusting yourself in your seat because of how embarrassingly wet your panties were getting. You attempted to distract yourself with your phone and scrolled mindlessly through Instagram. You weren’t even looking at the posts, just randomly double tapping and scrolling past them. Much to your dismay, your ways of distraction failed once again. Instead of focusing on your screen, your eyes zeroed in on Tom’s legs.

“You know darling, I could practically feel your eyes burning holes into my thighs.” He suddenly teased you. You felt the heat rush to your face as you hid behind your phone screen.

“I’m not looking at your thighs.” You pathetically lied, turning your phone off, and crossing your arms. His tired but rich chocolate colored eyes capture yours. There was a hint of playfulness mixed with lust in them. He wasn’t oblivious, he could feel the tension growing in the room.

Tom tilts his head to the side, “Then why were you consistently staring at my legs?” He crossed his legs making his thighs momentarily flex again.

“I was looking at your socks.”

“What about my socks?” He quirked a brow at you.

“They’re dirty.” You shrugged.

“Really? But my socks are down there, not up here.” He cheekily quipped, motioning to his lap. You whined and threw your head back against the couch, shoving a pillow to your face in the process.

“Busted.” Tom sang huskily before pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. He scanned your figure on the couch, eyes lingering on the way your legs were still clenched together.

“C’mere.” His voice was an octave lower, catching your attention. You pull the pillow off your face and see him gazing down at you from his seat, legs spread out in front of him. You toss your phone on the couch and walk towards him. His hands reach out for you midway, then settle to grasp on your hips.

“Mmm, baby, I can smell you.” His hands maneuver around your waist to squeeze your bum, emitting a light hum from you. You draped one of your arms around his shoulder while your hand cradled his jaw.

“Sorry, I can’t help it. Stupid thighs.” You mumble, the blush remaining on your cheeks.

“I want you to get off these stupid thighs. Use me, (y/n).” He encouraged, pulling you closer. You were about to agree but his attire reminded you that he had an interview in a few minutes.

“Wait—Tom, don’t you have another interview?” You asked him, shaking yourself out of your trance of arousal and pulling away from him. Tom whined, dragging you back towards his chest.

“In like 15 or 20 minutes, it’s enough time.” He reached behind you and slammed his laptop shut. He clumsily got out of his chair and led you to the loveseat behind him. He sat down and placed you in between his legs.

While he pulled your shorts and panties off you continued to question him, “Are you sure, Tommy?” He tapped your ankles, signaling for you to step out of your undergarments.

Tom stopped and looked up at you, “Yes, I’m sure. We have to be quick, but I just wanna feel you on me. We could continue when I’m done, promise.” He held your hands and pressed a kiss onto the back of them.

“Ok. But if you get in trouble, I swear—oh.” You were interrupted by Tom pressing a sloppy kiss above your mound. He placed your hands to rest on his shoulders and guided you to straddle his thigh. Once you were settled, he slipped two of his fingers between your legs to gather some of your wetness. He groaned at how soaked you were, leaving his fingers to slide through your folds a little bit longer. When he took them out, his fingers were covered in your glossy juices. He wiped some of your slick onto your lips before shoving his fingers into his mouth.

“Taste so fucking good, shit.” Tom growled, crashing his lips onto yours. The kiss was passionately messy; tongues dancing around each other while your teeth clashed from time to time, along with the taste of you on both your lips. Tom was the first to pull away still biting down on your bottom lip, “Come on, wanna feel you ride my thigh.” He scooted back into the seat, guiding your hips to settle down on his thigh. Your knees ached from kneeling on the couch’s material, but the burn you felt in your core urged you to put up a fight.

The moment you came into contact with his thigh felt like euphoria. Your eyes rolled back and a moan dragged out of your body. The pleasurable sensation of finally relieving the burn in your core rushed through your body. Another tension was building up in you, desperation. Grinding your hips down on him repeatedly made you obsessed with how he felt under you, making you desperate to get more.

You had no problem rocking against him, your wetness made it easy enough for you to simply slide your hips up and down the expanse of his firm thighs. Tom moaned at how soaked his skin felt while your folds rubbed up against him. Feeling you on him made him flex his thigh under you, causing you to ground your hips even harder against him. His thigh was lathered in your wetness.

“Fuck, Tom.” You whimper out, harshly squeezing his shoulders for leverage.

“You feel so good on me. You look so good using me to get off, such a pretty girl.” He praised you. He momentarily sat back to admire the way you looked at the moment. Your hair was a bit messy and you were wearing one of his shirts, which was rudely blocking his view of you on him. His long fingers hook beneath the shirt and lift it up, giving him the perfect view of your cunt gliding on his thigh. His jaw clenched at the sight taking a mental picture.

Tom sat up on the couch, gathering your shirt to bunch up right above your breast. He dives into your chest, yanking down the cups of your bra to expose your boobs. He places wet and open mouthed kisses on them, giving them both the attention they needed. You were a moaning mess above him, enjoying the way his tongue swirled around your nipples. When a dark red mark appeared on your skin he trailed the kisses up to your neck until he reached the special spot below your ear. He started off with light kisses before sinking his teeth down on your soft skin. The bite only spurred you on, hips moving faster against him.

While his mouth worked on marking your neck, his leg that you were on moved to meet your hips. The motion made your clit graze against him, forming whines to bubble out your throat. You fucked yourself harder on his thigh, making sure your clit was also rubbing against him as you chased your release. Tom felt they way your legs quivered around him, signing that you were almost there.

Tom’s arm wraps around your waist, helping you hold yourself up against him. With his other hand he gently cradles your face. His lips brush against yours and your noses occasionally bump into each other. A lopsided grin is on his face as he stares at you. He catches the way the corner of your lips quirk up for a matter of seconds until your features scrunch up in concentration again.

“You’re doing such a good job, darling. I could feel you clenching on me, you’re close aren’t you?” He latches your lips together, swallowing your moans. Your fingers pulled tighter on the ends of his hair, making him groan.

“Can’t mess the hair up.” He managed to get out. You grunted and tugged on his hair before your hands returned to his shoulders. Tom pecked your lips once more before leaning back into the couch. Without any warning, his hand lightly swated your clit. You yelped in surprise at the sudden contact. Tom only chuckled, earning him a slap to the chest and a glare from you.

“Sorry, sorry, I know we’re short on time.” He apologized and connected his thumb to your clit. The rough pad made tight circles around your bud. With the friction of his thigh against you and his thumb on your clit you were seeing stars. You were so out of it, only feeling the euphoric pleasures coursing through your senses. The quicker and sharper his circles got, the closer you felt to your relief.

“Just like that Tom, fuck. Keep going I’m close.” Your back arched. Tom shoved his head in between your breasts again, littering sloppy kisses on your chest.

“C’mon, cum on me, baby.” He urged you, holding your body flush against him. His head was tilted up at you, staring at the way your mouth was hung open in pleasure. He loved watching your face when you came, it drove him mad.

Your stomach tightens along with your legs that straddled him. You let out a mix of a shaky gasp and moan, feeling the knot in your stomach come undone. Tom threw his head back against the couch while watching you release on his thigh, your cum gushing out against him.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, eyes glued to your release. You let out pants as aftershocks from your release wracked your body. Tom was quick to guide your body against him, not caring that his clothes might wrinkle. He placed your head in the crook of his neck and pressed kisses along your face. His large hands stroke your back, helping you come down from your high. Laying against him, all he felt was you; from your heart rapidly beating against his chest to the feeling of you trying to steady your breathing.

“You alright?” He whispered against your hair. You tiredly nodded, giving yourself a moment to calm down.

“Yeah—just need a minute and I’ll get off of you.” You reply, tenderly kissing his collarbone. Tom whines tightening his grip around you, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t either, but,” you reach over to tap the screen of his phone, “You’ve got eight minutes left till your next interview.”

You feel something firm poke against your leg, “How you ever wondered if you can cum in under eight minutes?” The sentence caught Tom off guard, making him raise a brow at you. You tilted your head south of his body, motioning to his dick.

Tom shifted his gaze between you and his hard on, “Wanna find out?”

Tom Holland + Character Tags:

*username with line through it does not work*

↳ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke

General Tags:

↳ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary

[griffintail]

Can I get Wilbur, Philza, Technoblade, and Awesamdude (separately) dealing with a giggly, happily drunk reader, who is very nice to everyone but immediately goes into “I love youuuu, let me stay with you foreverrrrrrrr” cuddly lovesick puppy mode and proceeds to latch onto them for the rest of the night.

I hope you enjoy this! ♥

In Game and Female Reader

Warnings: Implied underage drinking(?)

A/N: I wanted to do like ten different things with these that would have been tooo long and strayed too far off path and then when I did have something I hated it. So, long story short, I had trouble writing it. Sorry it took so long! I’ve also never watched Sam I’m only just getting to the livestreams he was in with Tommy, I hope his character is good.

        Wilbur

        It had been a celebration of the freedom of L’Manberg.

        Naturally, the men and their lady of the hour wanted to go all out and finally have fun after all the war and bloodshed. There were some things they wanted to forget as well, such as the betrayal of one of their own. For once, Wilbur didn’t join in with the drinking that had started, simply just wanting to rest till what felt like the end of time after everything.

        Luckily, he hadn’t as now as he chuckled at (Y/N) rambling on about how adorable sheep were as they sat on the ground.

        “I mean, we can make them different colors, and they just don’t give a fuck. And their little faces.” She put her hands close together. “I want a pet sheep Wilbur.”

        He laughed as he stood up. “I think it’s time we got you to bed love.”

        “What? No, the party is so much fun.” She motioned with a smile at the men away from them, doubled over in laughter.

        He took her hand, pulling her up carefully. “But I believe you’ve had too much to drink. Your face is red, so let’s get you home.”

        She was quiet before grabbing his hand again, smiling. “Ok.”

        “Good. Make sure you get some sleep tonight boys, we got work to do.”

        He got a few responses between their laughter, shaking his head before he led (Y/N) away through the cool night. Her house had resided outside the L’Manberg walls but Dream and his friends took care of that. So, instead, Wilbur led her to the van, deciding to let her stay there for the night.

        “Alright love. You’re going to stay here tonight?”

        “I like it when you say, love.” She giggled. “It makes me feel all fuzzy.”

        He blushed slightly as he chuckled. “I’m sure it’s just all the drinks you had. Now, you get comfortable and I’ll…”

        He let go of her hand, only to jump as she latched onto his arm.

        “No.” She whined. “Stay here.”

        “What are you doing (Y/N)?” He asked confused.

        “I don’t want you to go. I love you. And you’re so warm.” She huffed, putting her forehead against his arm as she held out a few of her words.

        Wilbur was red as he watched the woman beside him.

        “(Y/N), you shouldn’t say those things. Come on, let’s get your uniform off.” He told her gently as he took his arm back from her only for her to hug him around the middle instead, making him laugh in surprise. “(Y/N)!”

        “Don’t go.” She spoke muffled into his chest. “Stay forever.”

        He softened as he took her hat off, putting it down on a chest as he ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not going anywhere darling. I’m just trying to make you comfortable. So, can we please get your uniform off?”

        She pouted but let go, letting him help her take her jacket and accessories off. Plopping on the bed, she struggled but managed to get her shoes off as Wilbur laid down her uniform next to her hat.

        “Alright, you need to get some rest ok? I’m going to go sleep in the front.” He explained to her, going for the door but she took his sleeve.

        “Stay with me. You’re so warm and you give the best hugs and I love you.” She rambled.

        Wilbur went red again as he looked at the door. He didn’t want to just stay here with her while she was drunk, probably unable to remember any of this in the morning, but she was stubborn even drunk. There was a voice in the back of his head telling him she would most certainly just follow him. So, with a sigh, he sat on the bed next to her.

        “Alright, but you have to sleep.”

        She grinned as Wilbur leaned back against the headboard. Coming over, she hugged him as she put her head on her chest, half on him as she hummed.

        “Good night Mr. President.” She giggled as Wilbur put a hand on her back.

        “Good night darling.” He muttered, running his other hand through her hair.

        It took a few minutes but she fell asleep on him and he was red as he watched her. It did feel warm like this and felt so right and comfortable. Maybe in the morning, after he explained the situation that they were in, he’d finally tell her how he felt to celebrate their victory further. He wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

          Philza

        Phil had been with (Y/N) for a long time, dating what felt like even longer. They had been on many travels together and seen the same amount of shit in their lifetime. Naturally, that called for a drink or two.

        In the end, it was always Phil that could his liquor better than his girlfriend and he would usually just have a good laugh at her antics. She was very giggly and thought almost everything was hilarious and this time was no different.

        “And, and he just fell. And I felt so bad for laughing but I did.” She giggled as she leaned on the table, Phil giving an amused chuckle.

        She went to take another drink, but Phil took it from her. “I think that’s all for you tonight sweetheart.”

        “You’re so good for me Phil.” She hummed, resting her arm on the table before putting her head in her hand. “Always making sure I’m ok.”

        “Well, you help take care of me too.” He reminded her as he got up, starting to clean.

        “Yeah, but you’re so much better at it. You’re so good at fighting and stuff. You also look good fighting.”

        He laughed at that as he came back over to her. “Do I now?”

        “Mhm. And-And your hair is so soft and your eyes are really pretty.”

        “Yeah, I think it’s time for you to go to bed. Come on.” He helped her up.

        As he did, she latched onto him and he knew what phase she was in her drunkenness, the clingy phase.

        “You’re going to come with me, right?” She pouted up at him as she nuzzled into him.

        “Of course.” He chuckled, putting a hand on top of her head.

        “Good, because I love you. Just don’t tell Techno, he thinks it's gross.”

        He put a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter, nearly doubling over. “I won’t…God, I won’t. Holy shit.”

        “Phil, you’re supposed to say it back.” She whispered as he led her to their bedroom once he could breathe right.

        “I’m sorry sweetheart, I love you too.” He kissed her forehead, making the woman giggle in joy.

        “Philza Craft loves me.” She squealed as she hugged onto him tightly.

        “Yes, yes.” He nodded, chuckling quietly as he managed to unlatch her from him to get her into bed.

        He made sure she dressed comfortably before they started drinking, knowing that this is where it would lead. Before she could protest, he got in beside her and pulled her in, hugging her close as he let his wings unfurl and laid one on top of them. She grinned, nuzzling into his chest, acting as if they didn’t do this all the time.

        “You’re-You’re the best.” She muttered.

        “Thank you, now sleep, angel.”

        “You’re the only angel here. Good night.” She hummed.

        “Good night.”

        With that, the two were able to sleep easily into the night.

          Technoblade

        Just a couple glasses of wine, it will be fine, they said.

        Now Techno didn’t know how the hell to deal with his best friend.

        (Y/N) and a few of the others in Pogtopia had decided to have a few rounds of drinks, Techno deciding to opt-out of it as they made it into a party and he just wasn’t that into parties. Yet, now, here he stood as his best friend was giggling like an idiot at Wilbur’s stupid joke. He didn’t know how easy his friend got drunk but here was the proof.

        Techno was trying to think of a way to get her away from the group without her putting up a fight when Tommy came over to her.

        “Hey (Y/N), you know those diamonds you got the other day,” Tommy asked her, making Techno squint as he listened.

        “Oh yeah!” She nodded with a wide smile.

        “Want to know what would be cool? If I could have them.”

        There was no way…

        “Sure!”

        That’s it.

        “Tommy, are you really trying to scam your ally while she’s drunk?” Techno came over, arms crossed.

        Tommy paled as he quickly waved his hands. “No! No! Why would you think that! I’m just going…I hear Tubbo calling for me!”

        The younger boy scampered off as Techno looked at (Y/N), seeing her pout at him.

        “That was mean Techno.”

        “He was trying to steal from you (Y/N), you’ll understand in the morning.” Techno rolled his eyes.

        “Tommy wouldn’t do that. I’m going to apologize to him for you.” She huffed, but Techno grabbed her arm.

        “Nuh-uh.” He shook his head as he pulled her back in front of him. “You’re not going anywhere; you’re staying here with me so I can make sure you don’t do something you’ll regret in the morning.”

        Then the girl smiled, giggling again. “You always look out for me Techno.”

        He was sent through a loop by her sudden change in emotions but merely shook his head. “Because I have to. You’d be dead without me.”

        That wasn’t true. While his friend was one of the nicest people he met, you mess with her and she became a whole new person that could hold her own with ease.

        “E-Exactly.” She hummed, hugging onto his arm, making him stiffen. “You’re so great Techno.”

        “Yeah, I know.” He tried to brush the emotions he felt off as he decided to make use of her holding onto him to lead her away.

        “I hope you never leave Techno.”

        “I can’t ever leave you.” He muttered truthfully.

        “You’re really good at keeping secrets, right?” She asked as he brought her into her room in the cavern.

        “I’d say so, yeah.” He nodded.

        “I’m going to tell you a big secret. You can’t tell Technoblade.” She said and he opened his mouth to say he was in fact that same person but she spoke first. “I love Technoblade. He’s just so cool and nice and I love him.”

        Techno.exe has stopped working.

        Techno tried to remember where he was and what he was doing. It took a few tries but he finally got his mind working.

        “Heh?!” He looked at her in shock.

        “Shh, he can’t know Techno.” She giggled.

        “…I don’t what the hell I’m going to do with you.” He mumbled, taking off his mask to run a hand down his face.

        “You’re going to keep it a secret right?” She pouted at him.

        “Yeah, now you need to go to bed. Like, right now.” He decided, taking his arm from her and turning for the door only for two arms to wrap around him from behind.

        “No! You promised you wouldn’t leave.”

        “I’m not leaving you idiot; I’m going to my room and letting you sleep yours.”

        “Please don’t go Techno. I always sleep better when I know you’re close by.”

        He didn’t know what to do. What were you supposed to do when your best friend you liked told you while they were drunk that they liked you back thinking you weren’t the same person?! His mind was fried and he didn’t have any ideas of how to get her to relent, so instead, he did.

        Sighing, he took his arms off him so he could turn around. “Alright, come on. Get comfortable.”

        She grinned before going over to her bed. After only taking a jacket and her shoes off, she got comfortable and he gave a long sigh before sitting beside her. As soon as he did, she put her head in his lap, humming with that dorky smile.

        “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.” He promised as he ran a hand through her hair.

        “Thank you. Good night Techno.” She muttered.

        He didn’t say anything as she fell asleep. Yeah, he didn’t know what the hell he was going to deal with this in the morning, but he supposed he should just enjoy this moment.

        Awesamdude

        “Fuck!” (Y/N) shouted across the room where the Badlanders were spending the night.

        “Language!” Bad shouted at her.

        She giggled with Ant, Sam chuckling as he watched the two. It was just a simple party, nothing to celebrate just a moment between friends with a few drinks sent around. Sam had participated in some of the events but had stayed out of most of it, deciding instead to watch his friend as she had a generous number of drinks.

        “I’m sorry Bad! I didn’t mean it!” (Y/N) called to him.

        “You should do it again though.” Ant tried to convince her.

        “No, I don’t want to be mean to Bad.” She laughed, going to have another drink.

        “I think that’s enough for now.” Sam intervened, taking the drink carefully from her hand.

        “Aww.” She pouted. “Ok. Thank you, Sam.”

        He nodded as he put it down. “Good. You can still have fun, just nothing more to drink.”

        “Alright. I can do that Sam. Have some fun with us?”

        “Sure.” He agreed.

        He didn’t do much with the group, however, mostly just sticking by the young woman’s side, though he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He had already planned on keeping an eye on her as he did know how easily tricked, she was into doing what others wanted, such as shouting fuck across the room, as they had been friends for a while; but this time was different. Usually, it was a fight to get her to stay by his side but this time, she refuses to leave his side.

        The creeper-hybrid was genuinely surprised as she followed him where ever he went.

        “Normally you want to be with everyone else, what’s new today?” He raised an eyebrow.

        “I just want to stay with you forever!” She grinned as she took his hand. “That would be nice wouldn’t it?”

        He looked at her surprised as he nodded slowly. “Yeah, that would be. But, why do you want to?”

        “Because I love you silly.” She said as it was the simplest thing.

        “I uh…” His smile grew as he processed her words. “Really?”

        “Duh.”

        He didn’t mean it to go to his head as his friend was drunk but it did.

        “What about me do you, love?”

        “You’re super smart and you’re really good at fighting.” She started to list and he laughed.

        “Alright, alright. No need for all that. Maybe we should get you home. I think you had more drinks than I realized.” He scratched the back of his head.

        “Aw, ok.” She gave a pout before he led her away and to her home.

        He took out her hidden spare key she had told him about and unlocked the door as he went inside.

        “Ok, home safe and sound. You get some sleep alright? I’ll see you in…”

        “No.” She whined as she grabbed his arm. “You said it’d be nice to stay forever so please Sam. Stay.”

        “No, I think it’s smarter if I leave so you’re not confused in the morning.”

        “I don’t care. Please, Sam. Stay.” She pouted at him and he felt his heart race slightly before humming.

        “Yeah, ok. Just to make sure you’re alright.” He nodded. “I’ll stay in the living room.”

        “No, come with me. It’s cold and you’re warm.” She said, making him blush.

        “I uh…Hey, slow down.” Sam protested as she dragged him along by his hand. “(Y/N).”

        She pulled him into her room and sat on her bed, giving him a puppy dog eyed face. His heart melted as he tried to stay strong but sighed.

        “Ok, but if you kill me in the morning, I’m haunting your ass.”

        She grinned, throwing up her arms. “Yeah.”

        “Ok, ok, come on. Let’s get comfortable.”

        The two of them shed the unnecessary layers and laid in bed. (Y/N) cuddled into Sam’s side and he put his arm around her back, gently running a hand along her side. Before another word was breathed, (Y/N) was asleep and Sam chuckled lightly.

        “Good night, I hope you say the same thing tomorrow.” He muttered before sleeping himself for the night.

[banterpodcast]

emo truthing the dream smp

'oh some of these songs aren't TECHNICALLY emo they're pop pun-" ok. dont care.

also yes i am aware some of these bands are shitty people please do not try and make this seem like im supporting these bands actions i am simply just a music nerd

if u think i am wrong about any of these lmk i love discussing this stuff

theres no fall out boy here bc i know i can write a whole other post about fall out boy

first of all the obvious - vegas lights and las nevadas. i dont think i need to go further into that.

royal - waterparks - george

- "im proof of consequences" sir literally is the embodiment of this line. slept through an election and well. we saw how that turned out

- 'im two faced from your double exposure' in reference to his relationship to both dream and dreamXD

- "i wish i was royal but im not" man got dethroned

- "im doing alright, but is alright enough?" idk man i just think this line kinda got that george energy

- "i fall in love with everything that wants nothing to do with me" is the main line where im like hm idk if this fits george but also does dreamXD really love george? or does he just see a humanity in george he cant find in himself?

- "i know that theres no dealing with the way im feeling, im so out of touch with everyone and everythings a blur to me" lol!

i think check yes juliet by we the kings can apply to multiple ships but im gonna apply it to awesamponk purely for the line 'they'll tear us apart' because thats incredibly funny to me.

theres a good reason these tables are numbered honey, you just havent thought of it yet - panic! - early lmanberg wilbur (tbh some of it can also definitely apply to pogtopia wilbur)

- 'from that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed' the no armour rule

- 'i'm wrecking this evening already and loving every minute of it, ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring' CMON TELL ME THIS LINE ISNT EARLY LMANBERG WILBUR

do i even need to put analysis this shit is writing itself. wouldnt be surprised if wilbur listened to this at some point while writing the lmanberg arc

- "oh and the smokes in that cigarette box ... laced with nitroglycerine" is definitely more a pogtopia wilbur line but. wilbur is wilbur <3

king for a day - pierce the veil - exile arc tommy

im so passionate about this one.

the s/ic/de attempts in the nether and in logstedshire. tommy being a red coded character.

clearly about his relationship with dream. also the whole line about being a martyr and the idea that tommy still worshipped prime in exile ?????

he was put into exile to 'think about what he did' in reference to burning george's house down. he had to beg for dream not to burn his things.

haha anyone remember when he hallucinated tubbo coming to visit him?

ghost in the walls... haha.... ghostbur....

finally:

anyways king for a day is the tommy exile arc song.

other connections i have made but do not have the energy or passion to justify:

ignorance - paramore - quackity (actually i might make another post and talk about this bc god)

jack manifold and gives you hell by all american rejects

tubbo and the anthem by good charlotte

missing you by all time low i can see for both crimeboys and clingyduo

shut up and kiss me by marianas trench and early karlity (ie the one lil bit before karlnapity became a trio)

[objection-argumentative]

Soulmates Part 9

Masterlist!

At 8:15 am, Kelsey and Rafael walked hand in hand into the 16th precinct. The couple were in complete bliss with each other they couldn't wipe their corny smiles off their faces.

 When they reached the special victims unit, they pecked each other's lips. "see you later, dulce chica. If you're around later, wanna grab lunch?" "Sounds good handsome." Rafael smirked and pulled Kelsey into a kiss. "go get some work done, detective." Rafael walked into Cragen's office and shut the door behind him. When Kelsey got to her desk, she saw Elliot in her chair looking at his case files. "what are you doing to my desk." Elliot laughed and put his feet on the desk. "Captain has done a complete shuffle; your desk is Amaro's old one." Kelsey made her way over to her new desk and sat down. Elliot turned to kelsey.

"How're things with loverboy"   he quizzed "It's really good.....almost too good. Andrew knows about the bonding, Which means it's only a matter of time until my family find out and destroy everything." Eliott jaw clenched up, and he closed his eyes to steady his anger " you know I have girls about your age, and it kills me to see a family destroy one of their own for the sake of their twisted, sick games. Before you started, we googled you as nick recognised you. It turns out you were on the cover for some magazine that his wife reads. We thought bratty rich kid has come to join the squad. On your first day, you came in for that whole hour and then you were bonded and was rushed to hospital. We got on with the day as we thought you would have a line of people trying to help you while you threw money at the problem, and then Declan showed up. He told us you didn't have it good, and when you came to the city, you felt free from your family and expectations, but we thought you had played him and were fabricating the truth".  

Kelsey's silent tears were flowing at this point uncontrollably. Elliot moved round to her desk and rubbed her back. "Then Andrew showed and tried to kidnap you, you were crying, and you didn't even know that you were.  The look of terror in your eyes that you had I will never forget. You were trying to mould yourself to Barba. Every part of your body was shaking with fear for the man in front trying to kidnap you down the aisle. The whole squad saw how much Murphy left out, how your life hasn't been glitz and glamour at all. We all saw our kids, sisters and nieces in you, Hardy." Kelsey was still silently crying, focusing on Eliott rubbing her back to calm her down. "What I'm trying to say is that this squad might not be a conventional family, but you're one of us and look after and love our own."

"Thank you, Elliot. I appreciate that. Thank you for giving me a chance and helping me. I didn't realise how much I needed to hear that." Elliot smiled and walked back to his desk "oh, and by the way, get some work done; otherwise, dad will be pissed." Kelsey laughed and dug out Katie's file to work on it. Kelsey pulled Katie's picture out of the file and taped it to her laptop screen. Just as she did this, Sonny was at the desk opposite her" Hey doll, Warner wants us about the Junave case." kelsey grabbed her bag and coat ", let us go, I'll drive."

"I ran the DNA on Katie's fetus, and we have a match, Tommy Sullivan fathered Katie's baby".  Carisi went pale and snatched the file from the doctor, and walked out of the room. "Is he ok?" the doctor asked. "I'm sorry, Melinda, I'm not sure what happened, but I will find out ." Kelsey rushed out of the room to catch up with her partner. "What the hell was that about? Poor woman has done nothing wrong, and it looked like you were going to lunge at her." Carisi gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. "Let us go and update the captain. I wanna nail this bastard."

When Kelsey and Sonny returned to the office, Cragen and Rafael stood waiting for them with the warrant in Cragen's hands for property, computers and financials. Sonny went to grab the warrants out of the captain's hand, and the captain shook his head " Benson, my office." the older woman walked in and shut the office door. "Benson, go with Hardy to carry out the search warrant on Tommy Sullivan, Carisi's brother in law."

*Later that day*

Kelsey and Olivia carried out the search warrant and found overwhelming evidence. They went over to 1 Hogan place and presented it to Rafael. Rafael agreed and got judge Barth to sign an arrest warrant. "Go pick Sullivan up, detectives. I need it all by the book," Rafael commanded. Both women nod and grab their coats, but before they left, Rafael grabbed Kelsey by the waist, pulled her into him and kissed her forehead "by the book, baby."

Olivia and Kelsey were questioning Tommy. He realised he was screwed that everyone knew he raped Katie. He felt anger towards the detectives, They were hanging him out to dry, and he was family. "Why did you do it, Tommy? You have Bella Carisi, a loving wife, an amazing family and friends and a good job. Why go out and rape a disabled girl, huh?" Kelsey asked. Somewhat smugly, Tommy responded, "I want a lawyer" both women left the room.

Rafael called legal aid for Tommy to get a lawyer; an hour later, a lawyer was in the room with Tommy. "Barba Can I see you for a moment" Rafael turned to see the Italian detective standing in the doorway. "Carisi, I know he is your family but think of Katie and her family, Carisi." Sonny scoffed at the lawyer, "that's exactly what I'm doing. If you plead him out, don't give him less than double digits, He raped Katie Junave, destroyed her family and caused her to commit suicide.  Please, Barba, play hardball."

Two hours later, Tommy is taken to central booking awaiting his sentence hearing for the rape of Katie Junave. Rafael walked into the bullpen at 9 pm to the whole squad. He sat down next to Kelsey and removed his tie, and sighed. "I pled him out he will serve a 17-year sentence. He is in central booking now and is awaiting his hearing." The lawyer turned to sonny, "go home, Carisi, go be with your sister and family." Rafael turned and rested his forehead against Kelsey's shoulder. "Go get your bag and coat, baby. We are going out for food. The last thing we had to eat was the yoghurt and fruit we had at 7 am this morning.

Kelsey and Rafael walked out of the 16th precinct hand in hand. Kelsey turned to Rafael. "Can we go to your apartment tonight, order off a food app and cuddle. It's been a long and stressful day for both of us, and I want to be with you tonight and not have to worry about other people." Rafael smiled pulled her to him "sounds good, baby."

After their dinner, the couple were cuddled up on the couch with each other. "Baby, I think we need to see a specialist about the bond. We are both unsure of how the bond connects and changes us; we need to know what, and we need to prepare for this to happen." Kelsey nodded. "Rafe, I agree. We need to know what we are dealing with, darling." the couple stayed cuddled up with each other for a while longer until they went to bed.

[madpanda75]

“Taking Chances Part 7: All in the Family”

I’m back with the latest chapter where Rafael spends a Sunday with the Carisi family. So sorry it took me so long to get this out. Thank you so much for your patience and thanks for all of your sweet comments. Stay tuned for the next part ❤️

The clang of the bells of St. Thomas pierced through the Staten Island spring air, their melodic rings beckoning churchgoers for Mass. Rafael watched people dressed in their Sunday best walk through the red double doors of the stone cathedral as you drove the car into the church parking lot.

Turning off the ignition, you looked towards Rafael and gave him an expectant smile. “Ok, you ready?”

A sigh below past his lips. “Ready.”

“Are ya’ nervous?” you teased with a playful nudge to his shoulder.

“Me? Nervous?” Rafael scoffed. “Please, I do not get nervous,” he lied when in reality, he was a bundle of nerves. In his nearly twenty years as an ADA, Rafael had faced down cold-blooded murderers and rapists in the courtroom and yet he had never been more nervous than he was at that moment.

Ever since the unfortunate encounter in his office, he had been unable to shake Sonny’s voice from his head, a terrifying thought under any circumstance. What if your family shared his sentiments about the two of you dating? He could envision it now—a large Italian family shooting daggers at him as he walked arm in arm with you. It would be like re-enacting a scene from The Godfather.

You arched a brow at him, not falling for his cool facade. “Everything will be fine,” you reassured him. “Anyways, it's not my family you should be worried about. You should be more worried about bursting into flames when you step into the church.” You leaned towards him and whispered in his ear, “Especially after what we did last night.”

“How could I forget,” he purred. The image of you tied up and blindfolded to the bed, writhing in ecstasy as he licked whipped cream off your nipples was forever seared into his brain. He cupped your face and captured your lips with his, tracing the seam of your mouth with his tongue. You softly moaned and tilted your head, deepening the kiss when a tap on your driver side window caused you both to jump and split apart.

There was your older sister, Gina, standing outside your car with a smirk firmly planted on her face. “You might wanna watch where ya’ suck face, lil’ sis. Father Betino just walked past. See ya’ inside,” she said with a wink and headed towards the church.

You rolled your eyes and stepped out of the car with Rafael. “So which sister is that again?” he asked.

“That’s Gina. She just got engaged for the 11th time to a Wall Street broker. She claims this time it’s for real that he’s ‘the one’,” you explained, using air quotes before winding your arm around his as you walked up the stone steps. “Teresa, my other sister, strictly dates men who make six figures and above. I swear she considers Forbes to be her own personal dating ad. Ya’ already know Bella and Tommy, and of course there’s Sonny. Any questions?”

“Gina, Teresa, Bella, Tommy, and Sonny,” he softly repeated, trying to retain the information you had just thrown at him. “I think I got it.”

He opened the door, stepping inside after you to find your family waiting in the vestibule, their loud conversations echoing against the walls. Several children, who Rafael assumed to be your nieces and nephews, ran around the giant holy water font, laughing and squealing in delight. The door closed behind you with a deafening thud and the family chatter came to a halt, their attention now turned towards you and Rafael.

“Hi everyone.” You smiled and waved, being preoccupied with Rafael and work it had been ages since you had seen everyone. Your family swarmed you, sweeping you up in hugs and kisses. Spotting Rafael awkwardly standing off to the side, you reached out and grabbed his hand, leading him to your parents. “Ma, Pops, this is Rafael Barba.”

“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Carisi. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said and extended his hand to your mother.

“Please, call me, Julia,” your mom replied and shooed his hand away, pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Rafael. We’ve heard so much about you.”

You tapped her on the back.“Ok, Ma. Please do not crush my boyfriend to death,” you joked.

When she let go, Rafael noticed how much you looked like your mother—the same warm eyes, same brilliant smile, same delicate nose. He briefly imagined what you would look like when you grew older and his heart fluttered at the thought of standing by your side in the years to come, surrounded by children and grandchildren.

Unfortunately that thought was quickly dashed when he noticed your father. Dominick Carisi, Sr. stood with his arms crossed, tilting his head as he inspected Rafael with a slight frown. It was the same look that Sonny had whenever he was eyeing a potential suspect. A look Rafael recognized all too well. Standing his ground under your father’s steely stare, he held out his hand.

After a pregnant pause, your father finally shook his hand. “You can call me, Mr. Carisi.” He wrapped a protective arm around you. “So, you’re the one my little patatina has been dating.”

“Pops,” you said in a warning tone.

“Oh Dom, relax.” Your mom waved him off, turning her attention back to your boyfriend. “So are you Catholic, Rafael?

“Ma, please,” you whined and gave Rafael an apologetic look.

“It’s ok, Y/N.” Rafael smiled. He knew all too well what it was like to have a prying parent. “I was raised Catholic. I used to go to St. Rita’s with my mother in the Bronx.”

“How nice. Maybe she can join us sometime,” Julia said.

“Ok, Ma. Why don’t you and Pops go grab our pew before the Marchese clan steals it from us again.” You gently lead your parents into the church. “We’ll see you in there.”

Your sisters walked past you both, greeting Rafael on their way inside to join your parents. Teresa gave you a subtle thumbs up and mouthed, “He’s hot,” before she ran to catch up with Bella and Tommy.

You stayed in the vestibule with Rafael, knowing he would need a minute or two to recover after meeting your family. “See that wasn’t so bad.”

Rafael let out a long breath. It was only 10:15 and he felt as if he had just ran a marathon. “They’re great,” he replied. “Hey, what does patatina mean?”

“My little potato,” you mumbled, your cheeks turning bright pink. “Apparently, I resembled a lumpy spud at birth.”

He laughed and took your hand, leading you into the church when Sonny burst in. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find a parkin’ spot,” he said a little out of breath. Giving you a big hug, he then turned and noticed Rafael. His face instantly fell as soon as he locked eyes with the ADA. “Barba.”

“Carisi.” Rafael gave a curt nod of acknowledgement.

Your eyes darted between the two men like you were witnessing a tennis match. “You know this may seem like a crazy idea, but while you’re out of work, why don’t you call each other by your first name?”

“Fine,” Sonny conceded and opened the door to the church as the choir began to sing. “After you, Rafael.

Rafael shook his head. “Oh no. After you, Sonny.”

Sonny feigned sincerity and placed his hand over his heart. “Oh no, I insist.”

“No, I insist,” Rafael retorted.

By this point, Mass would be over and Rafael and Sonny would still be arguing about who goes first. “Hey Abbott and Costello, how about I go first.” You walked between the two men and grabbed Rafael by the arm. “What am I gonna do with you two?” you whispered, leading him down the aisle to the front pew where your family was sitting.

*****

Rafael was a lapsed Catholic. He hadn’t stepped foot inside a church since the SVU squad arrested Monsignor Mulregan for an underage sex trafficking ring. The lack of humanity he had witnessed over the years combined with his turbulent childhood had made his relationship with faith complicated.

But on this particular morning with you by his side, all the cynicism and doubt he had towards a higher being seemed to wash away. Rafael focused on the words being spoken. The words forever etched into every Catholic’s memory; no matter how long it’s been since they attended Mass. The same words he would speak every Sunday as a child sitting next to his abuelita. Stealing a glance at you, he softly smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, feeling completely at peace.

After the service, everyone caravanned over to the Carisi home for lunch. Hearing stories of your childhood and working with Sonny over the years had made Rafael curious about your parents’ home. As you parked in front of 193 Sycamore Avenue, he was pleasantly surprised to find a red brick Victorian home with a front porch and bay windows. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. There was even a white picket fence.

As you walked up the steps with Rafael, hand in hand, you overheard your sisters talking and kids screaming, creating a cacophony at a dangerously high decibel. “Ok. Easy part is over. Now we have to go to lunch.” You let out a long breath. “Brace yourself, Barba.”

Before you could pull your key out, Teresa beat you to the punch and flung open the door. “Come on in, baby sis and Mr. ADA.” She winked at Rafael and took his coat, placing it in the entryway closet. “Hey, uh...Mr. ADA?”

Rafael blushed. “You can call me Rafael.”

“Ok, Rafael.” Teresa furrowed her brow as she took in his state of dress. “I couldn’t help but notice your Tom Ford designer suit. Tell me how much does an ADA have to make in order to afford that type of fashion?”

You glared at your sister, stepping between her and Rafael, who was still stunned at the intrusive question. “Mind your own beeswax, Teresa Emilia Carisi.”

“Break it up, ladies. Don’t make me get the hose,” your mom warned, popping her head out from the kitchen before turning to Rafael. “Make yourself at home.”

“Do you need any help?” he asked, finally finding his voice.

“Absolutely not. You’re our guest.” She smiled and went back to work.

“Come on, Rafi. Let’s get out of here before Teresa asks for your pin number.” Teresa stuck her tongue out as you led him into the living room.

Your father came bounding down the stairs with a newspaper in hand. He observed how you giggled and wrapped your arms around Rafael. Just as he was about to step into the living room and tell the older man to watch where he put his paws on his angel of a daughter, Mrs. Carisi called him. “Dom, I need your help!”

“Coming, honey,” Dom grumbled and gave Rafael a stern look. “Behave yourself in here. Remember to leave room for the Holy Spirit.”

You rolled your eyes as soon as your father left. “I’m sorry about my family. I know they can be a little much.” Taking his hand, you traced a prominent vein, following its path up to his wrist. It’s not that you were ashamed of your family. It’s just that you knew how they could be. Overprotective. Nosy. Overbearing. There was a reason why you had only brought one other boyfriend home, apart from Rafael.

“It’s fine, hermosa,” he reassured you before wandering around the living room, taking in the fireplace, the cozy furniture, walls filled with family photos, and a large sign that read “La Dolce Vita.” There were also enough statues of saints and the Virgin Mary that Rafael was sure that Mr. and Mrs. Carisi could start their own church.

Rafael spied a picture of you as an enthusiastic twelve year old with braces and butterfly clips in your hair. “That was taken at a Backstreet Boys concert,” you said with a sheepish grin.

A smirk tugged at his lips, noticing a family photo hanging over the mantle. A large picture that appeared to have been taken at JCPenney during the height of Olan Mills. You were a happy chubby baby being held by your mom surrounded by your siblings and father. “Huh, you really did look like a potato when you were little.”

“Jerk.” You playfully smacked him on the shoulder. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure, what do you have?”

“Well we have water.” Winding your arms around his neck, you tugged him down for a slow tantalizing kiss. “Wine?” You kissed him once more. “An assortment of products made by the Coca Cola Company?” With a flirty giggle, you captured his lips again, fingering the hair on the nape of his neck.

He pulled away and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Water will be fine.”

“Coming right up.” You teasingly nipped his bottom lip and went into the kitchen.

Rafael sat on the floral printed couch and looked over at the picture of you at the Backstreet Boys concert perched on the end table. The longer he stared at that photo of you as a tween, the more apparent the age difference between you became. While you were fangirling over boy bands, he had already been working as a lawyer, making grown men cry on the witness stand.

He turned away from the photo only to find all of your nieces and nephews, some of which had suspicious sticky-like substances on their hands and faces, standing in the living room, staring at him like a pack of meerkats.

Rafael audibly gulped but tried to play it cool, remembering that children could smell fear.

A young boy, who looked about 8, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes spoke first. “Are you Aunt Y/N’s friend?”

“Uh, yes I am,” he replied.

One of your nieces giggled. “Are you her boyfriend?”

“What’s a boyfriend?” asked another little girl with pigtails, who couldn’t have been more than four.

“That’s when a boy is friends with a girl but they kiss a lot,” explained the sandy blonde haired boy. From there it was an interrogation that would’ve put the FBI to shame with each of the kids asking him question after question.

“Do you kiss Aunt Y/N?”

“Are you gonna marry Aunt Y/N?”

“Are you gonna have kids?”

“Can I be in the wedding?!”

“Me too! Me too!”

“I wanna be a flower girl!”

“No me first! I wanna be the flower girl!”

“I can talk to dogs!”

Rafael’s head was spinning. He couldn’t get a word in edgewise over the kids and that dog comment left him completely stunned. Thankfully you and your father came in right before Rafael was sure the children were about to re-enact a scene from Lord of the Flies.

“Woah, what’s going on here?” You gave Rafael a sympathetic smile and handed over his glass of water while balancing a drooling baby on your hip. “Hey kids, why don’t we give Auntie Y/N’s friend a break. Uncle Sonny’s in the backyard and he has chocolate!”

“Chocolate!” The kids screamed and ran out of the room to go maul their uncle.

Rafael looked at you as if you had just offered him a seat on the last lifeboat during the sinking of the Titanic. You were about to sit down when you made a face and sniffed the air. Hoisting the baby in your arms up, you took a whiff of his diaper. “Phew, little man. Your diapers smell worse than the bathroom after your Uncle Sonny uses it.” The baby laughed in response. “I’ll be right back, Rafi. Bella, I’m going to change your offspring,” you shouted, heading up the stairs.

Dom Sr. placed a crudités platter on the coffee table and sat down in his usual chair in the corner of the living room. “So, I understand you work with Sonny.”

“Yes, sir,” Rafael said, reaching for a carrot stick.

“You know, Sonny was a big fan of yours. That is until you started dating Y/N.” He crossed his arms and fixed Rafael with an icy blue stare.

Rafael returned his gaze, refusing to back down. “This isn’t just a fling, Mr. Carisi. Y/N is very special to me. She’s my world.”

The older man was slightly stunned by Rafael’s admission. Before he could come up with a response, Sonny stumbled into the living room with a squealing little girl clinging to his leg. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was a mess. The man looked as if he was coming back from fighting a war and he was on the losing side.

“Ok, Y/N. You win,” Sonny said, completely out of breath. “Go play with Nonni for a little bit. Uncle Sonny needs a break.” He set his niece down and ruffled her hair as he left to go help his sisters set the table.

The little girl ran up to Rafael and gave him a bright smile, climbing up on the couch next to him. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Your name is Y/N too?” Rafael asked.

She nodded her head enthusiastically causing her pigtails to bounce up and down. “Yep. Mommy named me after my favo-wite aunt! What’s your name?”

“I’m your aunt’s friend, Mr. Barba.”

“Mista Bawba.” Little Y/N tested the name on her tongue.

Rafael bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the precocious child. “You can call me Rafi if you like.”

“Ok, Wafi!” She hopped off the couch and ran out of the room, returning in a matter of seconds with a book that was almost as big as she was. “Can you wead?”

Rafael chuckled a bit. “I think I can manage.” Y/N climbed back on the couch and made herself comfortable on his lap, ready for him to start. Glancing up, he saw Dom Sr. with a pleasantly surprised look on his face. He gestured for Rafael to go ahead. Clearing his throat, Rafael cracked open the book and began to read the story.

You came bounding down the stairs with a freshly changed baby only to stop in your tracks when you came upon a sight that made your heart flutter, soar, and anything else that might require a trip to the cardiologist. There in the living room was your boyfriend with your little niece sitting on his lap, making her giggle as he did funny voices while reading her “The Day the Crayons Quit.” The book you had gotten her this past Christmas.

Sensing your presence, he stopped mid-sentence and caught you staring at him. “Don’t stop now. This is the good part.” You immediately plopped down on the couch next to him and little Y/N. His expression softened and he paused, committing this moment to memory: you sitting by his side with a baby nestled in your arms. Locking eyes, you simultaneously knew that this was what you both wanted—a family. It never felt right with anyone else. But having a family with Rafael, there was no other way to describe it other than perfect. And he felt the exact same way.

*****

“How cute is that?” Gina cooed.

Teresa set the placemats down on the dining room table and went over to her sister. “I know. I think my ovaries just exploded.”

Bella nodded as she laid out the silverware. “Ma needs to get a mop cause I’m a puddle right now.”

Sonny walked in from the kitchen with an armful of plates, furrowing his brow when he saw his three sisters practically drooling. “What’s goin’ on in here?”

“Oh nothin’. Just watching the sexy Cuban man in the living room entertaining our children,” Bella said.

Sonny followed his sister’s gaze to find you and Rafael, surrounded by all of your nieces and nephews playing Candy Land, even your father had joined the game. “Rafael? Please,” he scoffed. “If you find uptight tiny men with overly coiffed hair attractive.”

Gina made a face. “What’s with you?”

“Yeah,” Bella chimed in, taking the plates from her brother and placing them on the table. “I thought you worshipped the ground this guy walks on.”

Sonny snorted. “That was before I caught them on Nonna’s table.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N told me about how ya’ cock blocked her.” Gina smirked and nudged her brother. “Sounds like our lil’ sis is getting satisfied.”

“I wonder if he has a brother,” Teresa mused.

Sonny groaned and plopped down on the dining room chair. “Not you guys too. Anyways, don’t start planning Y/N’s bachelorette party just yet. After tonight, I predict this relationship will start to fizzle out pretty fast.” He stood up and finished setting the table.

“Sonny, what did ya’ do?” Teresa put her hands on her hips and gave her brother a warning glare.

“Why are ya’ pointin’ the finger at me. I’m just sayin’ don’t expect those two to work out. There may be someone else out there for Y/N.” Sonny shrugged and grabbed a piece of garlic bread, taking a bite. “Someone more appropriate. Someone who’s not about to enter their twilight years,” he muttered.

All three of his sisters swooped in and surrounded him. There was no place to escape. He was trapped. Teresa narrowed her eyes. Gina smacked the bread out his hand.

“You better not fuck this up for her. I mean it. She’s happy.” Bella punched him in the shoulder.

“What’s going on in here?” Julia arched her brow, setting a large platter of ragu tagliatelle on the table.

“Nothing,” all of the Carisi children simultaneously said with innocent smiles plastered on their faces.

Knowing her children, Mrs. Carisi was not buying their act. “Uh-huh. Last time you said ‘nothing’. I caught you all fingerpainting the living room walls with chocolate syrup. Whatever you’re doing, stop. It’s time to eat.”

*****

“More parmigiana, Rafael?” Julia asked with a warm smile as the ADA devoured his food.

“Yes, please.” Rafael happily accepted the platter and took his second serving. “Everything is delicious.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” she replied. Mrs. Carisi had outdone herself. The dining room table was laden with various pastas, lasagna, mussels in a simmering broth, and bread. With each bite, Rafael could feel his stomach expand and yet he couldn’t stop himself from eating. By the end of the night, he was sure one of his buttons would pop.

Taking a sip of his wine, he noticed a painting of what looked to be a street market in Italy on the wall. Vibrant colors depicted vendors selling fruits, vegetables, and various wares on a cobblestone alley. Rafael lost himself in the artwork for a moment. He could practically hear the Italian women barter and bicker over the best price for tomatoes. “That’s a beautiful painting.” He turned to you. “Let me guess. One of yours?”

“Actually that was painted by my grandmother. It’s a market in Naples. My great-grandfather used to sell fish there every week and Nonna Carisi would go with him. She would paint to pass the time,” you remarked.

“You never told me that before,” Rafael said with a smirk.

“Nonna Carisi was an amazing painter,” Julia added. “She used to babysit Y/N. I would come home from work and find them both painting their next masterpieces.”

“Guess it runs in the family then.” Rafael gave you a sly wink.

Mr. Carisi softly chuckled. “I remember when I came home from the hospital after having my heart attack and Y/N announced at dinner one night that she decided to quit the MBA program at NYU so that she can devote her life to art. I swear, I almost had another heart attack right here at this table.”

You sighed, having heard this story countless times before. “Life is short, Pops. I would rather spend my time doing what I love and pursuing my dreams than being bored and miserable reviewing portfolio investments and marketing strategies, slaving away for the almighty dollar. Besides, aren’t you always saying that all you want in life is for your patatina to be happy?”

Mr. Carisi nodded and softly smiled. “Yes, I did and I’m proud of you and what you’ve accomplished.”

“I think Y/N is an incredible artist,” Rafael said. “When we first met, it was her passion for art that really struck me. Her paintings are absolutely captivating. She’s one of the most talented people I know.” He took hold of your hand under the table, running his thumb across your knuckles. Your sisters gave each other a knowing look, wiggling their eyebrows while your brother rolled his eyes. You blushed at his compliment and took a sip of your wine, never letting go of his hand.

“So, when do you two plan on tying the knot?” Gina asked.

You whipped your head around. “Gina?!”

Your sister feigned innocence. “What? I was just askin’. And anyways, time’s a wastin’, lil sis.” She held up her hand and showed off her 3.5 carat pear shaped yellow diamond engagement ring. “Tick Tock.”

Your mom’s eyes lit up. “You know, Nonna Carisi’s wedding dress is in the attic. We can head up there after lunch and try it on.”

“Just as long as you have the wedding in the fall,” Bella said and rubbed her belly. “It’ll give me time to lose the rest of the baby weight.”

Teresa shook her head. “No way. She should have a summer wedding. I bet my firm can book the Plaza for August.” She immediately took out her phone and started to shoot off a text to her assistant.

As your sisters argued over your wedding date, your mom continued, “Of course, we’d have to alter the dress. Nonna Carisi was a little hippy. God bless her.”

You turned beet red. The last time you were this mortified was when you were 16 and got busted making out in the movie theater by your parents. “Can we please stop this crazy conversation and come back from whatever insane alternate reality you ladies are living in and just enjoy our meal. Not another word about the Plaza, wedding dresses, or anything about my or Rafael’s future for the rest of the evening. Thank you.”

Everyone around the table was quiet and focused on their food until Rafael cut through the silence. “Just as long as our kids don’t look like a sack of potatoes, I’m good.”

Rafael’s surprise joke caused you to choke on your wine. He patted your back as you coughed and sputtered. Surprisingly, your father snorted a laugh. As the day progressed, he began to grow fond of Rafael. The laughter became infectious and soon everyone joined in. Well, everyone except for Sonny.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Sonny shot right up with a smug smile on his face. “I’ll get it.”

Your mom and dad eyed each other curiously from across the table. “Were you expecting someone? Dom asked his wife. Julia shook her head no.

You dropped your fork with a clang, instantly recognizing the voice of the person Sonny was greeting at the door. “Hey everyone! Look who’s here!” Sonny announced as he led Theo into the dining room.

All the color drained from your face, you looked as if you had seen a ghost. The shock of seeing your ex quickly began to wear off and was replaced with rage. White hot, explosive rage. As your blood began to boil, you silently debated who to kill first—your brother or ex-fiance.

@glimmerglittergirl​ @southern-magnolia​ @sweetcannolicarisi​ @delia26​ @obfuscateyummy​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @eclecticminded​ @thatesqcrush​ @katmstanton​ @amirightcounsellor​ @beltzboys2015-blog​ @letty-o​ @sonnysdoll​ @lyssa1385​ @sweetsummertime99​ @burningsorr0ws​ @gibbs274​ @izzythefanfreak​ @babypink224221​ @livxrafa​ @esparza-army​ @obsessionprofessional​ @ottosuricato​ @melsquared79​ @dreila03​ @frenchiefoxy​ @tropes-and-tales​ @thecraziestcrayon​ @goodluckfindingone​ @scarlettsoldier​ @youreverycolor​ @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii​ @imjustreallynosy​ @graniairish​ @ashley-chi​ @lolacolaempath @cocomel0613​ @imagine-all-the-imagines​ @mysterioustrashadventures​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @scapricciatello​ @mrsrafaelbarba​

[skia-oura]

Dipper’s Day Around the World

A/N: This is 21k written over the span of like 6 months, so buckle in folks.

ao3

_______________________________________________________________

December 4th, 5:58 AM EST

           Dipper didn’t exactly sleep, anymore, but he was close enough to rest and unconcern with the matters of the rest of the world, sandwiched between Torako and Bentley in their bed, that the sting of the summons—friendly, from a personal circle, not from the standard one that strangers used—startled him into a disgruntled moan. Torako, a lighter sleeper in the morning, the early bird between them, twitched and then hummed an inquiry. “Izza…summons,” Dipper mumbled back before he turned and pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

           “Mmm,” she said. After a while, she asked, “Someone you know?”

           He could hear her voicebox buzzing under the skin at his lips, could feel it vibrating lightly into the cartilage (manifested cartilage, yes, but cartilage as long as he wanted it to be) of his nose. A very dim part of him strengthened by still-waking awareness wanted to open his mouth and bite down into the flesh a little, just to feel it echo more directly into the not-bones of his teeth. The rest of him knew that it was a bad idea and was a sure way to get the heel of her palm slamming into his nose hard enough to break and hurt. It wasn’t even omniscience that told him this, just unfortunate prior experience.

           She still let him close, though, and so he nuzzled in. “Yeah,” he sighed, but he was mostly awake now. “It’s a friends and family circle. Even though it’s at—oh, look, it’s 6 AM,” he said.

           Torako reached over and up and ruffled at his hair. He sat up and smoothed it flat, glowering down at her. The motion dislodged Bentley’s arm from his waist but the Bentley that lived in this house was a deeper sleeper than the Bentley that returned to the apartment he’d been kidnapped from, and so he did nothing but scrunch up his nose (adorable) and sleep-mumble unintelligible noises before relaxing back into deeper sleep. Dipper sighed and relaxed shoulders he hadn’t even realized were tense.

           “Go gettem, Dips,” Torako whispered, eye cracked open in a half-awake smile. “We’re gonna have breakfast bout nine, ok? Ben’n I got busy days planned.”

           “Okay,” Dipper said. He bent down and pressed a kiss to Torako’s forehead. “Let Bentley know where I’ve gone when he wakes up, okay?”

           “Mmmkay,” Torako said, then yawned and snuggled back into the covers. “Later gater.”

           The summons stung him again. Dipper hovered above the bed for a moment, wings spread, then melted from comfortable (but elegant!!) pajamas into a more formal (but somewhat casual) suit before focusing on tracing the summons back to its locus, and slipping from bedroom on the East Coast to elsewhere.

December 4th, 11:01 AM BST

           Elsewhere turned out to be another bedroom, in front of somebody he knew (Soos, no—Olla, her name is Olla) in England. He also knew that her mother would destroy them if she found them together, and it was the middle of the day and wait, what was Olla doing home anyways?

           He blinked down at her. “Why are you even in your dorm? Don’t you have classes?”

           “Alcor,” Olla moaned. Her hair was a mass of messily plaited braids, ribbons bright but askew. “You gotta help me. You’re my only hope of passing this stupid chemistry class I decided to take with my friend but we’re both hopeless—not hopeless, but definitely for sure 100% in over our heads—and for some weird reason most of the people in class aren’t keen on talking to me long enough to do studying or they’re busy or they’re just pain rude, please save me.”

           Dipper sat down on her bed, which was next to the desk she was sitting at. Olla Sussally twisted the chair around in place, leaned forward to heave something up off the floor, then turned back around. In her hands—fingernails painted vivid, somewhat chipped colors that shifted weakly from hue to hue—was a very large tub, and in that tub was the biggest horde of candy Dipper had seen anywhere other than a grocery store. His mouth, despite any efforts to the contrary, began to fill with saliva.

           The memory of Olla’s mother was just terrifying enough to remind him that his skin was actually prickling with discharged magical energy. “Your mom changed the wards again, didn’t she? It’s a shame they didn’t work, but she’ll know you summoned me, she always does, and she’s always so pissed even if I didn’t technically approach you.”

           Olla moaned and tipped her head back for a moment. “I know I know, it’s so dumb and I hate it yet my mum really is the best and I love her n’all, but like, I have got to get this chemistry in the brain space as fast and fully as possible so can we talk about mum later? I have a candy bag per concept and you’re, like, supposed to be super smart, right? You’re supposed to know everything.”

           Dipper cocked his head at her. Olla wasn’t smiling, not even nervously. Well, Dipper thought to himself, Mrs. Sussally couldn’t be too mad if this meant Olla a) was less stressed, and b) passed chemistry.

           “Okay,” he said, sticking his hand out. “Deal.”  

           “Oh gosh oh thank you you’re the best,” Olla breathed out, then reached out and shook his hand vigorously with both of hers. Blue fire bloomed, then sputtered when she whirled around and pulled a textbook towards her—which, considering the fact that Olla was one of the most laid-back and calm people he knew, was concerning. “Okay, so, let’s start with chemical formulas, because hoo my man—my demon? I’ll have to ask you later—but, like, there’s molecular formula, and then there’s empirical formula is sometimes the same but sometimes different, and it has to do with math which is fine but I still don’t get why.”

           Dipper blinked at her, then reached forward and pulled a bag of malted biscuits from Olla’s candy stash. She had swiped several worksheets and class notes up to hover in the air between them. “It’s easier to deal with some chemical equations that way,” he said.　“Look—here, at this problem…”

_______________________________________________________________

           Halfway through explaining the Gillespie-Nyholm theory in regards to double and triple molecular bonds, Olla’s phone rang. Dipper stopped, stared at it. Olla looked down. The display read: ‘Mum <3 <3 <3.’ The hearts twirled in circles and threw off little digital glittery sparks.

           “Aw,” Olla groaned, tipping her head back. “It’s only been, like, an hour. Come on, mum!”

           “Maybe she hasn’t noticed yet?” Dipper ventured. He stuck his fingers in his mouth to lick off the sour sugar particles and eyed the still mostly-full tub of candy. “If she hasn’t, we could definitely get through another few concepts. I’ve only had four bags.” He wanted at least another three. Maybe five. Ten would be best.

           Olla stuck out her tongue at him, took a deep breath, and then answered the phone. “Hey, mum, what’s up, howsit going, what’s on, you at lunch or something, it’s so weird for you to call me now haha you know class just finished!”

           There was a muffled noise, the sound of somebody talking just out of earshot. Dipper tipped his head to the side. Would eavesdropping even be worth it?

           “Woah, that’s weird, the wards are juuuuust fine here!” Olla cast her eyes up at the ceiling. Dipper looked up as well, and winced a little at how almost soggy some of the wards looked, bent out of space from where he’d pushed his way through. Well, their cover was blown. He cast a longing look at the candy bags, and wished for a reality in which he could earn them. “I guess your alert app is just fritzing out again!”

           Silence. Then, several garbled words, Olla’s eyes widening and cutting to him. She laughed a little nervously. “What do you mean, mum? Sure, I wasn’t in Mid-Millenium Literature class, but that’s just because chem is kicking my ass into a sad bit of lumpy dough and I needed to take time—no, no, no tutors, just me and my cute little—wait you’re right outside the building??”

           Dipper froze again. He met Olla’s eyes. As Olla’s mother started talking again, Olla flapped her free hand at him frantically, mouthing go go go!! as she listened.

           If he really wanted to, he could take Olla’s mom. But a) he respected her, b) Olla really loved her, and c) Olla’s mother actually kind of just a little bit intimidated him when he wasn’t hopped up on anxiety and possessiveness and fear for his Mizar’s safety. So Dipper grimaced, lifted a hand in farewell, and blipped out of Olla’s dorm room with the fleeting thought of the next place he could go on such short notice.

 December 4th, 9:29 PM AEST

           It was, perhaps, not the best idea to suddenly appear on the couch right next to Tommy and Filara Hangar—they were a little jumpy—but Dipper wasn’t anything if not dramatic. He slung one leg over the other, slipped into something a little more formal mid-blip, and set his hands on top of his knee so that the fingers were curled a little over the kneecap. “Hello,” he said, pitched just high enough to be heard over the evening news.

           Next to him, Tommy Hangar screeched and nearly scrambled over the back of the couch. Filara Hangar seized a wineglass off the table and flung it at him with incredible accuracy. Taken off-guard, Dipper had only a split second to decide whether to let it land or whether to pluck it out of thin air. He hesitated, and the decision was made for him—the glass smacked into his nose and red wine splashed up and over his face. Blinking, liquid clinging to his eyelashes, Dipper said, “Well, that was rude but I get it, I guess.”

           Tommy wheezed from behind the couch. “What the fuck, you feathering fuckwit,” she said. “Holy shit you can’t do that to us without giving a ring or tapping out a coupla knocks first. I hate it when you do that! It freaks me the fuck out.”

           Filara, on her part, was staring at her outstretched hand, bewilderment blooming all over her aura like morning glories. “I threw a glass of wine at Alcor the Dreambender,” she said, a little faintly.

           “And hit,” Dipper groused. He materialized a stylish handkerchief from out of his vest pocket, snapped it open, and dabbed at his face just to emphasize his point. “You’re lucky that this suit is literally materialized out of the power I possess and isn’t actual fabric, because that would be a bitch to clean.”

           “Die mad about it,” Tommy said. Dipper opened his mouth to respond to that, but Tommy widened her eyes at him and he wisely shut his mouth. She hauled herself back up and over the couch to sit squarely between Dipper and her wife. “We wouldn’t pay for it anyways, it’s your own feckin fault for slipping in here out of thin air at—” she glanced at the news “—9:34 PM, what the hell and why are you even here?”

           Dipper waved the concern aside as though it were a physical thing he could clear the air of. He finished dabbing the wine off his face and snapped the handkerchief again to disperse it from its momentary existence. At the same time, the wine was pulled out of the non-fabric of his clothes and vanished. “My last appointment was cut very abruptly short, and I’d been meaning to check in on you two so I figured that now was as good a time as any. How are you?”

           Filara blinked at him. “I hit Alcor the Dreambender with a half-full glass of wine,” she said, a little glee in her voice and in her eyes.

           “Yes you did, honey,” Tommy said. She patted her wife’s hand and smiled. “It was a hot damn moment of glory and I love you even more than I already did.”

           “Didn’t you throw ice water on him a few months ago?” Filara cocked her head and looked Tommy up and down, lightning bright sparks of realization fading into soft ombre appreciation.

           Dipper frowned. There was no need to rub it in, he totally could have stopped that from happening—both the wine and the water. “Yes she did, and we’ve already covered the wine stuff, how are you?”

           “It’s 9:34 PM,” Tommy drawled, turning her attention away from her wife to glower. “What do you think??”

           “Now, now,” Filara said, rubbing at Tommy’s shoulders from behind. “I know it’s late, but we haven’t seen him in a while and I threw wine on him, so I think that it would only be fair to entertain him with a little conversation, don’t you think? I’m sure he’s a little lonely, aren’t you?”

           Filara smiled at him. She looked nothing like Lionel, but Dipper read him into the quirk at the corner of her mouth that said she was still smugly amused at her unintentional victory over him. The little heartache that came with the thought moved Dipper to look past it and the quite frankly presumptive opinion that he was lonely, he wasn’t lonely. He was fine.

           “No,” he said, “but Bentley and Torako are busy sleeping right now, and I’m awake and out so I wanted to talk to you.” The more he thought about it, though, the more tempting the thought of blipping back home and crawling into bed for snuggles was. He absolutely was not lonely.

           Tommy wrinkled her nose. “That’s right, it is stupid early over there still, isn’t it?”

           “Yeah,” he said, though stupid early was a relative term when it came to individualistic habits and sleep patterns. For some people in the same time zone, it was stupid late.

           Filara leaned over and propped her elbow on Tommy’s shoulder. Her near-invisible lenses flashed a little, and she grinned. “So how are Ms. Gorgeous and Mr. Sigils?”

           “Adjusting.” Dipper leaned back into the arm of the couch and twisted a saccharine drink out of nothing to sip at. “We just finished settling into the new house nine days ago. Torako or Bentley might have sent you pictures?”

           Tommy had been frowning at Dipper ever since he pulled out his drink. “Dude,” she said, slowly, “I know you’re a demon and all, but that’s rude, man, just ask for a drink.”

           “Oh, it’s quite all right,” Filara said, patting Tommy’s arm. “If he brings his own drink, that means that there’s more wine for me. And yes, Torako did send me pictures of the house. Bentley didn’t, but he made up for it by sending me updates on how things were going, and I very much appreciate it.”

           With a sigh, Tommy leaned back into the couch and crossed her arms.

           “Did she send you pictures of the tables?” Dipper drawled, swirling his drink around in its glass. “Mine was the best one.”

           “That’s not what she said.” Filara raised her eyebrows. “In fact, she said that you all voted hers the best, and that’s the solid truth there.”

           Dipper sniffed and took a sip of his not-beverage, mentally pulled together his arguments in favor of not Torako winning their unofficial competition, and launched into them with a passion that Bentley would have described as ‘overkill’ and Torako as ‘desperately in denial.’

_______________________________________________________________

December 4th, 8:39 PM PHT

           Dipper only burned through an hour before Tommy had enough and kicked him out during a lull in conversation, citing that she actually wanted to spend time with her wife, not the dude who came around to pick her wife’s brain and engage in furious debate over the most mundane things before turning around and treating the most abstract concepts with the same fervor. He’d relented and accepted a couple drinks—overly sugary and laden with alcohol that couldn’t affect his non-existent metabolism—and found himself having made off with one of the Hangars’ drinking glasses on accident. He shrugged, sent it off to the Mindscape Shack, and figured it would make a good excuse for another visit.

           In the meantime, it was time to visit somebody very new to their current life.

           Dipper closed his eyes and followed one of the faint bonds inside of himself to a small apartment of Cebu—Grand Courtyard Bldg 5, apartment 607, nursery with the window facing north-east—in the evening, when its sole occupant was sleeping soundly, parents in the other room finishing dinner and relaxing before the baby woke up again. There was a personalized cam-monitor in the corner, anti-tamper sigils that reminded Dipper of Bentley (and when he looked at them for more than a split second, he saw Bentley working on them as part of a senior project for undergrad, and how strange, how incredible to think that they’d gone so far from that point, blooming into existence under his fingertips), and Dipper only spared a single thought to artificially looping the input past the anti-tamper sigils (they were Bentley’s, of course he knew how to get around them) before drifting closer to the crib.

           Lloyd Remnit had not lasted long after their visit, after Dipper tore the information from his mind and Fantino had died as a result. Stan had always given everything for family, and it always hurt when he failed to protect them. (many Stans had summoned him over the years. Some paid the ultimate price for their loved ones. Some paid a different price, but it all fell to pieces around them anyways. Others, ones who hadn’t summoned him, had summoned others instead—one had given away her soul to be consumed. Dipper had torn that demon to pieces).

           This time around, given how his last incarnation had ended up at odds with Alcor, he was determined to have Stan on his side. Which meant—this.

           “Hey,” Dipper said softly, breathily. In her crib, María Elena ‘Inyang’ Dimayuga lay on her back, fingers curled into soft fists. He took a moment to take her in—a little on the large side, for a two-month-old, eyelashes dark and soft against her puffy cheeks, baby hair thin clouds across the crown of her skull. “Hey. I’m going to be your Uncle Dipper. Your parents don’t know yet, but they don’t know a lot of things about you yet either, do they? They’re still calling you Aweng. Don’t worry, they’ll figure it out eventually.”

           Inyang shifted in her sleep and scrunched her nose. Dipper stilled, but her eyes didn’t open, and her barely-there, underdeveloped aura didn’t shift suddenly in that telltale breath between sleep and wake that infants tended towards. After a few moments, he slid from stillness into careful motion, chin propped in the heart of his palm, elbows on the edge of the crib, ankles-crossed mid-air. His wings fluttered once or twice. He sighed a little.

           “It’s been a few years since I’ve interacted with somebody so young,” Dipper confessed. “Not since Lata, at least. Nobody’s been stupid enough to summon me with a newborn sacrifice recently, and the chances to meet babies like you are otherwise pretty slim in my line of work.” He laughed a little. Inyang let out a breathy sigh of an exhale. “But you’re family, you know? I should—I should stick around for you.”

           Inyang’s fingers tightened into fists, then relaxed. He looked at her nails. She probably needed them trimmed, soon. Dipper remembered sharp baby nails, and they were a somewhat discordant experience when the rest of them was so soft, so malleable, so easy to swallow—

           Dipper closed his eyes, breathed in and out, and chased the thought down into the deepest, most terrible part of him. Then he opened his eyes and looked back down at Inyang.

           Inyang looked back, dark eyes large in her small face.

           They stared at each other for a few seconds, Inyang frozen by the uncertainty of an unfamiliar face hovering over her, Dipper by the very human instinct of ‘maybe if I don’t move, this very small child will just go back to sleep instead of crying.’ Despite being a dream demon who didn’t need moist eyeballs, Dipper was the one who blinked first.

           Inyang’s aura twisted. She let out the start of a choking cry. Galvanized by memories of caring for babies over the years, Dipper started shushing her, reaching into her crib on reflex. His sharp talons faded into stubby nubs, his gloves melted away to materialized skin. “Hey, hey, no, it’s all right—”

           Footsteps outside the door. Moments before he managed to pick Inyang up, Dipper frantically twisted himself into the shadows under her crib. Seconds later, the door opened.

           “Oh, that’s odd,” the parent said. Dipper blinked, and there it was—Alisha Dimayuga, journalist, wife to Jolan Dimayuga, owner of a small clothing boutique that custom-sized for all its customers. “The camera didn’t pick up on you waking up—hush, hush, sweet little Aweng, here I am, it’s okay. Why don’t we go see your Zaza, hmm? Zi would love to hold you, love to kiss your precious little nose and all the pain away.”

           Dipper stared up at the bottom of the crib, seeing Alisha pick up Inyang and soothe her without physically seeing it. Alisha rocked from side to side with each step, murmuring about how hard it was to be a baby as she slowly made her way out the room, Inyang still crying pitifully in tired-sleepy-pain-overstimulation. She was going through one of her growth spells, Dipper knew suddenly, though he’d always known it. It hurt, to grow so much all at once and not understand anything, and thankfully it was knowledge that faded quickly. Dipper still remembered his second birth, how things changed and ached and felt like fire melting and reforging and melting his bones all at once. The pain of it, over and over, all at once after stretches of nothing.

           He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

           Dipper considered revealing himself to Alisha and her partner. He thought about introducing himself, but the thought of Alisha’s fear and Jolan’s terror-courage and the rift that would possibly set between him and Inyang made him hesitate, caught between the soft shadows of the nursery and the light spilling in through the open door. He stayed for a few moments, listening to Alisha and Jolan’s soft voices in the other room, hearing Inyang’s cries get quieter and quieter until she was silent.

           Maybe another time, Dipper told himself. He coalesced back into his humanoid form next to the crib, with its whale-patterned sheets and its pale linoliwood bars. He looked out the door, into the sliver of the hall he could see, and remembered other babies over the years that he had raised, or helped raise. Later, he told himself firmly. For sure.

           Dipper closed his eyes, breathed in deep, and blipped—

 December 4th, 8:54 AM EST

           —into his designated seat at the dining table, aka the chair that Torako had snatched for her temporary bedside table and kept falling out of bed for. Dipper might have—in the previous months—maybe on occasion scooted it just far enough out of reach that she would tumble out of the sheets. Just maybe on occasion, though. Not every night. That would just be suspicious.

           “Morning,” he chirped at Torako, who was sipping at a cup of coffee. He eyed it—hazelnut creamer, oof, she was anticipating a Day.

           “Hey,” Torako said. Across the table, Bentley’s forehead was flush against the wood surface. He groaned out something that Dipper interpreted as a greeting.

           “You never jump anymore,” Dipper complained. He crossed his arms and set them on the table, leaning forward. “It’s so disappointing.”

           “Dude, we’ve lived together for, like, eight years, of course I don’t jump anymore,” Torako said. Dipper hummed in absentminded agreement in order to hide the fact that he was as of that moment making plan after plan to startle the snot out of her. “Besides, now I have a Dipper-sensor as long as Bentley’s around—he moaned out something a second before you popped up.”

          Very kind of her to tell him what situation he needed to avoid in order to succeed. Torako really was her own worst enemy, because she should know by know that Dipper wasn’t nearly nice enough to not take advantage of such facts. “I had forgotten about that.” He actually almost had. “Bentley conscious yet?”

           Bentley groaned again. Torako picked up her fork, stabbed a sausage on her plate, and shoved it in her mouth. Dipper squinted his eyes at the remaining sausages and wondered if he could get away with sneaking one off her plate.

           “Kind of. I think he had a rough last hour of sleep; he was really groggy when I finally shook him awake.”

           Half-formed schemes of how he was going to make Torako scream in surprise fell to the back burner as he cast a more appraising eye over Bentley and his aura. Bentley kept saying that he didn’t want them to treat him like something fragile, like those delectable sugar cubes that were 90% air, 9% sugar and 1% flavoring and were so thin they fell apart the moment they touched your tongue, but Bentley was also dealing with PTSD among a host of other problems so Dipper was going to worry. Especially since, you know, exhaustion crept and shifted slow through his aura in a way that Dipper hadn’t seen since last week.

           “Hey, Ben. Looking tired there.”

           Bentley didn’t make a noise. Instead, he lifted his head up just enough to glare at Dipper. Dipper winced, both at the animosity and at the tiredness strung at the corners of his eyes and in the crease of his forehead. Bentley glared even more.

           Torako whistled. “I’m not sure, but it might have actually gotten worse?”

           “Shut up,” Bentley groused. He reached out and nearly knocked his mug of coffee over (and if it weren’t bad enough that he was drinking coffee, it was worse because even all the way across the table, Dipper’s teeth could feel the half-cup of sugar Bentley had poured in) before tugging it close and sipping. It must have tasted awful. Bentley didn’t blink an eye.

           Dipper looked at Torako. Torako glanced at him. They both decided that shuddering was probably not the wisest course of action, with Ben so grumpy. That being said, Torako still opened her mouth. Really, she was her own worst enemy.

           “So you’re…still going to work today?”

           Ben grunted and shifted his gaze to her, narrow-eyed. “I gotta,” he said. “There’s a new sigils company being built here, and there’s a…what’s the word…mandatory, right, there’s a mandatory meeting at 9:30 about it.”

           “What about a teleconference?” Torako speared another sausage. Dipper, momentarily distracted, looked down at her plate and stretched nonchalantly. If his hand was a little closer to her plate than before, well, that was just coincidence.

           Shaking his head, Bentley took another sip of his coffee before saying, “Confidential information. Gotta be in person.”

           Dipper, after a blink and a quick rush of information, thought that it might be more that Bentley was being stubborn about ‘earning his keep’ and less about ‘having to go to the meeting in person.’ Dipper was actually pretty sure that Karl Svinhish would happily come to visit just in order to fill Bentley in on the details. He considered the pros and cons of actually saying that, and decided to keep his mouth shut. Instead, Torako distracted, he set his fingers right at the edge of her plate.

           Torako snorted and pointed her fork at Bentley. “And Karl Svinhish wouldn’t bend over backwards for you, no, no he wouldn’t.”

           Bentley actually hissed at her and bared his teeth. Torako’s face went—not pale, no, but she had the expression of somebody who has just realized that they’re treading right at the edge of too far and should really go back before they’re mauled. She stabbed down for her sausages.

           Dipper, right on the edge of getting himself a tasty salty snack, howled as her fork stabbed right into the back of his hand.

           “Oh fuck,” Torako said, jumping out of her chair. “Oh fuck, how the fuck did your hand get there, what even—”

           Dipper felt torn between cackling and screaming. It really, really hurt in all the best and worst ways. “You stabbed me!”

           Bentley, at some point, had half-pushed himself out of his chair. He lowered himself down into it, lifted his coffee mug, and raised his eyebrows as Torako pulled the fork back out of Dipper’s hand. He sipped.

           “Shut up,” Dipper giggled at him, tears streaming down his face.

           “I’m too tired to be nice,” Bentley muttered. “You were asking for it.”

           Torako blinked. She looked down at her sausages. “Were you—trying to take my breakfast?”

           “No,” Dipper lied. He licked at the puncture holes in the back of his hand, then willed them to go away. His blood tasted almost like copper, today. “Of course not.”

           Torako glowered at him, and pointed the fork. “You were.”

           “Never,” he said. There was a tug somewhere in his gut, and he recognized family—friend—Batoor a split second before he said, “and you can’t prove otherwise, Batoor’s calling, see you guys later bye!”

           Torako threw her fork. He disappeared before it could reach him.

 December 4th, 4:09 PM GMT

             Dipper blipped back into physical space upside-down and in a pretty snazzy pair of electric blue ruffled slacks. He craned his neck back to look Batoor in the eye. “You called?”

           “Someday, I hope you realize how old you sound when you say that,” Batoor complained. He was sitting on his desk, a textbook in his lap and a pencil stuck behind his ear. His curtains were open, the dorm courtyard below empty but for the few students taking advantage of a clear afternoon to get some much-needed sun. Dipper tilted his head and pointed.

           “Is that kid stacking chips on her nose?”

           “Undoubtedly,” Batoor said, not even looking. “It’s a new fad. You wouldn’t understand them, being an old geezer.”

           Sometimes, Dipper regretted introducing Torako to Batoor. He extra regretted that Torako and Batoor had exchanged contact information, and that Batoor was picking up on some bad habits of Torakos, like bullying Dipper with no regard for how impressively powerful he was. No respect these days.

           “I understand fads,” Dipper grumbled.

           Outside, chip-stacking student made it to four chips high. Four chips wouldn’t be nearly so impressive if they weren’t being stacked corner to corner. Dipper was kind of jealous—he wasn’t sure he would be able to do that without taking advantage of his powers.

           “You keep telling yourself that,” Batoor said. “Anyways—I need help with this history paper. You know about history, right?”

           Dipper fancied that, if he’d never become a dream demon caught in the claws of near-eternity (he knew that he wouldn’t last forever, but it may as well be—it basically would be, as far as this universe was concerned, and more than that he couldn’t quite wrap even his demonically-altered brain around), he would have been a scientist, or a mathematician, or an over-qualified pizza store manager (which if it came with free pizza, wouldn’t be a half-bad gig.) At almost-thirteen, he hadn’t been as interested in history beyond conspiracy theories and supernatural stories. Now, though—“My middle name may as well be Historical Record,” Dipper said. He flipped over mid-air. His braid fell over his shoulder as well.

           Batoor blinked at him. “Those pants are…new,” he said, in English. Dipper narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

           “Not really,” he said. “What, you don’t like them?” Mabel had been the one who pestered him into conjuring them for himself in the first place. He’d gotten a whole cheesecake out of that deal, and the mortification of them had barely been enough for his young-demon ego to deal with. Now, though—they were ruffled, and bright, and Mabel’s, and that was enough.

           “And the braid is different,” Batoor said.

           Dipper looked down at it, pulling it further into view with his left hand. He flipped the end of it between his fingers. “ Yeah, I don’t usually go for this style. It’s fun, to change things up.”

           Batoor blinked. The scales around his eyes shimmered. “Yes,” he said, thoughtfully, “I guess so. Anyways, I need help with the history paper. About history. In English. I am older so class is harder? It’s a high-level class.”

           “Okay,” Dipper said, easily enough. It wasn’t like Torako or Bentley would be better company now, and they were going to be busy anyways. “What you got to pay me, then?”

           Grinning, Batoor opened a desk drawer with his foot. Dipper perked up despite himself, shoulders dropping and eyebrows raising. “Candy,” Batoor said, “and snacks. From Kabul.”

           Not as easily obtained as gummy peaches, here in Ireland. “Oh,” Dipper said. “I see what you’re doing. You’ve been talking to Torako.”

           “Of course,” Batoor said, before switching back to Dashto. “She’s the only one that can handle you, other than Bentley, and she’s the one with the Demonology degree. She’s been very helpful in my studies.”

           Dipper stilled. He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were doing a degree in Community-Building and Inter-Species Relations,” he said, slowly.

           “I am,” Batoor said. He reached inside the desk drawer and picked up a couple packages, one carefully-preserved mini gosh-e fil stuck in stasis, powdered sugar and chopped pistachios kept in place through the power of food-regulation preservation spells, and the other an assorted bag of koloocheh. A few of them were broken despite the spells, and Dipper knew they had to be good. Koloocheh were brittle cookies by nature, after all.

           “Oh,” Dipper said. He couldn’t look away from the treats for a second, then made himself because he could get a major deal out of these if by some small chance Batoor didn’t know any better. “They’re pretty good, but for a whole paper?”

           “And proofreading,” Batoor said. He smiled, as sweet as the sacrifice he was offering. “I know exactly how valuable these are. They’re not only delicious, they’re sentimental. My Oware bought them for my Transfer-Day. I haven’t had gosh-e fil since we left Afghanistan.”

           Oh fuck, Dipper thought. He felt a trickle of unease down the back of his neck a second before the realization hit him and he sunk to standing on the floor like a dumbass. “Oh,” he said again. “You’re doing a specialization in community law and advocacy, aren’t you.”

          Batoor grinned. “Demonology overlaps with law-writing classes a lot, you know. Anyways. For help finding relative articles about my history topic in both English and Dashto, assistance refining my arguments, and thorough proofreading of my English composition, I will give you both of these very valuable, sentimental treats, and maybe we can have some video game time together if my roommate doesn’t come back too early.”

           “That’s a big if,” Dipper said. “Do you have the new Red Rider game? The one that’s set in a magicless urban wasteland that you have to carefully scavenge tools and make intelligent allegiances in order to strategically rise to the top of the crime syndicate that’s taken over the city and make the ultimate choice whether to rule over all with an iron fist or transition to a better societal system?”

           Batoor stared for a moment. “Yes,” he said slowly. “You like that game?”

           “Well,” Dipper said. “I suppose I kind of do, yes, but not too much.” Dipper carefully did not mention that the open-story ending that mimicked the rewards and consequences of living a high-stakes human life scratched the same itch he had tried to, over and over and over in human skins that lasted not long enough. He also didn’t mention that the mathematics that went into calculating story paths from individual choices was jaw-droppingly incredible and he needed to see it in play for himself.

           Batoor nodded. Dipper narrowed his eyebrows in suspicion at the sparks of mirth and slowly unfurling anticipation in his aura.

           “Stop being amused,” Dipper said, pointing his lace-gloved finger at Batoor and scowling. “I kind of like it.”

           “Sure,” Batoor said with a perfectly straight face that was very at odds with the emotions that Dipper was reading. He held out his hand. “Anyways, I do have the game and we can play it if there is enough time. If there isn’t, we’ll play at the next opportunity feasible for both parties. Do we have a deal?”

           Dipper looked at the sweets. He tilted his head and thought about the promise of the game—which he was guaranteed to have a chance to play—and then about the difficulty of the task before him. He didn’t mind proofreading either, especially because English had cast off a bunch of the fiddly rules about punctuation that honestly Dipper thought were still needed. He could make sure that Batoor’s teachers weren’t teaching him too much that was wrong.

           Grinning wide, Dipper reached out and took Batoor’s hand. “Deal,” he said. Blue fire licked up from between their palms briefly, and Dipper felt himself get—sharper, smarter, stronger—for a brief flash as the deal lanced through him. Then he let himself slide into that state of mind where he was—not compelled to do a task, no, but it was similar.

           “Great,” Batoor said, grinning lazily. He leaned back against the desk and looked very self-satisfied. “Because my Red Rider game’s multiplayer option hasn’t been used since the time my roommate agreed to try it out with me.”

           Dipper tipped his head. Something niggled at him. “How long ago was that?”

           “Two months ago,” Batoor said. “The day I got the game.”

           Anticipation tingled up and down Dipper’s arms. He felt himself lift back off the ground. “Oh? Why not? It’s an excellent game.”

           “He said I was too intense.” Batoor picked under his fingernails at imaginary dirt, but Dipper could still see the grin on his face.

           “Oh,” Dipper said again. Then, he said, “Well, we should finish that paper as quickly as possible, shouldn’t we? I doubt that you’re more intense than I can be.”

           “We’ll have to see,” Batoor said, eyebrows raised.

 ________________________________________________________________

             They did not, unfortunately, get a chance to see. Writing papers was harder than Dipper remembered, and Batoor had chosen to write about anti-preter sentiment in Ireland two hundred years ago and the impact of the laws enacted during that time had in the centuries following. There weren’t too many papers on the matter in Dashto, and any articles that they could find were harder to understand the further back they were, so Batoor was stuck with English and translated Gaelic sources.

           Halfway into Presumption of Guilt: How Lawmakers Built a Sinister System in the Absence of Politically Powerful Preternatural Citizens that Resulted in the Summer Riots of 3784, Batoor’s dorm buzzed. They froze.

           “Hey, Batoor!” Dipper heard. He swung his head around to look at Batoor, who met his gaze. “Why you lock the door? You got company?”

           Batoor flushed. “No!” he yelled, voice cracking a little as he flapped his hand at Dipper. “I just was studying!”

           Dipper snatched what remained of the delicious snacks that Batoor had traded and stopped just short of blipping out. “When are we going to play Red Rider?” he hissed quietly in Dashto.

           Apparently Batoor’s roommate had very, very good ears. “Batoor?”

           Batoor leveled the nastiest glare that Dipper had been subject to from him. Dipper threw up his hands in frustration and tried to communicate, with his eyes, that he was just asking, no need to get pissy about it! To which Batoor shook a finger at Dipper, waggled his eyebrows in I-told-you-we’d-get-to-it-when-we-get-to-it, and gestured for Dipper to stay quiet for good measure.

“I was only talking to myself!” Batoor yelled back. “Let me get the door for you—”

           Dipper felt a tug in his gut. Thankfully, he let himself follow the summons, twisting out of existence from Batoor’s Irish University dormroom and—

 December 4th, 9:44 PM EAT

           —into a small bedroom with sparsely decorated walls, a pale tile floor worn right to the edge of minor neglect, and a small child sitting on a patterned rug right at the edge of his circle.

           Dipper swallowed back his customary greeting and instead asked, “What’s up, kiddo?”

           They hugged their knees closer to their chest, squashing what looked to be a very sentimental stuffed manticore. “Sshh,” they said, so quiet that Dipper had to readjust his hearing. “Aunty Adi is asleep.”

           “Oh,” Dipper said. He sat cross-legged a half-inch above the wobbly chalk lines. After a moment, he whispered, “I like your scentless candles.”

           The child ducked their face into their knees and the stuffed manticore’s fuzzy mane. “Thanks,” they said, but then said nothing else for a long time. Their aura shifted between embarrassment and hesitation and quick flashing bursts of smothered pride. Dipper made the decision to wait for them to speak, and instead cast out his senses more to assess his new surroundings. There was a small bed in the corner, third-hand but well maintained, a nice new desk bought at a bargain, temperature-regulated sheets, a little bookshelf that was crammed overfull, a tablet for children open to what seemed to be a digital copy of a centuries-old summoning how-to that had never been legally published but had found its way around anyways. Down the hall to one side there were three other signatures—two more children, one adult, each in separate rooms, and to the other seemed to be a living space complete with kitchen and a harmless little snake that curled up in a hole in the wall, sleeping off its latest meal. The night air was cool in such a way that suggested the previous day had been hot.

           “Are you really a demon?” The kid asked.

           “Yeah,” Dipper said, wiggling his claws at them. Their eyes were big and dark in the candlelight from right over their knees. “Alcor the Dreambender, at your service.”

           Another very long pause. Dipper waited.

           “The book said you were nice,” they said. Dipper tilted his head. The book had been distributed during one of his nicer, more mentally present phases. Fortunately for this child, he’d had over a decade of recent socialization with human beings, so he wasn’t super tempted to take advantage of what the kid thought.

           “Right now I am,” he said. “What you want, then, kiddo? People usually don’t summon me unless they have a deal in mind.”

           They looked away and buried themselves further into themselves. The minutes passed. Outside, bugs sang and small lizards rustled in pursuit. The candles flickered, burned wax into vapor that wafted away, slow and lazy but inevitable. Dipper kept himself breathing, steady.

           “…Aunty Adi doesn’t like me,” they said.

           Dipper blinked. “Oh?” he asked, and looked closer. No broken bones, a bruise on their knee (legitimately tripped and fell), short curly hair (useful for the heat), crooked fingers (an accident when they were two years old), missing tooth (their adult teeth were coming in). Whatever it was, it wasn’t overt physical abuse. Dipper narrowed his eyes. “What does she do? Where are your parents?”

           They shifted one foot over the other. “I act funny,” they said instead. “Mom and Dad are busy working in Lilongwe, so they left me with Aunty Adi.”

           There was a lengthy silence. Dipper had started getting that uneasy prickling along the back of his neck, the one he got when kids weren’t safe and happy, and he had to breathe in deep and out slow to stop himself from getting ‘intense,’ as Torako put it.

           “Other kids don’t like me either,” said the kid. “I don’t get it, I laugh when they want me to and follow all the rules, the ones they don’t say but are there anyways, but they still don’t like me.”

           Lonely crept over them like a purple shroud, heavy and dark and bruiselike. Dipper watched it settle and shift for a few moments, and turned the words over in his head. They waited.

           “Do you want a friend?” Dipper asked, finally.

           A heartbeat, two, and then a nod.

           “Do you want me to be your friend, tonight?”

           A double nod.

           “I’ll need something in exchange,” Dipper said, because it was true (though not really, no, he could totally absorb the backlash that came with spending a night playing with a kid but this wasn’t Mabel) and the kid should know that, but also— “maybe some candy? Kids have candy, right?”

           He’d really, really prefer the manticore. He almost asked for it. Then he thought of what Torako would say and do to him if she found out he’d taken a beloved stuffed animal from a lonely, friendless child and figured that stealing candy was a comparably minor offense.

           Their wide dark eyes stared into his, and then they very slowly nodded, and even more slowly pointed in the direction of their desk. “In the drawer,” they said. “Milk drops.”

           Dipper tilted his head over at the desk and blinked. “Okay,” he said and extended his hand. “Is it a deal?”

           After a short moment, they nodded and extended their hand over the shaky, weak chalk lines of their summoning circle. “Deal,” they said, their hand in his, blue fire flaring up between them for a second before dying down.

           Dipper tilted his head, blinked into something a little softer (more comfortable, something that would set the kid at ease) and asked, “So, kiddo, I’m yours to play with for a while. What you wanna do?”

           The kid didn’t smile, but hesitant happiness spread like frail roots through the heavy purple lonely in their aura. “Well,” they said, quietly, “there’s this—card game, that I got to play once…”

_______________________________________________________________

           It took several hours of very quiet playtime for the kid to finally get tired enough to fall asleep. Dipper tucked them—tucked Pili—into their bed, sang a slightly off-key lullaby until their tired eyes finally blinked shut and their chest rose and fell softly and their grip on their Manticore (Nadine) loosened. He thought for a moment, then summoned a Dream to curl up next to them and a Nightmare to stand guard until Pili woke in the morning.

           “You keep an eye on them, alright?” Dipper said. The dream baa’d and snuggled in close to Pili, who relaxed further. Himmwichlint, the Nightmare, blinked its five eyes independently and huffed out a derisive what, you think I wouldn’t at Dipper. Dipper huffed back and rolled his eyes.

           “I’m not saying you can’t or won’t,” Dipper complained, crossing his arms. He was wearing a very soft sweater that Pili had exclaimed quietly over before stroking for a solid five minutes. “I’m just saying what I want you to do.”

           Himmwichlint rolled its eyes back at him. The effect it had was really similar like those plastic googly ones that Belle had once used to bedazzle a pair of sneakers into a constantly-rustling horror show. She had worn them every day for a month to class. Dipper had ended up making a deal with Lionel to have them disappear.

           “No respect,” Dipper complained. “What is it with everybody in my life refusing to show me respect? I am a very powerful dream demon, you would think people would remember that more.”

           The Nightmare chuffed low in its gizzard, and its wool shook in laughter. Then it turned itself around to lay on the ground at the side of the bed, very purposefully looking away from Dipper.

           Dipper threw up his hands. “Unbelievable,” he whispered, turning around himself to leave the room. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

           He very quietly swung the door open and then stepped into the quiet hallway. Another step, and he shifted from the soft sweater and comfortable sweatpants he’d put on for Pili into a sharp black suit, dark and imposing and shadowy. He didn’t need to close his eyes for more than a few seconds to know that he wanted the room at the very end of the hall. He walked forward on the thin air just a hair off the ground, passing by several pictures on the walls and a totem lodged in an inset shelf near the ceiling. It was supposed to protect the inhabitants, but the spirit that was supposed to be there was missing. It had been missing for years at this point.

           Not that it could have done much of anything if it had been there, Dipper thought to himself with a little grin. It could not have stopped him from having a little chat with Auntie Adi. He doubted that it would have even tried.

           In moments, he reached her door. The insects outside had fallen silent. He pushed the door open, soundless, and entered her room.

           It was dark. A thin sliver of slightly-overcast moonlight drifted through the crack between the curtains. In the middle of the room was a wide bed, thin summer blankets draped over a sleeping figure. When he looked around, the room wasn’t overly different from Pili’s—the same well-cared-for furniture, clothing bought at a bargain and a few priceless treasures (gifts, or inheritances, or simply items loved to the point of powerfully tempting)—but there was something about it that cradled the sleeping figure. There had been a lot of love in this room. There was a lot of love, and care, and fondness. Pili’s room seemed so much emptier by comparison.

           Alcor made his way to the edge of the bed. He flicked out his cane, threaded his hair back into a ribbon-tied ponytail, and then sat down.

           Adi didn’t respond for several moments, still deep in sleep. No matter. He knew that the deep part of her responsible for living, for detecting danger and escaping from it was slowly waking up. With every breath, it was pulled closer and closer to the surface, a buoy rising to the surface of a wide dark sea, dragging consciousness up with it. Her brow started to furrow. The soft lines along the edges of her mouth began to deepen. Her eyes tensed. Inhale, exhale, and her eyes fluttered open.

           It took two breathing cycles for her to register that there was a strange person in her room, sitting on her bed and looking down at her. She jerked into motion, opened her mouth, and screamed.

           Alcor smiled into the silence. He had already borrowed—not stolen, he might still give it back—her voice. “Now, now,” he said, softly. “You shouldn’t disturb the children’s sleep. Let’s be quiet, all right?”

           Her eyes are wide. The sclera is bright against the darkness of the room. Her hand feels at her throat, which is bobbing with fruitless effort to speak.

           “I know this is frightening,” Alcor said. His grin widened. The fear shooting up from Adi in sparks set him on the most wonderful edge. It buzzed against him, just enough to turn his teeth a hair past sharp and blow his pupils a clawtip longer. “But really, this is quite important—can I trust you not to scream?”

           She nodded. What a fool—he already knew he couldn’t. He knew she would scream as loud as she could, and then her children would come in, and then Alcor would have to figure out how to deal with them in non-lethal ways. What a mess that would be. Instead, he chuckled before reaching out and tracing a claw against the bottom of her jaw. Adi froze. Her chest barely moved, quick and light.

           “Don’t worry,” he drawled, leaning in a little. Her eyes darted from his teeth to his eyes and then back down again to his teeth. “I already know I can’t. Anyways, this will be a far more productive conversation if you aren’t doing any of the talking.”

           With a sharp inhale, she clenched her fingers in the blanket pooled at her waist. Alcor tapped her chin. She nodded again, this time short and jerky. Her fear really was quite exhilarating, Alcor thought to himself absentmindedly. He’d have to make sure to milk as much out of her without compromising his position, or Pili’s.

           Ah, yes. Pili’s. A no-name soul that he hadn’t had any meaningful prior relationships with. But children were children, and no-name souls could earn names, couldn’t they? Lionel and Torako and Georgi were all excellent examples. He would have to keep an eye out for Pili—make sure that Adi didn’t do anything unfortunate.

           “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” Alcor said, leaning back a little. Adi exhaled shakily, and nodded again. “Well, it has to do with your nibling. Did you know that they’ve managed to access quite the outdated collection of demonic academia? Their circle was a little wobbly, but it’s supposed to be simple enough for a child to draw with a bit of effort, if they’re desperate enough.”

           Alcor noted the sudden tension in Adi’s shoulders, the sourness of jealousy that rose up among misplaced gangrene anger, the mist-like waft of dark guilt that drifted off as quick as it drifted in.

           “You see,” Alcor said, crossing one leg over the other and wrapping his hands leisurely around his knees, “children have to be desperate enough to draw my circle. That’s not even taking into account the effort many go to in order to get the information needed to draw my circle, and say the incantation, and gather the necessary supplies. Children, you see, don’t often have the resources or freedom an adult does. Please, do me a favor and consider—how desperate must young Pili have been to go to the effort of all that?”

           Adi’s anger flashed and deepened. She lifted her chin, eyes narrowed, and opened her mouth to retort before she tried to speak and remembered exactly who it was she was talking to. Fear drowned out the anger. She curled back in on herself, shifting back on the bedsheets with a near-silent rasp.

           Yes. This was what he deserved. This was the respect he had earned, that he had been deprived of the last few hours. He breathed it in deep.

           “I know you haven’t laid a hand on them,” Alcor drawled. His eyes crinkled in a smile. “Trust me, we would be having a—different conversation at that point. Perhaps off in the desert, where you could scream and I could enjoy it without having to worry about your spawn ruining everything. But that’s also the problem, because—you haven’t laid a hand on them in love, either.”

           Silence. Her aura spoke volumes. He let it balloon up between them, bobbed his foot as she swallowed past a rabbit-quick heartbeat. The pale moonlight coming in through the crack in the curtains glinted off the shiny cap on the toe.

           “Your nibling summoned me because they were desperate for a friend,” Dipper said, very very quietly. “They wanted somebody to play with. To love them, even if that love wasn’t as real as what they really needed. Even just for a night. You, as their guardian, have failed them. You have neglected them, for terrible, petty reasons that have nothing to do with who Pili is, and have everything to do with who somebody else is—one of their parents, I’m assuming.”

           Adi bristled again, shoulders drawing up and back in indignation. Her sleeping cap shifted, exposing some of the kinked hair it was protecting. Alcor reached over. She stilled, heartrate jack-knifing as he pulled the cap back into place.

           “You don’t have to be their friend,” Alcor said. He smiled. “But it would be such a shame if you didn’t learn how to be kind to them and how to be supportive of them. Such a shame indeed. There are always…repercussions, you see, for these kinds of actions.” He leaned over, resting his chin in one palm, fingers curled in a precisely calculated mimicry of danger. Adi trembled, swallowed. Sweat tricked down her brow and along the lines of her slender neck. Dipper watched it drip down, and felt her terror spike.

           “What a shame indeed,” he said. He glanced up, still smiling, and caught her eye. The shallow inhale she was taking hitched. Her pupils shrunk despite the darkness. Alcor tilted his head to make sure the light glinted across his sharp teeth. Then, he drew back.

           “But I suppose it would be better for Pili and your other children if I actually gave you the chance to learn,” he said offhandedly, and looked at his claws. The next exhale broke out of her, ragged and loud in the silence. “I’m trying to be a better person, you see, and I suppose you haven’t done anything egregiously worthy of…such harsh retribution.”

           Alcor stood. He picked imaginary lint off his shoulder, pulled his eight-ball cane back into the physical realm, and leaned on it. “I don’t suppose I have to inform you that if things don’t get better, I will know,” he drawled. Adi’s hands were clutching at the fabric over her heart. “But, for the purpose of all transparency…if they don’t, I will know. I doubt you’ll enjoy what happens afterwards.”

           With a grin that was satisfyingly wide, Alcor bowed and faded out of sight. A moment later, he released his hold on Adi. He watched her place trembling hands over her mouth and hyperventilate for several minutes. She eventually calmed enough to slide out of bed and stand on shaking legs, though it took her a few tries to be steady enough to walk on her own. She checked her eldest son’s room, then her daughter’s, and then finally –with no little hesitation—her nibling’s.

           Alcor grinned as she stifled a gurgling scream at the sight of Himmwichlint curled up in front of Pili’s bed. Himmwichlint lifted its head, blinked its five eyes at Adi, and then yawned on purpose to show off its incomprehensible but terrifying teeth and its two whipcord tongues. Adi whimpered and stumbled back. Alcor, upside-down on the ceiling, hummed and grinned wider.

           Himmwichlint tilted its head up, made eye contact with him, and huffed.

           Alcor rolled his eyes back at Himmwichlint. He did not need to get out of here, not when this woman’s reactions were absolutely hilarious. He hadn’t been front-row seats to a horror show with so little blood in ages.

           Himmwichlint snorted, looked back at the woman, and nestled itself back in. On the bed, Pili sighed and snuggled the dream closer. The dream obliged.

           Aunt Adi dropped her fist, just a little. She stared at her nibling, eyebrows furrowing. Soft surprise echoed out in the spaces between her terror and horror. If he looked closely, he could see the beginnings of wonder peeking out from behind the residual film of jealousy and anger.

           Oh, he thought. Maybe she would learn. What a disappointment, almost to the point he was the slightest bit mad about it. He’d been looking forward to eking out some more terror from her, maybe indulging in snacking on a finger or two, possibly a kidney, nothing life-threatening. Her actually cleaning her act up was going to ruin things for him.

           Oh, he thought after another moment. Maybe—maybe he did need to go somewhere—else. Dipper closed his eyes and as quietly as possible, tessered into the mindscape, lay in the grass among his Nightmares and Dreams, and simply was.

________________________________________________________________

§¢ɷʘϠϰѬ  ҈۝†‡₰  ʯ͚:ͼǂ  Nightmare Realm

             It was nice, for an indeterminable amount of time, to let the manic buzzing energy and self-righteous anger and the hunger for justice (revenge, the kind that benefited him and him alone) seep out of the front of his mind and down into the back. A couple Dreams nestled up to his sides, and one had decided that his chest was the best place to curl up on. It chewed on his lapel absentmindedly. Dipper would have minded more if it a) wasn’t easy to fix, being made of thought, and b) weren’t the case that the Dream was in the top tenth percentile of cute Dreams—which were altogether adorable as it was.

           The Nightmare taking advantage of the situation to snuffle into his hair was another thing entirely.

           “Erschie,” Dipper said, eyes closed but eyebrows furrowed down. “What are you doing.”

           A pause, then Erschie snorted warm sulfuric air directly into Dippers mostly-made-up scalp. Dipper waited a few seconds for something else to happen, then opened his eyes. The moment he did, he felt Erschie’s fangs and sharp front teeth start to scrape at the top of his head.

         “Gross,” Dipper said, even as he felt the skin slice open just a little. “Disgusting.”

           Erschie paused, then withdrew. Dipper blinked. Erschie then licked at Dipper’s hair with all the gross slobber in Erschie’s dumb gross mouth.

           Dipper bolted upright, the Dream on his chest now in his arms and the other two left to flop into the grass and baa irately over the sudden lack of support. “ERSCHIE!” Dipper screeched. His hair stood up on end. He could feel the slobber starting to trickle down the back of his neck. “WHAT THE FUCK.”

           Erschie blinked up at him, closed its eyes, and then let out a wool-rustle throat-croak hoof-stomp that Dipper knew to indicate Erschie’s general amusement at being a nuisance in Dipper’s life. The Dream snuggled into Dipper’s arms. This, unfortunately, limited what response Dipper could take.

           In order to demonstrate to Erschie that he was a dangerous, serious, terrifying dream demon, Dipper opened his mouth, displayed all his rows of teeth, and hissed at Erschie. For some reason, that just made the Nightmare express Amusement more exuberantly.

           “You’ve been conniving with Himmie, haven’t you,” Dipper said. He resisted the urge to stamp his foot. “You’re both out to show me as much disrespect as possible.”

           Erschie clacked its teeth together and flicked its ears.

           “What do you mean it’s not hard?? I am Alcor the Dreambender, Devourer of Souls and Lord of Nightmares, King of Darkness, Destroyer of Light, the Infernal Star! I’m literally the Scourge of All Beings Living and Dead and you say it’s not hard to disrespect me??”

           With an exaggerated snort, Erschie dipped its head down and up twice before flicking its ears in succession.

           “I do not embarrass myself!!” Dipper howled, throwing his arms up in the air. The Dream previously occupying them fell to the grass with a disgruntled bleat, and glared up at him as ferociously as it could manage. Dipper looked down at the Dream and winced.

           Erschie performed its most vigorous Amusement dance yet.

           Dipper pointed at Erschie and glowered. “Shut up,” he said.

           Predictably, but disappointingly, Erschie did not listen. Erschie continued to do its best to convey its Amusement at Dipper, adding insult to injury by throwing in a mirthful head-shake.

           “Can’t get any respect around here,” Dipper grumbled, squatting down and papping the Dream to show his remorse as was only appropriate. “They’re all out to get me. But you won’t be like that if you ever become a Nightmare, will you? You’ll be appropriately respectful, unlike that ungrateful troll over there. Yes, I could eat it, but no, I am merciful and abstain like a good demon. And this is the thanks I get.”

           The dream looked up at him and blinked. It turned its head to take in Erschie, who was now turning around in a circle as it continued to mock Dipper. Then the dream looked back up at Dipper and flicked its ears just like Erschie was.

           Dipper stood and put his hands on his hips. “Wow,” he said. “The rebellion really does start early. I can see I’m not welcome here, in my own Realm.”

           Erschie blew a raspberry. All three Dreams watched Erschie in clear curiosity, then turned around to Dipper and did the same.

           “Rude,” Dipper growled, and pulled himself away into another place chosen on a whim.

________________________________________________________________

December 5th, 1:58 AM, AZT

             Dipper found himself outside a small home with a bright blue door. The outer walls were made of corrugated metal that had also been painted blue, and a birdhouse had been set between two of the windows. It was cold. Dipper breathed out, then in, then suffused heat into his next exhale just to see the condensation rise and dissipate into the air.

           He turned around, looked down the footpath that meandered down the slope the house was set into. There were more houses, roofs illuminated by moonlight, windows largely unlit. It was 2 AM in this small town of Laza, after all. There wasn’t very much to do, unless he really wanted to terrorize the inhabitants by tap-dancing on their ceilings or whispering traumatizing thoughts into their dreams. He thought maybe that might just possibly be a not great thing that Bentley would get quiet and frustrated with him over, though. Instead, maybe he could just eat some of the goats that one of the houses kept down below. Dipper hummed and tapped his finger on his chin.

           Eating goats was probably something he would get in trouble for, on second thought. He could just terrorize the goats. That was still fun, but didn’t hurt any people. Actually, Torako would get a kick out of some selfies, he could do that. Tempt her into another passport-less road trip, for the fun of it. They could take Bentley too, this time. It would be much lower stakes. Yes, a picture would be good. Dipper took a step forward, absentmindedly casting his mind around to count the souls in the vicinity, and then froze.

           He turned back around, looked at the blue house with the blue door and the birdhouse set into the side of it. A gust of wind blew through him, then around him as he made himself just a little more solid. In turn, he stared through the house and at the soul on a couch. The soul had dozed off while watching the news, which had turned off automatically an hour ago. Dipper stared, then—because he really didn’t have anything better to do—blipped from outside to just in the living room.

           She had become an old, old man, this time, Dipper realized. A very well-groomed and well-dressed old man, even in sleep. She didn’t seem rich this time, he thought to himself, taking in the heirloom table and the rugs worn with age and use, but then again, Pacifica tended to bounce up and down the economic scale from life to life.

           Dipper took a seat in the thin air above the table, on which there was a lone, empty cup that had held coffee at some point. He tilted his head at the old man, watched him breathe in (a little raspy) and then out (almost a snore) for several minutes. Dipper closed his eyes, and saw Pacifica’s death—

           Tunar, in a hospital bed, age 146, seven weeks and two days before his birthday. He breathes in, and then out, and then in, slower and shallower each time. The heartbeat monitor chimes weakly, but steadily. His nephew holds his hand, an old man himself, and his great-great-grandniece is smoothing down the sparse hair on Tunar’s head.

           Tunar does not open his eyes. He has already said goodbye, said it in the hour he was awake before he slept, said goodbye the same way he always did before falling asleep—with a soft ‘I love you,’ a kiss on the forehead or on the hand or on the cheek, and a small little sigh as he set his head into the pillows and closed his eyes again. His other grandnibling has gone with the rest of their family to get something to eat and bring food back for the two who stayed behind. This is probably for the best—there are nineteen of them, you see, because Tunar had loved well and was well-loved in turn.

           His death is slow, as easy as death is capable of being. Medicine has brought the human body far, but there will never be immortality. There never is immortality, not for humankind, not for the dayflies who are born at dawn and die at dusk, not for the oldest of vampires or the fairest of dragons or the coldest of yukionna. All things die, eventually. All things pass.

           Tunar takes a slow, slow breath in, lets it out, and does not inhale again.

—and opened them only to see that the old man had woken up, 137, still nine years left to him, and was looking right at Dipper.

           Dipper startled a little, but didn’t move. The old man did not startle, but instead stretched after a moment in the way that old people do to get stiff muscles to cooperate again.

           “Ah, I fell asleep on the couch again,” Tunar muttered. His hands shook a little as he clapped them once. The lights came on, dim. “I really should stop doing that, it’s very bad for my back and for my sleeping schedule. This face isn’t getting any younger, you know.”

           Dipper cocked his head. “Do you want it to?” he asked.

           Tunar scoffed and pushed himself to sit up straight before reaching for an elegant white cane. His hands, wrinkled and adorned with liver spots, wrapped thin fingers around the gently curved top of the cane. “You think you’re so smooth,” he said, narrowing thick eyebrows at Dipper. “I know better than to make a deal with you, Soul-Devourer.”

          After a brief pause that stretched on to the edge between acceptable and too long, Dipper said, “Actually, it was mostly curiosity.”

           “Mostly,” Tunar drawled, leaning back into the cushions and looking down his nose at Dipper. Dipper was reminded almost viciously of Pacifica and how she would stare at him, unimpressed, after whatever shenanigan he’d pulled recently that pissed her off. It froze Dipper for several long seconds, his heart in his throat as he couldn’t stop seeing her face over Tunar’s. Then Tunar sighed, and the spell was broken.

         “I suppose you’re not actually here to reap my soul for whatever reason, though.” Tunar tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “I know you caused a big hullabaloo a few countries over several months ago, but they’re saying that the river is purified and that there were minimal casualties, which really is quite surprising.”

           “Well, old man,” Dipper drawled, leaning over, “what makes you think that would stop me from taking what I want?”

           Tunar blinked, looked closely at Dipper, and said nothing for a long time. His eyes were dark, if a little clouded, but piercing in a way that had Dipper twitching his foot. The light buzzed overhead. The clock in the other room slid nearly-silently to the next minute. Outside, Dipper could hear grass rustling in the wind if he concentrated enough, or too little.

           A hum brought his attention back to the Pacifica in front of him. Tunar had leaned forward, placing his face and throat closer to Dipper, close enough he could reach out or lunge if he really wanted to.

           “Well then,” Tunar said, smiling, his prosthetic teeth shining somewhat brighter than the few natural ones he had left, “seems to me that you don’t want to eat me.”

           That wasn’t completely accurate—it never was—but it was accurate enough that Dipper found himself flushing. He withdrew and hunched his shoulders, looking at the pictures set into the wall as though he’d never seen anything like them before. Fingers wrapped around his knee, he managed to respond, “Says who?”

           Torako would have gleefully needled the truth out of him. Bentley would have stared at him, arched an eyebrow, and said “Says me,” with the slyest little grin on his face. Pacifica would have lifted fingers to her mouth and chuckled, eyes half-lowered in a kind of superiority-fueled amusement.

           Tunar snorted, eyebrows shooting up higher, and leaned back. “Can’t believe I thought you were some kind of suave, smooth-talking master-villain,” he said. “You’re a dumbass.”

           Dipper scowled at Tunar. Tunar grinned unapologetically, sharp at the edges. “You suck,” Dipper said, finally.

           With a cackle, Tunar finally lay his cane across the top of his legs. “I’m thirsty,” he said, finally. “Make me some coffee.”

           “Make—you have a demon in your living room, and you’re telling him to make coffee??” Dipper said, voice momentarily going shrill.

           “That’s right,” Tunar said, eyes creased in a self-satisfied smile.

           “I could—I’ve manufactured deaths for less offense,” Dipper said, even though it wasn’t much of an offense.

           “I’m a hundred and thirty seven years old,” Tunar said, archly. “Even if I thought you would do that, I wouldn’t be frightened. I’ve lived a long time.”

           Dipper stared. “Unbelievable,” he finally said. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been dealing with this kind of disrespect all day. You don’t even know me.”

           “You just have that kind of face.” Tunar reached out with his cane and poked Dipper in the arm. Dipper’s jaw fell open. “Now. Coffee. I like mine with heavy cream and a scant spoonful of cane sugar. Get to it.”

           It took Dipper several moments to get his jaw closed. Then, he stood up, feet firmly on the rug below the coffee table, and walked into the kitchen to do as Tunar said. He was never, he thought to himself, introducing Tunar to Torako or Bentley. Never.

________________________________________________________________

           In the middle of a story about the time that an acquaintance, unaware of the fact that Tunar wasn’t particularly interested in romantic or sexual entanglements, tried to set Tunar up with xir grandchild ten years Tunar’s senior when Tunar was 23, Dipper’s phone rang. The lyrics to Dancing Queen blared in the air between them before Dipper could answer it.

           Tunar tilted his head. “You have a phone?”

           Dipper sent a glower at Tunar, then answered the phone. “Yes?” he asked, in an approximation of what passed for English these days.

           “Oh, thank goodness you answered,” the voice on the other end of the line said. Dipper blinked and took a second to place the voice—Reynash, right. “Listen, Lata’s sitter dropped out on us again, he was supposed to pick him up from school today but we just got the call that he didn’t, could you—”

           “Yeah, yeah, no, give me five, ten minutes,” Dipper said, tipping his head and calculating the closest point to Lata’s new school that he could feasibly tesser to and remain anonymous. “I’d teleport right to him but that might be a bit—”

           Reynash laughed, a little too tight to be completely sincere. “Ahaha, yeah, no, we would appreciate—no, thank you, I’ll let the school know that Lata’s Uncle Tyrone will be coming to get him.”

           “Sounds good,” Dipper said. “I’ll message when I pick him up, okay?”

           “Thank you again,” Reynash said. “I’ll be home after five, maybe five-thirty, so if you could keep him company until then—”

           “Yeah, no problem at all!”

           “You’re a lifesaver,” Reynash said. “Thanks again, see you.”

           “See—” Dipper only managed to get out one word before the dial tone sounded. He looked down at the phone, and then said, “Well then, he really is busy I guess.”

           “Alcor the Dreambender has a mundane social life?” Tunar said, droll. Dipper relaxed, purposefully, then tilted his head at Pacifica’s latest incarnation. He looked at Tunar through half-lidded eyes, Stan held in the back of his mind—Pacifica did like her fame, he remembered absently. She liked being the center of attention, and what better way to be the center of attention than to have a juicy news scoop to sell to the highest bidding news agency?

           Tunar took one look at Dipper, humphed, and then smacked Dipper in the knee with his cane.

           “Hey!” Dipper protested. “What the fuck?”

           “Don’t you get snippy at me,” Tunar said, wagging a finger in Dipper’s face. Dipper was seized by the childish urge to snap his teeth at it. “I could see you getting all paranoid on me. On me! After I’ve spent the last unbelievable amount of time talking to you about my life and all the personal details in it. I even let you slide on reciprocating. The least you could do is let me have this.”

           Dipper narrowed his eyes at Tunar. “You going to tell anybody?”

           Tunar snorted. “Tell people that Alcor the Dreambender came by for coffee and a chat and ended up taking a phone call in my presence? I’d either end up with terrified Demonologists tearing up my house or being prescribed a variety of medication for hallucinations and fits of fantasy. Perhaps I would have been tempted in my youth, but these old bones are done with all that drama.”

           He watched Tunar’s aura, saw it peppered with the lightest of lies—Tunar was plenty tempted now—but it was enough that Dipper leaned back into the couch and took a final sip of his coffee. “Okay,” he said.

         There was a beat of silence. “So,” Tunar said, “you have to leave, I’m supposing.”

           “Yes,” Dipper said. He leaned forward, set the cup in its saucer with a light a clink as he could manage, and stood up. “My apologies for intruding.”

           With rolled eyes, Tunar set his cup on its saucer as well with far less care than Dipper had taken. “Bah, you’re not sorry. I expect to see you here next week—though possibly at a more reasonable hour. My Doctor says that I really need to keep myself on a better sleep pattern.”

           Dipper’s hands stuttered over where they were needlessly straightening out his collar. “Next…week?”

           “Of course,” Tunar said. He stood with the help of his cane and grunted with the effort. “What, you think I started that story with the intention of leaving it unfinished? No, you will be back next week. And—you have a phone. Call me before you come so that I am ready for company.”

           Dipper could only blink. “But I don’t know—”

           “It’s written on the stasis fridge, top left corner. Take a look at it when you bring the cups in to the dishwasher.”

           Spluttering, Dipper said, “I—you expect me to wash the cups?!”

           “And you can let yourself out, I assume,” Tunar said. He turned a genial grin on Dipper, but Dipper was savvy enough to see the slyness in the corners of it. Also, the amusement in his aura helped matters a lot. “Seeing as you let yourself in.”

           “...I am an all powerful demon, and you expect me to wash your cups for—”

           “That just means I am all the more assured you are capable of such a simple task,” Tunar said. He reached out a slightly shaking hand, patted Dipper on the shoulder, and then said, “Well, I am off to bed. Again, I expect you next week. Do try not to show up in the middle of the night again, it’s not good for my heart.”

           With that, Dipper watched Tunar shuffle off around the coffee table and down the hall beyond the other side of the television screen. He blinked a little, completely blindsided—though he probably shouldn’t be. Pacifica also had a tendency of bulldozing through most of her social interactions.

           Sighing, Dipper reached down, gathered up the teacups, gave them a little rinse with the sink tap before setting them in the washer, and entered Tunar’s number into his phone. He looked down at it, displaying up at him with deceptive innocence, and furrowed his eyebrows. Then, he saw the time, said, “Oh, crap,” and blipped out of the darkened kitchen.

December 4th, 4:13 pm, PDT

             Lata screeched with joy as he barreled into Dipper with all the force of an exuberant six year old, face pressed into Dipper’s waist and arms flung around Dipper’s legs. Dipper, dressed up in his nicest, most disarming and charming human persona, grinned down at Lata.

           “Hey buddy,” he said. “How are you doing?”

           “I was so bored,” Lata said, nearly yelling the last two words. “But now you’re here so I’m not! Can we go get ice cream?”

           “Ah,” Dipper said, before deciding fuck it and nodding his head. “Yeah, sure, but I have to sign you out first and let your dad know we got you, okay?”

           Lata appeared to have stopped listening after ‘sure,’ and released Dipper to go have a good old jump-and-punch-the-air-in-victory dance. Dipper re-evaluated the intelligence of giving this already hyper child more sugar, then shrugged because he wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout, would he?

           “Uncle Tyrone, I presume,” the secretary said, grinning a little. At first glance, she looked like an older middle-aged woman, but Dipper saw the fangs and the sunglasses and thought vampire. She tapped a few buttons, and a screen lit up in front of her window for Dipper. “Please verify your identity with this security question chosen by the child’s guardians and then sign.”

           Dipper peered down at the question. What did you suddenly yell at Reynash Pines that one time that had him scream, launch a full package of Choco Piecies into the air, and tumble back over his home office chair which meant he had to go to the hospital and get three stitches behind his right ear?

           He blinked, then toggled the keyboard to input, What U Cravin. The system thought for a moment, then blinked green before showing him the field to write in his signature. Dipper took hold of the stylus it materialized for him, signed, and then said goodbye to the secretary.

           Lata had, in the meantime, decided that he needed to be crawling around on his feet and hands like some kind of humpbacked bear cub. “Are you done?” Lata asked, turning around in a circle, still not standing. There was dirt on his hands. Dipper resolved to get Lata to wash them as soon as they could find a public restroom.

           “Yes, I’m done,” Dipper said. “You wanna ditch this lame joint?”

           “It’s not lame,” Lata said, twisting his head to look at Dipper in such a way that Dipper wondered how he wasn’t snapping his own neck. “School is really really awesome, it’s just that everybody’s already gone home and I could only just wait for people to come pick me up, and waiting is boring.”

           “That tracks,” Dipper said after a pause. Lata looked back down at the ground and then started walking forward, down to where the entryway doors were. “You gonna keep walking like that buddy?”

           “Yeah,” Lata said. “This is the bear walk! We learned it today in Activities. We also learned the frog leap –though I already knew it—and the lizard crawl, and the earthworm, and the kangaroo hop. Nobody believed me when I said I went to Australia to see the kangaroos, though. They said that you can’t just go to Australia, because there are big spiders.”

           Dipper paused a moment to take in that information. He opened the door for Lata, watched him crawl down the front step and onto the rougher—colder—pavement. Lata frowned at the ground, but kept going. “Your…teacher said this?”

           “No,” Lata said in his best are you stupid voice. Dipper felt affronted that he was turning it on Dipper, his most favorite Uncle Tyrone. “You and Mom and Dad all said not to tell any adults, so I didn’t! But kids don’t count, so I told them. And they didn’t even believe me!”

           Letting the door close behind him, Dipper politely ignored the person walking their dog that stopped in their tracks to first stare at Lata, then turn away with their hand over their mouth and their aura splashed all over with viridian amusement. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” Dipper said. “You don’t even have a passport yet.”

           “What’s a passport?” Lata asked. His steps forward were far more ginger than they were earlier, inside on the tile flooring of the hallway.

           “It’s, uh,” Dipper said, looking down at Lata’s animal-print backpack. It had shifted over entirely to one side of Lata’s back, unbalancing him a little. He reached down, adjusted it, and continued. “Well, it’s a special document—like a little book, I think, though maybe that’s changed—that they scan at Ports when you go from one country to another country.”

           “Huh,” Lata said. He took another step, stopped, and then stood up. At the sight of his hands, Dipper moved hand-washing even further up the list of priorities. If he’d thought inside was bad, it was nothing compared to the brief jaunt down the path up to the school. “Do you have a passport?”

           “No,” Dipper said.

           Lata looked up at him, tilted his head so that the leaves on his antlers bobbed a little. “But you have to, to go to another country, right?”

           “Most people have to,” Dipper amended. “It’s expected.”

           They passed by a couple arm-in-arm, a single long scarf wrapped across both their necks. Dipper looked down at Lata. “Where’s your scarf?”

           “In my bag,” Lata said, like that was the best place for it on a chilly December afternoon.

           “And your gloves?”

           “In my bag, duh,” Lata said, rolling his eyes.

           “Hey,” Dipper said. “You really want to pull an attitude with somebody who said they’d get you ice cream in such cold weather?”

           Lata hummed, his finger on his chin in thought. A cold breeze had him shivering a little before he answered, “Maybe?”

           Dipper sighed. “Well,” he said, really elongating the word in a way that immediately caught Lata’s attention. “Maybe we don’t need ice cream after all. It’s about 3 degrees Celcius right now, after all.”

           Lata gasped. “No, you can’t take it back! No take-backs! You said we’d go for ice cream!”

           They were now by the public bathroom that Dipper had initially blipped into. “Let’s wash our hands then,” he said, pointing, “in preparation for ice cream.”

           Lata screeched in victory, did a little dance, and then started running towards the bathroom. “First one there gets to eat as much as they want!”

           Reynash would demolish him if Dipper let Lata eat as much ice cream as he wanted. Dipper burst into a very graceless, very hasty run, and didn’t really consider that he wasn’t beholden to any deal he hadn’t verbally agreed to.

________________________________________________________________

           “I cannot believe I let you get all that ice cream,” Dipper said, having blipped them to a nice ice cream place down in New California before bringing Lata and their spoils to the Pines home.

           Lata giggled and stuck his spoon into his Custom Mouse Sundae, complete with five scoops of ice cream molded into the shape of a mouse and topped off with two round waffle cookies that made the mouse’s ears. He dug out the piece of chocolate that made up the eye and stuck it in his mouth, kicking his legs.

           “I would’ve beat you if you hadn’t used your superpowers,” Lata said, trying to pout but failing in the face of the massive, self-satisfied grin that kept breaking through. “You had to be nice to me. It’s only fair.”

           “Your parents would hate it if I had let you eat the Turtle Family Sundae, the Spaghetti Ice Cream Set, and the Mouse Sundae,” Dipper said, pointing his spoon at Lata from across the table. He had gotten a custom ice cream Mega Bowl, and had filled it with a variety of ice creams and toppings. Lata kept glancing at it with unashamed interest.

           Lata leaned back in his seat—Dipper reached across and pulled the chair back onto all four legs with his foot—and groaned. “But it would have been so delicious,” he said. “So worth it. It’s not like they can do anything to you! They can’t ground you, or take away TV privileges, or game privileges, or have you write letters of Recon-ciliation to exchange with each other.”

           Dipper blinked. “Letters of Reconciliation?”

           Lata carefully carved the tip of the mouse’s nose, cherry and all, off from the rest of the ice cream. “Yeah,” he said, before taking a break to stuff his mouth.

             “What’s that?”                

           “It’s when we have a disagreement, and I write a letter saying what I thought and how I felt about the thing, and Mom and Dad write a letter saying what they thought and felt about the thing, and we give them to each other and read them and then talk about it. It’s so boring.”

           Rain tapped against the roof and windows—rain might be a bit of a misnomer for the half-rain, half-ice slush that was falling from the sky, but nevertheless Dipper was glad they hadn’t been caught out in it before heading down to NewCal. That would have been super messy, and cold, and gross. Dipper scooped up a bit of ice cream, swallowed it almost immediately, and then responded. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said.

           “Ugh, you’re such an adult,” Lata whined. He leaned down and pulled one of the cookie ears out of the mouse with his mouth. When he bit down, the part of the cookie that wasn’t in his mouth fell onto the ice cream below, which was starting to melt a bit.

           “You’ve gotten sassy since entering Kindergarten,” Dipper said, narrowing his eyes at Lata. “Where’s the little monster that kept saying things like ‘rawr’ and ‘I’m a nibble monster’ and all? Also, I’ll have you know that I am essentially eternally twelve. That’s not an adult.”

           “But it’s still old!” Lata yelled, suddenly. He leaned back on the rear legs of his chair. Dipper reached out with his foot and pulled his chair back down with an ease that was somewhat frightening after so many years of not parenting. “You’re old! I asked Dad how old you were and he said you were thousands of years old! That’s so many years. I watched him write out all the zeros, and then we counted out rice and it was so much rice and took so long.”

           Dipper scowled and crossed his arms. “I bought you ice cream, and this is how you repay me?”

           “I’m just saying the truth,” Lata retorted. “It’s the truth, so you can’t be mad about it.”

           Dipper snorted. “Now that’s not how things work,” he said. “Plenty of people get mad about the truth. They do it all the time.”

           Lata blinked at him. “But why? It’s the truth. You can’t get mad at something that’s true. Hans told me so.”

           As Lata began licking the ice cream, hands fisted on either side of his take-out bowl, Dipper hummed and tapped the flat of his spoon against his own ice cream. He cycled through the examples in his head—everything died, but plenty of people sought immortality—it was true that if you caught a knife to the throat, you would not last long but people got so upset about that—people worshipped or didn’t worship in many ways, and yet there were those who decided that those ways were wrong and got mad—kids grew up, and there were some dumbasses who resented how those children grew up into their own skins with their own experiences and opinions instead of staying malleable, agreeable, naïve—preternatural citizens existed, and yet—governments weren’t perfect, but—and finally hit upon one he thought Lata would understand.

           “Well,” he said, slowly, “have you ever watched something on TV and gotten mad about it?”

           Lata maintained eye-contact while licking across the ice-cream-mouse’s head. Savage. “Mom says that we have to look up stuff that they put on the TV sometimes, because it’s not always right, and when it’s not right then of course I’m allowed to be mad about it. Because it’s not right.”

           Right then, maybe not that. Perhaps he ought to take a different approach here, let Lata provide the basic scenario. “Okay, buddy, how about you tell me all the things that make you mad.”

           With a hum, Lata took a huge bite right out of the scoop of Fudge Mountain Caramel Surprise in front of his mouth. Dipper watched and wondered how effective that technique actually could be. “Um,” he said, completely ignorant of the melted ice cream smeared over his nose and lips and even chin, “well, I guess I get mad whenever Ri-Ri lies to me about the places she goes with her parents. And when Toma writes on my papers when I tell zir not to. Or when the lady on International Animal Discovery Channel is absent and her coworker comes in and covers for her, because he’s stupid and gets stuff wrong all the time. And when I have to go to bed at eight thirty, even though all my friends get to go to bed later. It’s so stupid! Why do I have to go to bed earlier? It can’t just be because it’s good for me because I’m a kid, because if it was my friends would go to bed earlier too! And also when Mom says she can’t come pick me up at school because she has an emergency meeting, like today, because she goes to work before I go to school and I don’t get to see her until I get out of school. And—”  

           Dipper swallowed the entire scoop of classic mint before holding up his hand and waving it. “Okay, okay, I think I have enough to work with there, thank you. Let’s talk about bedtime, okay? You’re mad because you have to go to bed earlier than your friends, right?”

           Lata slumped and poked his ice cream with his index finger. “Yeah,” he mumbled, before sticking his finger in his mouth and sucking the melted ice cream off of it. “I guess.”

           “Right,” Dipper said. He paused, suddenly doubting that he was the right person to tell Lata about this part of life. This seemed like a very—very parent-to-child conversation, not an Uncle-to-nibling conversation. It was kind of heavy.

           He paused too long. “So?” Lata said. Dipper looked up to see that Lata had resorted to grabbing the ice cream with his full hand and was licking it out of his palm. What a mood, Dipper thought, but instead narrowed his eyes at Lata.

           “Hey, use your spoon, not your hands,” he said. “And actually—here, use this napkin to clean your hand off. If you put your hands on something, it’ll get dirty and then we’ll both have to deal with the consequences, aka your parents.”

           “Okay,” Lata said, reaching with his dirty hand to take the napkin Dipper had pulled out from the 100% biodegradable takeout bag he’d gotten at the ice cream shop.

           “Probably should get the ice cream on your nose and chin while you’re at it,” Dipper said absentmindedly, watching Lata scrub at his hand with the paper napkin. Lata was a good kid, Dipper thought to himself. Lata would understand what Dipper was trying to say. This wouldn’t be too hard.

           Lata wrinkled his nose, but got most of the ice cream off his face. Good enough, Dipper thought, and then he launched into his little speech.

            “Right, so, it is true the kids need a lot of sleep, because they’re still developing their brains and bodies. The reason that babies sleep so much is that they’re growing and learning so much, and everything is new, so it’s exhausting. You’re still learning a lot of new stuff, and your brain is,” Dipper squinted at Lata and tilted his head, “currently, it’s learning how to handle complex and somewhat abstract concepts such as time, numbers, is expanding its capacity for vocabulary, and is beginning to develop the pathways needed to understand things such as life and death and your place in the cycle. You already have a very good grasp on concentration and a decent awareness of places existing outside of your home and school, though, that’s pretty impressive at your age.”

           Lata’s eyes went a little unfocused. Dipper dialed it back. “Point is, your brain is working hard, and it needs that sleep to recharge, refresh, and retain—keep—all the information that you’ve been learning. Your friends should probably be going to sleep around the same time you are if they’re waking up when you are, though every kid is different and every family is different.”

           Slowly, Lata tilted his head at Dipper. “What?”

           “Your parents are right,” Dipper said after a short but deep inhale, “that you should go to bed at 8:30. Your friends also need the amount of sleep that you do. It’s the truth. Are you still mad at it?”

           Lata thought for a moment. “Kind of,” he mumbled.

           “Why?”

           Lata grumbled, “This is worse than Reconciliation Letters.”

           “Why thank you,” Dipper said, grinning a little, “So? What’s got you so mad then? It can’t be that your friends are right and your parents are wrong for sending you to bed early, right?”

           “I think you’re like all the wrong people on the TV,” Lata said, frowning, not meeting Dippers’s eyes. “I think if I look it up you’re going to be wrong.”

           “I’m an all-powerful omni—I mean, all-knowing demon,” Dipper drawled, quirking an eyebrow at Lata. “I know things that Ping never would, and I know all the things that Ping is wrong about. Wanna try again?”

           For a long time, Lata stayed quiet. He kicked his legs under the table and glowered at his ice cream. Resentment breathed slow, auburn in his aura, and frustration sparkled at the edges like dew on stinging nettle. Dipper sat on the urge to interject what he wanted Lata to learn, and waited.

           After a whole six minutes, twenty-three seconds and four-hundred ninety-eights of a millisecond, Lata said, “’Cause I wanna watch Seawitch Adventures like Ri-Ri and all the others get to.”

           Dipper had not known about Seawitch Adventures, but it made sense. He translated, “Because you don’t like it. It goes against what you want the world to be like.”

           Lata tilted their head in a shrug and papped at the dining table surface with their hands. There was still a residue of ice cream lingering on the one hand, but Dipper decided that was whatever and Reynash or Kanti could deal with it later. He was doing awesome at this conversation thing.

           “People don’t get mad when things are factually wrong. They get mad when things aren’t the way they want them to be. And that’s okay!” Dipper said, after a length of time. “Everybody does it. The problem is when you choose to take that anger out on other people, people who don’t deserve it.”

           Lata paused, and looked up. “Do you do it? Take it out on other people.”

           Dipper felt his heart stutter in his chest. “…Sometimes.”

           “Is that why Daddy and Mommy were afraid of you?”

           Dipper held a desperate lie against the back of his many teeth before closing his eyes and letting it melt away, unheard. “…yes.”

           “Don’t you know it’s a problem, though?” Lata asked.

         Dipper shies away from that truth. He gives a not-quite-lie. “I forget, sometimes.”

           Rain splashed against the roof, the windows. The stasis fridge hummed in the kitchen. Lata had stopped drumming against the table. Dipper felt almost compelled to pick it up in his stead.

           “…what did you do?”

           “A lot of things,” Dipper said, quietly. He opened his eyes. “A lot of very bad things that I forgot were bad.”

           Lata stared at him. His dik-dik horns, so much smaller than Henry’s, than Paloma’s, seemed to embody all of Dipper’s regrets and failures for a brief moment. Dipper felt the phantom slide of a soul down his throat. He swallowed, met Lata’s gaze and tried to push the feeling away. Lata’s eyes looked right into Dipper’s until Dipper looked away, a little scared of what Lata was reading in them. Scared, maybe, that Lata might just see his own soul between Dipper’s teeth, even though that was impossible. Anyways, the only soul Dipper had between his metaphorical teeth was—

           “Even now?” Lata asked, again.

           “No, no, now is better. I forget…less,” Dipper said after a beat. Thoughts of souls faded to the back of his mind. They never really left, though. The temptation was always there, like the background hum of a generator, or the near silent slide of the second hand of an analogue clock. “Now is—I can control how mad I am. I remember that it’s not right to take my anger out on innocent people. I understand that sometimes I’m mad at the wrong thing. Usually I can pull myself back. I never remember to pull myself back when I’m…when I’m like what your parents learned about.”

           “Oh,” Lata said. They were quiet for a long time, the two of them. The ice cream in their bowls continued to melt. Dipper stared at his, watched the strawzzleberry cheesecake ooze into the peanut butter fudge scoop.

           “I yelled at Mama when she made me go to bed,” Lata said, in a quiet voice. “I said I hated her.”

           Dipper winced. That had always hurt—his children, his sister, his niblings saying they hated him in fits of anger. He’d known they didn’t mean it, usually, but it still hurt. Sometimes it hurt more than others. Sometimes he’d lashed out in response. And sometimes, a very few sometimes, he had hurt them far more than they had.

           He shied away from the thought. “How—what did your Mama think of that?”

           Lata shrugged, poked his ice-cream soup with his spoon. “She frowned at me and said I was going to bed no matter that I hated her.”

           Dipper remembered putting on a strong front. He worried lightly on his bottom lip. “Ah,” he said.

           After a few moments, Lata looked up at him. “Do you think I hurt her?” he asked. He shifted in his seat, but kept looking Dipper right in the eye.

           Dipper opened his mouth to say yes, because he’d always been hurt (even if just a little bit), but Lata looked so small and worried, undertones of dark guilt hovering around his shoulders. He swallowed the yes, then said, “Maybe. Maybe not. You—you have to ask her.”

           “Oh. Okay,” Lata said.

           They sat in silence. Rain hit the window, the roof. Dipper stared at his own ice cream soup for a while, colors having swirled into a muddy mess. He passed his spoon through it once, twice, a few more times, before sticking it in his mouth with a sigh. In his periphery, he saw Lata blink at him. Incredulity lanced over his head. Dipper stifled a grin and set down the spoon on the table with a light clack. Hyperaware of Lata staring at him, he sighed in exaggeration before picking up the ice cream cup and pouring the contents down his throat.

           “Ew, gross,” said Lata.

           Dipper swallowed and licked his lips, glancing up at Lata. “What? It’d be a waste to throw it out. You don’t want your own sugar soup? I’ll drink it for you.”

           Lata screwed up his nose at Dipper, then pushed the cup at him. His guilt was still present, but disgust and also amusement were sliding over it, burying it from the moment. Soon it would be nothing more than an aftertaste, something Dipper would have to concentrate to be able to sense. “All the flavors are mixed now, it’s so gross.”

           “Excellent,” Dipper said, before taking the ice cream and swallowing that, too. There are soggy chunks of cookie in it. It’s not particularly appetizing, but it’s also not a rule breaker, and the mixed flavor is a mystery on his tongue. He closes his eyes and tilts his head, swishing the last of the mixture around in his mouth to try to figure out what was in it.

           “Ewwww, what are you doing,” Lata said, giggling. “It’s not mouthwash!”

           Dipper swallowed. “Definitely Raspberry Crunch and Honeyed Alfalfa,” he said. “You got something chocolaty in there, right? Some kind of—fudge, fudge something, oh! Fudge Mountain Caramel Surprise, right?”

           “You can’t taste everything,” Lata accused.

           “If I work hard enough I can,” Dipper said, opening his eyes and smirking. There’s a tug at his navel that means summons, but honestly this is more important (and probably more fun). “Five scoops, right? And I’ve already figured out three of them.”

           Lata pushed himself to kneel on the seat of his chair, semi-sticky hands flat on the table and eyes wide. “You can’t,” he breathed.

           “Can so.” Dipper hummed and thought to himself. “There was a nutty kind of flavor in there, nutty and a little salty, but it wasn’t cashew, it was a little less fatty, it was—right, I remember you pointing to the Wonderful Salted Walnut.”

           “Noooo!” Lata leaned forward even further. Dipper cast an absentminded eye at the pressure that was placing on the front legs of the chair and whether they were likely to tip and smash Lata’s face into the table. It was pretty low, only 28%, so he let it be. “That’s still not all! There’s still one left!”

           Dipper cackled and spun the empty ice cream carton on one talon. With a nudge from his mind, it balanced perfectly and continued to spin unnaturally fast. The summons tugged again at his stomach, but he smothered it. It wasn’t anybody he knew. It wasn’t important. “I think you mean only one.”

           He closed his eyes to focus on the last flavor, and that can be the only reason that he only realized they weren’t alone when he heard, “And what are—did you have ice cream??”

           “Oh shit,” Dipper said without thinking, eyes flying open.

           Lata said, with the absolute worst timing known only to children under the age of ten, “Oh shit! Welcome home, Papa!”

           Reynash Pines leveled him with the most incredulous glare he’d seen in a while. “Ice cream and swearing?”

           Suddenly, the importance of the summons skyrocketed from rock bottom to very near the top of his priority list. Dipper dropped the carton on the floor. “Oh, hey, Reynash, buddy, how’s it hanging, uh, sorry to skip out but I actually just got a summons, you know how they are haha, can’t help that work life, on call twenty-four-seven, see you later hope you’re not mad byeeeee!”

           Reynash spluttered. Water dripped off his bangs and onto his forehead. “No, you can’t just bail on—Dipper!”

           But Dipper had already clenched the connection to the summons in one metaphorical hand, had tugged, and was gone.

 _______________________________________________________________

December 4th, 9:39 PM BRL

             The first thing Dipper noticed was that the candles were scentless. He billowed up from nothing in the most dramatic smoke he could think of, pulled the reverb in his throat to mild extremes, and said, “Who presumes to call upon Alcor the Dreambender?” into the dark of the blue-lit room.

           The second thing Dipper noticed were the chalk lines—exact angles, minimal differences in stroke width, painstakingly duplicated symbols. Its perfection was mathematically precise, and there were even three layers of binding spells woven into the circle. Dipper casually pulled his cane out of thin air, coalesced his top hat from residual smoke curling into the space above his head, and smiled to himself. Binding spells weren’t much more than a nuisance to deal with.

           The third thing Dipper noticed were the people in the room—elegantly dressed adults in formal suits and skirts, beautifully crafted silver masks over their faces, hair coiffed and pressed and sprayed. Their arms were uplifted, frozen in the moment they’d succeeded in summoning him. There were nine of them. Dipper glanced over them, saw their determination and hard-edged stubbornness and solid righteousness in their auras, the colors subtly different for each person.

           “Lord Alcor,” one of them said. Dipper blinked, and knew they were he. “We come to offer you an exchange: a solution to our troubles for a worthy sacrifice.”

           Dipper hummed, leaned on his cane, and didn’t let them in on the fact that he’d already surreptitiously snapped one of the binding circles. “Oh?” he drawled, a lazy little grin curled into the corners of his lips. “Tell me, what are your troubles?”

           “Our beloved country,” the Speaker said, “is being cast into ruin and shadows by those currently in charge. We seek only to remove the…obstacles facing our country’s future.”

           “I see,” said Dipper, and then he really did. He was in Brazil, in New Fortaleza, and the government was currently making social reforms that benefited those in the lowest economic tier. There were many people pushing for those reforms from places of influence—born into and risen up to alike. He raised his eyebrows. “And…what would your idea of a fair exchange be?”

           The Speaker turned his head and nodded to the woman next to him. She nodded back, then turned around to head away from the circle and towards the stairs at the edge of the wide space they had chosen for his summoning. Dipper watched her go, and did not blink. Absentmindedly, he slid his power around and under the second barrier spell. This one would be a little trickier—raw power would only alert them to its failure, so he would have to play a subtler hand.

           One of the summoning group shifted xir weight almost imperceptibly. Dipper blinked to look xir way. Xi made eye contact through the mask and flinched.

           “Be steady,” the Speaker said. “Lord Alcor, it would not go unappreciated were you to…refrain from any posturing or intimidation tactics.”

           Dipper chuckled, refocused back on the Speaker. “Condolences,” he murmured, pitching the tone so that it echoed off the far walls regardless of the volume. “I cannot control how much terror your…acquaintances feel. I am a demon. Instilling fear in those who look upon us is an unavoidable part and parcel of this existence, you understand.”  

           The Speaker said nothing, but swallowed. Dipper counted that as a victory in and of himself—he was getting the sense that this man enjoyed talking, and enjoyed even more than that the chance to hear himself talk.

           The soft whir-click-swoosh of a door being unlocked and opened echoed through the empty room. It whispered off the walls. Dipper watched the Speaker’s aura twist in uncertainty before determination smoothed it out, hot shmellow oozing over dirty blue-green until it was smothered. He held the Speaker’s gaze until the footsteps started echoing around the room too—the steady tread of the woman’s shoes, followed by a hesitant, uneven, sometimes scraping cacophony of quiet noise. The breath halted in Dipper’s useless lungs. Nobody seemed to notice; his chest had hardly been rising and falling anyways.

           Nine children followed the woman. He could hear their shallow breaths, their hitching hiccups, barely restrained tears. He could smell the acrid-sweet scent of fear, the way it spiked and swelled when he leaned back on thin air. The second barrier snapped, and he was just barely aware enough to stop it from flickering with bright thunder. He wanted this. He hated this.

           The Speaker waited for Alcor’s attention to shift to the children, but when he didn’t comply, he swept an arm out to call attention to the newcomers. “Nine lives, from nine of us, for nine whose lives must be cut short to prevent ruin to our country. We have learned that you…like…children, and their lives would be yours to do what you see fit with.”

           It was strange that these types always learned all the wrong lessons about children, he thought absentmindedly, almost vapidly. It was strange that they always dismissed the possibility of more ethical sacrifices, like candy or sentimental items or factories worth of ice cream. Dipper cast his gaze over the children, his face frozen in that way it was when he felt like he was on the cusp of something terrible. They were cleaned—recently, from the faint hint of chemically-recreated pomegranate on the air—but some of them had clearly had better care than others. He skipped from terrified face to terrified face. The youngest of them was—six, dark curly hair, bought from desperate parents like human lives were commodities, teeth digging into a bottom lip and eyes welling with tears. Then there was—seven and petit, ten and too tall for her age, eleven and barely scared enough the fear drowned out the anger, two eight-year-old twins with vitiligo on their palms (and no, Bentley didn’t have vitiligo, but the splotchy color difference was enough to make him burn colder, right in his chest), nine and born blind, six-and-a-half and missing a finger, and a twelve year old on the cusp of turning thirteen. Tomorrow was xir birthday.

           The Speaker’s voice turned soft. “Jamilla, come.”

           The twelve year old inhaled sharp and quiet, but went. Xir hands twisted in xir gold shift. Blue fingernail polish flashed in the light, like all the other children’s. Dressed up pretty, their individualism smoothed away as best as possible, for the very ends of their lives. “Papa?”

           The Speaker waited for Jamilla to come to him. Alcor kept his eyes on Jamilla every step of the way. He watched how xi quivered, how xi glanced over at him over and over. He thought about thirteenth birthdays and never reaching them, thought about his puffy blue vest and that stupid pine-tree hat that he had loved with all his heart, and how it was hard to even think about wearing things that casual for very long. His power rolled over to the third barrier and began to eat at it.

           “This is my own child,” the Speaker said, setting his hands on Jamilla’s shoulders. “Xi knows how important the future of our country is, and was willing to sacrifice xirself for it. While most of the children here are orphans, or as good as, this is a token of my dedication, of my seriousness.”

           “…I see,” said Dipper. He tilted his head. Jamilla shivered and averted xir gaze, but did not move otherwise. “Dedicated indeed, to sacrifice somebody you love. Very powerful.”

           He cast his eye, slowly and deliberately, over the other children. He tried to catch their gazes where he could. Everything around him felt—slow, almost. He stared into the eyes of the angry-scared eleven year old, whose name was Leilani and whose ambition was to become a child caretaker because children deserved people who protected them and nurtured them and loved them, whose anger had left silvery scars between her knuckles from how many times she’d split them over on somebody else’s face or gut or kidney, whose eyes were dark, furious brown and who could have lived to forty-one, dying young and tragic but not as young and tragic as this.

           “Indeed,” the Speaker said. “Now, do you agree to the terms laid out?”

           Dipper held Leilani’s gaze a moment longer, before breaking away to fix his attention on the Speaker and his child, his poor, youngest child (who had been loved and cherished but raised with the knowledge that this may happen someday, who had been prepared and taught to step into xir own death of xir own fledgling, undeveloped will). Dipper smiled.

           “Nine lives, from the nine of you, for nine whose lives must be cut short to prevent ruin to your beloved country, correct?” Alcor passed a whisper of blue flame between his fingers as he spoke.

           The Speaker waited a moment. His hands tensed over his child’s shoulders as he thought the words over. “The nine lives we offer you, to do with as you please, for the lives of those on this list.”

           Alcor looked down on the list. Two career politicians who had slowly turned over new leaves, a charismatic rabble-rouser, three underpaid and overworked lawyers with a talent for defending their wrongly-accused clients, a university professor whose lectures were widely distributed and widely influential, an old farmer with a penchant for speaking up loud and proud in defense of reforestation and traditional farming methods, and a janitor who had convinced their coworkers to unionize and strike for better wages. Influential in all the ways the Speaker and his cohorts disapproved of.

           As few as twenty years ago, Alcor would have taken advantage of the situation to cause as much carnage as possible while keeping the children safe. He would have gotten 18 souls and probably an additional nine life-debts from the children, to cash in as he pleased, when he pleased. Ten years ago, he would have settled for 9 souls, 9 bodies, and 9 traumatized children placed at the nearest orphanage.

           Today, Alcor remembered being angry, and terrified, and determined in the face of the world ending. He remembered the terror of being watched, the nightmares about rearranged faces and deer teeth. He remembered dying.

           “Like I said,” Alcor drawled, eyebrow raised. “Nine lives, from the nine of you, for nine whose lives must be cut short to prevent ruin to your beloved country. Or, if you want me to be a little more transparent, nine souls in here for nine lives out there and a whole lot of chaos thrown in.”

           The Speaker hesitated. “Chaos?”

           Alcor laughed, leaned on his cane a little more. The third barrier dissolved under his power at last with a flicker that he disguised by flaring his flames just a bit higher. Fury burned colder and deeper in his chest, at the very core of him. “What do you think nine people dying suddenly is going to cause?! Especially nine people as influential and high-profile as the ones on your list, and all at the same time! It’s going to be unbelievably chaotic. You might have a little trouble controlling the investigation that follows, but I’m sure you can squash things like freedom of the press and the people’s right to assemble in a jiffy, what with your very powerful positions. I’m all here for that, props to you!”

           “You’re taking their souls?” One of the other politicians said, a quiver of trepidation in their voice. Hesitation and guilt began to seep through their aura, dark and damp and almost physically heavy. “But I thought…”

          “Young souls are the best,” Alcor said. He had—he shied away from the thought, comforted himself with the many many times that other demons had spouted the same things he was now. “They’re very soft, not nearly as entrenched in their fleshvessels. Absolutely delicious.” He swallowed the drool that had begun to pool at the back corners of his mouth.

           “I…”

           “Enough,” the Speaker snapped, hands tightening on his child’s shoulders again. Xi was beginning to have terrified second thoughts. The only thing keeping xir where xi stood was xir father’s presence behind xir and years of conditioning convincing xir that this was the right thing to do. “Alcor the Dreambender, do we have a deal?”

           Alcor grinned, extended a hand that arched in a graceful, almost indolent line in the air. “I thought you’d never ask,” he purred.

           The Speaker flushed with a victorious, vicious kind of pride, then reached out to shake Alcor’s hand. The flames licked up between their palms, and Alcor grinned even wider.

           “It’s a deal,” Dipper said, before he took a step forward and plunged his hand down the Speaker’s throat and hooked his claws into the soul nestled at the base of the man’s neck, cradled in the hollow of his clavicle. As the others in the room started screaming, as fear saturated the air around them within seconds, Dipper looked into the Speaker’s confused and angry and terrified, determined eyes, lifted the soul up to his lips, and sunk his teeth into it.

           The Speaker screamed, physically, metaphysically, and collapsed as though suddenly boneless. His child screamed and went down with him, panic and terror readily apparent even if Dipper had been unable to see xir aura. The other children stumbled back, one twin tripping and scraping his palms against the ground, the eleven year old stepping in front of the seven year old with an angry snarl on her face. Dipper paid them no mind. He was too busy licking his fingers to catch any residual soul energy that had leaked out when he had bit down. After he had finished cleaning them off, he looked up to see that some of the summoners were making for the opposite door. He cocked his head. Energy thrummed through him. He laughed, high and maybe a little unhinged, before following.

           He had eight more souls to collect here before he could get to work, after all, and they’d gone to all the trouble of summoning him to fix their country in the first place! It would be—disrespectful, he considered as he tore open the ribcage of the closest summoner for no other reason than he could, if he wasn’t as diligent as possible.

________________________________________________________________

December 4th, 11:12 PM EST

           Dipper blipped into bed and shifted into elegant pajamas in one smooth motion, still a little buzzed from all the souls he had eaten and all the life debts he had collected over the past hour and a half. Finding the children suitable homes had been—difficult enough that he had burned off a lot of the energy gained from the deal, but he was still twitchy and half-guilty over how he had acted in the basement. Right after he had lectured Lata about acting out of anger! Lata was never finding out about what happened.

           Next to him, Bentley shifted from half-asleep to half-awake. “Huh? Dipper?”

           Dipper hummed. He wiggled so that he was curled up against Bentley, set a still-clawed hand against Bentley’s sleep sweater (he wore sleep sweaters now, it was terrifying that he kept being so cold even when he should be warm) and curled it so that the fabric was in his loose grasp. He had to fight to keep it loose. Everything was—too bright, too sharp, and he felt like he was balancing on the edge of that precipice again, that if he fell it would be too easy to go back to him half a century ago.

           “Dipper, you okay?”

           He felt an arm reach over him, a hand rub at his back. On Bentley’s other side, Torako snuffled in her sleep, snorted, but didn’t wake up. Dipper pressed his face into Bentley’s chest and nuzzled the fabric without giving a solid answer. The world dulled down to something almost manageable.  

           Bentley’s chest expanded and then contracted with a sigh. He wiggled down just enough that Dipper’s head fit under his chin. Something seemed—off, in that moment, because Dipper could swear that his feet should be below Bentley’s in this position, but when he reached out with his toes they brushed Bentley’s shins.

           “All right,” Bentley said, the sound of his voice reverberating against Dipper’s forehead. “All right, not tonight. It’s—it’s late anyways. You can tell me what happened tomorrow, okay?”

           Several moments passed before Dipper felt relaxed enough to nod. All the while, Bentley’s hand rubbed up and down his back.

           “Okay,” Bentley breathed out. Dipper didn’t want to see the relief in his aura, so he kept his eyes shut and just focused on the warmth surrounding him. Then, Bentley said, “You wanna sleep between me and Torako tonight? I can move you if it’s too much trouble.”

           There was something weird about that statement too, because Bentley was strong but it could be awkward for him to haul something larger over his own body, but Dipper thought about how nice it would be to be sandwiched between two souls he loved (one was his, the other may as well have been but he would never, ever, ever take it, because look at what happened to Henry even though he loved Henry?) and the weirdness of the situation melted away. He nodded again.

           “Right then,” Bentley murmured. Dipper felt him wriggle his left arm under Dipper’s chest to wrap around his back. There was a pressure at the spot right above the space between his wings, and then they were turning over, Dipper’s legs pinned lightly between Bentley’s. Seconds later, Dipper’s back was to Torako’s front, and his face was still smooshed up against Bentley’s chest. Dipper hadn’t even had to open his eyes. He let out a soft breath. His hand unclenched from Bentley’s sweater to curl up against it instead, knuckles brushing wool.

           “There we go,” Bentley said. He pressed a kiss to the top of Dipper’s head. There was a rustle, Bentley’s body shifting against his, and then he heard Torako groan a little before she was flush up against his back, breath fanning the back of his head. She was snoring lightly, and Dipper couldn’t help but smile a little.

           “There we go,” Bentley said again, a little quieter. He rubbed his hand up and down Dipper’s back for a long time before he finally fell asleep.

           Dipper listened to them. He took in a deep breath, let it out, and let himself be home.

[naturallytom]

College Comforts (Tom Holland x reader)

a/n: this is exactly how my day went yesterday except i did not have tom holland to take care of me rip. also this was supposed to be a drabble (like 100-900 words) but it ended up being 1.4k oops. enjoy!

warnings: descriptions of mental/emotional breakdowns, stress/anxiety, mentions of not eating well, fluff

please reblog/leave feedback!

gif not mine!

It was a lot of work. Ask any student- between homework and studying and working and extracurriculars, it was a lot of work. It could get to be a lot, inevitably it gets stressful, really stressful sometimes. 

You had always been good at managing your time. Either that or you had only ever had easy classes (which you knew wasn’t true). But this semester was more difficult for you. Maybe it was the class that was biology, anatomy, and chemistry rolled into one despite you not being a STEM major. Maybe it was the fact that you had two exams on the same day coming up. Or maybe it was trying to figure out potentially studying abroad while being a double major. Whatever it was, you knew it would be a particularly difficult semester for you, but you were prepared. 

That morning you woke up ready to take on your work load. For once you woke up not feeling tired, but instead prepared and well rested, your head laying on Tom’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with each of his soft breaths. 

You (reluctantly) peeled yourself out of Tom’s arms, throwing on a nice looking but comfortable outfit before heading to your office, taking out your planner and checking what you had to do over the course of the day. 

Study. 

Study. 

Submit assignment. 

Study some more. 

Letting out a breath, you began prepping the space, interrupted by Tom coming in and wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks.

“Good morning, my love.” He mumbled, voice still laced with sleep. 

“Good morning, baby.” You responded, turning and placing a delicate kiss on his lips. 

“‘M gonna go to the gym and get breakfast. Probably run a few errands. Need anything?” He asked, making you shake your head. 

“I think I’m gonna go to the library. Gotta study.” You told him. 

“You’re gonna kill it, my love. Make sure you’re taking breaks.” He chuckled, knowing you could study for hours, which paid off, but you often forgot to take care of yourself. 

“I’ll text you on my breaks.” You smiled, blowing him a kiss and saying goodbye one last time before you heard the front door shut. 

-

A couple hours later and you had just made yourself a bagel and tea to start your morning. You were enjoying your break, still in your office, texting Tom and letting him know you were taking a break when you got a text from your job, asking if you’d be interested in going back over the summer. 

Fuck. 

You hadn’t even thought that far into the future, but you knew you needed to give them an answer today and that just added an extra thing for you to think about, pushing you to your limit. You tried calling your mom, hoping to talk it over with her and see what she thinks, only for her not to answer. 

The tears began after that phone call. You were so stressed and overwhelmed from classes to figuring out going abroad to now thinking about summer jobs when you didn’t even have time to think about summer jobs. 

Once the tears were gone and you had convinced yourself you just had a good cry, you called your stepdad, who picked up right away. You ended up having a nice conversation with him that made you feel better and more refreshed to continue studying. 

So you did with the thoughts of work lingering in the back of your mind. 

It was almost 4pm when you finally got ahold of your mom, who helped talk things out with you. You felt better, but still had another breakdown after you hung up. 

The last breakdown came right before you and Tom typically ate dinner. He had been texting you all day letting you know he’d be back for dinner, but that vanished from your mind as you sat hunched over your desk, sobs racking your body. 

When Tom came home, carrying bags of groceries on both hands, he was surprised to find the apartment empty of your presence since he saw your car coming in. 

He put the groceries away, making sure to close the freezer tightly to keep your ice cream frozen, before going to find you. 

What he found was you sitting at your desk, sobbing. The sight broke his heart as he made his way over to you. 

“Baby, baby, hey, it’s just me.” He soothed, crouching down next to your chair. “What’s wrong, my love?” 

“‘M so stressed and overwhelmed, Tommy.” You sobbed, trying to even your breathing. 

“Oh baby. Come ‘ere.” He cooed, gently bringing you to sit in his lap on the floor, your head resting against his chest. 

“You wanna talk about it, lovie?” He asked. 

“So much studying. And thinking ahead to summer jobs but Tommy I can’t even think about that right now-” 

“I know, love. I know.” He whispered. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

Your sobs eventually quieted down to sniffles, Tom rubbing your back gently, letting you cry into his chest.

“Should probably get back to studying.” You mumbled against his chest.

“Nope. You’re staying right here.” Tom insisted, tightening his arms around you.

“Tom I have to study.” You whined.

“Baby you’ve probably been studying all day.” Tom said. “Have you eaten anything?” 

“I had a bagel and tea for breakfast.”

“And….?”

“That’s it.” You spoke softly.

“Ok well then, you need to eat. ‘M making dinner. Come on.” He went to stand up, taking you with him.

“I’ll study while you make dinner.”

“I want company, my love. Besides, you need a break.” He chuckled.

“Can I at least bring my stuff down to finish this study guide while you make dinner?” You asked, earning a sigh and a nod from Tom, making you grin and grab your stuff. 

You kept Tom company and finished your study guide while he made pasta for dinner, making sure you ate enough before cleaning up together and going back upstairs. 

Per Tom’s request (and puppy eyes) you were putting everything school related away, getting ready to get into bed and cuddle. 

“Lovie! C’mere!” Tom’s voice rang throughout the apartment and you found yourself wandering into the bathroom, where he had a bubble bath set up. 

“You need a relaxing bath.” He mumbled against your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Are you gonna join me?” You teased, making him chuckle against your skin. 

“You want me to?” He replied, making you nod. “That settles it.” 

The two of you got into the bath, you once again resting your head on Tom’s chest. The water felt nice against your skin and you let out a sigh as you curled up against Tom, who pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You and Tom stayed in the bath for what seemed like hours and didn’t move until you felt yourself struggling to stay awake. 

“You ready for bed, sweetheart?” He whispered against your forehead, earning a nod and a hum from you. 

He got out, grabbing towels for both of you while you drained the tub before getting out and allowing Tom to wrap you up in a nice, fluffy towel. 

He gave you a pair of his sweats and one of his sweaters to wear to bed, knowing his clothes always seemed to comfort you while he threw also threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, before the two of you hopped into bed. 

“Baby, lay on your stomach and take your shirt off.” Tom instructed gently, making you roll your eyes. 

“‘M not in the mood, Tom. ‘M tired.” You mumbled against his chest. 

“Babe I’m not in the mood either. I’m gonna give you a massage.” He laughed, making you smile. 

“You know me so well.” You giggled, taking his sweater off and laying on your stomach. He started at the bottom of your back before working his way up to your neck and working your shoulders. 

“Feel good, babe?” He asked, smirking at the small noises of pleasure leaving your mouth. 

“Mmmm. Can you come cuddle? Think ‘m gonna fall asleep.” You mumbled, Tom moving and laying down next to you while you put his sweater back on and laying back down on your stomach so you were facing Tom. 

“Can you, uh,” You started, taking his hand and placing it on your back. “Scratch?”

“You’re too cute, baby.” He chuckled, running his fingers up and down your back softly. “Feel better?” 

“Much. You’re too good to me, Tommy.” You smiled, feeling sleep take over your body. 

“Just love you a lot.” He whispered, kissing your forehead gently. “Sweet dreams, my love.” 

[hargroves-angel]

 Masterlist - Upgraded ⚡️

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

• Key • Fluff - ★ • Smut - ♡ • Angst - ♧ •

Up Coming Things Masterlist

- Masterlist of all the new things I have planned!

Prompt Requests Masterlist

Series • Billy Hargrove X Reader •

• Cookies And Cream • ★ ♡ ♧ •

| Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 |

• Time Changes People • ★ ♡ ♧ •

 Masterlist | Teaser | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Series • Billy Hargrove X OC •

- An Angels Kiss - _ _ _ -

(Coming Soon...)

Mini Series • Billy Hargrove •

Protective | Part 1 | Part 2 |

- Billy always has your back especially when kids are being assholes. 

She Calls Me Daddy Too | Part 1 | Part 2 |

- You’re Hoppers daughter and Billy likes to piss him off.

She's kinda hot though (Henderson! Reader) | Part 1 | Part 2 |

- Billy likes Y/N Henderson but she doesn't really understand the concept of flirting.

Badass (Harrington! Reader) | Part 1 | Part 2 |

- The hot chick behind Harrington gains Billys interest.

Fluff • ★ •

Comfy Cuddles And A Slight Breeze

- A night cute movie night with Billy 

Jealous Billy Headcannons

- Headcannons for jealous Billy

Quit It

- You've been trying to get Billy to quit smoking.

Hair 

- Billy playing with you hair

Video Game Lover 

- Billy takes a liking to the girl who works at the arcade 

“Just Friends” 

- Billy and you are just friends. But you both know that you want bit more than that, and so doesn't everyone around you, Its just time for you both to own up to that.

Pools Of Honey (Biracial! Reader)

- Billy can’t stand people being rude to you.

It’s Ok Now Baby

- You're a bit touch starved and stressed, all you want is Billy.

Music Lover

- The girl in Billys detention, seems to have caught his attention, she loves music as well.

Adorable

- Billy finds you so cute, you’re so different from his usual type and he finds you adorable.

Sweet Love Triangle (Henderson! Reader)

- Billy likes you but you like Steve, what could happen?

High With You

- Getting high with Billy and friends.

Wedding Bells 

- Yours and Billys wedding.

California Baby 

- You get Billy tickets to go to California for your anniversary.

Might Be Fun

- Billy is desperate to get with the Henderson he's fallen for but she isn't so keen herself.

Ice Cream And Sunscreen 

- You take the party to the pool to visit Billy whilst he's working there.

Double Date

- You and Billy go on a double date with Carol and Tommy to a drive in movie.

Summer Fair

- Going to the summer fair in Hawkins with Billy.

Promise 

- Billy promising you with his moms ring.

Crowned 

- You and Billy get a couples tattoo.

Diner Date (Henderson! Reader) 

- A fifth date with Billy at a nearby diner.

Puppy Love

- Billy gets a job at a local veterans clinic.

Attention

- Billy doesn't like how his little step-sister is getting all the attention he's used to getting from you.

Pillow Talk

- Billy knows what he wants in the future. 

Im Not Scared... (Henderson! Reader)

- Billy takes you to go see Children Of The Corn but he doesn't realise that horror movies don’t phase you that much anymore, but hey sure as hell scare him.

Bikini Babe 

- Billy showing you off at the pool.

Prom night

- Billy takes you to prom.

I Love You For You

- Billy has been working out a bit too much to gain back his muscles he feels as though he's lost recently.

First Day Of Kindergarten

- Billy is a bit emotional on his daughters first day of kindergarten.

I Love You

- Billy is in love.

“Do You Love Billy?”

- You and Billy being soft at a movie night with the gang.

Dad Material 

- Billy has a soft spot for little ones.

Teddy Bear

- Billy loves his adorable girlfriend.

He’s Home

- Billy loves his family.

Smut • ♡ •

Lavender Lace 

- Your first time with Billy

Everything’s Ok Now

- Billy has a nightmare about the events that happened in season 3, and all he wants to do is forget about it.

Beautiful (Plus Size! Reader)

- You drove to Billys house, tears streaming down your face, you were so done, done with all your fathers bullshit. You were meant to to be going on a date with Billy but ended up missing it due to your father.

Birthday Boy

- It’s Billys birthday and you have a plan to spoil him.

Gentle

- First time feels with Billy.

Officer Hargrove (Cop! Billy)

- You and officer Hargrove have a small arrangement regarding your sentence.

Backseat Lovin’

- You and Billy get down and dirty during drive in movie date.

Number 15 

- Things get a little bit spicy after a basketball game.

Princess

- You give Billy something to remember you for when you’re not around.

Keg Queen

- Billy likes the look of the new Keg Queen.

Being Horny And Pregnant

- You need Billy to help you get off because there is a certain baby bump in your way.

Baby

- Billy needs you after his father has hurt him once again.

Dirty Little Secret 

- Things get seamy after you find a little something in his draw.

Locker Room Loving

- You and billy get busy in the locker rooms. 

NSFW Alphabet 

- NSFW Alphabet with Billy.

Interruptions 

- You and Billy get interrupted.

Rules 

- Billy lays down some rules.

Sweat 

- Billy looks so good whilst he's working out.

Football 

- Things get steamy during a football match.

All The Good Girls Go To Hell

- You skip church because you’re horny for Billy.

Poor Max

- Max walks in on you and billy in an intimate position.

Shortcake

- Billy with a size kink.

Green Eyed Monster 

- Carol doesn't like the fact that you've managed to charm your way into Hargrove's pants.

Queen Of Hawkins

- Billy is smitten with the dominant Queen of Hawkins.

Reward 

 - You decide to reward Billy for winning his last basketball match.

Lovely

- Billy finally makes love to the girl who saved him from falling down a dark hole after the events of last summer.

Bad Girl 

- Trying BDSM with Billy.

Sweet Love

- Billy makes sweet love to you after a perfect proposal.

Take Things Slow

- Billy reflects back on his first time.

Scream My Name

- Billy doesn't like it when you're too shy.

His Damn Ego 

- Billy and his damn ego.

So Needy

- Thigh riding with Billy.

The Little Things You Do

- The little things you do that rile Billy up.

Kinky Fucker

- A few of Billys kinks hehe.

Angst • ♧ •

Secrets 

- Billy opens up to Y/N about about his father and finds out she's struggling with something similar.

Tire Screech 

- You thought that Tom was all you had left but after meeting Billy you knew what you two had wasn’t love.

Liar 

- The new kid Harrison likes you, but you're dating Billy so he decides to give you some ‘new’ information on Billy.

Bittersweet Symphony

- Billys always had this pent up frustration and anger within him which he's never known how to let out, until you show him your fathers old drum kit.

You’re an angel (Biracial! Reader)

- You want to meet Billys parents but he seems hesitant.

A Great Dad

- Billy will always protect his family.

Little Quirks

- Billy falls for the sweet girl who was once enraptured by Steve Harrington.

Im Sorry Angel

- Billys jealously could use some work.

I Really Fucking Like You Billy Hargrove

- Billy does something that he regrets, letting his temper get the best of him, resulting in you and him having an argument. However this just makes Billy even more angry and upsetting causing Max to have to help her brother out.

Don’t Come Near Her Again

- You boyfriend Colby hurt you again but Billy decides he won't stand for it.

‘For Y/N’

- Ever since your mothers seat you've felt numb, but Billys been there for you everyday, at exactly 4:30 pm to check up on you, until you’re ready.

Other • ★ / ♡ / ♧ •

[hartigays]

Ok so firstly I absolutely adore your writing! Not only is your characterization on point but the way you use words and create these beautiful sentences full of emotion? *chef's kiss* anyway, could you possibly write something where like Steve is triggered by something related to his homelife trauma (feeling dumb, ignored etc) and he starts to panic and billy has to calm him down? I know that's both super vague and too specific but whatever you decide to do I'm sure it'll be brilliant!! Thank u!

“what are you, stupid? jesus. king steve, everybody. in all his glory.”

steve feels his cheeks burn bright red. tommy can be such a fucking dick sometimes.

no - not sometimes. all the time. every waking moment of his life is spent being an insufferable prick. steve has long since gotten used to it, but this? this just. sucks.

because he’s standing in the fucking hallway, surrounded by curious onlookers. his peers; the ones who used to look at him with stars in their eyes. now watching him be humiliated by the guy who used to claim to love him when no one else was around to hear.

same way his father always did. steve may be the former king of hawkins high, but his father still reigns king when it comes to tearing steve down in the most humiliating and public ways possible.

when he’s around, anyway.

steve glares at tommy, his throat working. it feels tight, like his comeback is stuck inside, the words packed tightly together. tommy just stares right back.

fucking dick. steve tries to remember what he’d felt all those years ago, when they were young and naïve and tommy didn’t care about his reputation or appearances. when they’d fall together in the dark, learning each other’s mouths and bodies and trading secrets in the quiet of his bedroom. stupid hormonal teenagers without a care in the world.

but that was before. before tommy got scared. before carol, or nancy. before steve’s world literally turned upside down.

steve can hear the snickering of his classmates, the hushed whispers. he just - it’s too much. his chest feels tight and his breath comes out in short bursts. he wants to move, to get the hell out of dodge and wash the feeling of tommy’s cruel gaze off of him. but he feels like he’s frozen in place, until. until.

a pair of curious blue eyes find his. billy, quiet as ever. he’s always quiet these days, that big personality and overbearing presence of his squandered by some altercation between him and max that steve had been too unconscious to witness.

billy’s not joining in, just trying to get to his locker. it doesn’t stop him from curiously assessing the situation before him. his clear, inquisitive eyes search steve’s face, his expression perfectly neutral.

he does that a lot these days. watches steve like a hawk, always around like a second shadow. it unnerved steve at first, put him on edge. constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

nothing has ever come of it. billy just watches him, observing. dissecting steve silently from a healthy distance, for reasons steve still doesn’t quite understand. they never talk about it - it’s another unspoken thing between them, one of many.

steve finds that it doesn’t bother him anymore, not the way it did at first. he’s grown used to it - is comforted by it, even. knowing that during school hours, no matter the place, no matter the situation, billy will be there. a silent observer whose eyes steve can find whenever he needs to ground himself.

a breath of fresh air when the world gets to be too much.

“this’ll be good,” tommy snorts, smacking billy’s shoulder lightly. his hand lingers against his skin for a moment too long. long enough for steve to notice. “you ever hear the story of how king steve lost control of his kingdom, hargrove? how he was just too damn stupid to keep it together?”

steve can’t help but think about how punchable tommy’s face has become over the years. how easy it’d be to close the distance between them, slam him up against the locker and take some of his pride back.

clearly, though, it’s not as easy as it seems.

“fuck you,” is all steve grinds out, before spinning on his heel and stalking down the hallway.

all he can think is about getting out. getting away, far away. away from the eyes of his classmates, away from billy still assessing him quietly. when he reaches the double doors leading to the parking lot, he can hear raised voices.

steve doesn’t turn back to see who they belong to, or listen to what they’re saying.

he makes it all the way to the beemer, his hands shaking as he fumbles for his keys. steve hates the way his hands shake nowadays, always a slight tremor even in his down time, made worse in high-stress situations.

the sound of his keys hitting the concrete is jarring. steve slumps against the beemer, turning his face up towards the sky and taking a steadying breath.

“you sure handled that well.”

steve jumps nearly a foot in the air, his eyes flying open in alarm. billy stands a few feet away, one hand holding a cigarette, the other stuffed in the pocket of his too-tight jeans.

“yeah, well. fuck you too.” steve bends down, grabbing his keys from the pavement. his hands still shake, his body wound too tight. on the verge of a full-blown panic.

he moves to unlock the beemer, but billy grabs his elbow. takes a drag off of his cigarette, then says, “let’s go for a drive.”

steve knows not to argue with billy hargrove by now. though, that doesn’t really ever stop him. but right now he doesn’t have it in him. right now, he’s still coiled tight, just on this side of a breakdown.

the camaro smells like billy. a heady mixture of cologne, cigarettes, stale beer, and the faint scent of laundry detergent. the scent makes steve’s head feel a little fuzzy, same way billy’s eyes do.

yeah, steve has a type. as much as it pains him to admit it.

“where’re we going?” steve asks after several long minutes of silence.

billy ashes his cigarette out his window, not even glancing in steve’s direction. “you’ll see,” is all steve gets.

they drive for a little while, the silence riding the line between comfortable and uncomfortable. steve feels a little suffocated by it, the weight of it pressing down on him.

soon, however, the camaro is rolling to a stop. steve looks out the window, his brows coming together in confusion. “the quarry?”

“get out.”

steve opens his mouth to object, not a huge fan of billy ordering him around. although - that’s debatable. he’s fully aware of how he feels when billy bosses him around on the court. but at least there he can blame his flush on physical exertion rather than the truth.

but billy is too fast, swinging his door open and climbing out of the car, slamming it back shut before steve can utter a word. he can hear him rummaging around in the trunk, and, well. steve is too curious for his own good.

he climbs out, breathing the fresh air deep into his lungs. billy’s scent had been getting rather overwhelming, anyway.

billy carries a box to the edge of the quarry, not sparing a glance back at steve. not even checking to see if he’s following.

steve still does. hurries after billy, his brows still furrowed in confusion. he watches the other boy stop at the cliff’s edge, then take a seat. a moment later steve joins him.

“here,” billy says, reaching into the box and pulling out a beer bottle.

with a snort, steve takes the offering. “this is empty. the fuck am i supposed to do with an empty beer?”

billy doesn’t answer him. instead, grabs one of his own. winds his arm like he’s throwing a baseball, then launches the bottle at the ground down far below.

they both watch as it falls. steve listens for the faint sound of it smashing at the bottom.

“get the gist?” billy finally asks, turning to look at steve with mild amusement.

steve makes a face. “yeah, dickhead. i’m not an idiot.”

“i know that.”

that has steve faltering, just a bit. the words make him feel warm. but. he’s been burned so many times now that the words are just that - words. anyone can tell him he’s not stupid. they can say it all goddamn day long, but it still won’t make it true.

in lieu of a response, steve pulls back the arm holding his own bottle before flinging it into the quarry. watches as it falls, feels that pressure in his chest lessen, just a little bit, when it smashes to the ground.

they continue on like that, until they’re down to the last few bottles. carrying on in silence, until billy pauses. turns to look at him, bottle in hand.

“you always let people talk to you like that?” he asks, rolling the bottle between his palms.

steve is about to toss another bottle. hesitates at the sound of billy’s voice. “what’s it to you?”

“just curious as to why you’re so content to let a dumbshit like tommy run his big mouth,” billy tells him, shrugging. “not like he packs a punch or anything.”

“you’d be surprised,” steve mutters. tosses the bottle, flinging it with more force than the others.

billy gives him an amused look. “do i even want to know?”

“wouldn’t tell you even if you did.”

“fair enough.”

a few more beats of silence. the last of the bottles are thrown, until they’re left with an empty box. billy stands, taking it to the camaro. when he returns, he takes his previous spot, though he’s a few inches closer than before.

close enough that their shoulders brush. steve’s fingers grip the cliff edge that he’s perched on, tightening at the feeling of billy situated so close to him.

“it’s not true, you know.” billy breaks the silence once again.

steve knows what he’s talking about. plays dumb anyway. “what’s not true?”

“you being stupid. you’re a lot of things, harrington,” billy tells him, “but dumb’s not one of ‘em.”

“yeah, well. tell that to everyone else,” steve mutters. turns his face up towards the overcast sky with a tired sigh.

their shoulders knock together. billy blinks over at him with an unreadable expression. “fuck everyone else. the fuck do they know, anyway?”

“a whole hell of a lot more than me, apparently.”

billy rolls his eyes. turns back to the quarry, starting to fling rocks into its depths. “so you let people push you around like a bitch, and you let ‘em tell you who you are. rookie mistakes, harrington.”

“when every fucking person in your life has told you that you’re stupid in some way or another, you kind of stop fighting it,” steve snaps. “look, i don’t need you telling me how pathetic i am. i get enough of that shit at home.”

he’s getting a little sick of billy’s unwarranted criticism. steve would rather he just call him stupid and go. he knows how to handle that, at least. but billy doesn’t. he just keeps throwing his fucking rocks, sighing like steve has disappointed him one too many times.

“daddy issues?” billy asks with a smirk. but there’s something underneath, something sharp and bitter. something like recognition. “figured a rich pretty boy like you would have that perfect white picket fence life.”

“you make a habit of taking everything at face value?” steve fires back, fixing his gaze on billy’s profile.

“guess we all have our faults,” billy says with a shrug. “but to be fair, i didn’t have any real reason to assume otherwise.”

steve doesn’t say anything. he looks out at the quarry. back at billy. traces the sharp angles of his profile. doesn’t look away when billy meets his eyes.

“whole world can tell you what’s what, stevie boy. fact of the matter is, ‘s not their life,” billy tells him, blue eyes burning with a near-electrifying intensity. “you decide who you are. no one gets to do that for you, unless you let ‘em.”

swallowing thickly, steve looks away. brushes some of the hair out of his eyes with a hand that trembles minutely. when he places it back at the ledge, his pinky brushes against billy’s. steve feels his cheeks heat up and their eyes lock yet again, his skin buzzing at the small point of contact.

billy reaches a hand up, brushing steve’s hair from his eyes more effectively than steve himself had. he chews on his lip, his gaze flickering down to steve’s lips. back to his eyes. back down again.

“my dad. he’s been telling me who i am my whole life,” steve admits, his voice soft. “never really had a chance to figure it out for myself.”

“tell me about it,” billy murmurs. still staring at steve’s mouth. “but you gotta break free eventually, harrington. else you’re all but guaranteed to grow into those shoes he’s been trying to get you to fill. mr. harrington 2.0.”

“that what you did?” steve asks, his own gaze flickering down to billy’s mouth. “break free?”

“trying to,” billy says, easily. his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “‘s not always black and white. but sometimes...”

steve swallows. shifts just a bit closer. “sometimes...?”

billy sucks in a breath. meets steve’s eyes one last time. “sometimes it’s pretty fuckin’ clear-cut.”

when billy kisses him, steve wants to feel shocked. he wants to feel stunned by it. blindsided. but he doesn’t. it just feels inevitable.

and this inevitability, it started the moment billy barreled over to him at the halloween party. pushing through a mass of sweaty, drunk teenagers to size him up. every choice they’ve made, between the two of them, have led to this instance. this precise moment. steve felt it, even when they were at each other’s throats. he felt it in every curious look that billy cast his way after.

he felt it simmering beneath every interaction, every word, every glance. billy had always been inevitable, steve just needed to clear out some of the clutter in his brain to recognize the signs for what they were.

billy helped him do that. with a simple gesture in steve’s time of need.

so. steve lets billy kiss him. kisses him right back. it’s a soft, sweet thing, the kiss. just a gentle press of lips, billy’s hand at his jaw. feather-light and completely out of character.

but steve is starting to realize that maybe the version of billy he’d created in his head is just that. a version he’d drawn up based on experiences he only saw the surface of, assumptions he’d made through judgment, and if he’s being honest, stereotypes.

there’s definitely a lot more to billy than steve ever would’ve thought. he’s softer around the edges, sweeter. still a fucking prick, and probably always will be, but. steve can deal with that, if it means he gets to keep learning more about the enigma that is billy hargrove.

“kissing me is how you’re gonna break free?” steve asks when billy pulls away, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“not completely,” billy tells him with a soft huff of a laugh. “but it’s a start.”

they stay at the quarry a while longer, throwing rocks, shooting the shit. they don’t kiss again, not until later. not until they’re back at steve’s big, empty house. with steve pressed up against the kitchen counter, his fingers knotted in billy’s hair.

it’s not a solution to all of steve’s problems, this thing he’s started with billy. not even close. and while it may not completely cast light over the darkness that shrouds both of their lives, may not fill the void that a myriad of bullshit has created for the both of them, there’s still a bit of truth to what billy said.

it’s a start.

[johnkramer-ismy-killerhusband]

Glass (Thomas Hewitt x reader) MATURE, part 5 of series

So this piece has more then just sexy times, it also has death and blood..... lots and lots of blood. Side note: Tea lady’s name in this is Tee because IMDB has no name for her and @melancholicoutcast even doubled check for me. 

This story is based around what happens when Reader is asked to run the station by herself and is attacked by a stranger. THERE IS NO RAPE in this story. I understand that it is a trigger to some and I tried to leave the attack as plain as I could and stayed away from rape. 

Blood. That's all you remember. Blood all over the floors of the station, on the walls from where it sprayed, all over you, and all over the man who’s neck you just stabbed. Your hand burned from the glass you had picked up in the fight and looking down at it you saw even more blood flowing from your balm. Dropping the glass piece you slipped off the man and sat with your knees to your chest. 

You thought back to earlier in the day when Luda Mae had asked you to cover the station alone because Henrietta had called and said that Tee was not feeling good. It had been a good day, not many people came through and those that did were very polite. Tommy had decided to stick around the back part of the station so every time it was quiet you would slip back and spend time with him. You had about 3 hours before it was closing time when Monty called and demanded that Tommy come back to the house. You could see that Tommy didn’t want to leave you but after multiple kisses to his forehead and the promise of “taking a walk” after everyone was home and dinner was done you finally got Tommy to leave. 

An hour before closing you were just finishing up cleaning when you heard the bell over the door. Turning to look you instantly knew that the man, that had just walked in, was going to be trouble. Taking a deep breath you made your way behind the counter and closer to the shotgun Luda Mae had stashed there as you watched the man look around. After just a few minutes he came up to the register to pay for his drink before walking out the door. Still feeling a bit uneasy you remained close to the counter till it was closing time. 

You had just locked the door when suddenly there was a crashing sound from behind you. Screaming you turned to see the man from earlier breaking more glass and forcing his way into the station. Turning away from the man you tried to make your way to the counter when he wrapped his arms around you. Spinning you back around he brought his hand across your face which caused you to fall onto the glass. Even though you could feel the glass cutting into your skin you pushed yourself back on the floor to try and get away from him. Then just as he was dropping to his knees you brought your foot up and smashed it into his gut. Reaching out blindly you brought the first thing you came in contact with to the man's face. Seeing blood spill from the cut on his cheek you tighten your hold on the glass and swung it straight into the man's neck. Even as the blood sprayed from his neck he reached out for you which caused you to fall back once more. But because he was losing blood quickly you were able to over power him and climb on top of him and bring the knife down five more times into his neck. 

As you continued to sit there the adrenaline from the fight gave away and the pain started to rise. You knew that you needed to get a hold of someone but you couldn’t get yourself to move. Hearing the crunching of glass and a gasp coming from the door you turned in time to see Luda Mae standing there and hear her screaming for Tommy. You could feel Luda Mae’s gentle touch you as she tried to get you to tell her what happened. When you wouldn’t talk she ordered Tommy to gently lift you and get you out to the truck. Once in Tommy’s arms you snuggled as close as you could to him. When you started to hear him whine quietly you looked up and brought your hand to his face. Once you had his attention you shook your head and whispered. 

“No Tommy. I know where you are going and don’t you go there. This is not your fault, it isn’t even Mama’s fault. Hell god forbid it had been her instead of me.”

You could see the turmoil in his eyes as Tommy fought within himself, but Luda Mae’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. 

“Come on Tommy. We need to get her home so I can take a look at her wounds. I am going to need you to then come back here and get rid of the man.” At being told that he would once again have to leave you Tommy tighten his hold on you which caused you to cry out in pain. Hearing him whine even louder you were about to calm him down when Luda Mae spoke up first. “Now you listen to me young man. You will do as I say. There isn’t going to be much you could do till I get her cleaned up and I see if she needs stitches. While you are gone I will watch out for her and once you are back I will not force you to leave her side. Now do as I say and get her into the truck.”

The ride home had been painful with each bump Tommy hit, causing more pain to run through your body. At one point you had ended up dropping your head into Luda Mae’s lap and she sat there running her fingers through your hair as she tried to calm you the best she could. Once at the house she ordered Tommy to take you upstairs to the bathroom. Sitting you on the toilet Tommy dropped to his knees and placed his head into your lap. Unable to use one of your hands you brought the one you could up to his hair. Running your fingers over his scalp you sushed him and told him that it will be ok. A few minutes later Luda Mae walked into the bathroom carrying a bottle of moonshine, a glass, and a sawed off shotgun. After pouring you a glass she went to the tub and began to fill it with water before turning back around and looking at Tommy. 

“Thomas you best be heading back now. The sooner you get that done the sooner you can get back here and to her.”

Placing a kiss to his head you nodded at him when he looked up at you. 

“It’s ok Tommy. Mama has that old sawed off sitting on the floor next to her stool. Anybody would be stupid to try anything with her.”

Standing quickly and with one more sad sigh Tommy turned and left the bathroom. You could hear the front door slamming as he left the house. 

Luda Mae had helped you strip out of your clothes and get into the tub. At first you thought she was just going to sit there and watch over you like she had promised Tommy but after getting settled in the tub she handed the glass back to you and picked up a rag. Nothing was said as she cleaned the blood off of you, once the water was a dark from the blood she drained the tub and refilled it with fresh water. With a pair of tweezers in her hand you could feel her other hand gently run down your back as she felt for any glass that may have been stuck. When she found a piece she would sush you like a mother would a baby as she dug and pulled the glass out. By the time she was done with your back you had finished the moonshine and she was refilling your glass. Even though you had one full glass you could still feel the sting as she cleaned the wounds. When it came time for your hand she made you finish the second glass and poured you a third. You still couldn’t help but cry out as she checked the wound and cleaned it. Before the alcohol could really take effect she had you out of the tub and laying on your stomach in your bed. Your head had barely hit the pillow before everything finally came crashing down on you and the tears began to fall. After covering your lower body with a sheet Luda Mae was on her knees and running her hand through your hair as she tried to calm you. 

“Hush now my dear. It is going to be ok and you are safe. Ain’t nobody going to hurt you while you are in this house. Soon Tommy will be home, he is going to have to stitch a couple of the cuts on your back and then your hand but other than that you seem to be ok.” 

Feeling the third glass of moonshine hitting, you began to relax. 

“Looooksss like I gotz some mor sheets to clean don’t it Mama?”

Realizing that the moonshine had hit you Luda Mae began to chuckle. 

“Oh I think we can let the sheets go this time around.”

“Oh thank god. My hands were cramping sooooooo baaad that fir…..”

Waking up with a jolt that had you hissing in pain the first thing you noticed was movement coming from the floor across from your bed. Even though your mind was still foggy from the moonshine you could tell it was Tommy and that he was making his way to your bed. The minute he got to you his hand began to play with your hair. Smiling at him you looked around your room and noticed Luda Mae was nowhere to be seen. 

“Mama go to bed?” Giving you a quick nod of his head you smiled when something red caught your eye. Looking at the post of your bed you saw the button down shirt you had first worn when they found you. “Now Thomas Hewitt, is that the shirt I was wearing when we actually first met?”

Seeing Tommy’s face turning bright red you chuckled while trying to sit up. Of course you could feel the stitches on your back tightening up and that caused you hiss out in pain which had Tommy instantly stopping you. After laying there long enough for the pain to ease up you grabbed a hold of Tommy’s hand. 

“Help me sit up. I want to put your shirt on, there is a chill in the house tonight.”

You didn’t have to do anything as Tommy moved you gently so that you were on the edge of the bed. Realizing that you were completely naked you could hear Tommy moan as your breast bounced slightly when you reached for the shirt. Smiling at Tommy you threw the shirt over your shoulders but didn’t actually close it yet. You knew that after you had shown Tommy how to pleasure himself he was making up for lost time and you wanted to give him something to think about when he was alone. Seeing that you weren’t going to close the shirt Tommy laid his head into your lap and held tightly onto your waist. Now that your hand was cleaned and wrapped you were able to bring both hands up to rest on Tommy. While one hand held his head close the other one ran over his back while you made calming noise to him. Tommy may not talk, but you knew that he was beating himself up over what happened. Yes, had he been there the man would have been dead before he could blink but you knew that Tommy couldn’t always be there. 

“Tommy, I need you to look at me.” Feeling Tommy shake his head you tugged lightly on his hair while speaking again. “Now don’t make me pull out your whole name Tommy. I need you to look at me.” 

Instead of looking at you Tommy pulled away and back himself into the wall. You could feel your anger rising a bit and you found yourself asking why he is acting like this when you were the one hurt. And that is when it hit you. Tommy has only ever had his family until you showed up. You were the first person to show Tommy multiple things and he almost lost you; the one person he had that wasn’t family. Letting out a sigh you stood slowly and made your way to Tommy. Buttoning up the shirt some you kicked him lightly with your foot. Now that you had his attention once more you slowly dropped to his lap, with a leg on either side of his. Placing your hands on his chest you tugged on his tie and ran it through your hands before looking up at him. 

“Okay Tommy, I need you to listen to me. I UNDERSTAND where your head is right now and I am not going to be able to change that, at least not any time soon. But like I said back at the station. At Least it happened to me and not Mama, the chances of her being able to fight off that man were worse than mine. Right here and right now, what do you need? What can I do to help you?” 

Instead of looking back up at you Tommy raised his hands to the shirt and began to unbutton it. Pulling the cloth off of your breast he brought his hands up to them and began to run his thumbs over your nipples. You were in no mood for anything like this but you could feel yourself getting turned on and that Tommy needed this. To feel that you were ok. Moving your hands from where they rested on his wrists you brought them down to Tommy’s jeans. Shifting back some you gave yourself enough room to work his jeans open and down some. Instantly you were greeted with Tommy’s cock as it sprung free. Not wasting any time you licked your good hand and wrapped it around his cock. You couldn’t get a good pace going but it didn’t stop Tommy from moaning out. 

“Sssssh baby, you really need to be quiet now. You really don’t want Mama coming in here and seeing us like this. I promise to take care of you but I can’t do that if you are making noises alright?” Frantically nodded his head you started to move your hand up and down his cock once more. When Tommy tried to bring his hand down your body you shook your head. “I am in to much pain for it to feel good baby. Let me just take care of you, I know that when I am feeling better you will make it up to me.”

Instead of bringing his hand to your front Tommy shifted it to your lower back. You could feel his hand as it dug into your ass, suddenly you thought of an idea you had never tried before. Removing his hand from your breast you gave him a wink before wrapping his own hand around his cock. Giving him another wink you pulled yourself up so that your breasts were in Tommy’s face. Even though you knew it would not be comfortable you began to run your breast over Tommy’s mask like you would have if he didn’t have on a mask. You could feel as he worked himself even faster and you also felt his tongue as it slipped out to lick your nipple. Pulling you in closer by your ass Tommy shoved his face into you as he moaned quietly and you felt his release coat your thighs and pelvis area. Dropping back down to Tommy’s lap you brought your face up to the mask and kissed the lips of it before resting your head on his chest. After a few minutes of resting like that you slowly got up and made your way to the bathroom after cleaning up the mess Tommy had made you headed back to your bedroom to find Tommy standing at the door. Looking to the stairs then back to you. You figured that Tommy was asking if you were ok if he left, giving him a smile you nodded your head. 

“I am going to go back to bed anyways. I will see you in the morning Tommy.”

After making sure you were once again in bed, Tommy took one last look at you from the doorway before closing the door. 

You weren’t sure why but it seemed like every time you were hurt or something happened there was a change in the Hewitt house. After waking up the next morning you slipped on a pair of shorts and made your way downstairs. Of course the first person you happen to run into is Monty and even though he still talks down to you there is concern in his eyes. 

“Well it’s a good thing you ain’t dead. With all that blood I figured you were.”

Even though the man still made you feel uncomfortable you gave him a small smile. 

“Can’t get rid of me that soon Monty.”

Not waiting for his reply you turned and walked into the kitchen. Seeing Luda Mae at the stove you grabbed a glass of water before sitting down. 

“Mornin Mama.”

“Good Morning dear. How’s your back?”

“A bit stiff from the fall, but the cuts don’t hurt that bad. How many of the cuts needed to be stitched?”

Placing a plate of eggs and fried chicken in front of you Luda Mae turned back around. 

“Oh let’s see, I believe Tommy ended up having to stitch about four of them. But they weren’t too bad. Now your hand on the other hand. That one was deep and it is going to take the longest to heal.”

Remembering the night before you thought back to how you grabbed the glass in your hand. 

“It was a piece of the door. I had kicked him in the gut and while he was down I reached for the first thing I could grab and that was it. I didn’t even realize till afterwards that the blood coming from my hand was my own.”

“Hmmm. So who was that man?”

“I have no clue. He came in about an hour before closing. I didn’t get a good feeling for him so I moved to the counter where the shotgun was, he looked around then bought a drink and left. Even then I still didn’t move from the counter till it was closing time. After locking the door I had turned around and that is when he broke through. He knocked me to the floor and that's when I kicked him, then you saw the rest.”

“That we did.” Looking around the kitchen you saw nor heard any sign of Tommy, as if reading your mind Luda Mae spoke before you could. “Tommy’s been downstairs all morning. I know for sure he didn’t bring the man back to the house but I have been hearing him banging around all morning.”

“Well after I eat and clean up I will head down and see what he has been doing.”

“You eat then you can go down. You can’t be doing nothing but resting with the way your hand is. But speaking of Tommy, you and I need to have a talk.”

Could feel your heart race as you took a drink of water before answering. 

“A talk about what?”

“Oh please don’t try to hide it. You don’t think I didn’t hear you two last night? You really call that quiet?”

Feeling your face turning bright red you looked down to your plate as you tried to gather the courage to speak. 

“Listen Mama. I… We… there wa-”

“Stop before you hurt yourself even more than you already have. I just want to remind you of the deal, no actual sex till the two of you are married. And if the two of you plan to do anything in the house keep it in the basement like you normally do. Mama’s don’t want to hear their son’s like that.” 

Shooting up quickly you winced in pain as Luda Mae chuckled. 

“Duly noted Mama. I think I am going to go ahead and see what he has been up to all morning.”

[xsixxx]

Bad Influence - Chapter Nine

Authors Note: I'm sorry if this chapter cuts off a little at the end, I was struggling for a way to round it off & set it up for the next chapter.

I promise, we're nearly past all the boring filler bits & on to the good stuff. The next chapter is gonna be what you've all been waiting for 👏🏻

Feedback is welcome encouraged. Please.

Warnings: Language (as always), some drugs, lil bit of sauciness, someone being a bit pervy

Tags: @triplehaitches @freddiessmallnipples @queen-crue @scarecrowmax @lovesick-heart0 @littlesunnymoon @80sheart-strings @cranberribread @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @versnatasha @zoenicoles @crazysaladchopshop @ggorehorror @lunamadhatter99 @justtryingtoovercome @chaoticvybe @you-know-im-a-dreamer @eightiesrockbaby @valentines-in-london @xrosegoldwolfx @fupatroopaa @lilypetite88 @this-blog-must-be-the-place @ashleecrue @lauravic @dark-princess99 @unknownoblivion @mgkobsessed @antheasnow

(Mick smiles once in this chapter so it deserves this gif)

*Mötley House*

I snorted up yet another fat line that Tommy had so generously laid out for me, stood up straight & rubbed my nose, giggling.

"You having fun babe?" Tommy laughed, his arm snaking around my waist, trying to hold me upright.

"The best!" I slurred, wrapping my arms around his neck, still giggling like a school girl. "Do some shots with me, T-Bone!" I yelled, blindly grabbing a bottle of whatever was closest to me & downing the first one. "I bet I can do more than you."

"You're on doll!" He chuckled, snatching the bottle away from me & taking a long, impressive swig, making me immediately rethink my drunken bet.

"Gimmie that." I mumbled, swiping the bottle back & downing another shot. I couldn't taste a damn thing but the burn felt good. "Ok, let's maybe forget the bet.. How about a game?" I exclaimed, perking up at my own idea.

"Only if we can play Never Have I Ever," Tommy grinned widely, his eyebrows wiggling as I let out an exasperated groan.

"T-Bone, come on! You know I hate that game!" I whimpered, pouting at him in hopes that I could change his mind.

"That's why it's fun, princess, because you haven't done anything!" Tommy said with a hearty laugh, playfully patting my back as I took a swipe at his arm. "I like discovering new ways to corrupt you. Last time we played this, you hadn't had a one night stand & then you went home with Vince!" He finished with a wink.

I let out an unamused laugh. "Gee thanks, look how that turned out!"

"That's not my fault, I wasn't the one grinding up against Sixx in an alleyway." He announced for everyone to hear, shrugging.

I glared at him as he smirked. "I hate you, T-Bone."

"I know! But you secretly love me underneath all that hate." He smiled, mischievously. "Ok I'll start; Never have I ever.. owned a horse."

"Oh come on! You knew that already!" I complained, taking the shot anyway. "No cheating!'

Tommy giggled, holding up his hands, caught in the act. "Ok, ok, little rich girl, I'll play fair, I promise." He paused for a second, thinking of a do-over. I watched a slow smirk spread playfully across his lips. "Never have I ever fucked Nikki Sixx."

I couldn't help my scoff. "I don't believe that for a second, I've seen the way you two look at each other." I joked, rolling my eyes, but Tommy ignored me, eagerly eyeing up the bottle clasped in my hands, waiting for me to take a shot. I let out a short, sharp laugh of victory. "T-Bone, I'm not sure what you're waiting for, I told you, I haven't slept with Nikki! We've only kissed once!" I hesitated, before awkwardly correcting myself. "Well, twice now, I guess."

Tommy let out a fake groan, the corners of his mouth turning up once again. "I thought you might be more willing to 'fess up when you're wasted."

"Nope!" I grinned, "Ok, my turn; Never have I ever made a girl squirt during a party."

"Ah Bullwinkle," Tommy sighed fondly, his mind wandering back as he proudly took a shot in her honour. "I miss that chick."

"I fuckin' don't." Mick piped up. "Crazy bitch used to throw everything when she was on one," he gestured towards the broken window, now the doorway for the stream of drunken misfits who clambered in from the Sunset Strip, looking to continue the party. "You can thank her for that, sent a fire extinguisher flying through it once when she was in one of her jealous moods."

"Yeah, maybe a don't miss her.." Tommy trailed off, grimacing at the memory. "Oh but how I miss watching that beautiful stream of cum, flying majestically through the air!" He said dramatically mimicking the spectacle with his arms as I collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Goddamn animal." Mick grumbled, slugging, what was most likely vodka, from his usual hip flask.

"Ok, your turn T-Bone," I said, trying to regain my composure, feeling my mouth twitch with the desire to laugh as the giggles well & truly took hold.

"How about my turn." Cut in a razor sharp voice, oozing with bitterness. "Never have I ever been fucked by one member of a band & then 5 minutes later, had my tongue down another members throat." Vince laughed darkly, taking the bottle from Tommy & thrusting it at me.

Tommy jumped to my defence, standing up & putting his hand on Vinces chest. "Leave it out, man."

Vince looked down arrogantly at the hand resting warningly on his chest, before ripping it away & shoving Tommy back, throwing him a threatening glare & then turning his rage back to me. "Drink up, groupie." He spat, his eyes full of disgust.

I fixed Vince with a deadpan look, the coke & booze making me confident & cocky as I took the shot, dragging it out, not breaking eye contact once. I finished & held the bottle against Vinny's chest, gesturing for him to take it.

"There you go, I saved some. I'm sure there are a lot of other girls around here who need to take a shot for that one too." I said smoothly, unphased by his icy stare. I heard Tommy's chuckle at the same time as I caught Mick trying to hide his smirk behind his flask & both sent Vince's temper ablaze.

"It's not the same & you know it," he snarled, leaning into me, his eyes dark & his breathe laced with the smell of whiskey. "You're fucking done with this band, do you hear me?!" He shouted as he spun around & stomped off in typical diva-Vince fashion.

"Nah your not." Tommy nudged me, smiling. "Me & Mick still like you, ain't that right Mick?"

Mars wordlessly lifted his flask up & tipped in to me in agreement. I couldn't help the warm smile that spread across my face. "Thanks guys, that means a lot."

"Anytime princess. Now, let's do another line." T-Bone said gleefully, rubbing his hands together.

"Ok, but first I need to pee." I announced, standing up swaying as I regained my balance. "Line 'em up T-Bone, I'll be back in a minute."

I stumbled across the filthy living room, narrowly avoiding the empty bottles & passed out bodies that littered the floor as I made my way towards the bathroom. I reached the door & turned the handle, leaning in as I pushed it open, feeling the alcohol & drugs hit me all at once as I suddenly lost my balance & fell face first through the doorway. I lay face down on the disgusting carpet, my cheek resting on its filth as I drunkenly cackled to myself about my complete lack of grace.

"What the fuck?!"

I cringed, hearing Nikki's pissed off voice.

I stood up quickly, brushing down my skirt as I tried to figure my bearings. My eyes scanned the room, taking note of the battered band flyers, posters & cut outs that were strewn all over the walls in a disorganized fashion. There wasn't much in the way of furniture, just a beat up wardrobe & one lone lamp standing next to a double mattress on the floor. On the mattress lay a passed out girl snoring softly & a half naked Nikki, sat under the covers with some sort of notepad & pencil.

"Get the fuck out Lizzy!" He barked, his face angry with a hint of amusement that could almost go unnoticed. But not by me.

"Sorry, sorry." I slurred, eyeing up his notepad. I couldn't help my curiosity. "What're you writing?" I enquired.

"Lyrics." He snapped, eyes on his notes as he scribbled something out with a sharp exhale of breathe.

"Lemme here some!" I blurted out enthusiastically as I walked over & flopped myself down on the bottom of the mattress, my intoxication overtaking my better judgement that knew full well that Nikki wouldn't take kindly to my intrusion.

He narrowed his eyes at me warningly. "Beth, I don't like people in my room unless you're in here for the same reason she was." Nikki smirked, gesturing at the snoring brunette before giving her a shove & harshly jolting her awake. "Time to go darlin," he said bluntly, without looking at her.

The stunning brunette pulled herself groggily from the bed, grabbing her clothes as she went. As she reached the door, I watched her hesitate & turn back to look at Nikki, almost as if she wanted to say something. The pause lasted a second before she thought better of herself & left without a word.

Nikki hadn't even looked up from his writing.

"You too Angel," he gestured towards the door, raising his eyes slightly to look into mine. "I'm busy."

"But I wanna hear your writing!" I whined, shuffling up the bed to lie next to him, resting my spinning head on the battered pillow.

"Don't get yourself comfortable, your ass is leaving." Nikki scowled, but I couldn't help noticing a hint of that infamous smirk dancing around the corners of his lips as his eyes appreciated the sight of me in his bed. "Since when are you interested in my music? You hate metal."

"Just because I'm not a metal fan, doesn't mean I can't be interested in the process that goes into making it." I shrugged, toying with the lace that was woven into the bust of my top. His eyes drifted to the skin peeking out from beneath it, his gaze lingering there a little longer than it should've before he shook his head, turning his attention back to his notes.

"Fine. I'm writing some stuff for the new album, it's gonna be called 'Shout At The Devil'."

"Oo edgy!" I mocked, prodding his bare chest playfully.

Nikki scowled, unimpressed with my joke. "Don't ask about my work if you're just gonna make judgements. I didn't ask for your input." He snapped, his voice a hurt & fiercely defensive.

"I'm sorry, bad joke." I mumbled, a little embarrassed, before resuming my enthusiasm. "C'mon, read me the one you're writing now!'

Nikki looked skeptical. "Fine," he relinquished, "but keep you bullshit opinion to yourself" he warned.

I mimed zipping my lips & shuffled closer to Nikki, so my head rested lightly on his bare shoulder. The warmth radiating from his skin mixed headily with my boozy state & I couldn't tell if I was more intoxicated from the alcohol or him. I saw him throw a little sideways glance, eyebrows raised, but he didn't complain & instead read aloud some lyrics scrawled under the title "Too Young To Fall In Love".

Run for the hills

We're both sinners and saints

Not a woman, but a whore

I can just taste the hate

Well now I'm killing you

Watch your face turning blue

Not yet a man

Just a punk in the street

Nikki finished, falling silent & I could feel his body tense, waiting for my 'bullshit opinion'.

"Well that was.." I struggled to find a word to best describe what I'd just heard. "Unsettling." I giggled.

Nikki frowned, annoyance plain on his face. "That's the fucking point. I don't want my music to make you feel fucking lovey & shit. It's supposed to be dirty & raw & uncomfortable." He sighed.

"No no, it's good." I quickly corrected, trying to reduce the sudden tension that came with his downheartedness. "So," I hurried on, grabbing a bottle of whiskey I'd spotted on the floor & taking a long gulp, "what number am I going to be?"

Nikki looked at me, puzzled.

"What number am I going to be? When we fuck, how many girls will that have been tonight?" I slurred, flashing him a shit eating grin.

He served me one right back. "You're feeling pretty confident tonight, aren't you?"

"Come on, you said it yourself, that's the only reason girls are allowed in here." I whispered, running my fingers along his bare chest as I lifted my head to look at him. His eyes were already fixed on me & I could see his desire burning away, setting the green in his eyes ablaze.

He paused, holding my gaze for a second, before smirking & letting out a sigh. " And that's why I told you that your ass is leaving, Lizzy." He whispered back, not giving in to me.

I ignored him as I leaned in & pressed my lips to his & felt his restraint melt away as he kissed me back. I climbed on top of him, straddling my knees either side of his hips as I ran my fingers through his thick, wild hair. I felt him grow harder as he let his hands wander to my ass, allowing my skirt to ride up above my hips, only the thin sheet & my underwear keeping us apart.

But Nikki suddenly pulled away from me, breaking the kiss as he chuckled softly to himself. "Not like this," he muttered, running his thumb along his lower lip as if to wipe away the taste of me. I could see him struggling to control himself as, to keep his hands off of me. I flashed him my own arrogant smirk.

"But I want you, Sixx." I muttered against his skin as I began placing kissing along his jawline, before sitting up & pulling off my top, throwing it casually on the floor, revealing my lack of bra. I looked back at Nikki, his eyes wide & jaw slack as his gaze feasted hungrily on the sight of my bare chest.

"What's the matter rockstar, I'm sure you've seen plenty of tits before." I teased as he dragged his eyes back up to my face. He shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever dirty fantasy he'd gotten caught up in.

"I know what you're doing Angel & it's not going to work."

"What?" I asked innocently, interlocking my fingers with his as I brought his hands to to my chest, grazing them delicately across my nipples as I slowly began grinding my hips against his.

"It's not going to happen, not tonight. Not when you're like this." He smirked at me, "but well played."

I sat back, dropping his hands, & pouted. "This is the second time you've turned me down now, you're going to give me a complex, Nikki." I huffed, crossing my arms over my exposed breasts.

Nikki laughed, taking my chin in his hand. "And this is the second time you've come on to me in a less than stable state, I'm not going to take advantage of that. Now put your clothes back on." He ordered, lowering his voice sternly, causing me to squirm a little. It didn't go unnoticed & Nikki smirked knowingly.

"Fine." I sulked, climbing off of him. But before I could move away, Nikki gripped my waist, pulling me back on to him before rolling is over & pinning me beneath him, grinning arrogantly.

"Just know that as soon as you're sober, I'm going to get you back for this." He said roughly, the bass in his voice telling me he wasn't messing around, making me shiver with desire once again.

"Touch me." I begged, but Nikki chuckled darkly as he climbed off of me, taking the sheet with him to cover his modesty. He picked up my top from the floor & tossed it to me. "Soon Angel." He promised.

I pulled my top on & pondered what he'd said. "Why won't you fuck me drunk? You fuck other girls drunk" I quizzed.

Nikki looked caught off guard before he smiled. "You're not other girls."

I tried my best to hide my sudden blush. "And what does that mean?"

“It means that you're not like other girls.” Nikki let let out a low, sultry laugh. “It doesn’t usually take this much effort to get a girl into bed with me. And that’s how I know you’re gonna taste so damn sweet when I finally do. I've worked hard to get to this point & I want to really enjoy you, Angel. I can't do that if you're smashed.” he smirked.

I couldn't hide my blush any longer, my pale skin quickly flushing pink as I stood up from the bed, trying to hide the fact that I was flustered by his words.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special." I laughed.

"You just wait, Princess, I'm gonna make you feel things you never knew you could." Nikki chuckled darkly, his arrogance leaving me weak as he held open the door, a sly, half smirk on his lips. "Now, your ass is leaving, Lizzy."

And I left wordlessly, desperately wanting more, just like the girl before me.

*Later*

*Nikkis POV*

The music was shaking the walls of the crappy two bed shithole we resided in. I definitely wouldn't have called it home, there wasn't a single thing about the place that was comfortable or homely. It was a place to party, fuck & occasionally sleep, if we found the time.

My mind drifted back to the sight of Beth in my bed earlier than evening, her head on my shoulder, he perfect tits as she thrusted against my cock.

Fuck, I should get some sort of award or at least an honourable mention for that level of willpower, I chuckled to myself.

It was all gonna be worth it. She'd made me work for her & now it was Beths turn to wait. And fuck, I'd make damn sure it was worth the wait.

My mind carried on with its little fantasy as my hand mindlessly jotted down more lyric ideas, until I happened to hear Beths drunken protests outside my door.

"No, no I'm good." She slurred, "I've been doing lines with T-Bone."

"I bet the shit I have is better," a gruff, male voice responded. "Let's go into the bathroom & you can try it out."

"Honestly, I'm good, thanks." I heard her say, a little sharper this time.

"C'mon, come with me to the bathroom, you know you want to." Came his sleezy voice through the door. I felt my jaw clench.

"No look, I just wanna get back to the party, can you get out of my way?" Beth said, her voice almost pleading.

I'd heard enough, I threw on my pants & furiously stormed towards the door as I heard him patronisingly ask "where are your manners?"

I flung open the door to see this fucker cornering Beth, his body virtually pressed up against her as his hand rested on the wall next to her head, his arm blocking the way back to the party. His other hand was stroking her jaw line in a way that made my flesh crawl & the way his eyes leered over her body, it took everything I had not to beat that lecherous look off of his face.

"Hey asshole, where the fuck are your manners? She said she wanted to go back to the party." I growled at him, grabbing him by the shoulder & ripping him away from Beth.

"What the fuck man?!" He yelled in my face, trying to frantically grab at my hand that gripped his shoulder. "I was just talking to her!"

"Yeah? Well now you're fucking done talking to her, you get that?" I snarled back, trying my best to keep calm.

"Whatever man, figured your band slut would be free to the rest of us now you'd all finished having a go." He laughed nastily.

I'd reached the breaking point of my patience. My lip drew back, my nostrils flared & my hands balled into tight fists as I took a purposeful stride closer to him, backing him up against the wall, his back hitting it with a dull thud. One my fists relaxed for a brief second, my knuckles white from clenching & snaked around his neck, squeezing just enough to turn his face crimson as he struggled against my vice-like grip.

"Now listen up, you little prick." I spat with all of the venom I could muster. "You see this girl here? She's with me & my band. Now look around you." I paused, using my other hand to grab ahold of his jaw, forcing his face towards to party that had all but halted to gawp at my performance. "This is our party. You're in the fucking Mötley house, asshole. That means you respect what is ours. Now you don't touch this girl, you don't talk to her, you don't even fucking look at her, do you hear me?" He nodded frantically, his face turning a dramatic shade of purple. "Good. Because if I catch you anywhere near her again, I swear to god," I paused, leaning in close so no-one would hear my words but him. "I'll fucking kill you." I hissed, my voice smooth & irrevocably deadly. "Now get the fuck out."

I released my grip & watched as he scrambled out of the window like a rat retreating back into the filth he came from.

"Are you ok?" I asked gently, turning my attention back to Beth who looked somewhere between terrified & impressed. She nodded her head slowly, her eyes watching me with heavy caution.

"T-thank you." Was all she could manage.

"It's ok, Princess." I replied, a little awkwardly. "We take care of our own."

I cringed at my own words as her face still didn't break. "I-I think it's best I leave." Beth muttered, shifting her eyes from mine down to the ground as if waiting for if to swallow her whole.

"Beth, stay, I'm sorry if I scared you or whatever, I didn't mean to.." But she was already shaking her head.

"It's not that, I just.. I just don't belong here.' She mumbled, more to herself than me as she started moving herself towards the window. "Thank you again, Nikki." She whispered, squeezing my hand as she walked by before she too, was off out if the window & into the night.