#I call bullshit but it's a nice thought lol

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Aww I'm so happy to hear that, friend!! 🥰🥰

It's not a problem Dean, (the gun is obviously BUT) she is beautiful and you will love her and I will cry at your wedding.

Ehehe it's funny you mention their wedding...

Dean no. No feeling bad for saving your girl and for killing the "sack of shit in human clothes."

Ugh right? Trust, he doesn't regret killing that bastard loll.

Also I didn't notice the Colonel Sanderson thing before and now all I can think about is KFC lol.😂 Which is not to take away from how good this fic is or how well it's written. It's just me lol.

Actually THANK YOU for noticing that because Colonel Sanders was an intentional reference! lmao I saw some meme that called Asmodeus "Bullshit Colonel Sanders" and it made me cackle, so I included that a little bit here. 😂😂

Oh goodness she is already so protective of him and oh my word the wink had me melting lol.

See! It's not taking that long at all for her to start softening up towards him loll. At the very least, she doesn't want to see him killed for her after killing for her.

I also don't think that I mentioned this before, but I really like how you wove in the other characters in the show. Seeing Benny and Cas show up just made me so happy.

Aww thank you!! 🥰🥰 When it comes to AUs, I try my best to fit in canon characters where they make the most sense to me, and try to make them feel "as themselves" as possible.

Oh my word seeing that fight in my head, um... YES PLEASE. And the loyalty?! The love for their friend?! The "Goodbye brother."? It's so good.

Imagining Dean in uniform, even if he's fighting his friends, just does things to me too loll.

Ultimately, Benny and Cas are good men even in this world, and they didn't want to have to bring in him or Mila to the Colonel either. 💜

She's squishing his face! That is so cute, oh my stars. Plus I am cackling at how long it took him to be able to say her name.

Ahaha this was my favorite part to write for this chapter! Dean struggled, bless his heart. 🤣🤣🤣

I absolutely love this! I really love it when writers pick the names of their characters based on the meaning behind it. And the fact that you gave the meaning of her name a backstory of her mom having a dream and the butterfly meaning that Mila "would have a free mind" is just so perfect for her. Because she is stubborn and she does have "a free mind" by being rebellious and strong, by being a strong female character who does not conform to the whims of what other people deem to be appropriate for her. Also it was funny that Dean thought she was like a "lioness."

Aww thank you!! I'm usually pretty conscious of names and the meanings behind them, but especially in this story I got deep into the research of the Lakota people, and I found that names are very important to their culture, now and historically.

When I was looking for a name for her, Kimmímila stood out as being beautiful (with a nice nickname), but perhaps on surface level didn't reflect her true personality. So that's why I worked in that backstory with her mother's dream, vs. who she wanted her daughter to be, and who Mila considers herself to be. And bonus, what Dean observes of her! lol

So I absolutely love all of your observations here, because that's exactly what I intended for her!

This is a really wonderful line, that the war "never really ends." It really fits this story and honestly it really fits the entire early history of the United States when it was acquiring territory and embracing the "manifest destiny" ideals.

Aww thank you so much!! That's what I thought as well, not just for this story, but for the greater context of U.S. history during this time and the push to industrialize the entire country.

Okay, the whole part where she is explaining things about her life and her culture was so sweet. Them opening up with one another is just so soft and a little fluffy and I'm so glad that they got to have those gentle moments with one another. Not to mention this bit where Dean admits how much he likes listening to her, is just so good lol. And I thought it was really on brand for him to be a little upset that she doesn't completely trust him yet, even though that he killed one of his men. But he's got to learn to be patient... and then propose. LOL.

That was so fun for me too! The "getting to know you" aspect. I thought that opening up to one another was needed here, and it gave an opportunity for more historical tidbits!

Ahaha yep, she's a hard nut to crack, but Dean need only be patient. He's won a lot more brownie points with her than he realizes. 😏 "And then propose" -- I'm weeeak!! 🤣

Don't be afraid to admit it Mila, we all know how good he is to look at. And why shouldn't you look at your future husband? 💍

Ha!! Ikr?? Also, you're getting dangerously warm to what's coming in Part 3. ❤️‍🔥

Oh my sweet goodness, the TENSION!! This is so good my friend and I am so excited for what the future of this series holds and am praying that it doesn't end in death!😬💗

The romantic tension is real!! lmaoo

Thank you so, so much, friend!! Part 3 is my favorite part, I think, and I hope you'll be happy with the outcome, even though we've got a fair bit of action and angst ahead...

The Honorable Choice - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: “Getting to know you, getting to know all about you…” ⬅️ If you’ve seen The King & I, then you’ll probably be singing that line in your head like I do.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 3.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Dean, historical tidbits, fluff

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🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 2: Death & Sacrifice

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and the hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

He just can’t do it.

His finger eases off the trigger of his gun, and he lowers it to the ground beside him.

“I told you,” he says. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Her head tilts as she stares at his gun, then at him. She relaxes somewhat, and she backs off of him, sliding from his lap down to the grass beside him. Her closed fist with the knife comes to rest at her side. She gives him a look of wary bewilderment.

“You are a strange man,” she says.

Dean has to laugh a little, smiling at her afterward.

“I guess so,” he replies.

Her brows furrow. “You killed one of your own…for me?”

He nods, and his smile falls with a weary sigh. The hard part about that is he doesn’t feel much guilt about what he’s done. At the same time, he does, and the conflict churns in his stomach. He knew what kind of man Roman was. He was the kind of soldier that could’ve filled Colonel Sanderson’s shoes one day. A fellow soldier under Dean’s command...

And a sack of shit in human clothes.

Dean leans back on his hands in the grass and slides his legs out long. His stare falls to the earth between his boots. The ground is soft underneath him. Maybe it rained this morning. 

“Yeah, that’s gonna make it tough when I go back,” he says. “At best, that’s a court martial. At worst…”

The Lakota woman frowns, her dark brows nearly meeting in the middle as she considers him. He wonders what she sees when she looks at him.

“Tell you what,” Dean said. “Give yourself and your horse a rest tonight. I’ll go back and tell them I lost you in the canyon.”

Her eyes widen further in surprise. He can’t blame her for it. He’s surprising himself every time he opens his mouth.

“Will they kill you?” she asks.

Dean shrugs. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

She levels him with a firmer look, one that demands the truth.

His nonchalance wanes, and he sighs.

“They might,” he says.

She shakes her head. She seems to deliberate over something, but eventually she comes to a decision. Just when she opens her mouth to speak, a gunshot rings out and hits the ground not far from their feet. A warning.

The sound of hooves thundering on the earth reach them before they look up. Two horses gallop towards them in the distance, their riders wearing blue uniforms.

They both tense up, but Dean is the first one to move. He grabs her arm and helps her stand along with him. They scramble back and lead the horses by their reins further into the trees. They find a denser patch and a raised hill to crouch down and hide behind.

The mustang is too tired to go very far, but Baby is already making anxious sounds, protective of her rider.

“Shhh,” Dean whispers, and runs a soothing hand over her side. He leads her to lay down with her legs tucked underneath her.

The Lakota manages to do the same with the mustang after whispering to him softly in her language. There’s a trust between them, Dean realizes. They have a connection that seems to mirror his own with his horse. He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.

“Captain!” Benny calls out.

Dean grimaces, but he stays quiet. He turns to the woman and holds a finger over his lips. She stares back at him in apprehension. He begins to creep slowly around the hill, but she grabs onto his wrist. For a second, she looks just as surprised as him by the reflexive action. Then, she shakes her head at him.

Don’t go out there, her eyes say.

Dean smiles, and he gives her a reassuring wink. He gently removes her hand and gestures at her to stay where she is. He army crawls up the side of the hill. It gives him a vantage point to watch his men, who approach just a few feet down below. 

“Captain Winchester!” Cas calls next.

“We don’t want to have to come and get you, Dean. Come on,” Benny says. He does sound reluctant, for his part. His voice grows more somber when he says, “Colonel’s given us orders to bring you and the girl back…dead or alive.”

Dean knows the position he’s put his own men in. He doesn’t blame them for following the Colonel’s orders. He just hopes they can forgive him for what he’s about to do.

He leaps off the edge of the hill with a yell and brings Benny with him to the ground. He sweeps Cas’s legs out from underneath him, then tosses a punch that lands on the corner of Benny’s chin. He kicks Benny’s gun away, and wrestles Cas until his pistol falls from his hand. The three men scrap and trade blows, until Dean is the only one left standing. His men are groaning on the dusty ground, slowly picking themselves up.

Dean’s heaving for breath as well as he leans back against the side of the hill. Despite that momentary victory, he knows what they all know: that this fight isn’t going to end until either they’re dead, or he’s dead.

“Where’s the girl, Dean?” Benny says. He implores him to see sense. “We take her back with us, we can smooth all this over with the Colonel. All of it, even Roman.” 

Dean lets out a deep breath, but he shakes his head.

“Can’t do that, Benny,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a question circling in his friend’s eyes, but after a beat, Benny seems to know the answer to it. He picks up his gun from the ground. Just like Dean once did, the Lieutenant now has a choice to make.

He shares a heavy look with Cas. The two of them nod, before they focus back on Dean.

Benny’s hand falls, and he stows his gun.

“You died today,” Benny says. “We found your body somewhere in the canyon. Your horse too.”

Dean nods, with something of a smile. He supposes faking his death is the only option now. He rips the badge off his uniform jacket and tosses it to Benny.

“There’s your proof,” he says.

Dean shares a grim nod of respect with Cas while Benny examines the torn patch denoting a captain’s rank.

“Take care of each other,” Dean says.

Benny’s head raises, and he meets Dean with a somber gaze.

“Goodbye, brother.”

Dean doesn’t return to her until the men are out of sight through the trees. She’s still hiding along with the resting horses, waiting for him. That alone surprises him. It would bring a small smile to his face, if the weight of that goodbye didn’t feel so heavy on his shoulders.

He reaches out a hand for her. It takes her a moment to consider it, but she accepts his offer.

He helps her to her feet, after which, she quickly pulls her hand back. She’s wary of his touch, her face guarded when she looks up at him. Dean supposes he can’t blame her, even if it does strike a nerve. After what he just did for her…

His face becomes stoic, and he turns away to grab his hat from the dusty ground. “We should probably head out.”

She nods and calls to her horse to encourage him to his feet. Despite himself, Dean can't help but be curious. How did this girl manage to tame that wild beast?

“Does he have a name?” he asks.

“Mato,” she replies.

“Mato,” Dean echoes. “Does that mean something? You know, in your language.”

She eyes him wryly, brushing her hand over Mato’s hide.

“It means angry, like a bear,” she says.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, good name.”

He remembers his bruised side (and ego) from when the mustang threw him off his back.

Dean watches her with another realization as she gracefully mounts the horse. Baby has gotten up to her feet as well, already nudging the back of his arm with her snout. He rubs her nose in affection.

Then he turns to climb up onto her back, settling his feet into the stirrups and loosely grabbing the reins. He follows his companion’s lead farther into the forest, but he guides his horse to fall into step beside hers.

“Will you tell me your name now?” he asks. “Think we’ve been through enough together at this point, don’t you think?”

She considers it with a tilt of her head. She looks over at him with a small smile.

“Kimmímila,” she says. The syllables roll off her tongue effortlessly.

Dean raises his brows. “Kim…Kimmeela.”

She shakes her head at him, her lips pursing.

“Kimmímila.”

Lord help him, but he tries his best. His brows furrow.

“Kim…mila,” he attempts. She guides Mato closer and grabs Dean by his cheeks with one hand.

“Kimmí.”

“Kimmí,” he repeats with his cheeks squished. His face is starting to warm up, and not altogether in embarrassment.

“Mila,” she says with a nod.

“Mila,” Dean says. “Kimmímila.”

He’s treated to her smile, warm and true. She releases him, her gaze flitting over his face. Then she keeps riding. Dean grins to himself.

“Think I’m gonna call you Mila,” he says. Make it easier on myself.

She even laughs, a honeyed sound. “Yes, my father does too.”

“What does it mean? Your name.”

“In your language?” she says, in a tone that teases him back. She becomes thoughtful as she searches for the word. “It means…butterfly.”

“Really?” Dean remarks. She doesn’t strike him as a butterfly.

More like a lioness, he thinks, only somewhat holding back his grin.

She gives him some side-eye, despite her amusement.

“You think it does not suit me,” she observes.

“Well, I didn't say that—”

“I don’t think so either,” she admits. “There are many things that don’t suit me.”

Dean chuckles. He can imagine that.

“But my mother had a dream before I was born,” Mila says. “She saw beautiful wings, and said I would have a free mind. When I grew, and wanted to spend my days with horses more than cooking and sewing things, she didn’t call me free. She called me stubborn.” Her face begins to fall. “Maybe too stubborn.”

Dean offers her a rueful, sympathetic look. “Yeah, I get it. My brother always said I was damn hardheaded,” he says. “…Maybe we’ve got more in common than we thought, huh?”

Mila’s smile returns, however slightly.

“You have a brother?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah. He’s a lawyer, so he’s more needed back home,” Dean replies.

Damn. He really does miss his bookish little brother.

He explains to her about his family, his brother and mother who still live in Lawrence, and how he joined the army, in part to honor his father.

“What happened to him?” she asks.

“He died…in some cornfield near Sharpsburg, Maryland, fighting the Confederacy,” he replies, heaving a breath.

"Con...federacy?" she questions.

"The South," Dean explains. "See, most of our southern states thought they should be their own country, letting slaves plow their fields and mind their kids. I may have lived on a farm, but my father always paid his workers. He fought for the Union."

"So you fought among yourselves, over land that did not belong to you," Mila points out.

Dean falls silent. After a little while, he concedes her point with an incline of his head.

"Fair enough," he says, glancing over at her. “I think my dad thought the fighting would end with the war, but, uh...it never really ends, does it?”

Her expression of curiosity fades, turning more solemn.

“No,” she agrees. “…I am sorry for your father.”

Dean's a little surprised to hear that from her, but he nods his thanks. They continue to talk as the sun begins to set in the west. When it dips behind the canyon, they stop to make camp for the night, and he helps her catch a rabbit to roast on the fire they build together.

That night over the meal, she slowly opens up to him. He learns that she’s an only child, though she has a sibling-like bond with her older cousin, Šóta. She spends most of her days planting or harvesting their crops, depending on the season, as well as sewing, painting, helping the elders of her tribe with tasks, and helping her mother and aunt cook.

When the rabbit is gone, she unbinds her long, thick hair and untangles it while she speaks. She explains that the Lakota are just one of many tribes. There are six other bands of Sioux who live in this region. Along with the Dakota and the Nakota, they are the “Seven Council Fires” who have made the Great Plains their home for generations.

She tells him about the way her tribe lives, caring for one another, giving the land back as much as they take, and letting it rest. The men hunt and protect the village from the outside, but the women protect the inside, their way of life.

Most of all, Mila tells him, she loves caring for the horses. She goes out and rides whenever she can duck out of her mother’s watchful eye.

Dean enjoys listening to her stories. He likes what he learns about her, but also, he just likes the sound of her voice, smooth and steady, almost calming. He thinks she might like the sound of his too, the way she’s smiled at him, laughed with him, glanced at him when she thinks he’s not looking.

She still picks a spot as far away from him as she can to sleep though. She keeps the fire pit in between them. He even catches sight of her knife, hidden in the hand she tucks underneath her cheek. Evidently, she doesn’t fully trust him just yet.

It annoys him at first, considering how many times he’s saved her already. How much he’s sacrificed just to get them this far…

Until he remembers how they met. He remembers the disdain and anger in her brown eyes, then the mistrust, and the fear hidden underneath. He thinks of every experience she’s likely had so far with the U.S. Military, and anyone else who looks like him.

Dean settles down on the ground and stares up at the innumerable stars in a raven sky. He’s exhausted, but his thoughts don’t let him rest for a while. 

At the very least, the way she looks at him now is softer than that first day.

In the morning, Mila watches the strange man wake.

He blinks and rubs his bleary eyes, yawning, groaning at the sun’s brightness like a child. She hides her smile by bowing her head over the apple she’s cutting with her knife. The orchards span wide across the forest, and soon he’ll find two yellow-red apples beside his head.

His brows raise at them, then he looks up at Mila sitting with her legs crossed behind the small fire pit. The wood there is just ash and blackened remains now, but it still carries the smell of burning.

“Morning,” he greets.

She nods back at him and pretends not to watch when he sits up with a groan, stretching and bending his arms high behind his head. He removed his uniform jacket to sleep. It allows her to see every dip of male muscle that his plain white shirt clings to, even in the long sleeves.

Her gaze furtively runs over the broad shoulders, the tapered waist, then back up to his half-bearded face, defined by a strong jaw and dark brows. The sun catches on his brown hair and teases the ends of it golden.

She would never admit it, but he’s not unpleasant to look at. 

Last night, she declined his offer to travel with her until she reaches her tribe safely, but he was insistent. Again, strange.

So here she is, with him. Here they are. 

Dean turns to see the horses grazing nearby. Mato no longer has the saddle and bridle his men put on him. He looks rested and at ease. He even whinnies at Baby, tossing his head a little. She answers him and flicks her tail. They continue eating together.

Dean smiles, then grabs an apple. He raises it to her in thanks before he takes a large bite. Its juices run down the corner of his mouth, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand. Mila can’t help but be drawn to the sight.

She tears her eyes away when he looks over at her.

“We have a long way to go. Three days, if the weather is good,” she says, continuing to carve pieces of her apple to eat. “We will know we are close when we reach the river.”

Dean nods in understanding. With a grunt, he gets to his feet and takes another bite out of his breakfast. She doesn’t expect the way he approaches her with a hand outstretched. She looks up at it, then at his expectant face.

“Come on. Let’s hit the road then,” he says.

Mila considers his offer for another moment. He seems to be making this a habit. Amused, she wonders if this is just kindness, or if the women of his people aren’t allowed to stand without a man’s help.

She pockets her knife, swipes her braided hair over her shoulder, and slips her hand into his, allowing him to help her to her feet. When she gets there, he’s closer than he should be.

A breath gets trapped in her throat as she once again looks between his warm hand closed over her smaller one, and his face. In the small space between them, there is a different kind of tension than before. Mila can’t tell what the man is thinking when he looks at her like that, but she doesn’t like it.

And at the same time, she does.

She takes back her hand, and she goes to the horses. She firmly ignores how her heart gallops, even as she rubs at her chest like it’s an ache that can be soothed.

She doesn’t hear Dean’s unsteady breath, nor does she see the way his green eyes follow her.

AN: *rubs hands together* Well, here they are! It's all starting to come together. What did you think of Dean's decision?

Coming up next, we have the final part: some action, some fluff, and some potentially perilous situations for Mila and Dean...

Next Time:

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

COMING 11/17! (New chapters every Sunday.)

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[giantkillerjack]

Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

You need to show the world that you KNOW you are bad by punishing yourself constantly! After all, think of all the people who BENEFIT from you punishing yourself! - No, really! Think about it! Think about who benefits from your pain.

Think of alllllll the definitely-good people that your definitely-necessary self-torment definitely helps! I mean, you can't just cut off their definitely-life-sustaining supply of your suffering, right?? Sure, everyone else has a breaking point, but you're probably the only person in human history who doesn't, right? Best not to question it probably. Sure, it's a symptom that billions of people with trauma have had, but who knows? You could be a one-in-seven-billion exception. Anything's possible!

Instead, better just accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues deserve to suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you until you drop. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things if you're not careful!

If you start giving yourself even the tiniest amount of grace at a time, you will find that you've accessed a gateway drug with extreme long-term side effects:

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might come to know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to start granting your awkward self free pardons for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

[arolesbianism]

Man I've gotta be mean more often Im so sick of being polite abt bigotry I should just start killing ppl fr

[anisespice]

“ block boy ” || tokyo rev.

parings: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, kaku, sanzu, rin, ran ]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. cursing, mentions of violence, blood, pregnancy mentioned in ran’s, a lot of down bad behavior on both ends lol and i think that’s it.

notes: i pledge allegiance to doechii, and the absolute banger of a song that is “what it is”. literally the first thing i thought of was bonten and couldn’t get ‘em out of my head unless i wrote something down sooo here ya go lol 

notes ii: basically times where you pulled their weight when they least expected you to/when they’re not around. called the shots, took some shots, beat someone up, defended them, loving on them, stuff like this (•3•>)

tagged: @fantasycantasy, @illegalspacecow, @captaincyberqueen

“Did the severity of the situation finally click in your thick skulls, or do I have to waste more of my breath spelling it out for you?”

When MIKEY returned from his much needed evening snooze in the break room you threatened sweetly advised him to take after working for 17 hours straight, he was expecting to return to the shitstorm he left behind. However, when he entered his office, to his muted surprise there you were, in the middle of berating a handful of subordinates nearly twice your size, all shrunk within themselves as your sharp tone pierced through them all. He stood in the doorway with a curious gaze, head tilted ever so slightly as he made sure to keep quiet so not to notify you of his presence.

Mikey took note of your hip popped outward, balled fist rested upon it in the stance he knew all too well whenever you were on your last nerve. Knowing what those idiots did, someone was bound to stumble outta there in tears; your fury wasn’t for the weak.

You eyed the group with raised brows, expectant. “Well?”

One member was brave, or stupid enough to actually answer. He hesitated, but cleared his throat and replied, “I-It was an honest mistake…we thought the product was secured in the truck already when we made the exchange, b-but-”

“B-B—Bullshit. You were given specific instructions to check the inventory to make sure those smarmy assholes weren’t trying pull a fast one, and you were too careless to do a full sweep. You failed abortions not only made Bonten look like complete amateurs, but you added more nonsense for my man to deal with all because you didn’t check the back of the goddamn trucks!”

You flung the clipboard you were holding at the guy’s head, making them all duck around to avoid getting hit, only one unlucky sucker wasn’t as quick as the wooden projectile got him right in the nose. He yelped, no doubt it was broken with the sheer amount of force you put in the throw. Mikey barely flinched, but he did blink a few times in astonishment.

“You’re gonna hunt those fuckers down like dogs and make right of your ‘mistake’ by the end of today, or I’m gonna have Sanzu chop you into pieces and throw you in the Shinano River-!” Mikey cleared his throat.

You swiftly looked over your shoulder at the noise, mood doing a complete 180 when you locked eyes with the object of your affection, skittering over to wrap him in your arms. “Oh! Jiro, baby, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“‘s okay..” he leaned into your warmth, eyes hooded as he graced you with a faint, sleepy grin. “Didn’t want to interrupt your.. meeting. Seemed serious.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Just doing a little ‘housekeeping’ until you got enough rest, that’s all.”

He slowly nodded, lips pursed. “Could’ve sworn I pay good money for people to do that for me.”

“You do, but I was already here. Figured it was more productive to handle it myself rather than waste time looking for someone available. Besides, had to make sure you didn’t try to sneak your narrow butt back in here to continue working—We both know I’m the only one around here who can keep you in check.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“Mm.. can’t say you don’t fill the role of boss rather nicely. It suits you. Should have you do it more often.”

Though you were sure he was teasing you, you couldn’t help but feel yourself grow warm at his praise. You lightly hit his arm, bashful. How this was the same woman who struck fear in a room full of criminals was beyond comprehension, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Speaking of which.. Mikey couldn’t help but notice the said group of subordinates silently begging for him to reconsider in his peripheral, hands clasped in prayer while the one with the busted nose bowed deeply to the floor, forehead to hardwood. It was as if the idea of you being in charge any longer brought them great despair. How interesting.

Huffing through his nose, Mikey placed a loving kiss on your forehead whilst eyeing the group behind majority of his stress for the day, void of any remorse as he coldly spoke.

“Matter of fact.. think ‘m still feeling a little tired, angel. How about you handle another hour f’me? Or two?”

The silence was deafening as the dual-color eyed man avoided looking at you while you stitched him up without a word. When you were greeted by a bleeding KAKUCHO at your doorstep a little past midnight, pale in the face and could barely stand, there were no questions asked as you quickly escorted him into your home, setting him gently on the couch before you sprung for your first aid in the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what he could say in that moment, feeling like a complete moron for even showing up looking like he fled a crime scene which he kinda did but that’s besides the point. Your relationship was still in the budding phase, just starting to get a feel of one another as you tested the waters.

Well, consider the waters tested.

“You’re not really an undercover cop, are you?”

Kakucho gulped. He slowly shook his head, eyes trained on his lap while yours felt like they were burning holes right through him. You nodded as you continued carefully stitching him up. It wasn’t the best, but it would hold him over until he got proper medical attention. At first, he figured that would be all you said to him. But, when you completed dressing the wound, you asked a follow up question. “It’s something illegal, isn’t it?”

He couldn’t bring himself to answer, his strained grip on his pant leg enough response. Kakucho half expected you to berate him, curse him for potentially endangering your life, for lying.

“.. forgive me..” he croaked, bowing his head.

He felt sick to his stomach, he couldn’t bear the thought of you despising him, but he’d honor your wishes without protest if you never wanted to see him again…

However, what he didn’t expect was for you cup the sides of his face and bring his wavering gaze to your soft one. You smiled endearingly at the bewilderment that overcame his ashamed expression, him blinking at you widely with tears hanging onto his lashes like a wounded puppy. Your thumb ghosted over the tiny droplets, careful not to aggravate the bruise forming around the socket.

Leaning forward to shower him with tender kisses, Kakucho was at a crossroad—One side wanted nothing more than to melt into a puddle of goo, but the other refused to believe that he wasn’t hallucinating, waiting for the sick twisted punchline of this dream come true. Feeling him still so tense in your hold, you leaned back with your smile still present.

“This doesn’t change how I feel about you, Hitto.”

Kakucho blinked. Then, he meekly replied. “W-what?”

You coyly tilted your head, “To be honest, I always figured there was something…off about you. Like, you were holding something back. My first guess was that you were seeing other women-”

“Never.” His eyes switched from uncertain to stern in a matter of seconds, as if the implication alone repulsed him. He softened once you giggled at his declaration, patting his leg in reassurance.

“I know. You’re much too sweet to be a player. I pondered over it for a while, thought back to how we usually met up late at night, or you would have to leave at odd times. My second guess was your work just kept you really busy.. and after tonight.. after all of this,” you gestured at the blood stains everywhere, “safe to say I was on the right track.”

Kakucho hesitated. “And that doesn’t…put you off?”

“That you’re a thug?” He winced, but nodded. The silence that followed behind was borderline suffocating, leaving his hands sweaty and nerves shot as he anticipated your response with baited breath. But, he didn’t need to worry.

With a loving coo, you placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, right over the split in his lip causing him to flinch slightly at the sting, but he welcomed the affection all the same. However, when your warm tongue peeked out to soothe the cut in slow, teasing swipes, homie nearly choked.

Kaku’s jaw fluttered open as a soft gasp escaped him next, the sensation foreign but not unpleasant as he felt his entire face heat up like a furnace. Your sudden proximity forced him back on the couch while you slid down to the floor betwixt his spread legs, making his head spin; this wasn’t going like how he thought it would at all. Being careful of his stitches, your arms rested on either side of him as your tongue explored his mouth, making him groan softly at the feeling of the wet muscle tangling around his so earnestly, hand reaching up instinctively to caress the side of your face as he deepened the kiss. His other hand held your waist, gripping your shirt as if he couldn’t believe you were there—That you wanted to stay.

The ravenette’s breath hitched when he felt one of your hands trailing up his thigh, slowly but surely making your way to his stiffening cock confined in his pants. Slightly startled, Kakucho pulled back from the heated kiss, a string of saliva still keeping you connected as you panted in each other’s mouths. Before he could question what you were up to, he cuts himself off with a whimper when you palmed his thick shaft while maintaining intense eye contact, a smile on your face as you sent the gangster into paradise when you sweetly whispered:

“Always wanted to be a ride or die.”

It was as if someone pushed him into an alternate dimension.

Not even moments ago, you were showing SANZU a cute tiktok of a kitten wrapped up like a burrito and mewing dramatically, nearly tearing up at the sight as you tugged on his arm and pleaded for him to buy you one just like it. Having bought out the entire evening in one of Tokyo’s most exclusive five star restaurants for your anniversary, Sanzu figured it’d be nothing more than a simple night with his lovely wife. Man’s must’ve forgot who he was.

When those fools tried an ambush on him, Sanzu was more than happy dealing with them quickly by just airing them out until his gun was empty. Although, as he went reaching for it, imagine his shock when you held his wrist to stop him. You had a different sentiment.

It was like a scene out of one of his most crazed fantasies. His lovely wife, holding his beloved katana to an enemy’s throat, covered in the blood of his comrades as he sobbed pathetically for you to spare him. As if Beatrix Kiddo entered the chat, you sliced into them with a swiftness, shredding through them all like paper; a dinner and a show. He wasn’t sure when you learned how to wield the weapon with such grace and precision, but he couldn’t care less when his pants were this fucking tight. But he couldn’t let you have all the fun, watching your six any time a goon tried to get the jump on you while your back was turned, Sanzu was quick to bust a cap right between their eyes. After spilling gallons of blood from the opposition, leaving one still standing, you decided to play with him a little bit.

“P-Please! I-if you let me go, you’ll never see my face again, I-I swear! I was just..just following orders, I-”

“Oh, c’mon, where’s your conviction from earlier, huh? You were so confident before I minced all your friends. What was it you said you’d do to me once you killed my husband? Can’t seem to put my finger on it…Haru, darling, do you recall?”

Sanzu, with his chin placed atop his interlocked fingers like a smitten fool, smoothly answered, “Said he’d ‘Fuck you raw on top of my corpse’.”

You winked. “Bingo. Thank you, handsome.”

“Welcome, gorgeous.”

The sniveling man yipped when the blade nicked his skin, a thin stream of blood flowing in its wake as you pressed it closer to his throat. His heart rate paced like a rabbit caught in a trap, nostrils flaring as he breathed sporadically while his life laid in the palm of your hand.

“Guess that didn’t go according to plan, aw.” You sardonically cooed, spurring on a bit of rage as he gritted out a dry ‘Fuck you’ in his final efforts of showing dominance. “Oo, there’s that passion we were missing!~ Let’s see how much more I can carve outta yo-”

Hearing the sound of faint sirens in the distance, Sanzu clicked his tongue in annoyance. With a grumble the pinkette popped a piece of his steak in his mouth and spoke between chews as he cocked his gun, “Alright, [_____], playtime’s over. We gotta haul ass.”

You pouted. “But, we didn’t get to fuck on top of his corpse...”

Sanzu swallowed, hard. He couldn’t help but internally groan with desire at your innocent display of vulgarity, tempted to take you up on that offer, but the last thing he wanted was for you to be involved in a standoff with the cops. You’ve proven you can handle yourself very well, a lot more than he realized that’s for sure, but you were still his precious baby at the end of the day.

Better to keep you out of danger than thrust you in more of it, no matter how much the thought excited him.

“Next time, pretty baby.”

You huffed. “Fine.”

Without hesitation, you strummed the man’s throat like a cello, the katana tearing through the skin with ease. The symphony of gurgles that escaped him sent shivers down Sanzu’s spine as he watched in manic glee as the man choked on his own blood. You never looked more stunning covered in red and holding his blade like it belonged in your hand, he wanted nothing more than to ravish you on the spot, but as the sirens drew near he tamed his urges just this once. You took his extended hand gratefully, swaying them as you both rushed for the restaurant’s back exit.

Once outside, while he scoped out the area for any cops patrolling, you nudged him. When he turned to see you beaming at him whilst blood stained your face, he swore his heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“You’re getting me a kitten to make up for this, right, Haru?”

He raised a brow, but exhaled a chuckle. “Sweetheart. Show off that violent side of yours more often, and you can have as many as you want.”

“You good, ma?” A delightful shiver ran down your spine and straight to your pussy.

That was always the visceral response your body had whenever RINDOU spoke, especially low and intimately in your ear. From either gently waking you first thing in the morning, or to secretly shit-talk in crowed areas, it was his go-to method to getting your attention effortlessly. A dangerous method, one that was about to make you act up in front of all these important clients, decorum be damned.

“I am now,” you purred, falling back into his embrace as strong arms came vining around your waist. He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple as he gently swayed you both to the rhythm of the soft jazz playing over the speakers of the ballroom.

“Missed me that bad, huh.” You nodded with a slight pout, turning in his hold to stare up longingly into his eyes. They were lidded, heady. Another dangerous method of your husband’s that made you weak in the knees—his undivided attention. “Bored?”

“So fucking bored,” you whined, tugging on his lapels. “These things are always such a drab..”

Rindou hummed, hands slowly slipping down from your waist to hold your hips. You tensed slightly, not even bothering to mask the second shiver it caused. His grin turned sharp in response, head tilting. “Ya sure that’s what has you so out of it?”

You tilted yours, confused. He continued, “You’re not as subtle as you think you are. You’ve been eye-fucking me for the past ten minutes. Came over to make sure you weren’t dripping all over the damn floor—”

“Shut up,” you jabbed him in the side, face boiling. Rindou barely flinched, squeezing your hips as he snickered cheekily at your embarrassment. “You’re so irking...”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. If you knew I was horny, I could’ve been folded on my back ten minutes ago.”

“Hm, almost as if I was doing something important, like…” he trailed off, making you squint and almost jab him again until he grabbed your hand in the last second, bringing it to his chest with a smug grin, “working.”

You huffed, “I’m important too…do me.”

Rindou snorted, but brought your hand up to gently kiss the inside of your wrist with a tender look in his eyes. “‘course you are, baby. Didn’t know it would go for this long, ‘m sorry.”

“Then, how ‘bout you and I take a little…smoke break,” you suggested, hopeful; desperate. However, it’s futile when your husband clicks his tongue.

“No can do. Kakucho’s still not over the last time we took a ‘smoke break’ together.”

“He’s not? Seriously? We weren’t even gone for that long!”

He raised a brow. “[______]. The check made it back to the table before we did.”

You groaned, exasperated as you wiggled around in his hold. Rindou merely watched in mirth, not even phased as he let you finish your tiny tantrum. He teasingly cooed, “I know, I know. Poor thing can’t go a day without something plugging up her slutty little hole.”

“Shut up..!” You shrunk into his chest to hide away from the sultry words spoken directly in your ear, thighs clenching together as his deep chuckle came soon after.

Rindou was very much aware of your voice kink. It filled his ego to the brim with how needy you were, crumbling anytime he so much as spoke to you in a certain way. There’s nothing he wanted more than to ditch and bury himself in your thighs, giving it to you however you wished, for as long as you wished, whispering praises to you with a sprinkle of degradation in there to keep you craving for more of his soothing voice. But, unless he wanted his nuts handed to him on a silver platter by his stickler of a superior, you were just gonna have to wait.

And he knew how much you hated doing that.

“Ten minutes.”

He sighed. “[_____]…”

“Five minutes?”

“We can’t-“

“A minute, god, I don’t even have to finish, Rin, please.” You whined in his ear, forcing him to close his eyes as a means to strengthen his resolve. It didn’t do much help when your arms wrapped around his neck to gently rake your manicured nails against the nape, your thigh deliberately rubbing up against the growing erection confined in his dress pants. The tables had turned with a shiver now running down his spine, mind turning to mush as common sense slowly sunk into his dick. Maybe…sparing just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Even though the lavender-haired gangster couldn’t see your face, he was certain you were grinning victoriously at the sound of his resolve breaking instantly, the slow exhale through his nose being all the confirmation necessary. Clearly, you weren’t the only one who was needy.

Swallowing down a groan, he hissed through clenched teeth, “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

Giggling, you were already leading him toward the nearest exit, swiftly evading the eyes of his coworkers, satisfied that you were getting exactly what you wanted in the end.

“Better me than Kaku.”

“Like I’ve already explained to you, Officer. My husband’s been here all day. Dunno if you’ve noticed, but he can’t exactly afford to leave my side for more than ten minuets let alone an entire evening.”

Despite gesturing to your swollen stomach and the small child shyly peering from behind your leg, the cop still fixed you with a skeptical look. You did your best to remain unnerved, providing comfort for not only your son but yourself as you ran your fingers through his hair. Apparently, there had been a shootout that happened in the streets of Tokyo, and apparently a witness was able to describe one of the shooters…

Henceforth, the unexpected visit from law enforcement. Again.

“Mhm. And, may I ask, where exactly your husband is now? Surely if he’s been tending to his pregnant wife, he wouldn’t have her answering the front door.” He raised an eyebrow, wry grin stretched across his face.

You worked your jaw, annoyed. “In the shower.”

“How convenient. Washing off the blood, I assume?”

“You can assume whatever you want, it doesn’t change my answer. He’s been here, with us. Whoever said they saw him was mistaken. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got mouths to feed. Have an evening, Officer.”

“Now, hold on—”

Without an ounce of hesitation, or care, you slammed the door in his smug little face. And just like that…blissful silence. A grand weight lifted off your shoulders at the disgruntled sound of the pig’s flat-footed steps exiting out of your day. Releasing a slow exhale, your son took it upon himself to blow a raspberry at the closed door, having worked up the courage to mock the officer now that he was out of sight.

You grinned as you ruffled his hair, endearingly. “You tell ‘em, baby.”

However, that silence didn’t last long as RAN made himself known now that the coast was clear. Having hid around the corner in case things escalated, he too released an exhale, easy grin spreading across his face. Though your child was happy to see him, racing to cling onto his long legs, you merely glared in disapproval. Based off his appearance alone, disheveled and glistening with sweat, you wished your fib from earlier was true; he needed a shower.

“[S/n], don’t touch daddy right now…he stinks.”

Though a bit childish in your phrasing, Ran was well aware it held an underlying meaning, a chill running down his spine under your harsh scrutiny. He cleared his throat, somewhat nervous, as he searched his brain for honeyed words that would soothe your soreness toward him. And he laid it on thick.

“That’s ‘cause Daddy had to run the rest of the way home to make sure his babies were safe,” he leaned down to scoop up the clinging child, lightly tickling at his stomach poking out from under his pajama shirt to receive more joyous squeals. “But, Mommy scared away the big, mean police man all on her own, didn’t she?”

“Yea!” [S/n] squeaked, bright laugh bouncing off the walls as he wiggled around eagerly. You felt the corner of your lip twitch upward at the sight, but you pursed your lips to hide the impending smile—Ran noticed. He always did.

“Yeah.. we’re real lucky to have someone as wonderful as her to watch our backs whenever we’re in trouble.. right, mama?”

Your glare still remained, though not as harsh compared to moments ago. Despite the mirth swirling in his lavender gaze, you took note of something else hiding within. Something more raw, more vulnerable.

Remorse.

Ran didn’t like getting you caught up in his business. He did everything he could to ensure that none of you were ever exposed to the ugly parts of his life. Tonight, he was sloppy. He fucked up, and he knew that. The second shit hit the fan, his only priority was his family… You had every right to be livid with him, having both your son and a pregnancy to deal with virtually on your own, while also covering his ass from prying cops itching to nail him to the wall…It’s a miracle how you haven’t packed up and left him yet…

And he thanks his lucky stars that you haven’t.

With another deep exhale, you rubbed your temple. “I don’t know what it is that you do in those streets to cause such an upset, Ran-”

“For the record, tonight wasn’t exactly my fault-”

“-and I don’t care. I just…”

Your exhausted tone was more than enough to shut him up. He felt his throat tighten as he gently bounced your son on his hip to distract his increasing anxiety. The lavender-haired man mentally prepared for your scolding, already set on sleeping in the dog house if that’s what got him in your good graces again…but it doesn’t come. Eyes that were hyper focused on [S/n] fiddling with his loosened tie slowly trailed up at the sound of you huffing in, what he assumed to be, relief.

Waddling over to your boys, you reached up to caress their faces. Instinctively, they nuzzled into your palms, Ran a little more hesitant than your beaming son before reaching out with his free hand to touch your stomach. When your unborn child kicked against it in response, you noticed his shoulders visibly relax. Your thumb gently rubbed under his eye, frowning at the dark circles that formed on the pale skin. He looked solemnly into your eyes, turning his head slightly to kiss the inside of your palm. You sighed once more, eventually granting him a smile in reassurance.

Despite his abnormal lifestyle, and how hectic it could get, “I’m just glad you’re home.”

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[thrumbolt]

So, I cancelled Nyxlin Week and deleted the event blog. Edit to clarify: I DELETED THE BLOG MYSELF! IT WAS NOT TAKEN DOWN BY TUMBLR BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY THERE WAS NOTHING ON THERE THAT WENT AGAINST TOS.

I originally wanted to do this event mainly because me and Copy have a bunch of Nyxlin art planned anyway and that way we could also encourage some more content out of a few other peers.

I expected SOME people to get miffed, maybe some angry anons, some hate posts, because we all know this fandom has lost all its hinges somewhere long ago (if it ever had them) and people are absolutely incapable to just ignore something they don't like. At first we thought a super silly banner might help against that, but clearly that was a big lapse of judgment on my part lol Either way, I wasn't too worried because there's nothing people can really do that bothers me and once the event would roll around everyone would realize there's nothing actually sinister about it, so I figured it would be fine.

What I did not expect, however, was the absolute insane behavior that ended up taking place, where people got targeted and their posts mass reported to take advantage of tumblrs shitty report system over absolutely fucking nothing. People who were not even involved in the event, just happened to write for the same pairing. So let me ask this very plainly: What the fuck is wrong with you? Because something definitely is and I hope you all are getting it checked out.

So I decided to call it quits because people getting hurt over it is obviously not worth it. And again, no wonder this fandom lacks a nice variety of artists who participate in events. What's the point? You canon obsessed pea-brained pearl-clutchers don't understand fan spaces or creativity. All you seem to be here for is virtual signalling, hate, bullying and demonstrating a severe lack of reading comprehension. I've had months of this high school bullshit now and I've really had enough.

I'm still gonna post my art (oh and all that Nyxlin stuff is not going anywhere, don't worry), but I am taking a step back from participating in fandom weeks and fandom discourse and whatnot. You guys can rip each other apart on your own.

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.  Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[hamiltonaf]

Can you do one with Kylian being very jealous of yn all the time and every time she talks to a guy friend he gets mad and makes a big fuss about it and yn gets tired of him and wants to leave him but then he gets upset and begs for forgiveness but she is so tired of his bullshit and want to take a break from the relationship but after 1-2 months they get back together and he got jealous again so she wants to know why he is like that and it turned out that his ex girlfriend cheated on him multiple times so he had trust issues and she assured him that she wasn’t going to do the same thing

Trust Issues | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Minor angst

A/N: Hii loves ! I’m finally back. Apologies for being MIA, I had a lot going on, plus I had writers block. I’m sorry in advance if the end is disappointing - I honestly feel like I forgot how to write lol. If you’ve sent a request before, please note that I’m working on it. Anywho, enjoy .xoxo

Never thought I’d come to a point in life where I had to cut off all my guy friends for Kylian’s sake. I’ve told myself in the past that if I had to face that in a relationship then I’m walking out. Mentally I’m playing hangman with Kylian’s name.

I love Kylian, I really do, it’s also cute at times to see him get jealous but when it comes to a point when he tells me that I need to stop talking to my guy friend then I don’t vibe with that. He’s basically saying that he doesn’t trust me.

We’ve fought, he apologised, I looked past it for us to move on, but he just crossed the line.

I went out for a friend’s birthday dinner, Kylian decided to stay back and chill at home, though he promised he would pick me up after. The birthday dinner felt like a reunion as some of us were seeing each other after years, it was great catching up with everyone, especially Daniel. Him and I were really close growing up as our parents were good friends, but since I moved and was with Kylian I rarely attended gatherings.

It was getting quite late and Kylian was delayed, I didn’t bother rushing him since Daniel was accompanying me and we were just catching up on lost time. We were stood outside the restaurant, dinner had just ended, some had left and others were in their own conversations. “So how are things going? What have you been up to ?” Daniel eagerly asked. “Well, I’m in my final year of studying so it’s been a bit much but I’m coping. How are things going for you ?” I replied. “Life is great. Can’t complain” he smiled proudly. “Still running your parent’s empire I suppose” I smiled. “Nothing has changed” he grinned.

“Good for you Dan. You’re living the dream” I half laughed. “I’m living the dream ?” He scoffed. “Yeah of course ! You’re travelling literally every other month, flying first class and living the good life” I said. “Yeah but you’re the one dating the football player !” He stated. “Speaking of him, let me just check how far he is” I paused to check my phone if perhaps Kylian called or messaged. Nothing.

Just as I locked my phone, my head turned when I heard a car rev in the distance, he’s here. “Oh look. There he is” I said as both of our heads snapped to Kylian pulling up beside us. Daniel leaned towards the car as Kylian rolled down the window, “Hey man, I’m Daniel” he introduced himself. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kylian” Kylian shook his hand. “Heard a lot about you. We should meet up soon, I’ll message (Y/N)” Daniel suggested. “Yeah sure” Kylian said lastly. “Take care bro” Daniel said before pulling me in for a hug. “Bye Dan. Until next time” I murmured. “Until then. Ciao” he said as his hand rubbed my back before breaking away from our hug.

I got into the car and immediately I could feel the tension in the air. “Hi baby” I smiled as I leaned in to kiss his cheek. He didn’t say anything or react, he just remained stiff. I knew what was coming and I wasn’t ready to face the drama for the umpteenth time. Choosing not to say anything in the car until we got home was the best decision. The second the door shut, he didn’t surprised me by being the one to bring it up. “What was that ?” He raised his voice. “What was what ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Who even was that Daniel guy ? I was there for only a minute and I could see the way he was looking at you. You both seemed to enjoy that hug a little too much” he said. I scoffed, “Are you being serious right now ?”

“Do I look like I’m joking ?” He yelled annoyed. “You have honestly lost it !” I yelled as I turned my back on him and stormed towards our room. “(Y/N) I’m talking to you !” He yelled for me as he followed me to the room. “How the hell can you say we enjoyed that hug a little too much. Are you trying to call me a cheater ?” I raised my voice as I turned around to face him. “You’re just putting words into my mouth. My point is that if another person had seen you both together, they would think you’re a couple. I don’t want you seeing him again” he said.

“You know what Kylian ? I’m done” I huffed. “What do you mean done ?” He asked baffled. “I mean that I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue being in a relationship where my own boyfriend doesn’t even trust me or allows me to talk to other guy friends of mine without assuming I’m cheating. I’m living a lie by staying in this relationship. Go find yourself a girlfriend that you can control because I’m not that girl” I said before getting a bag and packing it with my belongings.

“Babe please don’t do this. I swear I’m not trying to control you. I’ll admit that I got jealous, okay ? But please don’t go. I love you so much, what will I do without you ?” he pleaded and tried to stop me from packing but I continued.

“No Kylian ! Today you literally crossed the line, I couldn’t care so much for the other guys you said I need to stop talking to, but the fact that Daniel and I go way back and now you want me to cut off our friendship ? He’s basically apart of my family because his parents and my parents are friends. Kylian…I’m so tired honestly of us going back and forth. It just bothers me that Daniel attempted to be your friend in that minute you met but instead you ignore all of that and insinuate that I cheated ? Get some help because I need a break from your shit…this has gone past jealousy” I said in anger, I didn’t have it in me to cry.

“(Y/N) please. I’ll change okay ? I’ll do better. But please don’t go. Please give me another chance” he begged. “Kylian I gave you way too many chances. I can’t believe how long I’ve dealt with this and didn’t leave sooner” I said as I zipped up my bag. “So that’s it ? You’re just going to throw away a 2 year relationship ?” He asked. “All I know right now is that we need space away from each other. I love you Kylian, I do, but I think it’s best for the both of us” I pressed my lips together as I threw my bag over my shoulder. “So we’re over ?” He asked teary eyed. “I- please don’t make this harder than it already is” my voice cracked as I looked up in hopes that my tears would disappear.

“Babe you can’t give up on us. We’re meant for each other” he said as he grabbed my hands and rubbed small circles at the back of them. “Kylian, consider this a break rather than a break up. We can both wisely use this time to focus on ourselves…if we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

Those were the last words I’ve said to him face-to-face. I left that night and ended up staying at my parent’s house. They were surprised to see me and were quick to ask where Kylian was, I just lied that he’s travelling for an away game. 2 weeks of staying with my parents raised suspicion and they figured out that something was wrong, my mom especially. I told my mom exactly what happened and luckily she took the hint to not talk about it.

Not a day passed that I didn’t receive a message from Kylian. Countless ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’ flooded my phone daily, it wasn’t easy taking this time to focus on myself when he was on my mind all day. Whilst making his message clear, he indirectly would ask for us to talk it out and as much as it hurts, I refused. No point in us getting back together if he’s going to go back to square one.

After about a week, I caved in and started replying back to his messages. Eventually easing in to phone calls and FaceTimes. It’s been 3 weeks since that day I called on a break, today I decided it’s time to meet and talk things out.

He seemed sincere and genuine when we met, of course I couldn’t help but give him another chance. We were meeting for one week as if we were in love all over again and after that one week, we’re back together.

Daniel was in town and he wanted to meet up, I happily accepted his lunch invite and was looking forward to rekindling our friendship. Kylian was at training so I thought I’d get ready in the meantime until he was back.

“Ma chérie !” He called as he entered. “In the room, Ky !” I yelled. He came into the room and whistled behind me. “You look beautiful” he said as he placed a kiss on my neck. “Thank you babe” I blushed. “Where are you going ?” He asked as he walked over to sit at the edge of the bed. “I’m going out for lunch with Daniel” I said casually. “Wait, what !” He asked as he stood up. “Why ? I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t see him ?” He said as he changed his tone. I dropped my mascara on the counter and stood up, “Are you back to this nonsense where I can’t have guy friends ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Do you not know how the story goes about childhood guy friends falling for their girl friends ?” He stood up to stand arms length away from me. “No, Kylian ! That’s not how the story goes. Do you not know it takes two people to be in love which hello ? I’m obviously not.” I said as I started to grow angry. “(Y/N), you don’t know how a guys mind works” he said as he shut his eyes for a second. “Before I walk out of this relationship one more time, could you care to explain your reasoning behind why I can’t have guy friends ?” I raised a brow. His face softened when he heard me mention walking out.

“Babe please no . I’m sorry” he rushed over to me to hold my hands in his. I pulled my hands away from his grip, “Explain Kylian…I can’t continue entertaining this.” He sighed and dropped his head before mustering up the courage. “I have trust issues because of my ex” he admitted. I was shocked. “Well, what happened ?” I asked curiously.

“I trusted her and was never one to question anything she did until I found out she cheated on me with those guys she called her friends. Soo…I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst, I was heartbroken and felt betrayed. It’s been hard for me to accept having trust. It’s not you babe, I promise I trust you, I just fear that your guy friends will convince you to leave me and walk away from our relationship. I can’t bare losing you, not again after the break” he said as he got emo. “Aww Ky” I pouted as I pulled him in for a hug. We never left each others embrace for a few minutes until Kylian broke away to kiss my forehead.

“I’m glad I got that off my chest. You deserved to know. I love you so much and I’m sorry for my behaviour. I’m trying to be a better boyfriend for you after our break so please be patient with me” he pouted. “I get it now. Thank you for being honest babe” I gave him a quick peck on his lips. “You can go out with Daniel, I won’t stop you any longer” he sighed. “Look, as your girlfriend, I want to help you through this. Remember Daniel suggested you guys going out ? Well why don’t you join us, I’ll send him a message and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. That way you have an idea of what Daniel is like and you have a peace of mind. Also, it’s not just about trusting Daniel, I would like if you and Daniel could be friends. I mean the man is practically family” I half laughed before sending a message to Daniel. “Shame I feel bad now for hating on the guy” he sighed. “Well what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him” I winked then sent the message.

[vanishingstarrs]

midnight rain ( k. bakugo x reader, slow burn, hurt x comfort, anxiety, fluff ) ( as an insomniac, this was v much self indulgent, also for the sake of this story the timeline is irrelevant, i kinda went all over the place so let's just pretend it all lines up (: also also feel free to imagine whatever quirk you'd like i never really had one in mind except for the side effect is you being v v cold bc it worked for the plot lol sorry it took so long to get this out, just wanted it to be perfect !! hope y'all enjoy <3 )

part 1, part 2, part 3

It was raining. Hard.

You were a nervous wreck.

It had been agreed that your classmates and you would be permitted to retrieve Midoriya from his self isolation. The heroes were out in the streets, instructed to call as soon as he was sighted since your class had full permission to spring into action and try to convince him to come back. The heroes told to stay back and allow you guys to take the lead on the mission.

Part of the reason you couldn’t sleep as of late was your classmate out in danger. You and Midoriya had never been best friends by any means, but you’d been close enough and you’d worked alongside him a few times. He was a nice person and always trying to help those around him, he’d come to you multiple times with theories on how to better improve your quirk so you wouldn’t overwork and accidentally freeze yourself to death. Even if he hadn’t done any of that, you likely still would’ve felt guilt over being safe while he wasn’t. He was good, and he deserved to come home.

All of this in turn meant more baking and less sleeping. You’d been out of bed for thirty minutes now, having brought your journal with you in order to go through your recipes.

You’d been in your room before, tinkering with your costume and doing little workouts while waiting for everyone to head to bed, not wanting to bother anyone.

The day had been spent training and putting more work into improving your individual powers, leveling up so that when the time came… you and your classmates could join up in the war. It was a frightening thought, and you weren’t sure you were quite ready for that again.

Speaking with Katsuki had been some help though, the way he spoke of heroes and nobility made you want to be brave like him.

And so, to thank him for the late nights, you were now up again, only this time you baked with purpose. For him. You weren’t sure how you were going to approach him to give him the baked goods, and part of you hoped he might be awake and come out on his own to save you the trouble of an awkward conversation.

You sighed as you double checked your recipe, making sure of your next step before incorporating dry ingredients with the wet ones.

It wasn't that you wished another sleepless night on Bakugo... but it was definitely easier to go to bed after having had him around. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't bullshit you, or the way he let you talk about nothing in particular until you were ready to open up about what had actually been weighing on your chest. Things you had yet to even bring up to your best friend.

You went through the motions almost at a sloth’s place, overthinking to yourself as you made sure everything was perfect for the muffins you were baking.

When all that was left to do was wait for the room to start smelling of cinnamon, you sat yourself at the island, headphones blasting as you grabbed you pen and journal again. You turned the page from your experimental recipes and found your sketches for the new costume you were working on, you'd asked Hatsume for some suggestions, but she'd dismissed you; she was too busy right now. She said she'd help you create the final design, but she didn't have the brain capacity to make something from scratch for you.

A groan left your lips as you stared at the page, just about ready to tear it and your hair out when your headphones were yanked down to your neck and the chair next to you scraped the floor as someone sat down,"Don't you ever sleep?"

"Don't you?" You scoffed, the response coming naturally,"Thought you were Mr. go to bed at seven every night, what happened?"

"That was before." He rolled his eyes,"Whatcha working on?"

You stared at Bakugo, unsure if he was actually there. Had you conjured him up somehow? Were you hallucinating? And was he actually making small talk with you right now?

"Muffins... for you, actually."

"Hah?!" His eyes bulged as he turned to the oven, like he just noticed it was on,"What are you making shit for me for? And I meant the sketches, idiot."

"Oh." You frowned.

"I'll eat them." He declared, realizing that it sounded as though he didn't care for them.

"No, it's okay." You looked away, trying to hide your smile and the fact that you were teasing,"I'll offer them up to the others. Who doesn't like apple cinnamon muffins with a nice crumble on top? No, don't worry, my efforts won't be in vein, maybe Momo will make a nice tea for us all."

"Tea? I can make tea, I'll make you the best damn tea you've ever had, and we're eating these damn muffins if it's the last thing we do." He grumbled as he stood up and found his same mug, as well as somehow finding yours amidst the array of everyone's cups.

His was orange with his first initial on it, and yours was purple with the multiple facial expressions of Kuromi all around, she was your favorite Sanrio character. You had no idea how he'd known that it was yours, but didn't dwell on it as you turned your frown back to your notebook and the aforementioned sketches.

"Been tryna come up with a new costume design, I'm not very great at it... Midoriya kinda helped me with my last one." You mentioned as he began boiling water for your tea.

You heard him scoff.

"What?" You asked immediately, self conscious now.

You had thought he'd done a pretty good job, and most of it was your idea anyway; he'd really only brought your vision to life since he was a lot better at that kinda stuff than you were.

"Nothin'. Didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to, is my costume ugly? I'm not really a big fan of the flashy stuff, I just want something simple that won't make me stand out..."

He walked back over, leaning against the island counter as he raised his eyebrows at you,"You do know the whole point of being a hero is standing out, right?"

"No..." You denied,"Not all of it. What if I just wanna help people and not be seen?"

"What about recognition?" He countered,"I see you standing back all the time, especially when you make shit like this and just leave a note, you don't always sign your name, don't you want people to know what you've done? What you've accomplished?"

"I'd hardly call baking a few cookies an accomplishment." You scoffed.

"When I got kidnapped." He brought up,"You were there."

It wasn't a question. He was stating it like it was something he knew for a fact and you didn't know how that came to be.

You'd never spoken about it, you'd gone along as a favor to your friends, they thought your power might be useful just in case the situation escalated. You'd agreed and at the end of it all, after getting him back, you'd gotten separated in the crowd. You didn't bother meeting back up, feeling you'd done all you that could and gone home. It was a long time ago, you felt.

"Who told you that? Kirishima?"

"Deku did." He corrected with a roll of his eyes,"He wanted to make sure I thanked you properly."

"You never did."

"I should've."

The oven timer dinged and you used it as your excuse to remove yourself from the conversation. You cleared your throat as you stood up and grabbed your oven mitts, your face felt warm and it wasn't just because you were removing baked goods from the oven.

"We'll have to wait for them to cool." You said aloud.

"Still gotta brew the tea, so... it's fine."

You felt incredibly awkward and he must've sensed it too, because he changed the subject back to the original.

"Y'know I can help you with this." Bakugo was holding your journal when you finally mustered up the courage to face him again,"My parents are fashion designers, I did my own costume. Won't make it too flashy if you don't want, or you could just wait for Deku if that's what ya want, he'll be back soon anyway."

"No." You said, maybe a little too eagerly.

He stared back in surprise.

"You help me." You made your way across the room again,"Please."

“Alright, alright, no begging it makes you look pathetic.” He said, though it had no fire behind it,“I guess I owe ya anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the tiny smile as he tugged you closer and took charge of the project. He made a few comparisons from your last costume to the lame prototype you’d been working on and then asked you for your favorite aspects of both before starting up from scratch on a different page, his writing was surprisingly neat as he listed a few support items he thought you should look into for the upcoming battles.

“It has to be purple.” You stated your only condition as you took the pen from him and started to shade a few spots, you had to lean close into him to be able to reach the journal and you heard him inhale sharply before moving it closer to you.

When you reached something actually resembling a good costume, you grinned and turned to him,“It’s great, Katsuki, thank you so much.”

“No problem.” He seemed to whisper, he was staring at you in a weird way that made you look back down at the costume you’d drawn up together,“Let’s, uh, eat those muffins now.”

“Wait! We have to sign our names at the bottom.” You held his arm before he could move away,“C’mon, we’re the designers.” You quickly scribbled your signature before handing the pen back to him with a grin.

He rolled his eyes, but snatched the pen from you nonetheless and quickly wrote his name next to yours. It felt… binding, weirdly enough.

You let him go and he brought over the tea he’d brewed, which had cooled a little but not enough to be cold. The muffins were perfect and you watched for a reaction that he never gave, so you went poking for compliments.

“You can say they’re good.” You teased as he took several bites in one breath.

“I was getting there.” He grumbled, after swallowing hard. He looked at the tray of muffins and then back at you,“You really made these for me?”

You shrugged,“You said they’re your favorite.”

He took another huge bite and around it he managed to get out something sounding close to a thanks.

You laughed,“You’re welcome, Katsuki.”

When he finished off two muffins, he wordlessly began helping you clean up your mess. It didn't take too long, as much as you wished that it would so you could talk to him more. When you handed him a tupperware for the muffin's he seemed to get an idea as he walked away and came back with a piece of tape and a sharpie.

He started writing "DO NOT TOUCH" on the tape.

You couldn't help snort,"Had a feeling you weren't the sharing type."

"They were made for me, weren't they?"

"Mhm." You hoped you weren't blushing as you agreed.

He stuck the tape onto the top before showing it to you,"I can share, but only with you."

You were definitely blushing now as you read "Y/N and Katsuki's muffin's" underneath the initial message for no one to touch them. You smiled,"You're sweet."

He scoffed,"Am not."

"You totally are." You teased as he rolled his eyes at you for the hundredth time while also turning you around and pushing you toward the stairs, he was holding your headphones and journal in hand and when you reached your door, you held out your hand expectantly.

He held them back,"One condition."

Feeling emboldened, you went up on tiptoes to whisper into his ear,"My door will be open, don't worry."

With your heart beating wildly in your chest, you quickly brushed your lips somewhere along his cheek while grabbing your things from his hold,"Night, Kats."

You weren't sure if you heard him say it back, but you thought he did as you escaped into the darkness of you room, blushing.

That night, you had one of your better sleeps.

The next day, however, came early. And before you knew it you, along with your classmates, were suiting up and leaving U.A. to chase a possible Midoriya lead. The state he was in when you guys finally found him broke your heart in a way you didn't know was possible, the boy was working hard to get Japan back to how it'd been before and the citizens seeking safety in U.A. didn't understand that. Tears were brought to your eyes after a touching speech from Ochaco, and when the day finally came to its end your bones too were crying from all the extra exertion.

When everyone got back, you'd set to work making a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies since the last one hadn't lasted longer than the morning on which they were discovered. The bath had been miraculous for your muscles, and you'd almost fallen asleep while sipping on the tea Momo had brewed for everyone.

The day had been quite momentous, and through it all, you couldn't help want to seek out only one person...

You sighed as you turned over in bed.

You had your phone turned on in your hand, your text messages with Mina blinking up at you as you typed and deleted the same text many times.

You deleted it one last time and reread her text.

mina ෆ⃛(ˇᵋ ˇෆ)ೄ: soooo you and bakugo ?? 👀👀 noticed he was prettttty worried abt u getting hurt / just u in gen during mission bring deku home, didn’t know y’all were so close hm 🤔🤔🤨

You debated letting your best friend know you’d somehow become sort of friends with Katsuki, having spent a few nights in each other's company. But how did you explain to her that somehow, through three simple nights, that you might be having other feelings for him. And that you'd kissed him. Well, his cheek, but still. That move was quite bold for you and then, like a coward, you ran away. You'd always dismissed things like crushes and boys, but Katsuki... he was loud, to put it simply, and therefore was much harder to ignore.

You hadn't thought he'd paid you any extra mind in comparison to everyone else during the fight, but having been focused on Midoriya... maybe you'd missed it?

You pulled out your phone again, sending your friend one last reply.

y/n ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ: lolll as if girl yk he doesn’t do friends, think he’s probs just on edge bc of midoriya

She texted back immediately, but rather than opening the text you opened up your music app and pressed play on a soothing playlist. You listened to it, along with the rain that had yet to stop, and felt your body start to relax into your pillows.

You weren't lying to your friend. Bakugo had made it clear he was at U.A. because he wanted to be number one. He didn't have time for "extras", as he so often put it, what exactly made you so different? Nothing. Exactly, you told yourself, nothing at all.

Sure, he was calmer around you on those measly nights on which you found one another. But that was just because everyone else was asleep and maybe he was being considerate. Sure, he listened to you talk on and on and watched your silly romance drama with you... but that had to be because he had nothing better to do, having already been awake... right?

You groaned, the longer you thought about it the more the frustration with yourself grew. How could you be so clueless?!

When it all became too much, you pushed your covers off and ripped your headphones off, your feet found your slippers immediately as you picked up your glasses from your nightstand and slid them on. You marched toward your door with purpose, ripping it open only to freeze at what awaited on the other side.

He had his fist up, ready to knock. There he was.

Katsuki Bakugo, right outside your door.

“Bakugo… hi.” You breathed out, you felt your heartbeat start to pick up a bit.

“What happened to Katsuki?” You faintly heard him say, but your attention was elsewhere, eyes taking him in completely.

He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants you’d never seen before and a fitted black t shirt. His hair, you noticed, was pushed back by a black headband. You never wanted to be a headband more. Was this his usual sleep attire? Last time you could’ve sworn he was wearing a muscle tee and a pair of shorts. Focus, Y/N, focus! You yelled at yourself internally. You snapped out of it in time to hear him say your name.

Aaand shit. So preoccupied with him, you had momentarily forgotten your own attire: Kuromi pyjama bottoms and a sports bra... and your glasses— shit, shit, shit.

Embarrassed, you pulled your hair forward to try and cover yourself just a tiny bit,“Oh, my god, sorry, hold on, let me grab a shirt.”

You turned, but didn’t make it more than two steps when you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, he pulled you back and firmly asked,“Were you coming to look for me?”

You gulped, forcing yourself to meet his eyes,"Yes."

His eyes widened slightly, like he couldn't believe how easily you admitted to it.

"You too, by the looks of it." You pointed out, and he nodded.

He looked away, gaze zeroed in on the ground as he released a deep breath, and with it, how he truly felt,"All I seem to think about these days is impending doom. Well, that, and also you.” His lips pressed together and you noticed his hands clenching down at his sides, you wanted to unfold his fingers and tuck your own around them.

“Whenever I talk to you, or I’m near you… it helps. I don’t know what it is, but being with you makes me not have a fire lit up under my ass or something.” He confessed.

A weight was instantly lifted off your shoulders. You allowed yourself to smile,"That's super poetic, Katsuki, and sweet."

He rolled his eyes, and you could swear his ears were turning red too,"I'll take it back."

You gasped,"You wouldn't dare."

He shook his head, releasing a small sigh,"I'm no good with words, but am I..."

You took a step forward, listening to your heart and taking his hand into your own. He seemed to want to pull back, but you didn't let him as you wound your hands together.

"They're sweaty." He argued.

"Don't give a shit." You grabbed his other hand too,"You're not alone, you know. I feel the same way you do, not about the impending doom part, but the rest of it. Ever since that first night when you were there... I just feel at ease with you. You may say you're not good with words, but you're pretty good at listening, and I think you've done great at comforting me in your own way. I didn't really see it today, but you were there, watching me, making sure I was good, I was so scared—”

“I was terrified.” He said at the same time.

You smiled even bigger now,“Good thing it all worked out in the end, huh? You got your friend back.”

He scoffed,“He’s not my friend.”

“Am I your friend?” You asked, still grinning.

He shook his head and the smile instantly left your face as you started to pull your hands away,"Oh—"

You didn’t get a chance to fully let go as he pulled you forward with one hand and grabbed your waist by the other, and before you realized what was happening, his lips had met yours for the shortest kiss. So light it could barely qualify as one, but it was enough to freeze you in place as you once more repeated:

“Oh...”

He leaned his forehead against yours and you inhaled, consumed by him and his scent.

"Hold on, can I...?"

You didn't wait for a response as you stood up on your toes, placing a hand on his cheek and kissing him again. This one lasted longer and you thought you might've tasted chocolate from the cookies you'd made earlier on his tongue, you hadn't seen him around when you were passing them around and you were happy he'd gotten to enjoy some after all. When you pulled away, you were smiling again.

"I'm not good at this." He repeated once more.

You shook your head,"You're doing perfectly."

He kissed you a third time, another short and sweet peck that led to one more on your cheek and then the other cheek and then your forehead and lastly, your nose.

You blushed as he buried his face in your neck and hair and inhaled deeply,"You smell so good, like cookies and warmth."

"Katsuki?"

"Mm?"

He tried to move, but you kept him there by running your fingers through his hair and making him relax further into your hold. You couldn't look at him for what you were about to ask. You felt your face heat up,"I know that was our first kiss and you said we're not really friends, which I think means something and if it does mean that thing, well, our timing isn't great and we can't really go on a date or anything to even start the thing, and if Aizawa were to find out, surely we'd be dead, but could you, maybe, think about possibly staying with me tonight?"

Katsuki pulled away, hands in your hair as he agreed right away,"Thought you'd never ask."

He pulled you back into his arms, shutting the door behind himself as he walked right into your room like he owned it. "Those glasses drive me crazy." He said as he instantly made himself comfortable under the purple comforter of your bed.

"Really?" You scrunched up your nose before taking them off and putting them back on your nightstand,"I hate them."

He shook his head,"You should wear 'em more."

"When classes start back up, maybe, I'll think about it." You hesitated as you laid down next to him.

It lasted maybe one minute before he was pulling you closer, your head on his chest. You could hear the pounding in his chest as he said,"It's new for both of us, but I think we can figure this out."

His warmth and his arms around you were already making you sleepy, you agreed with him,"Mmm, tomorrow?"

He gave a grunt of acknowledgement and you could tell the lack of sleep lately was catching up with him too as he shifted his body even closer, head burying into your neck again,"Night, Y/N."

You smiled, content,"Goodnight, Katsuki."

[thebearer]

how about carmy x reader that has a bad relationship with her dad. just hates him, doesn’t really care bc he never did, and the guy comes around looking to start stuff because he feels entitled to a piece of her life. how would carmy react?

carmen would be like "and who tf are you?" esp depending on the situation. he's not letting that happen. he tries to be respectful and not intervene, but the second you're like "he won't leave me alone!" carmen's like ok got it handled.

i feel like he'd try to be like fuck off and don't come back, but tbh if that didn't work... i mean carmen's got a secret weapon who happens to love you. uncle jimmy lol. uncle jimmy who is DEF not in the mafia ;) uncle jimmy who adores you because you make carmen happy and you're always so nice to him. uncle jimmy who sees how you care for carmen his family, which automatically makes you apart of his family.

carmen doesn't want to do it. jimmy comes to check on the restaurant, get his check for the month when he sees carmen just anxious.

"kid, you alright? you good? what's goin' on? please tell me it's an easy fuckin' fix, alright?"

and carmen's just shaking his head. "no, no. it's, uh, it's... you know i told you her father's been back?"

"yeah?" jimmy's demeanor drops at the mention of you in that tone.

"he's not... fuck, he won't leave her alone! i tried to talk to him, ya know? man to man all that bullshit fuckin' richie told me to do. tell him to fuck off, she's not helpin' him. and he shows up at the restaurant last night. waits out back for her. she was screamin', scared the shit outta all of us." carmen ranted.

"wait, wait, carm, hold on." jimmy holds up his hand. "he put his hands on her?"

"no, no, i woulda killed him." carmen's jaw flexed at the thought. "he just... he won't leave her alone. i know it bothers her more than she acts like it does and-"

"-i'l' handle it." jimmy said firmly. "gimme the guys name."

carmen blinks. "no, i-i can handle it."

"carm, i mean this very nicely, ok? this shitbag ain't gonna listen to you, alright? he's not fucked off by now, it's time for me to handle it. don't worry, he won't bother either one of you again." jimmy said very coolly. "gimme his name."

carmen hesitates before he does, jimmy nodding curtly. "uncle jimmy, listen, you're not... you're not gonna, like, kill him-"

"-what? no, carm don't be ridiculous." jimmy rolls his eyes. "i'm just gonna make sure he leaves the state of illinois and doesn't come back. ok?" carmen nods slowly. "good. i'm gonna make a call. tell that sweetheart not to worry anymore, ok?"

carmen just sorta nods, watching jimmy slip out the back. richie comes by, blabbering about something when he sees carmen blinking off into space. "cousin, you good?"

"yeah... yeah, um, i told jimmy a-about her dad and all that." carmen blinks up at richie. "he said he's gonna handle it."

richie pauses before cackling, head thrown back gripping his chest. "oh, cousin, no way. no fuckin' way. you're serious?" carmen nods. "yeah, that guys done. gettin' whacked for sure."

"no, he-he said he wouldn't-"

"-yeah, jimmy won't. his fuckin' goons will." richie snickers. "well, guess that handles your problem, right?"

"i didn't fuckin' want him to-"

"-look, cousin, you call an exterminator, what're they gonna do, huh? what do you expect?" richie snorts.

carmen and you both never know what happens to your dad, you don't care. all you know is he doesn't bother you anymore.

[xmasterofmunsonx]

Got Your Number

Summary: You’re Steve Harrington’s older sister and after a rough and tumultuous breakup, you’re back in Hawkins, Indiana. 🌶️

Pairing: Harrington!reader x Eddie Munson

Author’s notes: I REALLY tried hard to make this one into two, but it just started flowing and I felt like it made more sense like this. I know it’s a lot going on but I don’t know I couldn’t stop. Hope y’all like it ❤️

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI!!), language, drinking, smoking, smut, etc., anxious feelings talked about a lot

Word count: 9.5k and I am not sorry LOL

VI.

The shrill sound of the phone in your bedroom woke you up the next morning. You groaned as the light peeked through the pink curtains that had hung over the same windows for most of your life. You let it ring, and ring, and ring. Finally it stopped. Then it started again. Everyone must be gone for the day.

“Harrington residence?” You asked, sleep thick in your voice. You drank a sip of water as you waited for the caller to finally reveal themselves.

“Hey.” It was Eddie, and he sounded rough. “Good morning, I mean. Or, whatever time it is.” He chuckled, but you didn’t return the laughter.

“‘Morning.” You said, as you plopped back onto your bed, twirling the cord around your finger.

“I’m really sorry about last night. Like, incredibly sorry. Your brother laid into me last night and Hopper has already called me this morning too.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t have apologized if Steve and Hopper wouldn’t have made you?” Your attitude was strong this morning, and you already knew you’d regret being this bitchy to him as soon as you asked the question.

“They didn’t make me, Jesus. I’m just admitting I know I was an asshole to you, I got way too drunk last night, and I can’t believe I did that instead of worrying about where you were and what was going on with you and Caleb out there. M’sorry. I really am.”

“It’s not okay, Eddie. If that’s what you want me to say.” He sighed at the same time you did. “I don't think you get how scary last night was for me. Having not only Charlie there, but all of his friends too? They could’ve all easily taken me off and something would’ve happened.”

“I said I was sorry.” He said, his voice was quick.

“And I’m saying okay, I hear you, but I don’t know what you want me to say back, Eddie. I’m pissed off that you were so irresponsible.”

“Thanks for the congratulations on being asked to sign to a label.” He scoffed out after a few moments of silence.

“Fuck, what has gotten into you? Where is this attitude coming from?” You snapped at him as you sat up in your bed. “Did you just call me to see how mad you could make me again today? This is not what I signed up for, Eddie.”

“What do you think you signed up for, then?”

“A nice boyfriend for one. One that was my best friend, and he was never mean to me, or-”

“What about all of those times in high school-”

“FUCK, Eddie. It’s too early for this bullshit. I’m hanging up, and whenever you can figure out what the hell crawled up your ass, then we can talk. Bye.”

Fuck, you didn’t know what had gotten into him. A few seconds after you hung up the phone, it rang again.

“What?!?” You answered.

“You are just like your brother with the attitude, damn.” It was Dustin, you could tell by the slight lisp in his voice.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Eddie just called me and he was… he was being a jerk, so I thought it was him calling me back yet again.”

“No, it’s just me. I was calling you because I think we figured something out with him.”

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. We actually called the lab, or what’s left, and told them what was going on. He just needs to go and uh, talk to them about it. El said she can’t see where anything is like…” he laughed to himself before continuing on, “I sound crazy saying this, but there’s nothing in his head that we should worry about. Like before, Vecna kinda got in peoples heads before he’d kill them or something but she can’t see him in Eddie’s, so he’s really dead. She said she used her powers last night, and she can kind of… eavesdrop in on dreams or something basically, and she was there in his last night to check on him and uh, it was pretty fucked up.”

You stayed silent for a few moments, “so the scars hurting don’t mean anything?”

“No, they’re probably just healing still, and the dreams are so intense he’s probably re-feeling it all again too.”

Shit. You kinda, actually sorta felt really bad for him now. He was probably worked up this morning more from his dreams than anything else, and you didn’t even think about that, but he still didn’t need to be an asshole to you.

“Hey Dustin, I need to go. Thanks for calling, I’m sure I’ll see you soon!” You hung up before you had a chance to hear him get out the last few words. You dialed Eddie’s number, and he picked up on the second ring, sounding much calmer.

“Hello? Munson here.”

“Hey.” You said quietly.

“Hey.” He matched your tone of voice.

“Sorry, I forgot how bad mornings can be for you and I’m sure-”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. Please don’t. I was an asshole right after I told you I wasn’t like him. I did have a bad night but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. Sometimes I wake up from a nightmare and because of the panic I can act completely differently. I’m sorry if that scared you.” He sounded a little somber. “I understand if you’re mad at me.”

“I’ll get over it.” You laid back on the pillows of your bed again, and stared up at the popcorn ceiling of your room, trying to count the dots. “Wanna tell me about it as practice before you go talk to them?”

“So Dustin already called you too?”

“Mhm. I think you should go.”

“I’m going to when I have the time. I’m not up for talking about it right now.”

You respected his decision but you knew he had to talk about it eventually. “Alright. So tell me about this record deal?”

He went on and on for god knows how long about everything that had transpired the previous night, about their first album being recorded in the city, about a first tour as an opening band, and about how long the contract would last for- and what quota they had to fulfill in those years.

“You know, I did do some law stuff in college, only majored in it, and I’m being forced to work at my dad’s law office starting tomorrow, right? I wouldn’t mind combing through the contract for any small print you might have missed or been upset with. Even my dad or one of his coworkers could look it over.”

“See, I was drunk last night but I wasn’t that drunk. I did remember that, and none of us technically signed anything, I told him to come back in a few weeks. So I wasn’t completely blitzed out of my mind, we didn’t really sign anything but we were likely going to.” A deep chuckle came through the phone and you felt a swirl in your belly at the noise. “So, you gonna come with me?”

“Come with you… where?”

“To the city, on tour- everywhere. I don’t wanna leave you behind.” He was as serious as a heart attack and you knew it.

“Don’t you think this might be a little soon?” Everything seemed to be going fast paced in the last week, when you were the one who wanted to take things slow to not fuck it up. “I don’t know if I can go back to the city, Eddie. It’s too much for me. I could see him anywhere-”

“Baby, it’s Indianapolis, not Chicago.”

Oh, fuck. What would you do, surely you’d get cut off from your parents. There’s absolutely no way they’d be ok with this, tarnishing the Harrington name after you already fucked it up by breaking things off with Charlie. They’d surely disown you.

“You there?” Eddie sounded concerned.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. I’m just, it’s a lot to ask, Eddie. I’m going to have to think about it.”

“Well, I’ve gotta run this contract over to you today so you can take it to work tomorrow, or I could pick you up in the morning and take you to work?” He had a glimmer of hope in his voice. “This kinda thing usually takes a few months he said, so it’s not like I’m going anywhere soon.”

“How about you come pick me up today, and take me to work in the morning?”

He excitedly answered, smiling through the phone “Really? You don’t hate me?”

“No I don’t, but I do want to see you before I start this boring desk 9-5 job.”

“See you in an hour?”

“See you then.” You both hung up the phone, and you made your way downstairs where there were Sunday breakfast leftovers on the counter left for you. Your parents had left a note, “running errands for the day, be back tonight.” You rolled your eyes at their absence, yet again. You knew your dad had a business trip again next week, so that’s probably why he wanted you to start this week to get trained.

“You look rough.” Steve shocked you as he came up behind you, his bed head was more wild than you’d ever seen.

“Same goes for you. Why didn’t you answer the phone ringing earlier? Thought I was home alone.”

“Not so lucky. I unplug mine when I’m sleeping, so I didn’t even hear it. Your elephant stomping down the stairs woke me up more than anything.”

You rolled your eyes as you bit into a piece of crispy bacon.

“Eddie called and apologized this morning. Said he’d come over here soon to get me and I’m gonna stay with him tonight, then he’ll take me to work in the morning.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, “Listen, I know you’re my older sister, and I know you two have been, or were friends forever, but do you think this is going too fast? Don’t you need, need some time maybe?”

You furrowed your brows at your brother, “I think that’s none of your business, but thank you for the concern. We’re just spending time together.”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re over there all the time already and it’s barely been any time at all.”

“And? You can go around on dates every weekend and sleep with a different girl and no one bats an eye? Where’s this coming from? I’m the one on my period right now, I didn’t know you and Eddie had synced up too.”

“I’m sorry. Just trying to look out for both of you.” You both picked at the breakfast quietly, avoiding each other's glares. “Gonna go shower and get ready before he gets here.”

“Mhm.” Steve said with his mouth full of pancakes.

-

“So Stevie thinks we’re going too fast?” Eddie asked in a taunting voice as he handed you the joint as you swung together on the back porch swing.

“Guess so. Because he knows so much about successful relationships.”

“You think so too though, because you said you wouldn’t-”

You playfully put your hand on his mouth to shut him up, “Please. We’re having a good afternoon. I don’t wanna talk about this yet.” He watched you through squinted eyes as you took a hit off the joint and held it in your lungs for an impressive amount of time, then passed it back to him.

“So what do you wanna talk about?” Eddie leaned in closer to your side and slipped his arm around your shoulders, and you felt cozy enough to lean into him.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? There you go again with that cute little, ‘nothing.’” He mocked your tone with a high pitched voice, which earned him a light slap on the chest. “Hey, watch it. I’m healing wounds under here- don’t make them bleed again.”

“Eddie, they’re scars, not scabs.” You rolled your eyes as he held the joint up to your lips again, and you took another hit, doing the same as you did earlier. “I’m good after that one.”

“Yeah? You feeling good?” His voice was warm in your ear, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Mhm.” You answered and closed your eyes, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “Really good.”

“Really wanna make you feel good again, baby.” He was rubbing his other hand on your thigh, and with each up and down motion he was getting closer and closer to your heat.

“Eddie, I-”

“There’s other things we can do.”

“What? I’ll make a mess.”

“I don’t mind a mess, but I have an idea.” He said with a smirk in his voice. You opened your eyes and looked at him, he was already looking down at you, his hand had stopped moving and was now resting high up on your thigh. It crept to the inside, and you felt yourself squeezing your legs together to keep him from feeling anything more. “Relax.” He smashed out the joint and stood up, offering you his hand. “C’mon. My room.”

“Nu-uh.” You shook your head, and crossed your arms over your chest.

He leaned down to meet your face, his eyes were a little bloodshot from the extra hits he’d taken between your few, his tolerance being higher than yours. “Wanna be my good girl?” You felt your stomach drop, and your body turning to complete goo at his words. “Or am I gonna have to pick you up and carry you? ‘Cause I’m gonna get you there one way or another, baby.”

You took his extended hand and pulled yourself up as best as you could, your knees already feeling weak at just his words.

You’d never been much of a girl for dirty talk in the bedroom, or at all. But your experience was limited, and it was a little intimidating that Eddie was clearly somehow more experienced in this department than you. He knew the words to say, and how to say them, and it made you wonder who, how, and-

“Hey, pretty girl. Get out of that head of yours. I can hear you thinking. Anything you don’t wanna do, just say it and we’ll stop.” You’d made it to his bedroom now, and he had his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

“Okay.” You said quietly.

“Now, I asked you out there-” He took a step closer to you, and put his heavy pointer finger under your chin and lifted your gaze to meet his, “are you gonna be my good girl?” You nodded, actually stunned at the effect that his words had on you. He slung his jacket off his shoulders, and pulled his shirt off. You quietly gasped at seeing the scars all over his muscular back, shoulders, his chest and stomach as he turned around to meet you. Your fingers reached out to trace the pink lines mapped out over his abdomen, and he reached up to pull your hand away.

“Eddie, I’m sorry-”

“I figured you gotta see them soon enough. We’ll work our way there. Take off your top, baby.” His fingers danced at the hem of your ribbed black t-shirt. He slowly teased his way up your body with the shirt until he pulled it up and over your head. “No bra? Not what I expected from you, Harrington.” He started kissing your neck with excitement as his cold hands were snaking their way up your sides, and he paused, “you sure you’re okay? I know you said you hadn’t done much with him, or anyone else. Just please stop me-”

“Eddie, just shut the fuck up and kiss me.” You lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and he pulled your body close to his. Your bare skin colliding with his felt so good, but it was so different than what you were used to. You felt your nipples harden at the arousal that was pooling in your belly again, and it peaked again when Eddie was already moaning into your kisses. One of his hands slid up your side, to the front of your ribcage where he finally cupped your breast in his hand.

You both moaned at the feeling, “fuck, your tits feel so good.” He kneaded at it with fervor, and moved on to pinching your nipple. You moaned out again, breaking the kiss. “You like that, baby?”

All you could get out was a nod, you’d never had your tits played with before now by someone else. “Get on the bed, and get those jeans off- just the jeans.” You scooted out of your jeans, and sat on his bed, watching him slowly prowl over to you. “Lay back.” You scooted back and rested your head on his pillows as you anxiously watched him crawl over you to meet you, he leaned in and kissed you again, this time it was hungrier, sloppier, and his hand was more rough as it groped your chest. He broke the kiss to attack your neck, then your collarbones, and then he finally put his mouth on one of your nipples. He sucked it into his warm, heated mouth and you felt his tongue rolling around your nipple, causing your back to arch. He pulled off with a smile on his face, then blew air into the wet tit and you watched as your nipple became more hard.

“Fuck, that feels good.” You moaned out softly, and you watched as he went down on the other one, still playing with the first so it wasn’t ignored. You watched him go back and forth between the two for a few minutes, and clearly Eddie could’ve spent half the day with your tits in his mouth but you were growing anxious to get off. You tugged his hair to get him to meet your face, pushing up off the pillows to kiss him deeply again.

“Want you to try something new for me, ‘kay? Since you’re on the rag and all. I’d fuck you right now no problem, but I know you’re a little shy about it, aren’t you?”

You blushed and nodded, “yeah, I’ll try something new.”

“M’gonna sit on the edge of the bed and want you to straddle my thigh. Just one.” And he scooted down to the foot of the bed, and helped you climb onto his thigh- he was still in his black jeans. “Sit down harder, baby. Remember you’re gonna be my good girl, right? Want you to use me. Use my thigh to get yourself off.”

“H-how?” You asked, feeling silly for being in your underwear, straddling your boyfriends leg.

“Shit, you never done this before? Not even with a pillow?” You shook your head, and Eddie placed his hands on your hips. “Just grind on me baby. Back and forth. Whatever feels good, I got you.”

You nodded and started moving against his thigh, feeling the thick fabric rub your cunt in the right ways.

“Fuck, why have I never done this before?” You rolled your head back with your eyes as you rode Eddie’s thigh, stabilizing yourself on his shoulders. His mouth was roaming your upper body, likely leaving hickies everywhere. Your high was making this feel so much better, and you could already feel yourself close to the edge.

“Feel good?” Eddie asked, his lips still moving over your body, kissing and tasting anywhere he could get his mouth on. You nodded and moaned, unable to say anything. “That's my good girl, use my leg to make yourself cum, baby.” You ground yourself harder against the rough fabric and squeezed your thighs closer to his leg to chase your orgasm.

“Fuck!” You yelled as you came undone on his leg, your chest heaving, and your head tucked into the side crook of his neck, where his curls were tickling your face. “How do you know so much?”

“I’ve seen a lotta porn, babe. Your brother works at-”

“Christ, Eddie. I don’t need to know that you rent porn from my brother. Why the fuck does family video have an adult only section?” You earned a chuckle from Eddie as you absentmindedly twirled your fingers through his hair. “I feel so silly about anything like this because everything I’ve ever done before was just… for him. Never about me, never what I wanted, when I wanted, and-”

“And, that’s fucking pathetic. You should have been treated better than that. Your body? I wanna worship every inch of it, your skin is so soft, you’re so beautiful, and I want you to know that.” You were blushing as his hands were still roaming your body.

“Do you want me to, you know, help you?”

“Nah, you don’t have to. I don’t ever expect anything from you.” He smiled and you could feel it as he kissed the top of your shoulder.

-

A few hours later you found yourself sitting at the Munson kitchen table, reading over the rough draft of a contract Eddie had remembered to grab and put in his pocket from the show, while he was down the hall practicing guitar. You took another sip of the cold coffee as you read through the extensive stipulations.

“Hey, Eddie?” You called out. “Eddie?” You said a little louder, and he must have heard you. He came around the corner in his holey jeans, and a loose Iron Maiden t-shirt that had seen better days.

“Yeah?” The look on his face only made you realize how hard it was going to be to break the news.

“I uh, do you mind if I take this with me tomorrow? There’s a few things that I want to get checked out by one of dad’s guys. I just don’t understand this level of l legal talk, and I don’t want you signing something away that you don’t want to.”

You watched his face fall slowly. “Yeah, I think that’s probably for the best. Does it look good to you?”

“Some of it does, but I’m not sure about some of it. You have to be really careful with these lengthy contracts. Sometimes they can really screw you over, and it seems like some statements are negating other things.”

He nodded slowly, scratching at his chin. “You don’t think we should sign it, do you?”

“I’m not saying that exactly, I’m just saying I think it needs to be read through by someone smarter than me who knows more about how this works.” You gestured to the papers in front of you. “I mean, really, this guy just came out of nowhere to find you guys. He could be a total fraud.”

“What do we have to lose though?” He walked closer, leaning against the kitchen counter closest to you.

“A lot. I mean, it says if you don’t fulfill a certain amount of record sales- which, I fully believe you’re capable of- you could owe them a lot of money. Or if you don’t sell a percentage of tickets, they can break the contract. But here, it says-”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” He put his chin in his hand and rested it there, his dark eyes looking at you. “I’m glad you’re smarter than me.”

“I’m not, I just spent years of my life studying this and figuring out how people word these to trick people who haven’t spent years of their life studying.”

“You’ve always been the smart one. Top of the class, you’re the real nerd.” He smiled, slowly walking towards you. “Your campaigns always, always were better than mine.”

“I mean, absolutely they were. But I don’t know about now.”

“Hold on.” Eddie held up a finger and ran out of the kitchen, down the hallway. You heard some rustling and pushed the contract out of your way, your eyes hurting from the small print. “Here.” He said as he plopped the book down on the table.

Your book. Your book from middle school, at that.

“Eddie, how- how do you have this? Did it not get ruined when you lost yours and Wayne’s house?” You ran your fingers over the cover, before you opened it up, immediately recognizing your own handwriting, paired with Eddie’s chicken scratch of notes. “And wait- did you use some of my campaigns?”

“Just a few. Just the good ones, I saved the best ones for when you came back.”

“What if I never did?” You looked up at him as he was beaming a smile at you.

“Somehow I always knew you would.”

-

“Scott, would you mind looking over a few things on this for me?” You walked into your dad’s employee’s office. He was always your favorite of your dad’s friends, he’d seen you and Steve grow up. Scott didn’t have a family of his own at all, so he was present at a lot of your family’s parties and events. He was like a second dad, but a cooler one.

“Sure thing, just shut the door and have a seat. I could use a break from the woes of the Hawkins community. What do we have?”

“So, Eddie, my boyfriend, has been playing in his band for a while-”

“Wait, like, Eddie Munson? Like, devil worshipping, town killer, etc?”

“Yes, that one.” This was not what you expected, or wanted when you came into his office today.

“Oh God, I know your mom loves this. I always told your dad the two of you were gonna be somethin’ one day.”

You blushed, but continued on, “So, at their show the other night this guy approached them with his record label from Chicago. He had a contract ready to go and I’ve looked over it, and some things just don’t seem right. I highlighted everything I questioned but there may be more, and I just needed another opinion about it.”

“Let me see here.” He sat back in his leather desk chair and put his glasses on. You noticed the way his hair had grayed since you’d last seen him, the way his eyes and mouth had crinkled more from the smiling faces you remember him always making. “Your brother doing good?”

“Yeah, he’s doing alright.”

“Glad to be back here?” He asked as he kept reading over the papers.

“Could be worse.”

“I hear ya.” He nodded, reading through the pages. You sat at his desk, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. “Can you give me the rest of the afternoon for this? I have the time, just don’t want you sittin’ here doing nothing. If you want, there’s some paperwork in the basement that we moved from your office down there that needs to be put into the empty file cabinets. Doris has the keys, if you just ask her for them. Your dad left a note of things for you to do today and that was one of them. By the time you get everything filed away, I should be done.”

“Yeah, I can do that. Thanks, Scott.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” You smiled at the endearing name, coming from anyone else his age it would be creepy but you knew he didn’t mean it that way.

Doris was quite the character. She’d worked as the front desk secretary for the entire time your dad’s firm had been opened. She took her job way too seriously, and she didn’t like many people. But you and your brother just so happened to be two of her favorite people.

“Oh sure, here’s the keys! I’m just so glad you’ll be working with us. Your dad is so proud of you for coming home and working under the family name, you know that?” You shrugged and held back an eye roll. “You remember what door it is, right?”

“Of course. Thanks, Mrs. Doris.” You grabbed the keys from her and rolled your eyes as you walked away, remembering how she used to gloat over your brother anytime she got the chance to, and now she was doing it to you.

You turned the key to the door and went down the stairs, into the well lit basement. It smelled the same from when you were a kid- sometimes you’d have to come up here after school, and your dad had a desk down here for you and Steve to do homework, or color when you two were younger. It would be creepy to some, but you both loved it. You didn’t have to hear your dads boring conference meetings, or him yelling at employees. It was your hiding spot and you felt safe down here.

You easily found the piles of files that were meant to be organized by you- they were stacked on your old desk and disheveled from being moved so hastily down here. You opened up the top drawer to an empty cabinet, and you got to organizing the files alphabetically. These were all of this years cases the office had dealt with, from the beginning of the year to now, and you knew they just wanted them organized by the last name.

You recognized a few of the last names, and being nosy, of course you had to browse through some. You scoffed at the DUIs, and other small “crimes” the office either handled or probably hid from the public eye, until you saw a last name that was all too familiar.

“Munson, Edward - ‘86”

Shit. Shit! What do you do? It was one of the thickest folders you’d picked up in the last hour. You knew what you should do, what was the right thing. But what had Eddie done this year that your dads lawyers would’ve been responsible for defending him for?

You carefully opened the Manila folder, and read the first line.

“Hawkins Lab (plaintiff) vs Edward Munson (defendant) 1986”

“Holy fuck.” You whispered to yourself, carefully turning the next page. “Why would they file a lawsuit against Eddie?” You whispered out loud to no one, as you continued to get through the pages. You heard the door open up the stairs, and you shoved the folder underneath the others, not wanting to put it in a cabinet yet.

“You still busy down here?” Doris asked from the third step. “It’s lunch time and you got someone askin’ to take you out to lunch.”

“What?”

“Some guy with curly hair and a jacket on. Is he trouble? Do I need to get him out of here? Is he the one your dad told me to kick out if we saw him?”

“No, no. Doris, that's Eddie, my boyfriend. Charlie’s the one we want to kick out. I’ll be right up, let me finish tidying these.”

“Oh no, you go on up there and take your lunch. You’ve been down here for about two hours already. The mess can wait.”

“I really don’t mind tidying up a bit before I go.” You told her, trying to delay her and finding a quick, more hidden spot for the files.

“Alright, I’ll tell him you’ll be up in a minute. Don’t take a minute longer!”

“Yeah, sure.” You pretended to rummage around, then grabbed the Munson file and hid it in another file cabinet that was collecting dust. Surely no one would suspect you putting it there.

You walked up the basement stairs, shutting and locking the door behind you, as you shoved the basement key into your pocket. You felt your mind spinning as you walked towards the front, unsure of whether to bring up what you found or not.

“Hey beautiful.” Eddie greeted you with a hug, kiss on the cheek, and a small bouquet of flowers in a small vase in his hand.

“Hey.” You said, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “C’mon, I’ll put these on my desk and we can go to lunch.” You pulled on his hand to tug him with you to your minimally decorated office space that screamed “temporary”.

“Oh hey, I was just looking for you!” Scott said as he walked around a corner. “And you!” He pointed at Eddie, who then pointed at himself. “You have a free minute?”

“We were about to go to lunch.” You said as you set your flowers down on your desk and picked up your purse. “Eddie, this is Scott- he’s worked with dad for forever, and I had him read over the contract from the label for you this morning. Scott, this is Eddie.” You observed the two exchanging glances at each other, then they introduced themselves. You could tell by Eddie’s faltering voice he was putting on a front- they had definitely met before. Maybe it had been a long time ago that they’d crossed paths, but you had a feeling you needed to get to that file.

“Won’t take but a minute. Have a seat.” He gestured towards the seats in your office, and you took a seat behind your desk, wanting to be able to watch the two interact.

“So uh, seems here we’ve got an entirely too controlling contract. I’ve gone through everything Harrington already combed through, added more comments, and even found a few more things. It seems to me like this guys label is pretty scummy, I don’t know that I’d take them up on this one.” You watched Eddie’s shoulders deflate as the contract was placed into his hands. “The choice is ultimately yours, but once you read through you’ll see what I’m talking about. I don’t think it’s the right one, I don’t trust that they’re not trying to take everything you guys have.” Scott eyed Eddie, waiting for him to look up at him from the paperwork.

“Well, I appreciate the time you took going through it. I’ll take it to the guys at practice tonight and we’ll talk it over to see how everyone’s feeling.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Scott stood up and patted Eddie on the shoulder, “Good to see you.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too!” Eddie yelled back as Scott exited your office. “Pizza for lunch?”

“Sounds delicious to me.” You followed Eddie out of the office and to his van. He chucked the contract into the back of it, and you watched it fall to the floor.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked, patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He backed out of his parking spot and started to drive away. “How’s your first day?” Here’s your chance. Perfect time to bring it up.

“Pretty… boring.” You can’t do it. “Scott and Doris had me in the basement organizing some things that were in my office that hastily got thrown down there at some point to make my office look unoccupied. He’s got a whole list of things for me to do if I’m bored. Seems like I’m going to be doing busy work and getting paid for it.”

“That’s some shit. You’re smarter than that.” He said, resting his elbow on the window sill of his door.

“Yeah, I mean I’m sure it’ll get more interesting later. I didn’t expect to get put on any actual cases or anything, but I did expect to be doing more than coffee runs or something like that.”

“They have you running coffee?”

“Absolutely not. It’s just my first day, so I’m not really expecting much. Dad said he’d be in tomorrow morning to get me set up. I think today is just a day of busy work since I wasn’t expected to start working so soon. Or at all, even.”

“I’ve got an appointment after lunch.” Eddie blurted out.

“Yeah? Where?” You looked over at him, and he looked nervous as he bit his nails.

“You know where.”

“Oh. You’re actually going? Do you need me to go with you?”

“Steve is. He’s meeting us at lunch.” He quickly replied.

“Oh.” You said as you looked out the window. Eddie was clearly a nervous wreck, and there wasn’t much you had to say to the dull conversation. You two pulled up at the pizza place beside Steve’s car, and he hopped out at the same time you did. A fourth car door shut on the other side of you, and you were met with Jim Hopper.

“What’s going on?” You asked, suddenly confused about this lunch meeting.

“He’s coming too.” Steve spoke up, placing a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder as you guys walked into the restaurant.

The four of you sat down at a back booth, you sat across from your brother and Hopper, and Eddie sat beside you.

“So is this like, an intervention? What’s going on?” You felt even more clueless.

“They need to speak to Eddie and have questions about you, so they need you too.” Hopper said.

“What?” You said bluntly as the waitress came up to take your orders- you added on a beer to yours for your nerves.

“Yeah, apparently you’re going to have to answer a few questions since you’ve observed Eddie’s behavior with the nightmares. I’ve gotta go since he’s always calling me, and-”

“How do they know?” You interrupted your brother.

“I told them, when I called to ask them what I needed to do. Then they gave me 20 questions and I panic answered them, not knowing they’d drag you into it. Hopper is going just to make sure no funny business happens. I’m really sorry.” Eddie looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. I wanted to go with you if you needed me anyway. You need to talk to someone about this. Maybe they can help you.”

Hopper scoffed. “He needs a real therapist. I’m afraid this is just going to stir some more shit up. I don’t trust these guys, even though the lab is gone. How did just enough of them just survive to stick around to make sure you kids didn’t need anything?”

You four all looked at each other, you being the most clueless of all.

“I suggest being brief. Don’t tell them anymore than they ask. Don’t tell them who you hang out with, who you see, or where you work. Especially you, Harrington.” Hopper pointed at me. “They already know your family, but they’re gonna be hounding you for all they can.”

“Why me? Why not Steve? He’s the one who went down there into their whole, alternate universe world… thing.”

“Because of your j-” Hopper started.

“Because they didn’t know he had a sister, and they thought it was weird you came back to Hawkins. They want to know what you know about it all.” Eddie cut Hopper off immediately, and you didn’t miss the look on Steve’s face. He knew something too.

You looked at Eddie, who was trying so hard to lie to you.

“Would it have to do with the huge file at my dad’s law firm labeled Hawkins Lab vs Munson? The one from, I dunno- 1986?” You shrugged, looking at the men at the table.

“Fuck, we don’t have enough time for this.” Steve ran his hands through his hair.

“So you were just going to casually leave out that dad fucking defended Eddie against the LAB?! What were they trying to say happened? Both of you- you both lied to me!” You tried not to raise your voice, and thankfully the kitchen sounds were loud enough as the lunch crowd picked up. “You could’ve told me that when you dropped the whole Hawkins-has-a-creepy-second-life-going-on-underneath-it bomb, and it would’ve been fine? But now I’m working there and these scary lab people are going to ask about it?”

“See, you don’t work there. You work at Family Video with Steve.” Hopper corrected you.

“That would’ve been nice to know!” You raised your voice again. “So what case did they bring out against Eddie?”

“I told you, I almost died down there. I did. But I came back through, and no one that ever died down there came back up to Hawkins and they created this huge case trying to make it look like I was the one who created the gates- because of the whole town freak thing, right? Believable.” He took a deep sigh, “Scott defended me. Your dad couldn’t, because it was considered a conflict of interest because they knew we used to be friends.”

“What, how did they know that?”

“They know everything. Well, they used to, they’d been watching our town and listening to everything for years before we discovered what they were really doing with their experiments. With a lot less people they’ve become a small organization, and they’re basically sticking around to see if any other activity starts to happen, and observe and be ‘helpful’ if anyone affected by the ‘earthquake’ needs help.” Steve answered.

“How can you trust them?” You asked.

“Your dad’s firm won against them in Eddie’s favor, so they’re at the mercy of him.” Jim spoke, and you looked between the three guys again, completely baffled, yet again, at how much had happened in the short time of you being back.

“I need to get some fresh air.” You pushed your way out of the booth and fled outside, forgetting your jacket at the booth. You felt yourself warming up out of rage as you walked over to the alley beside the restaurant. You grounded yourself against the cold brick wall and closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to avoid an anxiety attack.

“You good?” Eddie appeared out of nowhere and you jumped out of your skin.

“No, I’m not good.” You answered him as you opened your eyes. “Eddie, what the fuck?!”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Sorry for leaving out a huge, major detail, and everyone’s just been pretending since I’ve been home?! This is not okay. This is not why I came home. I came home for some normalcy, for LESS drama than I had in the city. And it’s been non-fucking-stop since I got back. I don’t know that I even had this much happen in high school.” You ran a hand through your hair nervously, “what am I supposed to do?! I can’t keep finding things out, Eddie. I can’t do this. I can’t keep on walking around on eggshells whether is your short temper, or my parents, or avoiding running into anyone from high school, or the fucking upside down bullshit!? Why is all of this happening as soon as I come home?!” You cried out to him as he stared at you with a blank face and no answers. You put your hands on his shoulders and felt yourself pushing against him. “Someone give me some fucking answers!” Eddie grabbed your hands, and you felt your body freeze. What was he about to do? He placed them gently around his neck, before he wrapped one arm, then another, around your body and slowly pulled you into him, hugging your shaking form.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, baby. I should’ve died down there. I didn’t want you dragged into this, but I let it slip on the phone this morning when I called them because I thought it was the right thing to do to get help. If I call a normal shrink, they’re gonna commit me for thinking I’m fucking insane for what I’d tell them. I can’t call anyone else. Only your family, the kids, Robin, and a few others really know what happened during the so-called earthquake, okay? We have to be so careful about this. I’m sorry.” He hugged you as he let out a cry.

“Don’t you ever say you should’ve died down there.” You muttered into his chest.

“No, I should have. I quite frankly should not have made it. They thought I was dead for the longest time, til we all started having nightmares. Then when they realized I was alive, their case was brought against me, in case the truth got out, they thought that their asses would be covered by shifting the blame to me.”

You paused. Eddie had been carrying this around too, and it didn’t excuse his actions but you could see why he’d been a little more quick tempered and anxious than usual.

“After today, can we just start over and see if things can be normal? I’m really fucking tired.”

“I’d love nothing more than that.” You wiped your tears at his response, and hugged him tighter to you. “We better get in there and eat, they’re expecting us at 1:30.” You nodded as you broke your embrace and followed him back into the restaurant.

-

Another surprise, Scott was at the Hawkins Lab offices. He gave you a sympathetic smile as your eyes met, and you all walked in together to the meeting. Turns out that it wasn’t quite as scary looking as you expected it to be inside, it looked like a normal, plain office space.

“Munson, Harrington?” A lady’s voice called from the desk. “Separate rooms, 103, 104-”

“No, they're all going to be interviewed together in the same room. I’m their lawyer, and I have to be present as well.” Scott slammed his business card down on the desk and slid it towards the lady. She eyed it, and put it back down.

“Follow me.” Okay, maybe it was a little scary. You felt a timid, clammy hand grab yours, and you looked at it to see it was your brother beside you.

“You’re good, okay?” He whispered, knowing you were the anxious one of the two of you. “Let Scott do most of the talking, only answer if you absolutely have to. If you don’t know if you should, just look at him and he’ll give you the go ahead or not.” Clearly your brother had been there before, and knew what to do with these guys.

You nodded and squeezed his hand back before dropping it to your side.

You all entered what looked like a conference room, and took your seats at a long table. Paperwork was everywhere, and you tried to see what some of it was as you walked to your seat beside Eddie, but you couldn’t make anything out.

“They’ll be in shortly.” The lady said before she walked out.

Eddie leaned in and whispered, “the whole room is mic’d up, and security cameras in every corner. Stay quiet.” You nodded and looked at him, his eyes were wide with a look in them you had never seen before.

“Hi, I’m sorry it took us a minute to get back here. I hear you’re having some nightmares, Mr. Munson?” The man quickly shut the door and sat down across the table from you.

“Yeah, they’re back.”

“Would you say they ever went away with the medications, or did they just lessen?” He flipped through some papers before looking up at Eddie.

“They never went away.” His leg was practically jumping up and down as he answered this man in a white coat.

“You didn’t check in with us for the last few months, so we’d assumed your medication dose didn’t need adjusting. You are the only one of the group who uh, experienced what you did in the lab, but we really thought the dose you were prescribed would be enough. Now, you also said you’d noticed some personality changes?”

“Yeah.” He answered, looking straight at the man.

“Like, what?”

“Been gettin’ madder a lot quicker lately. But I’d assume that’s from the lack of sleep and the dreams. Anytime I fall asleep, I get the dreams.”

“So, on average how many hours of sleep are you getting each night? Because that could greatly impact the effectiveness of the program we have you on too.”

“N-not many. Maybe four?” You looked at Eddie again, you’d been sleeping over with him a lot and never realized that he wasn’t getting a full night's rest.

“We’ll have to change those meds for you then, how does that sound?”

“Not like I’m gonna take ‘em.” He muttered.

“Oh, you haven’t been taking them?” The doctor put the files down. “And this is, your girlfriend?”

Eddie nodded, and sat up straighter. “Have you noticed a change in him?”

You went to open your mouth, but Scott spoke up.

“She’s the one who’s been around him with the nightmares. She says he wakes up unsettled, upset.”

“Mr. Munson, are you experiencing any physical pain from these dreams?”

He looked at Scott, who gave him a small nod.

“Sometimes my scars hurt after I’ve had a bad dream. Like, they feel fresh again.”

“But no pain during the day, when you’re awake?” Eddie shook his head no as the doctor sighed and shuffled through some papers. “I honestly think it’s fine. We know that everything is closed off, there should be zero chance of this happening again.”

“I just wanna get some sleep.” Eddie said as he yawned.

“Then take the meds.” The doctor slid over a handwritten prescription for what looked like 3 different medications. “It’s helped everyone you know, and it’s not a permanent thing. You just experienced major trauma.” The doctor had a seat, making him look a little less scary. “Is there a reason you’re so against this?”

You watched as Eddie visibly squirmed in his seat. You reached out a hand and held his, squeezing it lightly.

“My dad had a substance problem. Pills, alcohol, anything he could get his hands on. I’m afraid I’ll turn into that.” He wouldn’t look anywhere but the doctor as he spoke.

“All of these are controlled, and you are only allowed a certain number a month. If you’d prefer you could ask the pharmacy to dispense it to you weekly, or have a friend keep hold of them just in case. One is for sleep, one is for any panic attacks, and another is a daily medication to keep your mood more at ease.” He looked more kind than he did before, and everyone was glancing at Eddie to respond, but he just had a deer in the headlights look on his face.

“Hey, Harrington- let’s give him some privacy.” Hopper nodded at you, and you squeezed Eddie’s hand again, but he quickly withdrew it from your grip. You swallowed hard as you walked out behind Jim, feeling a lump in your throat form.

The second you reached outside of the office space, and the wind caught your breath, you felt the tears stream down your face. Everything had felt like so much for the past few weeks since you’d been back in Hawkins, but you had no idea the extent of what Eddie had been dealing with. You felt a hand rubbing your shoulder, and Jim guided you back to his vehicle where you climbed into the passenger seat, still crying.

“I shouldn’t have come back here. I should’ve just gone somewhere else.” You said as you wiped your eyes.

“God, Harrington, you’re so dramatic. Don’t go saying that. I think he needs you here.”

“Bullshit, Hopper. Why did he pull away from me when I just tried to hold his hand?!”

He slowly looked at you before speaking calmly. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, okay? You can’t get mad at me.” He paused, “Alright?”

“Yeah. I won’t.” You sniffled and dried your eyes.

“The people closest to you in your life- your brother, Eddie, me, Joyce, Robin, all those kids. All of us have experienced some of the absolute worst things you could imagine seeing. None of it was fake, it’s been hell here for years. We saw people we loved die, Dustin held Eddie as he died and somehow he managed to escape and live to tell the story, except we were all told we can’t tell it to anyone. I know the trauma you had back in the city was bad too, I’m not saying it wasn’t, but this was a different type of haunting experience for us all involved. We’ve all had to seek help to stay here and attempt to heal, everyone except Eddie. And until you got here, he wouldn’t talk to anyone about going to get help. That, in there, was actually the best he’s ever reacted to the doctor giving him advice. And the only thing that has changed at all, is you being by his side. I knew his dad, I know his uncle. That boy has nothing but stubborn Munson blood running through his veins. But he’s got his moms heart, and you bring that out in him. He’s gonna get help, you just gotta be patient with him and let him know you’re gonna be with him. He’s terrified to lose anyone.” You watched as Hopper smoothed his hand over his mouth, “So I need you to do something that you Harrington’s have a real hard time doing- I need you to get that stick out of your ass that you all have, and you can’t react to his feelings this way, don’t make this about you right now. I’m telling you, you don’t want to know what we saw. Did they tell you I was in a Russian prison being held captive? I got tortured, could’ve and almost died, but I couldn’t give up. Those kids and this town were depending on me. I couldn’t lose El, and she couldn’t lose me.”

You took a deep breath in and out, taking in all of Hopper’s words as he put his hand on top of yours.

“You need to be here for him, he needs you. You can’t give up on him.”

“I do kinda have a stick up my ass sometimes, don’t I?” You joked, making light of the situation.

“All you Harrington’s do. You’re born with it. But you’ve all got good hair, so I guess that’s the trade off.”

“Any hair is good compared to yours.” You quipped at him as he lit a cigarette and rolled his window down. You reached for one and he handed you his lighter.

“Didn't know you smoked?”

“Not usually this, but after that conversation I’ll take anything.” You scoffed.

“Something else is you two siblings can be really dumb. You do realize you’re in a cop’s car right now, don’t you?”

“And you do realize who my boyfriend is, don’t you?”

“Touché.” Jim said to you as you both took a drag of your cigarette and waited for the other three to come out.

About fifteen minutes later, and two more cigarettes each, you saw Steve and Eddie walk out behind Scott, Steve’s arm was around Eddie’s shoulder. You didn’t know if you should get out of the truck, or if you should wait to approach them.

“Go hug ‘em.” Hopper hit the unlock button as if he read your mind, and you jumped out and quickly approached both boys. You first hugged Steve, who had dropped his arm quickly to return the hug to you.

“Thanks.” He muttered in your ear. “I’ll see you later.” You told him bye as you watched him walk to his car.

You turned to Eddie who was standing there, watching Steve drive away, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey, I’m proud of you.” You broke the silence, and tested the waters as you gently placed your hand on his arm.

“Thanks for being there with me.” He wrapped his arms around you slowly, and pulled you into his body. “I should’ve told you about everything, but I didn’t know how you’d react. Everything’s out now. I promise.”

“I believe you. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through and I just walked in expecting that you owed me a thorough explanation reliving your trauma when it’s still probably too fresh for you to even process. I’m really fucking proud of you for going today, Eddie.” You pulled back and kissed him on the cheek. Hopper honked his horn, and put his car in reverse as you and Eddie both shot him the bird at the same time, causing you both to giggle.

“I think that was enough for you today, Harrington. I’ll clock you out at 5, and tell Doris you had some offsite work to get done with me so you’ll be in the clear.” You thought about giving him the basement key in your pocket, but something told you not to.

“Thanks, Scott.” You told him with a smile, and watched as Eddie gave him a hug too before he walked off to his car.

“So, you think you could ride with me to get these filled, or-” Eddie nervously asked you, “I can go later if you just wanna go home, I can take you.”

“No, I’ll go with you. And if you need me to like, I dunno, keep you accountable for anything I can. Or if you don’t want me to, just say that.”

“Steve’s gonna do that for me, but I appreciate the offer. For now, I just want you to be my girl.”

Your heart swooned at the use of the phrase, as he kissed you on the side of your head.

“I can do that.” You smiled at him before heading to his van.

[stormblessed95]

I know this is a boring convo for yall. But Jimin literally sees JK likes his brother from another mom. Nothing he said about his album or during the show adds up to your theory of them being boyfriends. Dont forget he said whether he can even love someone (i didnt saw any Jikookers mentioning it as it wasn't translation error or album theme but his irl words) I don't think JK remotely comes to his ideal type nor he have that type of feelings for JK. I'm not talking about goofy talks they do for a lil funny moment infront of cam. But the real Park Jimin behind the cam totally sees JK as his brother.

Boring? No, id love a boring ask. Annoying and repetitive? Yes.

Are you trying to change my mind? Why? What does it matter to you? What you think of their relationship doesn't matter to me.

This post, also for you

Because the whole "your theory" comment. Bitch I KNOW you didn't read my posts. Especially because of your "I didn't see any jikookers mentioning it" comment. Because I did. And I even highlighted it in red. Sooooo take your stupid ass opinions to your own blog. Or at least to jikookers who are doing whatever the fuck you are accusing them of. Or at a very bare minimum, read the posts about the theories you are mentioning in the blog you decide to message. Because all this does is make me roll my eyes at you. Zero of any kind of productive conversation with this sort of ask.

I can't and won't give a shit about your opinions, if you won't give a shit about mine, by actually reading them.

Fascinating you know the real park Jimin behind the cameras. I hope you share your thoughts with him, not me next time. Thanks.

The funny little moments in front of the cam, like asking for kisses....

Jimins type in girl as per early year interview

Cute, shorter than him, long hair, nice

Jimins type in boys as per interviews....

Oh wait, why would they ever ask him that. Lol but he has been pretty clear with hints towards queerness/bi-ness. And he has stayed at one point to JK that JK is his type.... So perhaps next time you meet up with Jimin IRL, since you know him and all, make more an effort to get to know him better? Idk

Normally I'd just ignore you, but I'm so tired of all this bullshit. Take it to someone who cares.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Back At One Part 2

Pairing: Caligator, Billy Hargrove x Gator Tillman

Fandom Fusion: Stranger Things & Fargo S5

Dom/Sub au

*Title taken from this truly sappy love song by Brian McKnight that these boys would NEVER admit was kinda okay lol.

<<<<PART I

“When is that fella of yours gonna make an honest man out of you?" Dot asks, just as Gator reaches for the pans stacked on top of the fridge, and he jerks, pulling too quickly, sending a cookie sheet clattering toward the kitchen floor - he just manages to save it. Scotty raises the cover of her book to hide her face, but his ears work just fine and he hears her snicker.

"What do you mean?" he gripes as he fumbles with the cookware. This is what he gets for trying to do something nice for his boyfriend on his birthday. "Billy's already registered as my dominant."

Which means if Gator really does burn the house down trying to make this fucking cake, Billy can have the honor of identifying his barbecued remains and save Dot the trouble.

Dot’s giving him this look though. Like she can see right through his bullshit. Let's get real. She always could read him like a book and play him like a fiddle.

“Alright, lets bake this mother fu-uuning,cake” Gator self corrects, remembering Scotty at the last minute. Shit that was close. Dot only has a few rules for when they’re together: no talking about the past when Scotty’s in earshot and no potty mouth. She literally calls it that. It’s kind of annoying though, cause the kid is like twelve right? Gator could curse in three different languages by the time he was twelve. But apparently that’s not the thing to be proud of that he thought it was when he was twelve.

“Real nice save Hon.” Dot laughs at him.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just do this.” Gator grumbles in reply, and they do. 

Dot ties an apron around Gator's waist and hands him a mixing bowl while Scotty eagerly climbs up on a stool to read out the recipe as they work. She’s only meant to be walking him through the basics of a simple white cake with Billy’s name spelled out on it, but somehow the kitchen quickly descends into chaos. 

"Okay, first we need to cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy," Scotty reads.

Gator dumps an entire stick of butter and a heaping cup of sugar into the bowl. He picks up the electric mixer and jams it in after, cause that much he can figure out for himself. Only it sends a plume of sugar into the air the minute he powers it on. 

“Holy shit!”

"No, silly!" Scotty giggles. "You have to soften the butter first or it won't mix right."

Grumbling, Gator fishes the hard butter out of the bowl and tosses it into the microwave. A few seconds later, there's a loud pop - because he’s a fucking idiot and apparently it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to warm butter. One glance inside confirms the worst: the stick is now a molten mess, and butter drips down the microwave door.

"Oh honey," Dot sighs, grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess. "Just grab another stick and leave it on the counter for a bit to soften."

“Jesus. Come on. Get your head in the game!” Gator admonishes himself, trying to shake off his embarrassment and the feeling of shame welling up inside of him from fucking up something so simple. “I have cooked before. I’m just -”

What? Nervous? Fucking stupid? What else is there to say when he can’t even melt butter.

Dot lays a hand on his back. She doesn’t need to say anything, and she doesn’t as she hands him a clean bowl and Scotty reads out from Dot’s phone that it’s time to sift the dry ingredients together. He upends the bag of flour over the sifter, and thinks it might be too much. It definitely is, because he doesn’t get more than a few taps in before flour has started to overflow everywhere, dusting his hands and the arms of his black t-shirt. But hey, some of it is getting into the bowl.

Somehow with Dot's patient guidance and Scotty's enthusiastic "assistance", they manage to get the cake batter mixed and poured into pans. Gator slides them into the oven, sets the timer, and leans back against the counter with a sigh, his shirt and jeans thoroughly dusted with flour, bits of batter streaked in between.

Dot chuckles as she hands him a damp towel. "Well, that was an adventure. I think Billy will appreciate the effort you put in, even if it's not perfect."

Gator wipes his hands and grumbles. "It better turn out decent after all that. I still think I shoulda gotten him something else though. Something big, to really wow him, y'know?"

Dot studies him for a long moment, and then finally broaches the subject that has been festering like a smelly turd in the corner of the room.

"Want to talk about what happened at the store today?"

No. No he really fucking doesn’t. Gator turns to snap on the faucet, thinking that he’d like to stick his head under it and drown himself right about now. He focuses intently on scrubbing the batter caked on his nails instead.

"Nothin' happened. She was a stuck-up bitch is all. Lookin' down on me like I'm nothin' just 'cause I ain't some fancy dom in a suit."

He hears Dot murmur something quietly to Scotty about going to get her things together, and grunts in acknowledgment when the twerp says a shy goodbye before slipping from the room. He immediately feels like shit, because Dot can’t really punish him anymore - it’s not her place, and she’s got too much respect for Billy to overstep - but she can take away the one thing she knows he really wants. He wasn’t ready for them to leave, but he can’t blame Dot for not wanting her kid around him when he’s like this.

Her family is not something that Dot plays around with, and Gator might be someone she cares about, but there’s a stark line between whatever the hell they are to each other and the beautiful thing Nadine - fuck - Dot, built for herself with her own grit and guts in the aftermath of the Tillmans.

He understands. He gets it. He does. And yet he still flinches when she speaks again, body somehow unprepared for her to still be there even though he would have heard her leave if she wasn’t.

"She shouldn't have treated you that way," Dot says softly. "But Gator, how you reacted wasn’t like you. I haven’t seen you do something that rash in a long time. What’s this really about?”

Gator's jaw clenches and his hands still, suds dripping from his fingers into the sink. The air grows heavy with all the things unsaid between them.

"It’s nothin'. Alright?" he mutters unconvincingly. "I lost my cool is all. Won't happen again."

Dot sighs and leans her hip against the counter next to him, arms crossed. Her eyes are filled with gentle understanding and he hates it. Hates how much it reminds him of his mom, and all the times after, when she was gone and it was Dot standing in her place, filling the void as best she could. Hates most of all that he’s never been strong enough to resist the comfort Dot offers and the temptation to fall apart in her arms. She was his safety, even when safety was a lie and she was just a kid who couldn’t do shit to keep herself safe, let alone him.

But no matter how hard Gator had tried, he’d never stopped needing someone to lean on and take him apart and clean out his rust and dust, to put back together again good as new. That’s his curse, the sub in him, which is hard to swallow most days but Billy makes it better. No one does any of that for him like Billy Hargrove does. Even when Gator makes it hard on him, Billy always knows just which way he’s bent and how to fix it. Yeah it bugs the shit out of him, but he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with himself now without it. If Billy left he’d -

Stop that shit! He flinches away from the thoughts, and reminds himself for the umpteenth time that Billy isn’t going to leave him over some dumb shit like a lame birthday gift. He needs to just quit already. Why can’t he make the thoughts stop?

"You've been doing so well lately, Gator. Really making progress in therapy, communicating better when you’re dropping... What happened today?" Dot presses again.

Gator's throat works as he swallows hard. His hands clench the edge of the sink, knuckles going white. He doesn’t want to talk about this but maybe it will help. God he hopes it helps.

"I just... I wanted to get him somethin' special, y'know? Somethin' to show him how much he means to me." His voice cracks slightly on the last word and Dot's face softens. She reaches for him, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

"Oh honey... Billy knows how much you love him. You don't need fancy gifts to prove that."

"Don't I though?" Gator argues, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "He does so much for me, Dot. Takes such good care of me, even when I'm a pain in the ass. And, like when am I not a pain in the ass, huh? You were gonna kick his ass and like send him to the Gulag. How am I worth that?”

Dot laughs, giving Gator's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Listen to me. You are a pain in the ass, but only when you’re trying so hard not to be the sweet, kind, and wonderful man I know you are. You're a good boy, Gator. You always have been. And yes, at first I was worried when I found out your Saftey-Dom had a thing for you. Who wouldn’t be?”

Gator shrugs away her very good point - doms who are employed to counsel and provide subs with therapeutic care are bound by a strict code of ethics. Billy could have been in deep shit if anyone other than Dot had found out about their relationship before Billy stopped being his therapy dom.

“I kissed him Dot, and he never let it happen again while I was still just a case.” Gator laments. “That’s what I’m talking about though, all I could do was think with my dick - meanwhile I could have seriously fucked up his life. And he still took care of me!”

“He did. Which is what convinced me he’s the best thing for you.” Dot says. “It’s because he loves you for who you are, flaws and all."

Gator shakes his head, jaw tight. "You don't get it, Dot. I'm not...I'm not good like you keep saying. The shit that goes through my head sometimes…”

He trails off, shame burning hot in his gut. He can't even bring himself to say it out loud. But with Dot he doesn’t need to. 

She was there through the worst of it. She’s seen the worst of him. Shit Billy knows about, but hasn’t seen. Hasn’t really lived it, the way Dot had to live it, and maybe that’s why Gator’s been fucking everything up. 

Maybe he’s trying to see once and for all whether or not someone who isn’t trauma bonded to him will stay once they see him for what he really is.

"I know I'm fucked up, alright? I know I got a long way to go before I'm anything close to the kinda sub Billy deserves.” He tries to shrug off the admission like the words aren’t sending pain twisting inside him like a knife.

But Dot, perceptive as always, cups Gator's face, turning him back to meet her gentle gaze. "Oh honey... Is that what this is about? You want Billy to collar you?"

Gator's breath hitches. Hearing it stated so plainly sends a jolt through him, equal parts longing and terror. He jerks away from Dot's touch, arms wrapping defensively around himself.

"No! I mean... Fuck, I don't know," he stammers, the words tangling on his tongue.

Dot is quiet for a long moment, letting his confession settle heavily between them. When she speaks again, her tone is thoughtful.

"Have you talked to Billy about this? About wanting his collar?"

Gator barks out a harsh laugh. "No. No fuckin' way. He'd probably laugh in my face if I did.”

Dot's brow furrows, her eyes shadowed with concern as she clicks her tongue in admonishment. "I don’t believe you really think that for a second. That Billy would laugh at you for expressing your needs."

Gator's shoulders hunch, defensive. He keeps his gaze fixed resolutely on the mixing bowl in the sink, watching the dregs of batter slowly dissolve under the running tap. The sweet scent of vanilla and butter hangs heavy in the air, incongruously cheerful.

"I didn't say I needed it," he mutters. "I'm just sayin'... a guy like me askin' for a collar. It's funny right? Like, I’m not some needy bitch who needs a collar to keep from dropping, and I don’t need Billy thinking he gets to boss me around more than he already does. Guy’s an absolute control freak."

"Uh-huh and you love it. I've seen the two of you together. The way Billy is with you... It's special. He'd move heaven and earth to make you happy. To give you what you need." Dot says. Her voice is soft but sure.

Gator swallows thickly, his eyes stinging. He blinks rapidly, determined not to let the tears building behind his lids fall. "Sure. Why hasn’t he done it then? I’d put that shit down in two seconds, but he hasn’t even tried. Y’know?"

And the reason why is obvious. Yeah, there’s the fact that Gator doesn’t need a collar, but even if he wanted one he’s too much work, too damaged.

Dot sighs heavily, like he said the last part out loud.

"Honestly Honey, I think you should think about it from his perspective. With the way you talk about it... He may not realize how much this would mean to you. Billy does a good job, making sense of what’s going on in that squirrel head of yours but he’s not superman. Talk to him.”

Gator grunts noncommittally. Because hell no. He will not be begging his dom to collar him any time soon thanks, but he doesn’t want her to worry either. 

Dot says she has to get Scotty home in time to start dinner and he follows her out to the front door where Scotty is waiting with Dot's purse and her school bag. He sees them off with a wave and a promise to attend some talent show at Scotty’s school next week. Dot gives him a kiss on the cheek, urges him to talk to Billy one more time and reminds him that her mother-in-law knows the president, and really can get Billy thrown in the gulag if he really does laugh in Gator’s face.

And then he’s alone. Alone with his thoughts. Which is frankly the best way to be. Gator can think much more clearly about this now that Dot’s not here, reminding him of the past and making him feel weaker than he actually is. He can totally still salvage this situation. He’ll just make the cake really impressive. Like those 3D ones that look like real shit? Billy loves to chill with him on the weekend and watch that show where people try and guess which random item is cake or not. Gator’s usually tied up, plugged or gagged when that happens so his memories are a little hazy - but it doesn’t look that hard. It’s just cake right?

When the timer goes off Gator brings the cake out of the oven.

He whips out his phone and starts scrolling through cake decorating videos on YouTube, determined to find something suitably impressive. His eyes light up when he spots a tutorial for a realistic 3D surfboard cake, uploaded by some fruit calling himself Barry Bakes. He doesn’t really want to take advice from some dude with pink hair, a full face of makeup, wearing a sparkly crop top with the word TWINK encrusted on the front, but the cake is undeniably badass.

"Alright, let's do this," Gator mutters, cracking his knuckles. He fast forwards through the beginning of the video, impatient to get to the good stuff.

First step - carving the cakes into a surfboard shape. Easy enough. Gator grabs a serrated knife and starts hacking away at the layers, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. Crumbs fly everywhere as he saws off uneven chunks. When he's done, he steps back to survey his work. It...sort of looks like a surfboard. If you squint. And tilt your head to the side.

Next up - the "ocean" frosting. Gator mixes a batch of blue buttercream, dumping in what is probably way too much food coloring, but whatever at least he softened the butter without blowing up the microwave this time.

Gator continues to follow along with Barry Bakes' tutorial, growing increasingly frustrated as each step seems to go awry. The blue buttercream frosting he mixed up is a garish turquoise color from the excessive food dye. It's also too thin and runny, dripping off the cake in gloopy rivulets.

He blames Barry, that fucking fruit, because if he weren’t so hell bent on turning everything into some kinda innuendo maybe Gator could actually concentrate on what he is doing!

"Shit shit shit," Gator grumbles under his breath, frantically trying to smooth the messy frosting over the lopsided surfboard shape he carved. It's a losing battle. The cake looks like a melted smurf.

Next, Barry cheerfully pipes delicate white frosting swirls and curls to create realistic seafoam on his perfectly smooth blue surfboard. Reminding the audience that big tips are better for piping, and everybody loves a good pipe.

Gator glares at the screen. His own piping bag is loaded with frosting that's somehow both too stiff and too drippy at the same time. When he tries to pipe, it comes out in sad, deflated spurts. He can only imagine what Barry would have to say about that.

"Motherf-!" Gator bites off the curse, chucking the piping bag down on the counter. This was a stupid idea. He's no baker, who was he kidding? He should've just bought Billy a damn gift card like a normal person.

Dejected, Gator slumps against the counter, hanging his head. Failure churns in his gut, sharp and nauseating. He can't give this monstrosity to Billy. He just can’t. Can’t bear to watch him try to hide his disappointment.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Gator gives up on trying to salvage the cake. In a fit of pique, he grabs a spatula and starts roughly shaping the blue frosted mess, not even bothering to smooth it out anymore. He carves angry slashes and gouges into the cake's surface with the edge of the spatula.

Before he even fully realizes what he's doing, the cake has taken on a new, crude shape under his hands - a lumpy, misshapen hand with the middle finger extended in an unmistakable gesture of "fuck you".

Gator steps back, breathing hard, and stares at his handiwork. The hand is far from anatomically correct, with uneven sausage-like fingers and a palm that curves at an odd angle. Globs of sticky frosting cling to the digits in gloopy turquoise clumps. The raised middle finger lists slightly to the side, like it's too heavy to hold itself up properly.

It's possibly the ugliest cake Gator has ever seen. So ugly it crosses the line twice and becomes perversely impressive in its sheer awfulness. A surprised, slightly unhinged laugh bubbles up from his chest as he takes it in.

This is what he has to show for his efforts. This fuck-ugly, lewd gesture of a cake, cobbled together from the dregs of his failure. It suits him.

“Yeah don’t know what the fuck else I expected.” Gator grumbles, despondent. He goes to the fridge to fetch a beer and tabs it open roughly, determined to drink thoughts of the stupid cake away. 

He’s not crying over cake like some lame ass. It’s whatever. It’ll probably still taste good, and if Billy doesn’t like it he can throw it in the trash. They’ll order a pizza or something and Gator will ride him till his dick goes numb and call it a night. Happy birthday.

Gator stomps to the bedroom he and Billy share and pulls out the trunk where he keeps his hunting gear from under the bed, because it’s been awhile since he polished his knives and that always helps lift his mood. He takes the trunk out to the living room and gets to work. Ques up his workout playlist on his phone and connects it to the TV so he can put it on blast.

It helps a little. Allows him time not to think. But the time gets away from him, because he doesn’t even hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

Billy's entrance is marked by the faint scrape of his boots against the hardwood floor as he turns the corner into the living room. He pauses briefly, taking in the scene before him—Gator, surrounded by an array of gleaming knives, his trunk spilling open on the coffee table, and the ear splitting rifts of heavy metal blaring from the television speakers.

A faint smile tugs at Billy's lips as the dom sets down his bag and sheds his leather jacket, revealing the broad contours of his chest hugged by a tight white T-shirt. The room is thick with the scent of metal and leather, a comforting familiarity that wraps around Billy like a second skin. He approaches Gator slowly, noiselessly, his gaze fixed not on the array of blades but on the man holding them as gently as baby chicks.

Billy casts a long shadow across the coach and Gator finally notices him. He jumps up, fumbling the knife in his hands which clatters to the floor. The music crescendos, a dramatic backdrop to the moment. Gator lowers the volume, and whips around to glare at Billy who laughs at the fright he gave him.

“Hey, Baby Gay.”

“Don’t call me that!” Gator snaps. “And don’t sneak up on me. I was like, this close to killing you!”

“Oh?” Billy arches a mocking brow. “Probably shouldn’t have dropped the knife then.”

“Haha. Very funny asshole. You’re lucky I did,” Gator grumbles in reply, bending down to pick up the fallen knife. “You know how sharp one of these babies are? With one o’ these I can cut through the shell on a coconut just like that.”

He flicks his wrist to demonstrate the ease with which he could peel Billy’s flesh off, and Billy gives him this look - like Gator is just fucking adorable - and it’s god damn condescending, is what it is. But it also makes the back of Gator’s neck tingle with awareness, and his dick try to get hard. So yeah.

It’s probably a good thing that Billy’s so distracted anyway. Because swearing at his dom is firmly against their rules on account of the fact that Gator uses it as some kinda defense mechanism to keep Billy at arms length.

Or that’s what Billy said anyway when he made the stupid rule. Gator doesn’t make the rules here, he just follows them.

“I’ll count myself lucky then. I think I’ll get a beer. You want one killer?” Billy asks, already on his way to the kitchen. 

FUCK! The Kitchen. Gator remembers too late that he forgot to clean up and do something with that awful cake and scampers after him.

Billy strides into the kitchen before Gator can stop him.

His stomach knots as Billy pauses, his gaze landing on the misshapen dessert surrounded by strewn icing bags, crumbs and powdered sugar. Slowly a grin spreads across Billy's face, and blue eyes sparkle as he turns to look at Gator, where he lingers hesitantly in the kitchen doorway.

"Is this cake trying to tell me something?" he teases, amusement rich in his voice. He leans forward slightly to inspect the cake more closely. "Is this your way of telling me you don’t want to sixty-nine later, or is it a failed science experiment? Hard to tell."

Gator feels heat rush to his face, embarrassment mixed with irritation bubbling in his chest. He knows Billy is just poking fun, yet it stings, tapping into that deep-seated insecurity instilled by years under his father's critical eye.

"Scotty was here with Dot and it gave us something to do. That’s all," Gator mumbles defensively, his words sharper than intended. Then, unable to stop the words from tumbling out recklessly, he adds, "Just thought it would be nice to share, but you don’t have to have any if you’re just going to be an asshole."

As soon as the words are out, Gator regrets them. Swearing at Billy is one thing, but lying to him breaks one of their most cardinal rules. It’s not just about respect; it’s about trust.

Billy’s expression shifts subtly; the playful light in his eyes dims as he adopts a more serious demeanor. He closes the distance between them with measured steps. "Gator," he says softly yet firmly, "That’s the second time you’ve pulled that tonight. Watch it.”

Gator snaps his mouth shut and fumes silently, hanging his head. God, Billy sounds so disappointed in him and it’s worse than he even imagined.He wants to puke.

“Did Scotty really make this?” Billy asks, and Gator can tell just from his tone that Billy already knows the answer, but he’s waiting for Gator to fess up to it. Gator shakes his head, hot tears stinging at his eyes that he blinks away as rapidly as he can.

“It’s for you.” He confesses, feeling a weight lift off his chest despite his overall misery. “I made it for your birthday, and you made fun of it.”

“I did.” Billy acknowledges too easily for Gators liking, but before he can say anything Billy goes on. “I could have handled that better. You’re right. But before we get to that, don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“No. Can’t think of anything.” Gator immediately denies, because how is it fair that he has to apologize for a little white lie when he only did it in the first place because he knew Billy was going to laugh. He knew it.

“Oh?” Billy’s face is impassive but he’s unhappy with Gators answer. It crackles in the air between them. “Do you need a reminder of the rules?"

Gator swallows hard, defiance battling with remorse inside him. He shrugs stiffly, avoiding Billy’s gaze. “Let's just forget it. I don’t need a lecture right now.”

“I’ll decide whether you do or not.” Billy’s tone is calm but carries an undeniable edge of authority—one that sends shivers down Gator’s spine and fear bolting through him all at once. “You know, I was looking forward to a nice night with my boy. Didn’t know I was coming home to a brat.”

Gator ignores the voice inside that screams for him to stop stop stop, barreling ahead in desperate angry defiance.

“Fuck you and what you want! Maybe I want a boyfriend who knows how to lighten up huh?  Sorry I’m not your perfect little bitch. Go cry about it to someone else!” 

His insides shake from the fear and lingering tension. Gator has just royally pissed off his dom. It’s in Billy’s eyes and the slow exhale of breath he takes. Punishment is inevitable. Gator longs to take it back but he can’t - can never take it back - and nothing will fix it. Or fix him. He’s all wrong inside and nothing works no matter how hard he tries.

But the thing is, Billy is safe.

Billy is angry and Gator is terrified and trembling but It’s nothing like it was before, in his father’s house. When the fear of a hand went bone deep and lived in his nightmares.

Gator loves Billy’s hands. They way they touch him. The way they hold him fast and glue him back together. They’ve never let him down those hands, which is why Gator is shaking like a leaf right now, terrified that they won’t reach for him.

He didn’t yell those things at Billy because he wants more space. It’s stupid, he knows, but he yelled them because he needs Billy to take over. He can’t stop himself running full speed ahead toward a punishment. Billy will straighten him out. He can trust Billy to know what to do even when he’s lost sense of which way he’s turned.

Gator’s dom considers him for a long moment, the silence stretching taut between them.

“Go in our room and get me a paddle.” Billy finally orders. Then, deliberately turning away, he starts rummaging through the kitchen cupboards - no doubt in his mind apparently that Gator will obey him.

Of course he does. Knees shaking, Gator stumbles out of the kitchen because now that he’s driven them to this point his skin is crawling with the need to make it right. He’s aching with the need to be good so bad his knees feel like jelly and it’s everything he can do just to follow the order. He wants to hit the floor - go to his belly and plead for his dom’s forgiveness but that’s not what Billy asked for.

He will be good. He’ll make Billy forget that mouthy idiot who talked back and clearly had shit for brains. He can be such a good boy. The best boy! Just give him a chance and he’ll come wagging his fucking tail.

It’s pathetic.

But it’s also a relief, when he returns to the kitchen a few minutes later with a paddle from their toy chest and sets it on the table and Billy acknowledges it with an approving nod.

“Good boy.” he says, and Gator’s knees buckle. He catches himself on the table, holds himself up with palms pressed firmly to the wood because Billy hasn’t told him to kneel yet. He forces himself to focus on Billy as the dom takes an empty glass vase inexplicably sitting next to a bag of rice on the table, and places it on the floor between their feet.

Gator watches warily as next, Billy grabs the open bag of rice and tilts it sending a stream of white grains cascading down onto the tile. He stops when the bag is empty and kneels briefly to stir through them gently with his fingers before straightening and meeting Gator’s eyes again.

“Pants off.” he orders, and Gator sucks in a breath. He doesn’t have to ask why, and doesn’t bother, cheeks hot with shame as he reaches for his belt and gets to work.

"On the floor," BIlly commands softly, when Gator is down to his underwear. The dom points to the pile of rice on the floor.

"Kneel."

And Gator folds like fucking cake batter, sweet sweet relief coursing through his veins. He puts himself at Billy’s feet where he belongs, where he wants to be and shudders, biting his lip to stop himself from begging for the dom’s touch. He hasn’t earned that. Doesn’t make him want it less, but he can be good for Billy and prove when he remembers how.

Billy picks up the paddle that Gator chose – sleek and dark, crafted from polished walnut. As Gator settles on his haunches, head lowered in submission.

“You picked the heavy one. My favorite.” Billy remarks. “That why you picked it, or do you just really need to feel it tonight? You can answer.”

“Want to feel it.” Gator licks his lips. “Want you to be happy.”

“Good boy.” Billy says, leaving Gator to wonder which he is pleased with: that Gator wants his ass beat so raw he can’t sit or Gator wanting those things because they please his dom?

“Alright Baby, are you listening? I want you to pick those up and put them in the vase. Count each one,” Billy instructs, motioning toward the scatter of grains. His voice is firm. It brooks no argument.

Gator looks down at the nearly indistinguishable mass of tiny grains and feels a rush of frustration. "All of them?" His voice is a mix of incredulity and unease. What if he can’t do it? What if he can’t be good and Billy is disappointed in him again?

“Every last one Baby boy," Billy confirms with an implacable nod. “Don’t think about it. It’s not your job right now to think. Just do what I ask you to do. Can you do that?”

Gator takes a deep breath, steadies himself on the sound of Billy’s voice and nods. He can do that. He can follow Billy’s instructions. He doesn’t have to worry about ho much rice there is or whether he can even find it all. That’s not his to worry about. Not his place. He just has to listen. 

He reaches out shakily to touch the closest grain, his voice barely audible as he starts, “One… two… three…” His fingers tremble slightly; counting each grain feels like an impossible task. But Billy never sets him up for failure - not the way his dad used to. Billy doesn’t ask him to do things he’s not capable of just to fail. He asks Gator for things he knows he can do, and if he fails anyway it’s because Billy wants to be there when he breaks. He won’t leave Gator laden with shame and misery that will eat away at his insides.

As Gator focuses on the rice, Billy steps behind him. Without warning, he brings the paddle down gently but firmly across Gator's backside. The sound cracks sharply in the air, followed by another count from Gator's lips that judders from the impact.

“Four… five…”

Billy administers each swat in time with Gator’s counting—methodical and paced.

The pain is not harsh but it accumulates with each slap—the stinging warmth spreading across Gator’s skin contrasting starkly with the coolness of the floor beneath his knees and hands. Tears prickle at Gator’s eyes as he continues—his voice breaks around “twenty-nine… thirty…” 

It’s more than just physical pain; it's a release valve for all he’s been holding inside. Every impact sends ripples through him, but it’s not just his body. It does something to his soul too that he can’t explain. Something he no longer wants to deny.

“Let it out,” Billy murmurs close to his ear between paddles—a soothing contrast to the sharp swats.

“Thirty-one… thirty-two…” The numbers start blurring together as sobs hitch in his throat. The task which seemed merely frustrating at first now feels poignant— slowly, bit by bit, Gator cleans up the mess on the floor, and swat by swat Billy cleans up the mess inside. He doesn’t hit Gator after every grain, that would be excessive. He takes breaks at interment periods, spacing them out so that it’s impossible for Gator to try and guess when he might start up again. The fresh sting whenever he does is brutal, worse in some ways than if he had just continued until Gator’s cheeks were numb.

“Two-hundred and ten…” 

Billy pauses, placing his hand gently on Gator's shoulder as he surveys his progress.

"You’re doing well," he encourages softly, and that little praise, that nothing bit of touch, is enough to break him. Gator chokes on a sob, hot tears spilling down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them in.

“Keep going.” Billy reminds him and Gator nods emphatically, tears dripping off his chin, because he hadn’t meant to stop. He was doing so well. Billy said so. He’ll never stop. Not until Billy tells him too.

With shaking hands Gator pinches grains of rice between his fingers and continues to count aloud between sobs and hits from the paddle—each number spoken is more than just an acknowledgement of rice grains; but of his submission to Billy. 

Billy’s little murmurs of praise and sounds of pleasure make him feel high. Like his head is floating in the clouds.

He loves subspace. Wishes it were easier for him to reach and he didn’t have to be taken down so hard. But finally he feels the familiar edges of it and the tears fall faster as he lets himself go.

Gator sinks into the feeling of weightlessness as it rises up to take him. Billy maintains a rhythm that is both firm and considerate, attuned to Gator's responses—his body language, his breathing, his blown out pupils and slurred speech. 

This is no longer about punishment. It’s a guided breakdown.

As Gator’s cries begin to subside into quiet murmurs and his ability to speak leaves him, Billy lessens the intensity of his strikes until he stops altogether. 

“That’s enough. You were beautiful Baby.” Billy halts Gator’s hands woozly still trying to lift rice and the sub sags against him. “You’re always so good for me baby boy.”

He brushes his fingertips along Gator's heated skin, tracing the raised welts along his buttocks and thighs softly, and making him shiver. Gator’s mouth stretches in a dopey lopsided smile, beaming from inside and out. He soars. Works his mouth to ask Billy to do it again - he can take more - but can’t get past the mushmouth.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and leather, the only sound now the quiet thud of Billy’s heart and Gator’s shaky breaths.

Hands roam over Gator’s back and legs, soft, soothing caresses that glide over his flushed skin. Billy leans close, his breath warm against the nape of Gator’s neck, whispering reassurances that float through his head like feathers.

The shift is gentle, a tender transition as Gator's breathing evens out and his trembling subsides. Billy’s hands are confident, knowing exactly where to touch to bring Gator back from the intense high of subspace. With each calculated stroke on his back and whisper against his ear, Gator feels the ground slowly come back under him, the weightlessness dissipating as reality takes hold once more.

Billy finally eases back, giving space for Gator to gather himself in the afterglow of their session. He cups Gator’s face tenderly, wiping away the trails left by tears with his thumbs. 

“Talk to me, Gator. What’s been eating at you?”

The use of his real name pulls Gator further out of his dazed state. He blinks slowly, focusing on Billy’s concerned face, grounding himself. “I... I’m scared,” he admits, voice still hoarse.

“Scared of what?” Billy probes gently, petting the long side of Gator’s hair now.

“I’m scared I’m not enough for you,” he confesses, dropping his gaze to where their fingers are entwined. He knows the words will hurt Billy. Make his dominant frown in the middle of his brow and start thinking of all the ways Neil Hargrove used to tell him he was a waste of space - too broken and wrong to ever take proper care of a sub. Nothing could be further from the truth. But if there’s one thing Gator knows it’s daddy issues and how they can haunt you.

But to his surprise Billy’s expression doesn’t change. He just nods quietly, still petting Gator’s hair. “Why would you think that?”

Gator hesitates, lips parting but no sound coming out. He swallows hard and shrugs.

“Listen to me Baby.” Billy says after a moment, fisting Gator’s hair between his fingers and tugging until he brings his eyes up. “You’re what I want. You. Even when you’re being a greasy dirtbag leaving your shit everywhere and blaring your candyass music.”

“Hey, lay off my Skyfire man.” Gator can’t help but smile, because Billy’s lips have curved up in amusement and they’ve had this argument a dozen times or more and it just makes him feel so good, that Billy pays attention to which albums he gravitates to depending on his moods. “They aren’t candy. Fractal is the best album produced since Reign In Blood.”

“Why are we talking about fucking Slayer, or Skyfire, right now when Ride the Lightning exists?” Billy growls, tugging on Gator’s hair until his scalp stings just the sweetest bit. “I should beat your ass again just for that.“

“Yeah. If you wanna.” he pants, eager, and Billy’s smiling mouth kisses him, hot and hungry. Billy licks into Gator’s mouth, possessive and sweeping, until he whimpers. The dom nips at his plump lower lip with a grin before pulling back.

“Don’t think you realize how sore you’re gonna be when you come down off this high babe.” He says. “But you heard me right? When I said I loved you? Cause I do. I wasn’t about to lose you before over shitty timing, and I’d never let anything take you from me now. Not Dot. Not him. Not anyone or anything. Okay?”

Gator shivers, but even the mention of his father can’t intrude on the blanket of safety Billy has woven around him, the sure way his gaze holds Gator and rings with truth.

“Yeah.” he sighs, breathless.

“Yeah?”

But it’s not good enough, according to Billy’s tightening grip. And fuck that feels good. Gator is suddenly aware of how hard he is in his briefs, but it’s strangely distant. Like he’d be happy to just sit here hard for another hour or more, letting Billy play with him.

“Yes Billy.”

“Good boy.” Billy's voice is soft, infused with a warmth that seeps into Gator's bones, coaxing his tight muscles to loosen.The room around them—their living room with its deep blue walls and plush gray couches— disappears momentarily, focusing all existence on their intimate bubble.

Billy lifts Gator’s chin so their eyes meet. "Nah nah, stay up for me Baby boy. I need you present." His thumbs brush under Gator’s eyes, rubbing warmth into his skin while he waits for Gator’s eyes to focus. "I think it’s time I show you something," Billy continues, when Gator’s gaze is clear once more.

"In the bedroom," Billy instructs softly, "In my sock drawer, there's a small white box. I want you to go and bring it to me."

Gator feels a jolt run through him. It shocks him rather unpleasantly back to reality, like he’s been dropped from a short height.

“Wait what?” he tries to ask, tries to think, because Billy can’t be hinting at what his muddled brain is trying to convince him he is. Can he?

“Shh. Don’t ask questions.” Billy warns. “And absolutely no peeking either. Just go get it.”

Gator’s movements are slow and automatic as he stands and makes his way down the hallway. This isn’t happening. Well obviously it is, he is on his way to their bedroom to open Billy’s drawer - which is strictly hands off unless he has permission - and get some mysterious box. But it’s probably like some new toy they can enjoy together. Maybe Billy went out and finally got those chains Gator found on that web store, the ones with the studs that dig into your wrists the more you struggle? He’s going to feel so owned wearing those. It’s gonna be great.

He’s convinced himself down off the ledge by the time he gets to the bedroom, but his heart hasn’t gotten the memo because it starts going double time in his chest as he reaches for Billy’s drawer. It slips open smoothly under his fingers which are trembling slightly. From fear or excitement, he isn't sure.

Inside lies a small white box, unassuming in its simplicity yet Gator just stands there and stares at it like it’s a bomb for a full minute before lifting it from its nest among Billy's socks. The weight of potential futures presses down upon him as he clutches the box in his hands.

He should be a good boy. He can just turn and go back into the living room and - Fuck it! Gator’s not kidding anyone. Least of all himself.

Before he knows it, Gator has torn off the ribbon and lifted the lid on the box to peek inside.

And there lies a beautiful black leather collar, its surface smooth and flawless except for the bold engraving of 'GATOR' studded across it in shining silver letters.

Gator stares at it in disbelief, eyes flooding with fresh tears. His heart trips over itself in his chest, thrumming against his ribcage like a caged bird desperate for flight.

The room is silent except for the sound of Gator's shallow, ragged breathing. Gator runs his fingers over the cool, shining letters that form his name, the studs scraping against the pads of his fingers sending tingles through him.

He lifts the collar, feeling its weight in his hands. It's heavier than it looks. He brings it closer, inhaling deeply—the leather smells rich and earthy. It’s the good shit. Supple and strong enough to take some serious pull, and yet the inside of the collar is lined with soft velvet, ensuring his comfort.

Something white resting on the blue lining of the box catches Gator’s eye. It’s a folded card, its crisp edge nearly taller than the sides of the box. Gently plucking it up, Gator flicks it open and scans, eyes widening at the one word message inside.

Peeker!

An unexpected burst of laughter escapes him as he wipes away tears. The simple word on the card speaks volumes, but so does Billy’s presence in their bedroom doorway where Gator finds him leaning when he looks up.

Billy is gazing at Gator with an intense mixture of emotions.

"Do you like it?" he asks, and there’s something like worry there. As if Gator might actually have shit for brains and do all that stupid stuff he’d told Dot he’d do back when he was scared shitless. All because he’d convinced himself that Billy wasn’t true - that he’d disappear like every other good thing has.

“Yeah.” Gator sniffs through his red nose, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. “Shit man. How long have you had this?”

“Since right after your birthday actually.” Billy confesses with an easy shrug. Like he isn’t just standing there admitting that he bought a collar for Gator and has been hanging onto it since September.

“Billy! It’s fucking March!”

“I know! I thought if I forbid you from going through my drawer eventually you would. I know what you’re like.” Billy said. Meaning of course he knows that no matter what, Gator eventually messes up.

But Billy says, “I guess I underestimated what a good boy I’ve got, huh?” with this soft look in his eye, like he’s looking at the best sight in the world and not his fuckup boyfriend standing in the middle of their bedroom in his tighty-whities.

Gator might be melting a little, which is why he has to sit down heavily on the bed before he crumples.

“Hey Billy?”

“Yeah, Babe?”

“I’m your sub…” Gator begins and Billy laughs, the sound loud and full of joy instead of mockery.

“No shit?”

“Come on, Billy please. Don’t be mean.” Gator whines, lifting the hand still holding the collar wordlessly and Billy finally takes pity on him and crosses the room to take it from him. Gator trembles, straightening up and bending his neck a little to give Billy room as he claps it on. He gasps a little, shuddering when Billy leans back and the heavy weight settles against his skin.

"You’re my sub," Billy repeats with finality."With or without this. But when you wear this, I want you to remember," he pauses for effect, letting his fingers softly caress down Gator’s neck and over the dark leather. "You’re my gift. The love you give me, makes me Gator, and I thank whatever lucky stars I’ve got that you came into my life when you did. Okay?"

A simple nod is all Gator manages in response; it’s all that’s needed. The smile that spreads across Billy's face is radiant—as if a piece has clicked into place within him too.

Carefully, lovingly, Billy cradles his chin and pulls him into a kiss.

It tastes sweet… like buttercream icing.

[outrunningthedark]

It must be hard for you as a BT shipper to defend Lou, because you guys HAVE to do that. But also be an RG worshipper because the BTs hate RG. Whatever will you do and what man will you protect?

LOL @ the two sides being unable to coexist because you can't separate fiction from reality. Lou is not Tommy. Ryan is not Eddie. -> Lou doesn't deserve to deal with fandom bullshit just for taking a job. People loved him when they thought he was being a #BuddieWarrior by saying nice things after 7x04. Now that he's not gone he's being called a pariah on set. I guess we're dismissing the part where Kenny said he and Lou have stayed friends since they met back in season two? Kenny has bad taste in friends, then? But he's also friends with Ryan, so...make that one make sense for me. Either they both suck or they both have secretly good qualities. -> Ryan doesn't deserve to have his opinions outright ignored because of a headcanon nor does he deserve to be called homophobic when he's not saying EXACTLY what people want to hear. (Was that really so hard? Or do you just not bother trying?)

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - chapter two | the lights are so bright but they never blind me

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.1k

summary: you have to adjust to life in the public eye as ben’s supposed girlfriend...and ben has to adjust to the sight of you wearing his chelsea kit to a game

A/N: thanks for more lovely messages, they really encourage me to update faster lol! i’m sorry this one’s a bit shorter, the next update will definitely be longer 😌 chapter title is from welcome to New York

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The morning after the gala, you wake up in Ben’s guest room feeling relaxed and refreshed.

You always seem to get a better sleep when you stay at his, though you’re not sure if that’s due to his comfy mattress and expensive sheets or the fact that he lives out in Cobham and it’s significantly quieter than your own flat.

This state of relaxation lasts for about five minutes, or until you get a text from your friend Valerie asking if you’ve been on Twitter today.

Bracing yourself, you open the app and already see Ben’s name trending.

You’ve gained some followers over the years when Ben has posted you on his socials, but it’s nothing compared to the way people are currently talking about you all over the internet.

It’s not just on Twitter - your Instagram following count has already grown exponentially, and your comments are filled with everything under the sun, from praise to cruelty.

You know Ben gets shit like this all the time, and Mia warned you it would be coming your way, but it’s still surreal to read about yourself online.

Especially when none of it is true. Even the nice tweets about what a lovely couple you make are based on a lie.

You can’t resist going down the rabbit hole for a few minutes, reading pages of tweets from Ben’s fans speculating about your relationship, some negative and some positive. Eventually, you can feel your brain starting to hurt, and you know it’s in your best interest to shut your phone off for a while.

Begrudgingly, you force yourself to get out of bed and face the day. You make your way downstairs in your pyjamas, stretching your arms out as you enter the kitchen.

Ben is already awake, like he usually is at this time, and he’s standing by the stove in joggers and an old Nike sweatshirt, flipping pancakes that you know are not a part of his diet plan.

“Pancakes?” you question, startling Ben a bit as he turns to face you.

“Morning,” he says with a small smile. “Yeah, with blueberries. They’re for you. Figured it’s the least I could do since-“

“Since I’m being torn apart online by football fans?” you joke - or, at least, you mean it as a joke.

Ben’s face falls, his eyes wide with concern, and he sets down the spatula to walk over to you.

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” he says seriously. “I didn’t know it would be like this. I’ve obviously never had a real girlfriend before, so I didn’t think about it.”

“Ben, it’s-”

“I called Shreya as soon as I saw everything and had her prepare an exit strategy, she’s already confirmed our relationship to the press but she thinks we can back out of it if-“

“Ben,” you say a bit more firmly, placing a hand on his arm. “Why would we need to back out of this? Does she not think it’s working?”

Ben just blinks at you for a moment before shaking his head. “Well, no, actually. Apparently I’m getting great press from it, and you’re the one getting all the shitty comments. But I-”

“I’m fine with it, then,” you shrug. “I’ll just make my Instagram private, you know I don’t really care about social media anyways. I’ll be fine.”

Ben still doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure? I hate the thought of you having to read that crap,” he mumbles. “I’m used to the pricks, but you shouldn’t have to be.”

“It’s fine, Ben, I swear,” you insist, squeezing his shoulder. “Actually, some of your fans seem to like me. Or they like that I supposedly keep you grounded or whatever bullshit Shreya fed the press.”

“Well, that part’s not total bullshit,” Ben says with a small smile that makes your cheeks flush slightly. “Thank you again for doing this. And you can still change your mind at any time, you know.”

“I know,” you say, mirroring his smile. “Now hurry up before you burn my pancakes.”

“Oh, shit!”

-

By the next weekend, you’ve gotten pretty used to “dating” Ben.

You go private on your socials as you discussed, with the official statement from Ben’s publicist being that you two ask for privacy as a new couple. Naturally, this only makes everyone more interested, including the media.

As Shreya hoped, the headlines now describe Ben as a “man in love” and someone ready to “settle down with a nice girl.” There are tabloid articles with pictures of you two - some from before you were even pretending to date - and all the information they could dig up on you, including your job.

It’s all a bit weird, but the weirdest part is definitely when you have to actually corroborate your story of being Ben’s girlfriend. Which, as far as everyone outside your inner circle is concerned, you now are.

It definitely feels strange lying when, for example, one of the doctors you work with congratulates you on your relationship. (Turns out her son is a Chelsea fan and she wants to know if you could ask him to sign a kit or something, which you promise to make happen.)

You’re relieved when the only event you have to attend this weekend is Ben’s game, which you would’ve gone to anyways. You’re also going with his sister Alex, who is obviously in on the whole thing, which makes it easier.

She meets you at your flat, which is conveniently only about ten minutes away from Stamford Bridge on the tube, an hour before the game.

After you tightly embrace Ben’s sister, who is like a younger sister to you as well, she grins and passes you a small gift bag.

“You got me a present?” you ask in confusion.

“It’s not from me, it’s from Ben,” she chuckles. “He also said to say he’s sorry and that it was Shreya’s idea.”

You open the bag and pull out a familiar article of clothing - a brand new Chelsea shirt with Ben’s name on the back.

Of course, as Ben’s girlfriend, it would make sense that you be wearing his kit.

“Oh, god, let me go change.”

Once you’ve replaced the plain blue t-shirt you were wearing with the shirt Ben sent over, you walk back out and find Alex with an amused look on her face.

“How do I look?” you ask a bit sarcastically as you do a twirl.

“Like a proper WAG,” Alex laughs. “Let’s go, my future sister-in-law.”

You groan as Alex grabs you by the arm and you depart for the match.

Although you’ve come to see Ben play at the Bridge more times than you can count, you have never felt this many eyes on you as you make your way to your seats. There are people not-so-subtly taking your photo as you walk up, probably made all the worse by the Chilwell kit you have on - though you suppose that’s the point.  

The match begins, and you cheer at the top of your lungs for Chelsea, just as you have from the day Ben signed for them. You never really cared that much about football, and you didn’t support any particular club growing up, but you’ve always been Ben’s number one fan.

Today, he’s playing well, making you as proud as ever. It’s not hard to pretend to be the supportive girlfriend when every flawless pass or run forward has you leaping out of your seat with unrestrained enthusiasm.

At half-time, Chelsea are up by 1 against Newcastle, and you and Alex are happily chatting and catching up over a beer.

“I saw all the pics of you guys at the gala on Twitter,” Alex says with a smirk on her face, lowering her voice so nobody overhears. “I know it’s weird to say since you’re basically part of the family, but you actually look quite good together.”

“Ew, Alex, there’s no way,” you insist, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks. “He’s…Ben.”

Alex just laughs and drops the subject as the game resumes and the boys come back out of the tunnel.

Around the 85th minute, with the score now tied 1-1, Ben comes running up the side and makes an excellent pass to Conor, who scores and secures the win. You jump out of your seats to cheer as the guys celebrate on the pitch, you rolling your eyes with affection as Ben and Conor jump up and down with excitement.

The whistle blows shortly after with Chelsea leaving victorious, and you and Alex make your way down to the tunnels to meet up with Ben. With this being their fourth win in a row, the atmosphere at the Bridge is electric, a far cry from last year’s rough season.

It’s so nice to see Ben so happy again, and the smile on his face only seems to grow tenfold when he spots you and Alex making your way over to him.

You can’t resist picking up your pace to a light jog as you move toward him, and his arms are already open to pull you into a tight hug that lifts your feet off the ground and makes your heart soar in a similar fashion.

“That assist was brilliant,” you murmur into his shoulder before he sets you down.

Ben pulls away, still beaming at you, his sweaty hair curled down over his forehead.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiles, his eyes wandering to the shirt you’d almost forgotten you were wearing.

It’s not the first time you’ve worn his kit - his England debut and the Champions League final come to mind - but those were special occasions, with the rest of his friends and family wearing it too. This is obviously different, and although Ben sent it over for you to wear, his eyes are locked to you like he’s trying to memorize every thread of the fabric.

You can’t figure out why he seems so transfixed, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before you’re interrupted.

Alex clears her throat, snapping Ben out of whatever trance he was in, and he pulls her in for a hug.

“So, to celebrate the win and Ben’s assist, I’m thinking he should take us out for a nice dinner?” Alex suggests, smiling and nudging your arm.

“Shouldn’t you be buying me dinner?” Ben raises an eyebrow. When you both just laugh, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll go shower, you make a reservation somewhere.”

After you and Alex have picked out the fanciest-looking sushi place you could find online and collected Ben from the changing rooms, you make your way to his car. Just like after every game, the paparazzi are out trying to get videos and photos of the players leaving the stadium.

This time, however, most of the attention seems to be directed at you.

The lights begin to flash the moment you exit the building, and Ben reaches down to take your hand without a second of hesitation. Whether it’s to flaunt your “relationship” further or just to comfort you, you’re not sure, but it’s definitely working either way.

“Y/N, did you enjoy the match today?”

You know you don’t have to answer any of their questions, but you’d rather not be branded as cold or rude as the media loves to do when a woman ignores them.

So you squeeze Ben’s hand and nod, smiling at the man recording you.

“Of course, the team played really well.”

“And what did you think of Ben’s performance?” they fire back at you.

“He was amazing,” you say without missing a beat. “I always love watching him on the pitch.”

You can see Ben smiling at you as you speak - a genuine smile that you know has nothing to do with the cameras surrounding you - but he startles you slightly when he leans in to peck your cheek and lets his lips linger there for a moment. They’re soft and warm against your skin, and you feel significantly colder when they pull away.

You’ve clearly spurred on the media even more with this sudden display of affection, but Ben begins to pull you along with him and help you into the car before either of you has to answer any more questions.

You breathe out a sigh of relief as you settle into the passenger seat, Ben and Alex entering the car moments later.

“Nice show, you two,” Alex laughs, obviously still amused by the sight of you and Ben pretending to be a couple.

“You okay, Y/N?” Ben asks, looking over at you. “Sorry if the cheek kiss was too much. I know it’s a bit awkward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “It’s fine. Of course it’s gonna be awkward sometimes, but as long as it’s helping with the PR plan, right?”

Ben nods gratefully and smiles at you once more before asking Alex for directions to the sushi place.

You’re grateful for her chatting away about how hungry she is, and for the song Ben is playing loudly through the speakers as you drive to the restaurant, both of which are helping to distract you from how alarmingly not awkward this all feels.

A/N: let me know what your thoughts are after this chapter!! things start to heat up in the next one i promise ;)

tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans​ @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe​ @batmansb1tch​ @ncentic​ (let me know if you would like to be added!)

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - eighty-three | honey pot

QuackIsWhack: Everything is set up. Are you recording? 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: Screen and audio are a go QuackIsWhack: You ready? 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: Yeah

The Discord ‘Incoming Call’ overlay popped up onto your screen.

QuackIsWhack: Punctual. If I didn’t hate him already, I’d like him 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: lol

You answered. “Hello?”

Silence for a few seconds.

🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: This is terrifying 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: My heart is racing, dude QuackIsWhack: Yeah, mine too

“Hello? Are you there?” You asked again.

More silence.

QuackIsWhack: Maybe he’s setting up a voice changer or something? 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: idk

“I’m here.”

His voice sounded normal. And it was the voice you remembered hearing when he came to the café to try and talk to you. Your skin crawled.

QuackIsWhack: I was afraid you weren’t going to talk to me

“Oh, there you are. I was afraid you weren’t going to talk to me.”

“Sorry. My computer is old.”

🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: Wtf does that have to do with anything QuackIsWhack: Bullshit, how is he making all those videos then

“Oh, that sucks… I’m sorry.”

“... It’s okay.”

“So… you kept showing up to my job, huh?”

“... Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you just say it was you?”

“... I don’t know.”

QuackIsWhack: Are you shy?

“Are you shy?”

“I don’t know… maybe.”

“Well… you don’t have to be shy around me. You could have said ‘hi.’”

Silence for a few moments, maybe he was thinking. Wondering why you were being so nice to him. Hopefully he didn’t think about it too hard.

“But… we’re not supposed to know what you look like.”

“Well, yeah-- I kind of felt betrayed…”

QuackIsWhack: TOO FAR QuackIsWhack: It made me sad QuackIsWhack: That you found out

“--you… kind of made me sad.” You tried your best to sound like you were pouting, instead of how furious you actually were. 

“Oh…”

“Like, I don’t know. I guess it just made me sad, is all.”

“I’m sorry.”

QuackIsWhack: THANK HIM

“Thank you… for apologizing.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence for a few moments.

QuackIsWhack: We need to get him in person

You thought for a few seconds. “So…” 

“Can we still meet? In person?”

“Oh…”

“I apologized.”

QuackIsWhack: God, he’s PATHETIC 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: He’s surprisingly easy

“You’re right, you did apologize.”

“Yeah.”

QuackIsWhack: CRETINOUS LITTLE SHIT

“Yeah… we can meet in person.”

“Can I come to your house?”

QuackIsWhack: UMMM??? 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: OH GOD QuackIsWhack: OF COURSE NOT 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: OF COURSE ABSOLUTELY NOT

“Oh, I was thinking we could go out. Like, to the park or on a picnic or something?”

“A park?”

“It’s been so nice outside lately and I spend all my time inside.”

“You have your job.”

You laughed softly. “Where I’m working. I want to, like, go out and have fun.”

“Oh…”

“I mean…”

QuackIsWhack: BE THE BITCH, CAT QuackIsWhack: YOU CAN DO IT

You hated manipulating people, you hated lying; after all the years of abuse from the Terror Triplets in school, how could it be a thing you could possibly like?

But you remembered an Ethics book you had checked out of the library in high school that had a quandry: Many people would agree that lying is bad and that you should always tell the truth - something you agreed with - but if you were presented with an instance where lying would protect someone, or protect you, would that make it okay to lie?

Of COURSE it would. Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire, and getting the man who’s been stalking you both in your digital life and your real life for months now into a spot where you can get evidence against him so the cops will actually do something?

Dear god, you hated lying.

But this was in the interest of self-preservation. And to think you had finally ended your fake relationship, free from subterfuge for only a brief moment before you were pulled back in…

You were going to lie like a comatose feline after they scarfed down their dinner. 

🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH QuackIsWhack: YOU CAN DO IT

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“What?”

“Mmm… you apologized, but you don’t want me to have fun outside… I don’t think you really care about me.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.” 

“I do. I do care about you.”

“Then let’s have fun outside.”

“I don’t think we should go outside--”

“See? I told you you don’t.” You pouted.

He sighed. “...Okay.”

“Yay!” You said as happily as you possibly could. “I’ll message you the day and time.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“Okay.” He sounded happy. Like a schoolboy blushing at the sight of his crush.

“Okay, I have to get ready to stream now. Will you watch me?”

“Ah-- yeah, I’ll watch you.”

“Okay!” You turned up the cuteness. “Baibai!”

“Bye.”

You ended the call.

   previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: Live Quack Reaction, lol. So anyway, y/n is doing *this* shit now… 

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @dinossaurz • @conwunder • @tinyelfperson​ • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​ •

[nozomijoestar]

LIFTING THE SPOILER WARNING ON THIS POST FOR LAUNCH DAY

Here's my initial analysis and thoughts on Asuka's ending (character episode) in Tekken 8

caught yearning in 1080p

handsome

thinking abt getting students now that the Zaibatsu ate shit (btw you don't find out the Zaibatsu is pretty much on track to being done with no leader again, which is why they continue the tournament presumably after the final battle unless you look through the character episodes, not the main story, for some fucking reason)

Asuka finally smiled at her accepting her and the feeling is mutual, this ending had great role reversal in the sense instead of previously only getting clear insight into Lili's feelings and thoughts now we're openly getting them from Asuka in response- she also felt tempted to give in to her old reaction first think later ways but here she's finally thinking before deciding it doesn't matter why, she enjoys fighting Lili and she finally seems to recognize what Lili's schemes are about on a level (wanting Asuka's attention and getting back at her for having lost), this is the closest so far we've ever gotten to a "I like you too"

this is on top of the teasing and compliment she gave Lili's ability in the same scene, and also correcting Lili on the Kazama Motto Asuka learned, which only Asuka could have told her at some point suggesting further closeness

"Softness overcomes hardness" you two are (HOPEFULLY) starting to change your relationship to be softer (also the hilarious hypocrisy of Asuka BARELY being a person living by any softness in practice)

I love that she even refers to Lili as "That noble (rich) girl", an ojou-sama, which is far better than calling her by nothing or using a rude form of You (anta) as in the past (and generally she's given up calling Lili by rude terms be it in the story mode or otherwise including Shaheen's ending, which is honestly more about AsuLili than him lol, it's also incredible seeing Asuka glad Lili's life was protected and joking about Lili being a handful with someone else)

And despite provoking Asuka in a very shitty way reminiscent of Feng, the premise of this ending is Asuka beating Lili at the tournament so Lili will honor her word of putting Asuka's dojo back the way it was before she bought it- which Lili does after losing rather than refuse out of spite, even if she then uses taking it in a fight to provoke Asuka again, it's nice that she IS willing to listen to Asuka when it comes to promises

honestly if you cut the entire scene into only my screenshots here it still looks so fucking gay

Video source ( @ 1:03 )

This is the de-facto best Asuka ending yet, at last she's happy, hopeful, not confused, and at some form of peace and connection in her life

ALSO ASUKA DIDN'T CALL LILI A DINGBAT SHE CALLED HER AHOU (Idiot/Moron) LIKE ALWAYS AND IT WAS SOFT THIS TIME 😭😭😭😭

Plus Asuka might finally get the dojo back up and become the next leader with Jin's image being fixed and thus how people would see Asuka since they're related, as well as the current war being over- though Reina's new devil bullshit will probably ruin this in the future

EDIT: I FORGOT TO MENTION

PAIR OF BIRDS; BIRD MOTIF FOR KAZAMAS RETURNS

I doubt these are Jun's birds specifically it's more likely just symbolic of Asuka and Lili if it means anything at all. Also doesn't have to specify meaning lovebirds, in general their characters will always be put together. But it is funny how Jun's birds always appear to show her connection to someone she loves, so there could be a parallel here that Asuka's bird imagery would represent the same sense of connection. If it is a visual metaphor for lovebirds though by the time we get Tekken 9 then, the cinema of it all.

ALSO Harada has said Jun attracts animals because of her spiritual mastery over martial arts. She's at a level of power where animals don't run because of sensing her aura; she can suppress her fighting spirit. With how at peace AND in control of herself Asuka is in this ending, maybe the birds imply she can move in a similar direction from here on. And it makes sense too because Asuka has returned to a state of equilibrium now that she doesn't have the stress of the world being in chaos affecting her. As a person who prefers being in control, she's back to feeling some control over her life.

----

THINGS I DIDN'T LIKE:

1. It's great that the tone of their relationship is now friendlier, but like in story mode and other places they appear as a pair, we're never shown anything on how they started transitioning from fighting all the time to agreeing to listen and partner up in general, nevermind during a global war they're supposed to have their own personal stakes in beyond not wanting to die (those personal stakes ended up being entirely irrelevant anyway which is it's own problem)

There's a problem present where you're shown the end result of an emotional shift with none of the journey or even a simple scene explaining how they got there, much like the main story and other characters in general many plot points and character changes are resolved off screen showing only the results with no explanation the majority of the time. In the main story this gets even more egregious because even how a character knows specific information usually doesn't get explained at all either unless it relates to Jin understanding the devil gene. This writing makes a lot of things simply happen like it's checking off a list.

In essence, WHERE is a scene connecting Asuka who did nothing but fight Lili and get pissed with her to the Asuka who's tolerant of her, is more catty and accepting than outright angry, is now willing to joke and play around with her, who taught Lili the Kazama Motto she learned (though I guess this one you can say Lili found it while looking up Asuka's family, something we ALSO don't get Asuka's thoughts on beyond surprise) and so on

2. The fact this scene ends with provoking another fight, as much as I like that it's friendly now, isn't the best direction. This fits again into problem 1; there's no on screen room to let these characters breathe and illustrate what made them change now to the viewer. There's no fresh angle given about their relationship outside fighting or even a new approach on their relationship within it. There's no pause in the formula which many people are tired of (and people are already back to calling Asuka a useless piece of shit who's a complete fucking joke, and I can't really blame them entirely because on a surface level all they see is the exact same situation as it's been for twenty years of cutscenes).

Also the logic of having this scene exist is confusing in itself. Nothing in the game story clarified if Asuka sat the tournament out or did participate but was eliminated and decided to follow Lili's progress in Rome as a spectator. A scene explaining either of those would give better weight and context to this one.

3. Zero mention of Asuka's father or his current condition

4. Having Lili imitate what Feng Wei did to dojos like Asuka's is the cruelest way she's ever provoked her. Whereas before it was often ridiculous, silly, and teasing, involving an event that led Asuka to spiral adds something uncharacteristically spiteful toward her from Lili's end. Insofar as what Lili has previously used to get her attention anyway. Keeping Asuka's trauma out of it has always seemed to be a line Lili was willing to respect. And it's off too because this is happening when they're supposed to be becoming friends/are friends now. It's too personal to be brushed off the way it is.

The only way I can rationalize it is if Asuka has let go of her anger towards what Feng did in part (but she still has a special intro where she wants to attack him on sight saying they finally meet so, I don't fuckin know, that may as well have been included as an easter egg if they're gonna do nothing with it) or she never really gave enough of a shit about the entire thing in the first place. You can make a loose argument using prior games to show Asuka never really cared about the revenge aspect as much- but her behavior sorta contradicts this at the same time. So really who fucking knows. Based on how she reacts here I guess it's not a big deal at this point cuz she doesn't get mad and jumps into messing around with Lili like a friend anyway.

Maybe this could be explained too by whatever made them act friendly now in the first place, but again we never saw that. So instead it comes out worse than if we knew.

5. WHY THE FUCK DID THEY MENTION THE ENTIRE MAIN KAZAMA FAMILY WAS ELIMINATED BY OGRE IN THE STORY MODE THEN HAVE THE NEWS NOT IMPACT ASUKA AT ALL

We also never see them discuss what Lili knows about the family in any depth between themselves

Viva le sex gay I guess but now I have more questions than answers and that's a problem when the game acts like I've been given answers it never provided. I got something I wanted but with nothing to show for it.

EDIT 1/27/2024 : However that won't discount that I do love what I received and the potential it represents; I adore this shit.