#and it’s a catch 22 because if I had the money I could do the work but if I could do the work people would be more likely to pay me money

[lacewise]

Btw, if I ever say anything particularly insightful or helpful to you I do have a Ko-Fi.

It’s here.

Don’t, even, like, worry about it but it is THERE.

[sugarverse]

𝕞𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣

word count: 4.8k

dilf!tenya iida x babysitter!reader

warning: dilf! iida, praise!kink, size!kink, pet names, smut like almost immediately, iida is 43 yummy. reader is 22 and in school :) listen headcanons are headcanons if you don't like it, scram 👵🏾��🏾

It was almost 8pm on a Wednesday. Not that you minded, but your boss wasn’t the type for such late plans. What could be the reason he’s leaving? Does he have a date? You question, a small frown coming to your face as you packed some things to study over at his house. His daughter was probably one of the coolest 4 year olds you had ever babysat, well mannered and just a world of silly. There would be times you had to remind Ingenium there was still pink paint on his nails, or that he had glitter all over one of his ties because Melody thought “dad needed some fairy magic!”. You knock on the door to their home, fumbling with your rings. It was still very nerve racking to stand in front of such a big house. You weren't used to it, but the pay was something you could get used to.

"Good evening y/n, Sorry I needed you on such short notice. They told me there are some after action reviews that hadn't been updated..." He grumbled, a vein from stress in his forehead as he forced a smile through the annoyance. He pushed his glasses up, shaking his head to himself before pulling out his wallet and counting a few 20s in front of you. He handed it to you with a more sincere smile. “Thank you for always being there when I need you, y/n.”

Before you could answer, you hear a pair of small footsteps running down the hall towards you. “Y/nnnn!!” Melody comes running up to you, fake fries in one hand while a barbie was dragged in the other. She put her arms up to the best of her abilities, offering her fries out to you. 

You smile wide at the little girl, quickly folding the money and sliding it into the pocket of your bag and taking the fries. “These look so good! Do you have anything else for me?” The little girl nodded, running away to go find more.

"Take your time, I brought stuff to catch up on while me and Melody hang out!” You begin to set up in the dining room, sliding your shoes off at the door. It was spotless aside from the dollhouse next to the television, there were all kinds of toys hanging around it but what else could you expect?

He let out a deep chuckle before his wrist caught his attention. He huffed, poking around on the new Apple Watch he bought not too long ago. "I'll be back as soon as I can, it's just to refill out reports from lord knows how long ago." He was clearly irritated, mood changing as his daughter came running down the hall once more. 

He kneeled down to kiss Melody on the forehead, giving her a big hug. She hugged back, giggling and handing him the fake food as well. “Are you gonna play too?”

He frowned for a moment, shaking his head no. “Daddy has to go to work for a little bit. He'll be right back, But Miss l/n is going to have the best time with you.” He smiled, watching his daughter cheer and hug you next. He stood, wiping his knees off and leaning in to talk to you. “There's money on the table to order anything you're hungry for, I should be back in two hours.” And with that, he left.

It didn't take long for the toddler to get tired, only about an hour in and she was letting you tuck her in. You turned on her nightlight for her, watching stars cover the ceiling from the pillowpet she had. Her room was so colorful, you could just tell he'd do anything for her. It was incredibly sweet. You leave her door cracked upon her request, walking back into the living room to get started on your work. You put your hair up and out of your face, making sure everything was put away before you sat cross-legged in front of the glass coffee table before you.

The main reason you had been babysitting for The Turbo Hero, Ingenium, was to pay off the hell that is college. He paid you almost a thousand a week for watching his daughter. It wasn't like you didn't love her! She was easy to take care of. Never cried a lot, says funny stuff, lets you do her hair instead of running.. But the first reason had always been the money. Now? It might have been seeing her father come home with ruffled hair from combing his hands through it so much throughout the day.  Always in such an unresting state, irritated from the world just to come home and be so loving towards his daughter.. and quite frankly, you. There would be times you cooked for him as well as his daughter,  those were the nights he said he'd be home by a certain time and couldn't be.. which happened more than once a month. He always repaid you with more than just money, not that it was a big deal. You repeatedly told him it wasn't. But he was raised better than that. Other nights when he'd come home earlier, he'd ask you to stay for dinner.  Melody loved when you stayed longer so why wouldn't he?

Maybe he felt the same way I did?  You thought to yourself. Who am I kidding, Hes a Pro-Hero, he seems so engrossed with being perfect and keeping an outstanding reputation.. There was no way! He was older anyway, what would he want with his 22 year old babysitter.. You bit the sides of your mouth subconsciously, trying to focus rather than doodling in the margins and thinking of your boss. It was unprofessional. But that still didn't stop you from showing up in shorter clothes, wearing lip gloss from time to time to see if anything in the air changed. A man with money was the dream. But a man with money, a sweet heart, and towers over you? That's a different kind of blessing.

Tenya sat at his desk, groaning quietly as he slid a rough hand over the tip of his cock to cover it in his own precum. It helped the friction and helped him distress.. plus there was hardly time to unwind except in the comfort of his office. It was almost embarrassing. He let out a low groan, bucking his hips into his hand as he threw his head back. Teeth bit harshly on a navy blue tie, letting his mind wander. He had met hundreds of people throughout his life.. but no one as gorgeous.. As heavenly as his babysitter. Now that was embarrassing. The way he'd have to hide his erection when you wear that specific skirt, or the way he couldn't help but stare when your tits were out. 

Did you care that he could see? Did you just need someone to put you in your place? He thought about how he wouldn't mind.. bending that pretty little ass over his lap until you'd had trouble sitting for days. Maybe it would knock the common sense right back into that little brain of yours.There was no way you dressed like that by accident. The more he genuinely thought about it, the faster his hand moved.

Shuttering at the thought of you, he shut his eyes tightly. Thinking about the times you wore those too short shorts, Or being bent over to grab the remote that mysteriously fell as soon as he got there and had been ‘too far’ under the couch. Seeing you in those pretty blue panties you wore. It was on fucking purpose wasn't it? God. Why has it taken so long to put it together? He sees the looks you give him but he just thinks its in admiration and he could be confusing it but.. now he's sure that's not all behind your eyes.

He bit harder onto his tie, feeling his cock twitch as he came onto the bottom of his desk. His head began to spin, Having held in that orgasm a bit too long. He gave a small huff as he spit out his tie, looking down at his mess. He groaned, going to clean his mess with a tissue as he tucked himself back into his boxers. He was going to have a talk with you when he came home. He couldn't help bouncing his leg impatiently after cleaning up his mess. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. The little things.. like touching more than his hand to get his attention, touching his thigh to lean over and grab the remote. You had to have known you were being such a tease.. how could he be so blinded to see it.

By the time he was on the way home, You had gotten some studying done… Along with ordering food, washed some clothes for his daughter, emptied the dishwasher, and vacuumed. After counting what he had given you? You felt the extra things were almost necessary. You heard the keys jingle from the other side of the door as the lock finally clicked, watching the door open. And there was Ingenium, disheveled with eyes glossed over from under those sharp square glasses.. Tie already loose and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. 

“I'm sorry I didn't think it'd take..” He started before you cut him off, smiling and starting to close your notebook for school. 

“You don't have to apologize, Mr. Ii-..Tenya.” He had corrected you on it before, using first names was fine to make you feel more comfortable around him. It just wasn't often that you needed to say a name at all. You could hear him sliding his shoes off at the door, setting the keys in a bowl. He locked it after him as always, setting his tie against the couch as he undid his sleeve buttons.

"Do you mind staying a bit longer? I need to talk to you." He shined a smile at you as he watched you nod, you had just begun to get up but your butt landed right back in the spot you'd been in. He walked past the couch and to his daughter's room, shutting it slowly so it didn't wake her. He then went across the hall to his own room to change into something comfier than a suit and tie.

It didn't take him long to change into an old white t-shirt, gray and black checkered pajama pants hanging onto his long legs. He walked into the living room, pulling his glasses off and wiping his face with his hand. "Y/n.?" He put his glasses back on to focus on your pretty grin, watching your thighs press themselves together as you sat up to prove he had every ounce of your attention.

"Your clothes are always very.." He huffed, looking up at the ceiling fan before right back at you. In your eyes, this time. "Your clothes are often too short for appropriate attire. It seems like every week or so your clothes get shorter and shorter. Are you trying to get my attention? Because now you have it." He couldn't believe the last few words coming from his mouth. Did he sound like a pervert talking to you like this? He wasn't trying to jump so far. He was just trying to let you know you really do have his attention. It's hard to focus as the day goes on, he thinks about you so much.. he thinks about what you'd say in certain situations, what kinda things you'd like when he stops for lunch. There have been plenty of times where you needed to accompany his pretty girl for the beginning of a field trip and he met in the middle of the day. You both would stay and Melody would have a ball.. He really couldn't stand when you weren't around.

You could feel your face flush, looking down at your outfit and tugging your shirt up slightly to cover your chest better.  "I.. I wasn't meaning to- It's just been very.. hot." That had some truth to it but your voice still cracked. Although it was hot, it didn't take away from the fact you were trying to at least see if he was into you.  Maybe he's not into-

"Come here, y/n." He stood with his arms crossed, his chest puffed out slightly. His ruby eyes followed your body until you stopped in front of him, watching you nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

"Do you think I don't notice when you bend over?" He grabbed your jaw with a large calloused hand, attempting to be gentle with firmness to his words. "How you look at me?" He could feel the blood rush to your face, not letting his eyes leave yours at this point. He leaned down a bit, not wanting to tower over and intimidate you too much. He wasn't actually upset. In fact…

"Do you think I could have you?" The Pro-Hero leaned down even more, rubbing his index finger across your bottom lip. He let his thumb and middle finger pucker your lips from gripping your face just a bit harder, feeling you nod in his hand as response. 

“p..please..” Was all you really could muster out before he slid his index finger into your mouth. You could hear him mumble some sort of praise, giving your temple a small kiss.

He didn't care about the small whimper you let out, loosening his grip on your face to slide in his middle finger. "Suck, sweetheart.." Letting the pads of his fingertips brush over your tongue sloppily. He watched as you involuntarily drooled all over your chin and his hand. "Good girl. You're so obedient for me already.." Tenya grazed his fingers over your teeth before shoving them deeper into your mouth, seeing you gag a bit with a smirk. 

You didn't mind the feeling, staring up at him as he began to stand up straight. He watched your pretty eyes fill with a few tears, starting to gag once again. You could feel him pull the digits from your mouth and replace them with his thumb. He cupped the side of your face and gave you a kiss on the opposite temple. "You're just so gorgeous." You shivered at the thought of him, Letting a few tears spill as you attempted to blink them away before trying to pull away from his hand. 

"I.. I wanna kiss.." You spoke quietly, feeling him tap the side of your face with his index finger. He let his 6'5 frame tower over you for a few extra seconds, leaning back down to press his lips against yours. You whimpered into his mouth before wrapping your arms around his neck since you were still having trouble reaching him. He lifted you into his arms, his hands holding your under thighs as he walked towards his bedroom. You slid your tongue into his mouth first, before he followed suit. 

You let out soft moans, squeezing him between your legs even tighter. You tried not to bite his tongue, sucking and swirling around it as you felt him sit onto his bed, pulling away only for a moment to leave room for words. "Are you okay with this y/n? Do you want this to go any further?" He cupped your face softly once more, breathing uneven and heavy but you knew by his tone that he meant it. "We can always stop my darling, I'd never wanna make you uncomfortable.."

You nod, scrambling to speak instead so he knew you were for certain. "Yes sir.. I want you.” You gave him a smile, watching as he kissed down your neck. You let out a happy sigh, squirming impatiently. He got the message, stripping your curves of the thin clothing that clung onto you.

His face burned at the sight of you, holding you closer to him by your hips. You could see him twitch inside of his pants, hands going to massage his scalp. He leaned into your touch for a moment, sighing in mostly relief as you slid to your knees and helped him out of his pajamas. 

“You're so sweet to me Tenya.. I'm so glad I can finally show you how much it means..” You teased, eyes focused on the navy blue trail with sprinkles of gray led down toward his cock. You started to feel nervous, looking at his length and then back up to his face. which was bright red, his mouth covered by his hand as his glasses hung from the edge of his nose. It sure was a sight to see. 

“Look at what you do to me, y/n..” He teased, his cock visibly twitching from the cold air in his home. You stared at him for a moment, feeling your legs press together tightly before sitting up on your knees.

You started closer to the base, licking upward to his tip before trying to fit him into your mouth. He rested a hand behind your head, massaging your scalp as you took as much as you could down your throat. He didn't want to force you, but he couldn't stand not watching you struggle. 

You started slow, bobbing your head and using your hand to make up for what couldn't fit in your mouth.  He let out a drawn out sigh,  head tilted back in enjoyment as he took a fistful of your hair. “You take me so w..well..” He laughed nervously, breathing starting to get uneven as you sped up. he didn't expect it, but gladly enjoyed it. He started shoving your head down gently, not pushing with much force but definitely pushing. 

You gag, rushing to move away from his cock before he told your head still. “Breathe- Breathe through your nose, pretty girl. ..That's it. Look up at me, hm?” He pulled your hair, tilting your head back enough that he could see those pretty brown eyes.

You blinked the tears out of your eyes, doing as asked. Your head spun from the lack of oxygen, but it was worth it to see him moan and buck at your touch. Especially when he talked so.. properly. And here you were, watching him crumble.

His mind was fuzzy. Thoughts everywhere as he let out noises of pleasure. Rocking his hips against his bed slightly to reach deeper in your throat. Once he reached where he wanted, he let out a sharp gasp. You watched his face contort, shoving your head down roughly as he chased his own orgasm selfishly. 

You moved your hands onto his legs, nails digging into muscled thighs as he abused your throat. You shut your eyes tightly, slobbering as gags and gulps came from you. He came quickly after speeding up, letting you go as you pushed away from his length. You cough, swallowing what you could as your tears fell onto the floor. It was a lot more than you thought, but definitely worth it.

Your nose scrunched at the taste, wiping your droll from your bottom lip with the back of your hand. You stared up at him, watching his cock twitch and stay hard even after all that. You whined at the sight, thinking about how sore your jaw is going to be. Before you can continue, he moved to sit up. He wiped the fucked look from his face, “Get on top of me, sweetheart.”

You got up slowly, feeling your legs shaking from sitting on them for so long. You ignored the ache, climbing over him and hovering over him carefully. Your eyes drifted to the detailing in his room, trying not to be too nervous. He held your hips to steady you, kissing your collarbone and leaning in to inhale your scent. 

He felt like it was almost addictive, nibbling and leaving small red kisses over your breasts. “Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away and looking up at you. His glasses were still tilted, trying to see you through the little bits he could.

You nod, hiding in his shoulder with a nervous laugh. “It's just a um.. a lot. is all..” You muster out, feeling his tip rub against your slit and against your entrance. He chuckled nervously,  rubbing your waist and ass slowly.

“You can do it my pretty girl. Come on, Try..” He pulled away from your chest, looking up at you to let you know how serious he was. If you couldn't do it, he'd stop and just eat you out. He gave you time to get used to it as he pushed in, watching your back arch and you squirm in his arms. He mumbled praises against your skin before bottoming out inside of you.

Your mouth hung open, whining at the friction. “O..Oh fuck- ohmygod..” You dig your nails into his shoulders until you feel comfortable enough to move, moans coming from both of you as you readjusted yourself. He rubbed your back in circles, letting you sit as long as you needed.

“That's it, like that..” He kissed your temple, feeling you slowly raise yourself and lower back onto him. His eyes fluttered, trying to concentrate on you. He hugged your waist tightly, grinding you down against him so your clit was simulated too. After a moment he decided you were moving too slow, bucking his hips up into you. “Come on y/n, Don't give up on me now. You can take it,” He encouraged, watching your face contort with pleasure. 

You could feel his skin under your nails as you drug them upwards against his shoulders. It was truly a lot. “I..Im trying sir..” You stutter out, biting your bottom lip and moving faster. He adored how gorgeous you were in his arms, wincing at your sharp nails and practically drooling as he pushed his face into your tits. You could feel his cold glasses smoosh against your skin, tangling manicured hands into his hair and holding him close.

It was definitely more intimate than you imagined, listening to the sounds your body made as you held each other so close. It was different from any other time you had had sex, besides what.. Maybe your first time? It felt nice for someone to be so loving behind it. He looked up at you, leaving small amateur hickeys for someone older than you. He moved his hands down to the curve of your ass, Big hands grip your ass, helping you take it just a bit more by moving into you at the same time. You were almost seeing stars.

“Does that..” He panted out, head moving back slightly so words could escape.  “Feel better?” He soaked in your facial expressions, watching you nod slowly and lay your head on his shoulder. He'll take care of you from here, you didn't have to overdo it. 

He made sure to stay steady, moving from your tits to stare into your eyes. He listened to your cunt squelch, looking down at your sexes before back at you. Your puffy lips tried to stay locked with his but you couldn't help but be loud. You hid your face into his shoulder to muffle yourself before he pushed you to sit down fully. “Let me see you angel, Just C..Cover your mouth..” He gave your temple another soft kiss, feeling you slowly sit back up to cover your mouth. 

Tenya stared at you with lust clouded eyes and a smirk. He groaned, tilting your hips upwards. He began doing all the work to fuck into you, wanting to watch come undone as he abused that poor sensitive spot so you could finally finish.  You covered your mouth with both hands, feeling as if the room was spinning as he held onto you. You tried your hardest to stay quiet, thighs already aching from the vast difference between your laps. 

You get louder behind your own hands, eyes rolling back as you came hard against his cock. Your body began to shake, laying your head onto his shoulder and staying in his touch. He stayed inside of you, letting out a deep chuckle. He stood with you in his arms slowly, turning to lay you on the bed instead. “Look at that pretty face.. I knew you'd make such expressive faces..” He held your legs against his chest as he slammed into you once more.

You raised your back off of the mattress, nails gripping onto the soft blue sheets. Your knuckles turned white, moaning into the pillow beside you. He held your ankle with his hand for a moment, kissing your legs softly as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. “Faster– ah sh..shit- harder..” You whine softly, trying to hold him closer with your legs. 

Iida was obviously close for a second time, his brow twitching as he concentrated on reaching deeper inside of you. He hugged your legs at your knees and slid your hips up towards his own. He moaned against your soft brown skin, kissing your calf. He began snaking a hand down your thigh, rubbing your clit so the two of you could cum together this time. You shut your eyes tightly, moaning into your hand or into his shoulder whichever was closest when you needed it. He sped up like you asked, watching you squirm under him with a very satisfied look in his eyes.

"Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me..” He stopped moving, holding your hips to stay still against his. He lightly touched your clit as he spoke, watching your eyes struggle to look up at him. “I want you to cum, y/n.. Watch you come undone for me..” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead softly before continuing his movements once more.

He let out low groans and grunts into your skin, hips moving desperately against yours. He stared into your eyes, strong hands keeping your knees pinned to damn near your shoulders. Your hands found their way to his back, tapping it slightly to let him know you were close like he wanted. Shoving his lips against yours, you could feel him slam into that spot before coming to a halt. You could feel him twitch inside of you, earning a whine as you came against his cock as well.

You clung to him as tight as you could, shaking from the stimulation as he slowly pulled your legs down. He chuckled, making sure to be slow when pulling out. “I..” He stuttered, ears turning pink as he stared down at the mess you two had made. “I couldn't help myself.. Apologies..” He said nervously, looking up at your face and holding it in his hands gently.

“Are you alright, angel?” He asked with genuine concern. You nodded, arms loosely hanging around his neck. He smiled, kissing your cheek and pulling away to stand. He lifted you into his arms, resting you against his abdomen as he walked down the hall. “Let's get you cleaned up..”

“My thighs are sore..” You mumble from his shoulder, giggling quietly and drawing swirls onto his soft skin. He frowned slightly, turning to kiss your cheek as he stared into the tub. He gave you a quick kiss, turning the hot water on and resting you on the side of the tub. 

“I'm sorry– Is that a good thing or bad?” He asked as he searched for towels in the linen closet. Once he found one, he wiped off his fogging glasses and grabbed some soap to pour into the tub. He wanted you to be as relaxed as possible, especially since none of this was planned and normally he is much more gentlemanly about wanting to have sex. Maybe he was overthinking it.

You shook your head no, giggling once more and leaning up to give his arm a kiss. “I prefer to be left that way..” You tease, watching his face turn all pink again. He set his glasses down on the counter next to the towels and continued to make the water juuuuust right. 

You spun your legs around, the smell of lavender filled the room. He stopped the water, kissing your temple and rubbing your back. You felt the warmth cover your body, sinking down into the big bathtub. You let your head stay above water, giggling and watching him get in as well.

This was something you could get used to.

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the bomb ass art boarders! will def be using them more :)

and thank you @fizziedoodle for the moodboard !!

[starboye]

Kinktober Day 22

starring: ross lynch x male reader

request: ross lynch x onlyfans creator!reader, reader is recording himself for his only fans and as he is fingering himself ross walks in to his room and sees his roommate knuckles deep so reader gets an idea and stands up invites ross to come join and ross jumps on to the bed and start rimming him and fucks him like a slut and after they finish ross puts a cute little diamond butt plug

warnings: smut, cursing, fingering, rimming, ass eating, rough sex, butt plug, sucking fingers???, slight degrading, fucked silly

with the way rent was rising in you apartment it was no surprise you got into the onlyfans business when you saw how much money it brought you and how many people enjoyed you content, and with living with ross being a singer and all it got the bills paid.

and with any other day like today you had to record some sexy stuff to post, so what better content then you fingering yourself, little did you know ross would be coming home early from the recording studio, ross knew what you did but never questioned it because as long as you were paying your half of the rent it was fine with him.

but imagine his surprise when he walked in on you fucking yourself with your fingers, moaning out like a slut as you went deeper and deeper with your fingers, he immediately feels a boner come on as you lean up and see him.

gasping in shock and wrapping yourself in a blanket "fuck hey ross" you try to play it cool but the shock on his face says anything but cool "h-hey y/n" he stammers covering his slightly big cock with his hands, striking and idea in your mind.

"you don't have to stand there you can come closer" you say in a sultry tone dropping the blanket and laying back on the bed, your hole out in full view for ross too see, the way it pulses open and closes was driving him insane, he wants to fuck you so bad now.

after a little battling in his mind he walks forward and lays his head in between your thighs, his breath fanning over your hole making you let out a tiny whimper that his ear catches, wanting to hear more of it he shoves his tongue into your hole.

you back arching in surprise as he works his tongue expertly inside you, your moans becoming louder and louder while the camera caught every moment of the sexy actions, your hand instinctively rushing to grip his hair tightly.

the more you pulled at his curls the rougher he ate you out which pleased you more and more, but just as you were about to cum he pulled away from you addicting but tasty hole "what the fuck ross i was right there" you complain but are immediately quiet when he pulls out his cock.

it was the size of your forearm and it was pulsing with veins "i have something so much better for you" you spread your legs wider as ross climbs up and puts himself in between them, he shifts your legs onto your chest and pin them against you.

he rubs his tip against your hole, even after the fingering and rimming you were still tight as a virgin, ross was going to have some fun with you "you ready" he asks and you shyly nod before he deeply thrusts into you making you cry out loudly, you could feel him in your guts.

"f-fuckkk ross it's to big" you moan gripping the sheets around you as ross pounded into you deeper and deeper, only thing leaving his mouth were moans and some heavy grunts while his fingers dug into your meaty thighs, trying to go deeper than he already was.

"do me a favor and shut up, im not leaving till you take my load" he shoved his fingers down your throat to which you eagerly drooled and sucked on like a lollipop, the more he fucked you the more brain cells you lost, slowly but surely drifting down a road to pure ecstasy.

"you like that huh, i bet your fans are gonna love this video" ross laughed at your dumb look, your tongue lolling out but still slightly sucking his fingers while your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your legs somehow now wrapped around ross's waist.

you wanted his cum bad and he could tell "you want me to fill you up" he asked but all you could get out were a bunch of sloppy mhm's and a lazy nod of your head which was enough to convince ross you wanted his warm load swimming in your stomach.

so with a couple more thrusts of his hips snapping into your ass he came in you with a drawled out groan, you were to fucked out to even tell what was happening, just whining out as you felt ross pull out of you before quickly returning with something in hand.

you felt him shove a butt plug in you before he grabs the camera to show the view he gets to see, your beautiful ass slightly swollen from the rough fucking with a nice diamond butt plug to keep his load snug in you, maybe even for him to fuck you later.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft@wompwomp-1mh3re

[aakeysmash]

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Warnings: a lot of yapping. Male masturbation. A bit of violence from Katsuki’s part when a guy tries getting in your pants.

Word count: this part is 2.4k, added to the others (part 1, part 2, part 3) it’s 8.9k.

Next part: part 5

"It's too hot" you mewl while lying on your couch. “Step back, it’s my turn to be in front of the fan” you add, getting up and walking towards Katsuki.

“Fuck no, it’s been 3 minutes since you had a go at it. Go back to the hell hole you came from, pest” your roommate answers while throwing daggers at you.

You poke your finger in his exposed bicep. He doesn’t budge. Damn, this man is hard as a rock.

“Come onnnnn! This is the time when you should be a gentleman and let me cool down my beautiful face. Do you really want to be such a brute, Mr. Bakugou?” you bat your eyelashes seductively, trying to convince him.

Bakugou stares at you like your face is green and you’re a slimy frog that just came out of a pile of mud.

“I don’t fucking care. You’re a big girl and I ain’t no prince charming. Step the fuck back or I’m throwing you on that damn sofa. Wait your shitty turn” he says, flicking your forehead.

You whine some more, whisper “bitch” (it gets you another flick) and then turn back to lay on the floor. It’s colder than the couch, at least.

It’s summer, there’s 41°C outside, and your AC broke the other day. It’s so hot that you take out the ice from the freezer and it melts in 4 minutes (max). You happened to have one old crusty fan, that you and Bakugou take turns using. You have been surviving on iced coffee and iced lemonades. You feel like you’re slowly dying.

“You know, this is the only time I really wish my boss would call me in early. He might be a ghost, but he sure uses money for the AC” you blabber while staring at the ceiling, contemplating booking a trip to Alaska.

“What do you mean a ghost?” the blond asks. He’s been much more talkative in the last few months, maybe because seeing you being so domestic was doing something to him. In the last few days he really wants to be your friend, but not because he’s suddenly nice: he thinks he could bribe you to gift him the fan if he’s kinder and breaks your defenses. He’s even planning on asking you to go to a cafe nearby and offer you one of those sweet fuzzy iced drinks you like so much. He’s scheming.

“A ghost because I’ve never seen his face. Can you believe that? My colleague says he’s an asshole though, so maybe that’s for the better” you answer. You get on your elbows to see him better, then squint and frown, “I feel like you could be my boss, you know. Seeing as you’re an asshole too, making me die here on the floor like a common drug addict”.

Yeah, screw the fan. He was asking you out to kill you.

“I hope he fires you”.

“Fuck you”.

“Likewise”.

You throw yourself back on the floor. The movement makes your boobs giggle, and he catches himself staring at your white tank top. You didn’t wear a bra since it’s indeed still your house and it’s indeed still hot as hell.

Things have been going so much better between you two. You now bicker like you’re siblings, but you do also take walks together sometimes, mainly to get groceries, and talk about stuff. You even convinced him to watch Keeping up with the Kardashians with you, and even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he likes the drama more than you.

At work you have a new manager and she’s super nice. Her name is Mina, and you found out that she and Kirishima are engaged, even if they’re 22 like you. She’s a great worker, and you’ve gone out for drinks a couple of times with her and Momo. She’s been at the cafe for 2 months, but you feel so much better already. She throws you weird looks sometimes, like she knows something you don’t, but you pay it no mind.

The timer on your phone rings, and you jump up before throwing your whole body on Katsuki’s. He’s distracted and you get him off guard, managing to move him away. He notices your tits touching his arm.

“Hah! My turn!” you say triumphantly, positioning yourself in front of the fan. The cold air makes your nipples harden. He seems to not be able to look away.

“Awh, Katsuki, cat got your tongue? Don’t worry, baby, the floor is not that bad” you snicker.

He snaps out of his trance and looks at your smirk. Baby? Did you just call him baby?

Fuck, what is he doing? The heat is getting to him. He hastily turns around and starts walking.

“Fuck off, I’m getting in the shower. You can have your fucking fan until I get out” he grunts while almost running away. He needs to have a cold shower.

“We’ll see!” you smile devilishly at him, not having noticed how he’s furiously blushing while slamming the bathroom door.

Katsuki puts his back on the door and slides to the floor. He rubs his face before staring at the obvious tent his semi is causing in his shorts.

Have you always been so hot?

He gets out of his clothes and jumps in the shower, hoping this feeling will go away once the scorching temperature of his skin gets back to normal. But after a few minutes the icy water does nothing to quell his desire, his fully standing cock a statement to that.

He curses under his breath, then wraps one of his hands on his shaft. He feels so dirty doing this, and the fact you’re one door away makes him feel even more embarrassed.

“Let’s get this fucking over with, fuck” he says to himself, pumping his member slowly.

He imagines the way your hand would feel instead of his, or your big eyes staring up at him like you did before, just that in this case you were forcing yourself not to cry while choking on his cock. His hand would be in your hair instead of on his dick, pushing your mouth snugly against his pubes. Your mouth would be hotter than the sun outside and he'd give you a reason to sweat. If you pleaded hard enough he'd fuck you too. He’d really throw you on the sofa, ripping your damn white top and sucking on your nipples. Fuck, what if you pierced them? Your tits would look so good covered in his-

He cums, grunting. "Fuck, this is the most embarrassing shit I've ever had to do to cum" he adds, whispering to himself.

He makes sure to scrub the shower wall clean before putting on the pair of grey short sweatpants he was wearing before. He decides on not to put his black compression tee on, since it’s drenched in sweat.

He exits the bathroom and finds you lying on the couch with the fan blowing directly on your face. Your eyes are closed, and the peaceful expression you're wearing makes his dick throb again.

"Oi, wanna go out? We're short on ice" he finds himself saying.

You open one eye, but when you realize he's half naked you hastily close it and throw him the pillow you were resting your head on.

"When has this become a whore house?" you scream.

He rolls his eyes. "You're such a prude. It's not like you've never seen a man naked" he scoffs, while throwing the pillow back at you.

You open your eyes again and glare at him. You know you must be as red as a tomato.

He looks so good with his hair still dripping wet. You've known that he works out, but now that you see his torso this close and with so little covering his whole body, you find yourself feeling shy. There's a particular drop of water that cascades just in the middle of his pecs, and you follow it with your eyes until it reaches his belly button.

"Earth to y/n. I know I'm hot, but stop ogling and answer my fucking question" your roommate says smirking, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You throw the same pillow you threw before right on his smiling face. "I'm coming if you're not gonna be naked!" you say, hastily going towards your room.

"But wouldn't you like it, baby?" he mocks the tone you've used with him just 30 minutes ago.

"Fuck you. I'll be there in 10" you respond, slamming your bedroom door, feeling hot and bothered.

It must be the summer.

You and Katsuki go to a store nearby to get ice.

“When is the landlord gonna repair the AC?” you ask, since he was the one to make the call.

“He said he’ll come next week, probably even the next one. Said he’s on vacay or some shit” he grunts from next to you.

“I can’t survive 2 weeks like this” you whine. “Oh, you know those noodles you did the other day? The spicy ones? Want to make them for dinner today?” you change the topic, looking up at him.

He spares you a glance before smirking and saying “you just said you’re dying, you sure you wanna eat spicy things?”.

“It doesn’t matter, that’s not the question” you say, pouting.

He smirks again. “Sure. Go and take the noodles, I’ll get the vegetables. Call me when you’re finished if you can’t come back here, I know you get lost like a dumbass”.

You slap his arm. “I do not! This place is just big, asshole”. Then you turn around and march straight towards… the wrong aisle. Katsuki shakes his head. You’ll find a way. You always do, somehow.

After 10 minutes you’re still not back and you still haven’t called, so he sighs and gets his phone out.

He missed your texts from 3 minutes ago.

Y/N: Help

Y/N: I feel like a guy is following me

Y/N: I’m next to some spicy sauces, I guess

Y/N: Mom come pick me up, I’m scared

He raises an eyebrow. You’re usually too prideful to text him when you don’t find the ingredients he tells you to search for, so this situation is weird. He tries to remember where the spicy sauces are, and goes for that aisle.

Meanwhile, you were right and a creepy guy was indeed following you. He’s slim, not that tall and looks like a predator. For the past couple of minutes he’s obviously been trying to get in your pants, and you don’t know how to remove yourself from the situation.

“Come on, just give me your number. You got a boyfriend? Is this why you’re being so… spicy?” he says with a low tone of voice, walking towards you and effectively blocking you from the eyes of the people who are walking down your aisle. From outside, he just seems like he’s talking to you.

“I said I’m not interested” you repeat for what feels like the 10th time. Then you decide to lie: “and yes, I do have a boyfriend. He gets crazy when he’s jealous, I wouldn’t want to anger him if I were you”. You hope you sound confident enough.

“Awh he doesn’t have to now, baby girl. It can be our dirty little secret… I love spicy little things like you” he says seductively, touching your arm and licking his lips.

You’re just about to raise your elbow high enough to break his nose when you feel a familiar voice behind you.

“Step the fuck back before I break your fucking hand” Katsuki says to the man in front of you.

You snap your gaze to his eyes, but he’s looking at the guy with a murderous intent.

The slimy guy in front of you doesn’t let go, in fact he just strengthens the hold he has on your arm and you wince. Katsuki notices this.

The guy is definitely intimidated, but still manages to say “mind your business bro, we’re together, this is my bitch-“. But before he can finish the sentence he finds himself crashing on the sauces of the aisle.

“I said step the fuck back. I don’t like to repeat myself. Don’t ever call my girlfriend your bitch again, or next time I’m breaking your damn nose“ your roommate says while putting a hand on your small back.

He then looks down at you, and while he’s looking deep into your eyes, tells you “you good, baby?”.

You nod. You feel your knees shaking, but not because of the guy who’s currently on the floor.

Which, by the way, is now scoffing and declaring “oh so this is your crazy boyfriend? Nobody likes good guys anymore, huh”. He then stands up, adding “you were never pretty enough for me, anyway”.

Katsuki looks at him and suddenly he laughs. “You’re a pathetic ass bitch if you really believe someone like you could ever be near someone like her. You’re not a good guy, you’re an awful piece of shit who only tries to get his dick wet by forcing girls to have sex with him, and you’re obviously failing at that too. Go back to your room and rub one out on some shitty porn like you always do, fucker” he spits out. “You have 5 seconds to get out of my fucking face”.

The asshole thinks he’s joking, so he doesn’t move from his spot, but Katsuki is obviously not playing. He looks super scary, and he’s towering over the pathetic boy.

Katsuki is losing his patience. “5, 4, 3…”.

The guy gets that he’s serious and flees the scene, running with his tail between his legs.

Your roommate takes a big breath before mumbling “I hate people”. You snicker, before looking up at him. “Thank you, you know” you say smiling.

Your gratefulness blinds him, or maybe it’s just that you’re that pretty.

“You’re welcome”.

He doesn’t remove his hand from your back for the rest of your walk, and it feels so natural to be so close to him that you don’t say anything.

A/N: If you want to be put in the taglist make sure your age is visible on your blog first, and then tell me so in the comments <3

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 22: Weakest Link

Happy Christmas Eve to all!!

I’m actually writing this on my phone because I left my laptop at home while visiting family…but inspiration hits!

I hope you all enjoy, and have an excellent holiday season, no matter what you celebrate!

Masterlist

One of the traders, a stout man from Shurima, leaned forward, speaking through clenched teeth, a lit cigar dangling from his mouth. Each word was punctuated by a puff of acrid smoke curling around his face like a dragon. “We’re the ones risking our necks here, gents. Sneaking supplies past Piltover’s checkpoints? It ain’t just dangerous—it’s suicidal.” He twisted the cigar to the other side of his mouth, a fresh plume of smoke spilling into the air. “We need more coin up front, or the shipments stop. End of story.”

Sevika was on her feet before anyone else could react, the dull thud of her fist hitting the table echoing in the dimly lit room. “And what? You think we’re swimming in cogs down here?” she snarled, her voice sharp enough to cut steel.

You couldn’t help but groan quietly, the weight of hours spent in this stalemate grinding against your patience. Exhaustion tugged at every muscle, but what else was new? From your spot at the table, you watched the scene unfold, arms crossed, eyes boring into the line of traders opposite you. Next to you, Benzo’s posture was tense, his weariness written as plainly on his face as on his rumpled shirt—usually crisp and professional, now missing a button and sporting deep wrinkles. You move to speak, but Benzo motions for you to stay back.

“Enough,” Benzo snapped, his voice carrying the authority of someone who had been in these trenches too long. Sevika froze, her hand still planted on the table, fingers twitching as if daring someone to challenge her.

Benzo leaned forward, the dim light catching the early creases forming on his forehead. “We all know what’s at stake. If this deal collapses, Zaun suffers—everyone suffers. Your risk is real, Urhak, no one’s denying that. But don’t act like your supply chain doesn’t depend on us just as much as we depend on you. We all bleed when Piltover milks us dry.”

Urhak, the Shuriman trader, removed the cigar from his mouth with a slow, deliberate motion, his narrowed eyes glinting like polished amber. “And we’re just supposed to bleed a little more for your rebellion? Hah.”

“Rebellion?” Another trader, a wiry man from Bilgewater, cut in with a bark of laughter. “We don’ give two shites about yer rebellion. It don’t feed our men. And wit’ Enforcers blockin’ every dock in Piltover, we’re startin’ to wonder if yer deals’r worth the trouble.”

Benzo didn’t flinch, his tone steady but urgent. “We need compromise. Protection for your shipments—more bodies on the ground to make sure they get through. In return, you cut back on the money demands and prioritize essentials: food, medicine, guns. The bare necessities.”

Another trader, a green-haired woman, scoffs. “Protection? Against Piltover? That’s a death sentence.”

“That’s what this revolution’s all about.” Felicia stepped forward, her voice calm but firm, the glint of determination in her eyes unmistakable. “We know what we’re doing. Smaller convoys. Decoys to draw the Enforcers away. It works—we’ve done it before, and you’ve seen the results.”

The Bilgewater trader snorted. “Aye, and look how far it’s gotten ya. Vander and Silco’ve been eatin’ Stillwater slop for what—two years now? Is that the kind of security you’re sellin’ us?”

Alright, you’d had enough.

Before anyone could react, you flicked your wrist, sending a razor-thin shard of metal slicing through the air. Urhak’s cigar split cleanly in two, the lit end tumbling to the floor in a hiss of ash. A tense silence followed as some of the traders instinctively reached for their weapons, but you were faster. A wave of your hands, and their firearms clattered to the floor, skidding out of reach.

You stood, your presence commanding, your voice cutting through the room like a blade. “My associate has been incredibly patient,” you said, the words slow and deliberate. “But I’m done wasting time. Let’s be real—Zaun makes up two-thirds of your trade profits, even with the dock blockades. If you think you can do better elsewhere, go ahead. Pack up your mediocre goods and hawk them to some backwater village. We’ll find traders who don’t waste our gods-damned time.”

The weight of your words settled over the room like a storm cloud. One by one, the traders hesitated, their bravado dimming under your glare.

Benzo turns to you, his movements measured, his eyes narrowing as he leans ever so slightly in your direction. “I thought I told you I had this,” he mutters, voice just loud enough for you to catch.

You meet his gaze briefly and roll your shoulders, the gesture as nonchalant as it was deliberate.

“Urhak breaks the lingering tension, his voice rumbling through the room like distant thunder. “We’ll need guarantees,” he says, his words deliberate. His gaze flickers to his colleagues, who murmur in low tones, their unease palpable. “If the patrols catch us, there won’t be a second chance. No excuses, no do-overs.”

Benzo exhales sharply, but his frustration is aimed squarely at you before he turns back to the table. His composure is a mask, slipping on just long enough to face the traders. “We’ll rotate our people to guard the shipments,” he says, his voice steady. “Small teams, low-profile. No risks we don’t need to take. You hold up your end, and we’ll hold up ours.”

The traders fall into another bout of quiet deliberation, voices hushed but sharp. The Bilgewater representative eventually shrugs. “Don’t be expectin’ miracles. You don’ give us what we need, don’ blame us when it all falls apart.”

Sevika finally lifts her fist from the table, the faint outline of her knuckles still imprinted in the wood. Benzo straightens his shoulders, reclaiming his usual air of authority, and folds his hands in front of him. “Nobody’s blaming anyone,” he says firmly, his businessman tone smooth but grounded. “We’re all in this together. That’s the point.”

The meeting concluded with a fragile patchwork of strained agreements, punctuated by supplementary deals to placate the traders’ endless demands. As they filed out, heading toward the ships that awaited them at the docks, your inner circle lingered. Quiet murmurs filled the air, the tension from the negotiation still simmering in their voices.

You sat apart from the others, your focus buried in your worn notebook. The faint scratch of pencil against paper was a welcome distraction as you tallied the promised inventory of firearms, mentally accounting for time and resources. They’d need inspections, repairs, and modifications—because they never arrived in workable condition.

With a sharp snap, you closed the book and rubbed a hand over your face, dragging your palm down to stifle the mounting frustration. Your new bandana lay limp around your neck, black and distinctly free of bloodstains. You were nearly 25 now… Two years. Two years since they were gone, and it already felt like a lifetime. In their absence, the weight of Zaun had pressed heavier on you than ever.

Piltover’s interference had worsened tenfold. No crossing the bridge without papers. Mandated curfews. Power outages that choked entire districts in darkness. The blockade at the docks was a vice on your trade, tightening every day. And the promenade? A ghost of its former self, crawling with Enforcers. The fighting rings were shut down. Businesses folded under the strain.

Zaunites had always been resilient, but now they were desperate. And desperate people fought back—often recklessly. Without resources, without backup, rebellion wasn’t a fire—it was a spark struggling to catch in the damp.

You adjusted the oversized vest draped over your shoulders. It hung loose, three sizes too big, and though his scent had long since faded, you still found comfort in wearing it. A small fragment of the past. A piece of a world that no longer existed.

“I told you I had this.” Benzo’s voice cut through your thoughts, sharp with annoyance. His frustration lanced through your skull, worsening the pounding ache that had been building all evening. You really needed coffee.

“Do you have any idea how sideways that could’ve gone?” he continued, his tone rising just enough to set your teeth on edge.

You snapped your gaze to him, already irritated. “They still think they can push us around,” you shot back, stepping closer, your voice rising to match his. “And you let them!”

Benzo’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly. “We don’t have the luxury of throwing our weight around without consequences,” he said, his voice low and hard. “And we can’t afford another enemy right now.” He turned abruptly, his eyes landing on Sevika. “Go keep an eye on them. Run security on their ships if you have to.”

Sevika lingered, her gaze flicking between the two of you, as though calculating whether to push back. After a moment, she sighed and turned toward the door. “For what it’s worth, I’m with Min.”

“I don’t recall asking,” Benzo shot after her. His voice was sharper than necessary, and it drew a pointed look from both you and Felicia.

Before tempers could flare further, Connol stepped in, his calm, even tone cutting through the tension. “Fighting between ourselves isn’t fixing a damn thing,” he said firmly, stepping between you and Benzo. His broad hands rested lightly on your shoulders, as if grounding both of you. “In case anyone’s forgotten, we don’t have the manpower to be a divided force right now.”

Benzo exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping as his anger softened into resignation. He looked at you again, and you met his gaze.

For a long, silent moment, the two of you simply stared at each other. His exhaustion mirrored yours, the weight of Zaun evident in every line of his face. His eyes, usually sharp with purpose, were dull—drained beyond recognition. You understood the feeling all too well.

Neither of you was Vander. Neither of you was Silco. They had been an unstoppable force, even when they were at each other’s throats. You hadn’t fully understood the weight of their positions until they were gone, ripped from Zaun and sent to rot in Piltover’s cells. Now it was on you and Benzo to pick up the pieces, to hold together the tattered remnants of a revolution that sometimes felt like it was bleeding out faster than you could save it.

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words, until Benzo finally looked away. He turned to the others, quietly issuing instructions as Felicia stepped forward to lend her voice to the plan.

And you? You tightened the vest around you again, steeling yourself for what came next. Because there was always something.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly once the others have filtered out, leaving just the two of you. The room feels heavier without the murmured discussions to fill the space. You glance at Benzo, guilt threading through your voice. “You’re right. I was reckless. Stupid.”

Benzo doesn’t respond immediately. He leans against the table, his arms crossed, staring at a spot somewhere past your shoulder. Finally, he exhales and shrugs. “You got the job done,” he says simply, though there’s no accusation in his tone. After a moment, he unfolds his arms and extends a hand toward you. “I know you miss him. I do too.”

“I miss them both,” you admit, your voice cracking as you clasp his hand. But instead of the firm handshake he seems to expect, you use the gesture to pull him into a tight hug.

Benzo doesn’t hesitate. His broad, stocky arms envelop you, grounding you in a way that words never could. He’s thinner now than he used to be, you knew you were too, the stress of the past two years carving its toll into both of you, but his hugs still feel like home. They always had, since that first day in the dump.

You press your face into his shoulder, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this without them, Benz…”

His arms tighten around you, a protective squeeze that’s equal parts comfort and reassurance. “I know, Fishie,” he murmurs.

***

One might imagine that living in a warring nation would be a constant thrill, every day a unique and dangerous adventure. And in some ways, they’d be right. But when every waking moment is consumed by survival, by the relentless grind of uncertainty and danger, the days begin to blur together.

Nights are spent patrolling the crumbling streets, ducking under shadows to avoid the cold, watchful eyes of curfew enforcers. By day, there’s the ceaseless clatter of tools as you work on gun engineering and mechanics in the dim light of your makeshift livingroom workshop. Taking care of your parents took considerable time, even with Mikaels improving health. Not to mention actual shift work at the factories you were still employed at. The bridge barriers made it impossible to continue working at Morichi’s, but you still had to make a living. So you took what you could on this side of the bridge, toiling in the suffocating heat and deafening noise of the factories, each shift bleeding into the next.

The loss of Vander and Silco’s leadership wasn’t the only major impact of their incarceration. The loss of income was a huge hit to your day-to-day lives. You managed to scrape by Mikael’s treatments, but food was steadily more expensive, funds were running dry. Numbers were already tight, but now you almost felt strangled.

And then there was the tunnel.

The one project that felt like you were finally doing something that mattered, something right. In a world that seemed to be crumbling at the seams, the tunnel was your proof that not everything had to fall apart.

Engineering the damn thing had been an endeavour. You and Connol had spent countless sleepless nights over that past 24 months slogging through its damp, claustrophobic depths. Every leak you patched, every weak point you reinforced, felt like a small victory.

The leaks were relentless at first. Water seeped in from all sides, turning the tunnel into a slick, treacherous path. You and Connor worked in knee-deep muck, sealing crack after crack until your arms ached and your fingers felt raw. And then there were the weak points—entire sections that seemed one heavy step away from collapse. You reinforced them with steel sheets that you bent and shaped with your own hands.

Months turned into years as the project evolved. It started as a desperate plan to bypass Piltover’s stranglehold, but it became something greater. A lifeline. A sanctuary. It was Felicia who had the brilliant idea of connecting the tunnel to a long-abandoned mining cavern nearby. She and a few of the older minors had mapped the area, their experience with the mines proving invaluable. The cavern was vast, its winding corridors a maze that could confuse even the most determined enforcer. With the connection established, the tunnel transformed into a network—a hidden artery for Zaun. Connected to the mines, but far enough away as to allow for passage without much air corruption.

Slipping into the manhole that led to the tunnel, the muffled sounds of labor greeted you before your boots even hit the ground. The faint echo of crates scraping against the floor, grunts of effort, and low conversations filled the air. It didn’t surprise you to find Felicia already there, gesturing sharply as she directed a small group maneuvering heavy-looking crates toward the mining hub.

“How’s it looking?” you asked, sliding down the ladder and brushing the grime from your hands. Your eyes quickly scanned the wooden crates stacked against the damp tunnel walls.

Felicia turned to face you, her expression softening the moment she saw you. In her arms, a familiar blue-haired toddler bounced excitedly, letting out a piercing screech when her wide, blue-grey eyes landed on you. Powder squirmed and made grabbing motions with her chubby hands, her little braids bobbing wildly.

“Everything’s going smooth so far,” Felicia replied, her voice heavy with skepticism. She shifted Powder on her hip with practiced ease. “Although, little miss over here has been trying to make mischief. As usual.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Mischief? Her? Nah, not my Pow-Pow,” you said, holding your hands out. Powder immediately launched herself at you with an excited squeal, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around your neck as if she hadn’t seen you in months. You pressed a kiss into her hair, the faint smell of damp tunnel and baby soap filling your nose. “Perfect little angel, you are,” you murmured, gently swaying her in your arms.

Felicia scoffed and rubbed a hand over her face, exhaustion carving lines into her features. “Easy for you to say. She’s been trying to climb the crates all morning. Nearly toppled a stack of rations.”

You chuckled, the sound dry. Powder babbled in your arms, reaching for the pen you always kept tucked into your pocket. You let her grab at it, her tiny fingers closing around the object with triumph. She brought it to her mouth, and you caught her hand before she could start chewing.

“How’s the moving going?” you asked, shifting Powder’s weight onto your hip while you glanced back at the crates.

“The firearms are heading to the mining hub, like you wanted,” Felicia said, motioning to the group lugging the heaviest crates. “I’m splitting the rations and water supply—half near the residential opening so they’re easier to access if things get tight.”

“Smart,” you said, pulling out your notebook one-handed. You jotted a quick note, using Powder’s squirming form as a makeshift desk. Her hand reached for the page, and you tilted it out of her grasp just in time. “And you? How are you holding up?”

Felicia sighed, her shoulders slumping as though the question alone carried weight. “The chem-barons are brutal, Min. You should see the factories down there. People are working longer hours for less pay—and those are the lucky ones who still have jobs.” She ran a tired hand through her hair, her thumb brushing over Powder’s cheek. “It’s hard. Really hard.”

Your chest tightened. You glanced down at Powder, who had abandoned the pen and was now tugging at the frayed edge of your vest. “I know,” you said softly. “You’re not alone in that. If you need a break, come by for meals. Seriously, Fel, we’ll make it work.”

Felicia let out a noise that was half-laugh, half-scoff. “Oh, sure. And when exactly are you finding time to cook for me, Nanny Min? When was the last time you had a proper meal? Or some sleep? No offense, sweetheart, but you look like death.”

You shrugged, the motion heavier than you intended. “What else is new?” you muttered. The exhaustion was bone-deep, clinging to you like the dampness in the air. You weren’t sure you even remembered what it felt like to wake up rested.

Felicia placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Min, I mean it. You can’t keep burning yourself out like this. We need you. Zaun needs you. But you’re no use to anyone if you collapse. After Niya…we can’t lose you too.”

“I’m handling it,” you said, the response automatic and hollow.

“Are you?”

You hesitated, your grip tightening slightly on Powder. The toddler hummed, oblivious to the tension, and grabbed at your face with sticky fingers. Her palm landed on your nose, making you sigh and shake your head.

“Trust me, Fel. You’re not going to say anything I haven’t already heard from Benzo, Sevika, Mikael, Babette, or my mother,” you said, flicking the pen from Powder’s grasp and sliding it back into your pocket. “I’m handling it.”

Felicia didn’t look convinced, but she let out a low sigh and dropped her hand from your shoulder. “Just… don’t let it break you, Min,” she said. Her tone softened, but the concern in her eyes remained sharp.

You didn’t respond, instead watching as she turned back to the crates and started issuing instructions again. The room settled into a familiar rhythm: the scrape of crates, the shuffle of boots, and Powder’s soft babbling filling the space. But Felicia’s words lingered, heavy in the air.

When had you last eaten a real meal? Or slept more than a few hours? The question tugged at the edges of your mind, but you pushed it away. There wasn’t time for that. There was never time.

“Come on, Pow-Pow,” you murmured, brushing a hand over the toddler’s braids. She looked up at you with a toothy grin, and for a moment, her laughter broke through the weight pressing on your chest.

The echoes of shuffling crates and the rhythmic commands of Felicia's voice faded as you continued to sway Powder in your arms, the hum of the tunnel now a steady background. For a fleeting moment, everything felt almost... normal. As if this could be a day not haunted by the weight of survival or the ghosts of lost leaders. But the crackling tension in the air wouldn’t let it last long.

You glance over at Felicia, her tired yet determined expression etched into your memory. As she coordinates the laborers, directing them with a precision that only comes from years of doing what’s needed to keep Zaun's pulse alive, you feel a surge of admiration. She was right—we need to do this, but at what cost?

Suddenly, the muffled clatter of boots approaching breaks the fragile silence. A figure steps into the tunnel’s dim light, the shadows catching on his messenger uniform–like the one Silco used to wear. You recognize him as a regular, one good at his job. His presence shatters the illusion of calm.

“Min,” his eyes lock onto yours and immediately, you set Powder down, although she stays latched onto your leg. “Been trying to track you down for ages.”

You cross your arms, straightening your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“New notice from Topside, get a load of this.” He reached into his vest, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment that he thrust toward you without hesitation.

You took the note, unfolding it with a quick snap of your fingers. The seal was unmistakable—Piltover. Your stomach churned as you scanned the words.

“In light of the escalating unrest within the Undercity, Piltover’s High Council has decided to implement a tax on all businesses operating in the lower sectors of Zaun. The tax will be enforced immediately. Failure to comply will result in fines, asset seizures, and the possibility of further punitive actions. Tax rates will be determined based on business size and output. Enforcers will begin inspections at once.”

“For fuck’s sake!” The words tore out of you, raw and jagged. You hadn’t meant for the rage to bubble over so violently, but once it started, there was no stopping it. The crumpled parchment landed on the ground with a dull thud as you hurled it, your chest heaving.

Your hands shot up, threading through your short-cropped hair, pulling lightly at the strands as if the pain might somehow ground you. You clenched your jaw, trying desperately to keep the flood of frustration from overwhelming you completely. But it wasn’t working. Every breath felt sharp, shallow, like it wasn’t enough to fill your lungs. The metallic hum of the tunnel around you—normally a distant comfort—felt suffocating, oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

Why does it feel like everything is falling apart?

Your thoughts spiraled, one after another, crashing like waves in a storm. The tax, the factory work, the constant surveillance, the dwindling resources—it was relentless. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you sacrificed, it was never enough. Zaun was slipping through your fingers, piece by piece.

Then you felt it—a tiny hand resting gently on your thigh. It was a touch so light, so soft, that it pulled you out of your storm like a lifeline.

You looked down to find Powder gazing up at you, her big, round eyes shimmering with concern. Her expression was earnest, her little brows slightly furrowed as if she could feel the weight pressing on you, even if she didn’t fully understand it.

“Min-Min,” she cooed, her voice soft, almost like a dove’s call. She stretched her arms up toward you, her small fingers opening and closing in that familiar “grabby hands” motion. It was a plea for comfort, but it felt more like she was offering it.

Your heart cracked at the sight. The tightness in your chest, the pounding in your head—all of it eased, just a little, under her gaze. Powder had always had this uncanny ability to cut through the noise, to remind you of the parts of the world still worth fighting for. Still worth protecting.

You glanced at Felicia, who was now carefully unfolding the paper you had crumpled and tossed in frustration. She scanned the words, her lips moving slightly as she read them to herself. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as the weight of the decree sank in.

“Can they do this?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“They’re Pilties,” you spat, the venom in your tone sharp enough to cut. “They think they can do whatever they damn well please.”

Felicia shook her head, slipping the paper into her pocket with a grim expression. “Nobody’s going to be happy about this. The businesses are barely hanging on as it is.”

You turned to the messenger, who shifted nervously under your gaze. “Who knows about this so far?”

The young man shrugged, his wiry frame taut with unease. “Notices are being sent out all over as we speak. Won’t be long before everyone hears.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, exhaling sharply. Your hand instinctively found Powder’s head, your fingers ruffling her messy blue-tinted strands. She babbled contentedly, oblivious to the tension simmering around her.

Your eyes stayed on Felicia and the messenger. “Alright. Time to play crowd control. Spread the word that I’ll be on the Promenade if anyone needs to talk. And tell folks that if anyone’s going hungry tonight, I’ll have a soup on by dusk. Empty bellies are welcome.”

You made a move to leave, already thinking ahead, but the messenger stepped forward, his words rushed and urgent. “There’s something else, ma’am.”

You froze, your stomach tightening. “What is it?”

“A barge,” he said quickly. “Big one. Seen docking from Stillwater.”

The mention of the prison made your heart leap into your throat, your mind racing to places you didn’t want it to go.

“Dropping off or receiving?” you asked, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Not sure,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Didn’t get close enough to see.”

You clenched your jaw, nodding sharply. “One emergency at a time,” you muttered to yourself before addressing him again. “Keep me updated. The moment you hear anything more, you come find me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the messenger said, giving a quick nod.

Without wasting another second, you turned and headed off. There was no time to dwell on the possibilities—not with a city on the verge of uproar and lives that needed saving. Your boots echoed against the damp tunnel floor as you strode forward, determination hardening your expression. Zaun had always been a place of resilience, and no decree from Piltover—or mysterious barge from Stillwater—was going to change that.

***

“I’m not cut out for this, Benz,” you mumbled, sliding down the door until you were sitting on the floor, your head resting against the cool surface.

The weight of the night pressed down on you as you shut the door behind you, the muffled sounds of the city outside faded into the background, leaving only the quiet hum of the apartment. It was almost dawn, and exhaustion clung to you like a second skin. People had filtered in and out all night, seeking reassurance, venting frustrations, or just looking for a hot meal. Now, a kitchen full of dirty soup bowls and spoons awaited you, each one feeling like another hit to your dwindling energy.

Benzo, sprawled out on the worn couch, was mid-way through unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric hung loose around his frame as he glanced at you, his expression heavy with his own exhaustion. “I know, Fishie,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “But what are you going to do?”

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. “…Cry?” The word came out half-serious, half-desperate as you stumbled forward, collapsing onto the dusty carpet. The coffee table—your makeshift workshop—rattled slightly, its surface cluttered with dismantled trinkets and half-repaired pistols. You curled up on your side, feeling the sting of your aching muscles as they protested the movement.

Benzo let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back into the couch. “Nah, not you,” he said, glancing over at you with a faint grin breaking through his exhaustion. “You’re too damn stubborn for that.”

You let out a low groan, flipping over onto your back. The musty ceiling above you stared back, a blank canvas for your frayed thoughts. You didn’t even have the energy for a half-decent clap back. “Says you, asshole,” you muttered, your voice barely more than a grumble.

“Hey.” His tone shifted, drawing your attention. You lifted your head slightly to meet his eyes, finding his expression unexpectedly serious. “You’re doing just fine, Fishie. Honest. We’ve got this. The guys would be proud of you—of us.”

His words hung in the air, filling the silence that followed. You stared at him for a long moment before letting out a loud sigh, letting your head fall back against the floor. The ache in your body felt heavier, but his words planted something small—a flicker of hope you didn’t have the energy to acknowledge just yet.

Instead, you turned your gaze back to the ceiling, letting the stillness settle over you both. You didn’t respond, but Benzo didn’t push. The quiet understanding between you spoke louder than words ever could.

“You ever wonder,” you begin, your voice uncertain, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “What would’ve happened if we hadn’t met that day? Back in the trash pit?”

Benzo pauses, his hand instinctively digging into his pocket for a cigar. “Not really,” he says, voice casual as he fishes it out. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, drawing your knees to your chest as you sit on the carpet. “I mean…it completely changed my life. I was a nobody, some Bilgewater rat fresh off the boat. And now…”

The soft click of his lighter cuts through the stillness as he lights the cigar, the faint glow flickering in the dim room. He takes a long drag, exhaling a ribbon of smoke that curls lazily into the air. The familiar scent fills the space, oddly comforting.

“You’re on our island of misfit toys. Closest thing our people have to a council.” His voice is steady, almost teasing, but there’s a weight behind it. He hums thoughtfully, the cigar bobbing slightly between his fingers. “You should be proud, Fishie. This revolution wouldn’t be the same without you.”

You frown, resting your chin on your knees. “I don’t know about that,” you murmur.

Benzo’s gaze sharpens as he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re the smartest out of all of us, Fishie,” he says firmly. “Even with my charm and Silco’s head for strategy. You think any of us have anything close to that engineering brain of yours?”

“I’m good with gears,” you reply, shrugging again. “But…I don’t think I’m supposed to be a leader. All this responsibility? Everyone relying on me, looking to me for answers…I don’t know how Vander and Silco do it. They make it look so…effortless.”

Benzo leans back again, taking another drag from his cigar. He watches the smoke swirl for a long moment, as if searching for the right words. Then, he reaches out, extending the cigar to you.

“Well then,” he hums, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I guess it’s a good thing you’ll always have one of us to help you along the way, right? We’re in this together, Min. I can promise you that much.”

You stare at the offered cigar for a moment before taking it, holding it delicately between your fingers. The warmth of the ember radiates against your skin, grounding you. You look at him, his steady presence like a lifeline in the chaos, and for the first time that night, you allow yourself to breathe.

“Thanks, Benz,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he nods anyway. It’s a quiet understanding, a bond that doesn’t need words to be felt. In this crumbling world, you weren’t alone. And for now, that was enough.

The apartment was silent, save for the faint crackle of Benzo’s cigar and the occasional groan of the pipes in the walls. The world outside was stirring—Zaun never really slept—but for a moment, here in this little bubble of exhaustion and cigarette smoke, everything felt still.

Benzo stretched out on the couch, head tipped back, his eyes half-closed as he murmured, “You’re gonna burn out that brain of yours, Fishie, if you don’t sleep soon.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” you replied automatically, the corner of your mouth twitching into a faint smirk.

“Don’t tempt fate,” he muttered, a hint of humor slipping into his voice.

Just as the quiet began to settle in again, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment. It wasn’t hesitant or unsure like the knocks you’d been getting all night—it was firm, deliberate, almost impatient.

Benzo glanced toward the door, his brow furrowing. “Someone’s got timing, I’ll give them that.”

You sighed, pushing yourself up from the floor with a groan. “It’s probably someone from the Promenade,” you said, brushing off the dust from your trousers. “Maybe they didn’t get the memo I’m done playing soup kitchen for the night.”

Benzo waved a lazy hand, settling deeper into the couch. “Your circus, your monkeys.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way to the door, rubbing at your tired eyes. “Alright, alright,” you called as you turned the latch. “I’m here, I’m here—”

The door swung open, and your words caught in your throat.

Standing in the doorway were two figures you thought you’d never see again, not outside of Stillwater’s cold, suffocating grip. Vander, towering and solid as ever, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorframe. And Silco, sharp and composed, his eyes glinting with that calculating gleam you’d never forgotten.

The world seemed to tilt for a moment, your mind struggling to process what you were seeing. They weren’t supposed to be here. They couldn’t be here.

“Minerva,” Silco said smoothly, his voice a razor’s edge of familiarity. His lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile as if he was amused by your stunned silence.

But it was Vander who drew your attention, his warm, familiar presence anchoring you to the moment. He stepped forward, just enough for the dim light of the apartment to catch the edges of his worn face. His gaze softened as it met yours, and he smiled down at you, that same reassuring, unshakable smile you’d longed to see for two years.

“Hello, Minnie,” he said, his voice rumbling low and steady like the earth itself. “Miss me?”

[ghosty-writes-23]

𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚏!𝙷𝚢𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍!𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜.

!TAGS!: Fluff, No Smut, Slight Angst, Leon Acting Like A Puppy.

Ghosty's Notes: Hello, I'm back with a small headcanon series, I mostly wrote this because I wanted to write a Werewolf!Leon oneshot but I didn't want to forget my idea, so there maybe a oneshot version of this coming in the future.

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

----------

You had moved out small city apartment in favour of a small cottage in a small wooden village, the only catch was the village was full of hybrids, ranging from cute and small hybrids such as mice, bunnies and small animals, to larger ones such as cats and dogs.

Everybody was so friendly with you, helping you move in, giving you a small tour of the village, showing you all the local hot spots and best places to eat, everybody seemed to be excited a human had moved in.

In your first week there you had managed to open up a small café/bakery since you were going to put your degree in patisserie to work.

After a month of opening, one day the doors opened and what you didn’t expect to see was a wolf hybrid walk in, his arms wrapped around his stomach and his tail tucked between his legs, his ears where flat and almost hiding in his blonde hair.

It wasn’t common for predatory hybrids to come into the village, so it had made you wonder why this hybrid was here.

You could hear some of the customers whispering among themselves, some even leaving the bakery in fear of the wolf hybrid, you could understand why when a hungry wolf walks into a room full of prey, you would be leaving too so you didn’t get eaten.

When the wolf hybrid came to the counter, you could see he was exhausted from the bags under his blue eyes, he had some cuts on his face, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him a little bit. He didn’t say anything but pointed to the black coffee on the menu, it was the cheapest thing you had.

He gave you the money in crumpled up bills, before you gave him a table number, he nodded his head in thanks and went to find a seat in the café.

The wolf hybrid stayed all day, nursing his coffee cup, when you began closing up you noticed he was still sitting in the seat he had been sitting in all day, putting your cloth down you were using to clean the counter you walked over to the wolf hybrid.

“Sir, I’m about to close up for the night, might be time to head home.” You suggested but you noticed his grip on the coffee mug tightened slightly. “I don’t have a home, not anymore.” The man spoke, his voice was rough.

You felt your heart ache before you sat down opposite him, he was still pretty young looking probley around 21 or 22, he had such a baby face and puppy dog eyes, you knew this would either be the best decision you have ever made or the worst.

“well, I could do with some help around the bakery, with some heavy lifting and cleaning.” You suggested and you see him start to perk up a little, as his wolf ears twitched ever so slightly. “and I have a spare bedroom, its not much but I am sure we can make it more comfortable.” You added and you could hear his tail start to wag, hitting the chair sides behind him.

“You would really offer me that, despite everybody’s reaction to me?” the man asked and you nodded your head. “just because you’re a predator hybrid doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” You said and the man slowly nodded his head, but you could see the tension leaving his shoulder as he began to relax.

“I’m Leon by the way, Leon Kennedy.” The wolf hybrid introduced himself formerly, to which you just gave him an ease going smile. “I’m Y/n.” you say to him introducing yourself, this was going to be the start of a very chaotic but fun adventure for you both.

It has been a couple weeks since Leon moved in, he helped at the café with heavy lifting the mornings when you got goods delivered and would help you as much as he could with the baking, he was a fast learner and within his first week he knew how to make cupcakes and basic cakes without burning them.

The people of the village where a little skeptical at first with Leon’s arrival but once they saw he was completely harmless they welcomed him with opens arms, as they did when you first moved in.

Leon didn’t talk much at first, he would only growl or grunt at you, but eventually you learnt what he growls meant, a deep growl meant he was annoyed or angry, a soft growl meant he was wanted attention or was being playful.

He would let you eventually pet him, he pretended to not like it, but you could see him melt when you would scratch behind his ears, his tail would wag and you hear hear him softly whine when you would stop and he would give you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

Eventually he opens up after leaving with you for a couple months, you find out he was running from hunters, people like that catch predatory hybrids and sell them on the black market for their aggressive behavior, when Leon came back to his pack’s small community it had been ransacked, wolves had been killed, pups had been taken and his pack was gone without a trace.

He had spent weeks searching for them and trying to ask for help, but mostly everybody ran away from him because they thought he was going to eat them.

The reason he had stumbled into your café was because he smelt the pastries and baked goods, his body was tired and it needed to rest, so he thought he could rest in the café.

After hearing his story, you decided you would help him try and find his pack, to which he was really grateful for he couldn’t thank you enough for everything you had done for him.

But when Leon found his pack, would he stay with you or go back to his pack??

----------

©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Brother Mine (Winchester!Reader x Sam and Dean Winchester PLATONIC)

@xweirdo101x Hello, hope you are having a good day/nightI was wondering if I could request a Sam and Dean having an older brother (maybe by one or 2 years)  maybe they haven't seen reader in a couple years. The brother's finally get to see reader when he pulls them out of trouble?

(okay, author's note in that Sam is 22 at the start of the show and Dean is 26. The show spans the same amount of time as in the real world, technically, so Sam ends the show at 37 while Dean ends it at 41. Meaning this elder brother is probably 28 at the start and ends it 43. Good lord, that show went on for a while lol)

"So, explain to me why the two of you chuckleheads are in jail in freaking Kentucky? Because last I heard, Sam was going to college in California and you were still hunting boogeymen with Dad."

The two young men in front of you share a glance as you bail them out of some podunk town's drunk tank.

"Dad's... in trouble." Sam sighs, finally, to a harsh glare from Dean.

"Good riddance to bad assholes." you growl, and Dean clenches his fist

You and your little brothers don't exactly have a great relationship.

With the better part of seventeen years of your lives dedicated to hunting what lies in the darkness, spurred on by your domineering and obsessive father, Dean always has blamed you for "abandoning the family" and "breaking Dad's heart" because you left the life at nineteen and left seventeen year old Dean and thirteen year old Sam behind.

You did the amateur boxing circuit for a while before you were hired on to an indie security company and ended up catching the eye of the owner who trained you until you took over, eventually buying the company and running it.

You know a lot of your money was sent to help pay off any expenses Sam had, but you don't know if it was used for that or blown for motel stays or alcohol or sawed-off-shotguns or salt slugs for Dean and John.

You tried to stay in touch with Sam, but it was awkward. And he wanted space away from "family."

So you know neither of them would ever contact you unless something real bad happened (and apparently Dean's grudge was so strong that he wouldn't even inform you that John went missing)

Though to be perfectly honest, it wouldn't really matter to you anyway, and that's a matter to discuss with your therapist.

"I can't believe you called him." Dean grumbles, like a child.

"Sam apparently knew you'd need a responsible adult." you snark, and he grimaces. "Now, care to tell me why you're road-tripping?"

Sam looks at you. "My girlfriend. Jess. Whatever got Mom... it got her too."

"And you think that Dad is close to tracking it down and that's why he vanished." you sigh.

"Lemme guess, you're gonna tell us that there's nothing that goes bump in the night?" Dean sneers, looking at Sam.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna tell you that it's not your job to chase it. It's not your duty."

"We save people. We hunt things. It's the family business." Dean growls.

"Jesus, Dean, do you hear how you sound?" you groan. "It's this kind of obsession that I tried to get away from! A terrible thing happened to Mom, and there was nothing any of us could do to stop it. It's not our fault, and it's not our responsibility to chase whatever did it down!"

"It's just gonna keep hurting people. We've seen it happening. It's gathering other people like Sam."

"Fuck." you growl.

Dean senses an in. "You were even better than me, back in the day. Remember when you ganked that skinchanger?"

He says "you were only 14" with as much reverence and awe as you do disgust and shame.

"I can't convince either of you to... let the chips fall where they may?"

"Nope." Dean pops the "p" sound.

"Sorry, no." Sam adds.

"I don't wanna kill things anymore, Dean. Not even bad things. But I do care about you both. So here. I'm going to help you, on one condition. We're going to all come back to my place in California, and Sam is going to apply to fucking law school, and you're gonna think about what you really want with your life, Dean."

They think.

They look at each other.

They nod.

"Welcome back." Dean grins.

"You better not still drive that shitty Impala and listen to crappy 80s rock."

Sam winces.

[otomiyaa]

Your Body

Taki x Mitsuha

[Fic Reupload] - Old 2018 fic, hope you like it @kusuguricafe👀

Summary: Taki and Mitsuha prove how well they know each other’s body thanks to those many times of body switching. (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.5K

Bit by bit, little by little. That's how their memories would slowly return. Besides dating and just being together, it was like a whole new therapy of trying to search for memories to fill up that big gap with. The big gap with things forgotten.

Memories would come in randomly. Sometimes just for one of them, and they could help remind each other. Other times one of them would not be able to remember it at all.

“I would never do that,” Mitsuha argued. Taki smirked.

“Yes you did. You kept spending my money on food. My money and body suffered greatly.” They both laughed at this. Maybe it was because Mitsuha had grown this accustomed to Tokyo life that she couldn’t even imagine spending someone else’s money.

Another example of Taki being the only one to remember was about the fact that they were living in different timelines during the body switching, but that may have been because he was the one to discover it.

“So that means I’m... older than you?” Mitsuha smirked and poked his nose.

“You’re 22 now? That’s cute, you should call me onee-chan,” she giggled, and Taki rolled his eyes, a blush covering his cheeks.

“Yeah yeah. And no that would be totally weird.” 

One morning, it was Mitsuha’s turn to get flustered, with her lying in Taki's arms and suddenly curling up, squeaking and whimpering at what seemed the sudden memory of waking up in Taki's body in all its morning glory.

Taki in turn blushed too and had asked her what she used to do about it.

"Nothing of course! Taki-kun you perv..." Taki always couldn't help but smile and giggle. Mitsuha was just too adorable. Soon after that he also remembered what it felt like to have boobs. Her boobs. 

He decided to keep the fact that he fondled them like every morning to himself because he knew she'd freak out, until one day when they were about to go to sleep Mitsuha suddenly announced:

"That's right. I remember now. There was a time when Yotsuha told me I was groping my breasts all the time. Don't tell me you...?" Taki's blush said it all and his girlfriend indeed freaked out.

"Taki-kun you pervert!" she squeaked, and she shoved him, her fingers grazing along his side as she pushed him down. Taki flinched in response, a giggle escaping his lips.

Mitsuha suddenly looked smug and she pierced a finger into his side, which he swatted away with a blush.

"Ahh. Still ticklish I see?" Mitsuha teased, her hand dancing around to avoid his own protective hands so she could poke him multiple times.

"What do you mean still?" he asked, looking for ways to catch her nimble fingers while more squeaks and giggles started to mix.

"Well, having housed in your body for a good amount of time there's no one who knows each of your tickle spots like I do. Your body was so weak, gahh, and I had to suffer from it," Mitsuha sighed while casually continuing the light and playful tickle attack.

"H-hoho-when ?" Taki giggled, and he finally managed to catch both her hands and he kept them in place.

"Your school buddies sure liked to make me laugh until I almost wet my- I mean your pants," she said, wiggling her fingers to indicate how they did just that.

"They did?!" Taki blushed, and he tightened his grip on her hands. How embarrassing. Those jerks! 

"Yeah. Takagi-kun held me down and that mastermind Tsukasa-kun tickled me until your voice sounded more like a girl’s one. It came pretty close to mine," Mitsuha giggled. Oh that little tease. Taki grinned and used his free hand to squeeze her defenseless side.

“AYEeh!” Mitsuha jumped, and the smug expression on her face made place for a flustered one.

“Two can play at that game~” Taki said, and her eyes widened, making the realization of how fucked she was sink in just enough before he pounced. Mitsuha was wild. She kicked and flailed, causing the blankets to fall off the bed, and Taki pinned her down steadily.

“Your friends also had a few tricks up their sleeves, so I’m happy to remember that one of your worst tickle spots was right here~” Taki had swung one leg over her to pin her arms and torso with, turning his own body slightly so he could bend over and instantly attack Mitsuha’s thighs with both hands.

“GYAhaah! No fahahaair!” She bucked and thrashed, but Taki just laughed maniacally and continued to tickle her thighs while one hand traveled back to scribble at her bare tummy. Mitsuha squealed adorably and tried to reach for her pajama top to pull it down and cover her tummy up, but she c ould barely move in this position. 

“Also, even your little sis had the strength to overpower you. Even a fit person like me couldn’t stand a chance against her in youuur weaaaak body~” Taki teased just like she had done to him, and he looked back over his shoulder to see the way her face colored bright briiiight red from both laughter and embarrassment.

“Y-youou’re not fihihit! And y-you’re so meheheeaan!” Mitsuha squeaked. She began to thrash and struggle wilder and managed to free one arm from Taki’s leg. Taki’s eyes widened when he felt how she went straight for the kill: his foot. 

“OohaHAha!” he barked suddenly, his tickling fingers twitching and his body trembling. He heard his girlfriend laugh triumphantly despite still being tickled, and she increased her attack on him.

“Thaha -that’s w-whahat you get!” she giggled. Oh it was on. Taki used his strength to pull his leg free, and he turned around and straddled her. He caught both her hands and managed to pin them above her head with one hand, smirking down at her.

“What was that you were saying?” he panted, and he attacked her exposed armpit. The series of expressions on her face from shock to embarrassment to the brightest laugh ever was adorable. And so was her laugh.

“EEeeeheehehe nonono! Not the- not theaahaha!” Mitsuha threw her lower body up, kicked her legs and squirmed, but she didn’t come close to wriggling free. Taki tightened his grip on her with his legs and now lowered his other hand so he could attack both her armpits and upper ribs with squeezing and scratching tickles.

“NAhaha ahahahlright you win! I g-gihihive!” Mitsuha cried, lowering her hands that were now free and attempting to catch his quick moving fingers.

“Stopstopstop! Mercehehe!” That did it. Taki finally stopped and let her gasp for breath. He chuckled and leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. Then he kissed her lips.

“Don’t start a fight you can’t finish,” he said playfully, and Mitsuha giggled adooorably when he couldn’t help but squeeze her side fondly to support his statement. He kissed her again and felt her body relax under him, her hands that were clenching his arms slowly sliding up until she could wrap her arms around his neck.

“Hmmh-” Taki was flustered for one moment but then deepened the kiss, moving down in her embrace. 

“How...” It took a while before he could mutter the question that was on his mind in between their kisses.

“How did you know my feet are ticklish? Did those jerks go that far?” Mitsuha shook her head and he sighed in relief. Now that would’ve been embarrassing. His friends often tickled him during their high school times but never his feet.

“I just guessed. Seemed like a nice spot to go for,” Mitsuha said sweetly. She then moved her hand up and ruffled his hair.

“What about you? Was anyone that bold to tickle my armpits back then?” she asked. Taki shook his head as well.

“Just a guess. I know your body well enough to guess,” he muttered against her lips. Which was true. They smiled at each other and he nuzzled her nose, cheek and neck.

“Good thing that I know your body very well too. Just you wait for my revenge,” Mitsuha said playfully. Taki giggled.

“Can’t wait,” he said sarcastically. The rest of that day and the rest of their lives from that moment on were filled with laughs and tickles. Rather than discovering the other’s tickle spots by being in their body and getting tickled by someone else, it was definitely the best thing to discover them together. 

And there were plenty plenty, many more tickle spots for each of them to find out!

“Taki-kun... Don’t tell me... you have a ticklish neck, too?” Mitsuha asked one day during a make out session. Taki shuddered. Her fingers had been tracing his neck lovingly and he might’ve given away a very unmanly giggle just now.

Uh oh. 

[dreamings-free]

It's not just the Black Keys. Why are so many big tours selling poorly? Stereogum | June 11, 2024 | by Zach Schonfeld

long (and US focused) but still quite interesting article on the current state of concert touring, why tours are getting cancelled or downsized, and what's up with ticket pricing. (my selected excerpts/highlights under the cut)

[excerpt, all highlights mine]

[Eric Renner Brown, a senior editor at Billboard] adds, “I do think [The Black Keys] are an artist that can fill those rooms still. I think the demand is there in terms of people who want to see Black Keys. But perhaps at that price point, the demand was not there.”

Ostensibly, agents and promoters should have access to data that can give them a better sense of demand. But they often place outsized importance on raw streaming numbers.

“The data is very confusing,” says the anonymous booking agent. “There’s a lot of passive listeners for data. You can have millions upon millions of streams, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna turn into tickets. The opposite is, there are some artists who don’t have many streams at all and they can sell like 2,000, 3,000 tickets.”

[..]

It’s worth noting that the Black Keys have released four albums since returning from hiatus in 2019, and toured arenas as recently as 2022. This may be a case of oversaturating the market.

The band’s 2019 and 2022 arena runs weren’t exactly sold out. In between, the band left their longtime manager in 2021, signing with Irving Azoff and Steve Moir at Full Stop Management. Some sources speculate that Azoff, a former CEO of Ticketmaster, may have encouraged ambitious touring plans. On Thursday, Billboard reported that the group has now parted ways with Azoff and Moir. (The management company did not respond to a request for comment.)

“Essentially, you have some very big managers that are out of touch with the granular finesse and nuance of ticketing,” says another anonymous booking agent. “And they have these large expectations and they tell their agents what they want. And the agents are probably texting each other on the side, going, ‘This man is out of his fucking mind.’ But they do it anyway because, in the case of Black Keys, they’re not gonna challenge Irving Azoff.”

[..]

One contributing factor to instability in the touring industry is the rising cost of… well, everything. It’s part of why ticket prices are so high; it’s also part of the reason some acts are backing out of touring commitments.

Bands at all levels have been sounding the alarm about this for years. In 2022, for instance, Animal Collective canceled European tour dates and explained, “We simply could not make a budget for this tour that did not lose money even if everything went as well as it could.”

Industry insiders say that’s not uncommon. “Everything is ridiculously expensive,” says a tour manager who works with major acts and asked not to be named. “There’s not enough gear for everyone to share, so the vendors are having to pay high amounts for equipment. A single bus for a six-week tour can cost $100,000. Multiple that by multiple buses, and then trucks, and then crews are at a minimum, so they’re getting top rate right now because there’s not enough crews.”

COVID, of course, exacerbated this crunch. “What happened after the pandemic is, everyone was ready to tour at once,” the tour manager says. “There’s not enough gear to cover all of that. A lot of bands have had to cancel tours because they don’t have gear or they couldn’t afford the gear,” the tour manager continued. “I was on a tour with somebody last year where we had to book a private jet because there were no buses available. For the first week of the tour, we had to charter planes.”

Acts are thus incentivized to book bigger venues to recoup the costs of touring. The catch-22 is that bigger venues necessitate more elaborate stage production, which makes for a more expensive tour.

“There’s the expectation to have that production,” says the tour manager. “If people went back to having just two trusses of lights and a P.A. and no frills, it was just about the music, they can afford to tour. But everyone wants to see those flashing lights. Everyone wants to see that video.”

“So much of the economics of these big tours is completely invisible to fans and consumers,” says Kevin Erickson, director of Future of Music Coalition, a nonprofit advocacy group. “You can sell out a tour and come back in the red if there was a cost overrun or a miscalculation.”

For mid-level acts with sizable followings, these frustrations are compounded by a lack of suitable mid-sized venues.

“For a band that maybe has assessed its demand in the market to be in the 8K range or something for capacity, where are they going to go if that sort of venue doesn’t exist?” says Brown. “And if, say, the local theater that seats 3K or 4K can’t accommodate two or three nights, it can only put them for one night on the tour routing. That’s a real concern.”

[..]

At the end of the day, it all comes back to price. The average ticket price for one of the top 100 tours rose from $91.86 to $122.84 between 2019 and 2023. Concerts are too damn expensive, and there’s a growing sense of consumer frustration with shows that cost as much as airline tickets.

-> read the full article here on Stereogum.com

[enjoythesilentworld]

Simon's Month - Labor Day

day 22!! @youngroyals-events

Simon plans to take down RK Solutions from the inside. He also just so happens to be sleeping with the CEO's son.

read below or on ao3 (M, 2k) (cw: minor implied sexual content)

Simon found it kind of fun, at first. The sneaking around, the pretending to arrive separately each morning, lingering and waiting for each other at the end of the day. He didn’t really think the company he worked for needed to be privy to his relationships anyway, romantic or otherwise. He was there to do his job — a job at which he was rather good at — and nothing more. The fact that he was sleeping with the CEO’s son who was also technically his superior made things just a little more complicated.

This was the opposite of the problem he thought he’d have when he’d finally landed this job in corporate. After working for years on the floor in the retail stores that RK Solutions owned all across the continent, and seeing the unfair wages, subpar working conditions, and general shitty benefits, Simon had been ready to finally make a change. From the inside. On his first day, he’d marked Wilhelm as his number one enemy.

Except, that fell apart pretty quickly, because Simon learned that Wilhelm was actually rather kind, and nothing like his mother, who was harsh and high-nosed, just like the rest of the board of directors.

He tried to stay away from Wilhelm, he really did. Simon wanted to focus on his job, on gaining people’s trust so that he could start sharing ideas on how to improve working conditions, and eventually work his way up to making pitches to the board, to Kristina herself. But, Wilhelm kept finding Simon at lunch, or in the elevator, and quickly Wilhelm became Wille and shared lunch time in the building’s cafeteria became dinner dates in tiny restaurants outside of town.

About three months into his time at RK Solutions, Simon went to Wille’s office under the guise of asking a question about some paperwork, but then, suddenly, the door was shut and the blinds were closed and Simon was horizontal on Wille’s desk, the man’s tongue down his throat.

It escalated from there, catching each other in empty offices and stairwells and elevators. Quick hands and hot mouths, loosened ties and mussed hair. It was hot as fuck, the sneaking around, and it helped to take the edge off after a long day in front of a computer.

They didn’t really talk about what this was. That was fine, because they were mainly hooking up and having the occasional meal together. But, then, they weren’t just doing that. Then, Simon was staying at Wille’s and Wille at Simon’s and things got a little more real. They started talking, really talking, and Simon learned Wille is more than just not an asshole, but he is funny and caring and sweet.

He is also, however, a coward.

Once they started talking for real, Simon told Wille all about the real conditions at their corporation’s stores. About the measly benefits, the wage gouging, the sheer number of employees at or below the poverty line. He ranted about how much money Wille’s family made every year, and about all the plans Simon had drafted up to fix things, and how no one would listen to him. Wille listened and nodded along but at the end of the day, he refused to use the power he had. He wouldn’t stand up to Kristina, he wouldn’t stand up to the board. He’d keep playing the part of the little puppet and complaining about it all the while.

“I wish I could help, Simon,” or “It’s just not that easy,” or “That’s not how things work here.”

It put a bit of a strain on their relationship, so Simon pulled back. He would do this part without Wille. He didn’t need his help. They could maintain their ‘relationship’ that was just sex but also maybe more, and Simon could pretend it didn’t kill him that he was falling for Wille, knowing he’d never be able to be the man Simon needed him to be.

Nine months into Simon’s time at RK Solutions and four months into this more-than-just-fuck-buddies situation, on a random Thursday night, Simon is lying on Wille’s chest, in Wille’s bed.

Simon stayed here last night, too, and they’d come back from the office together, Simon lingering at his desk longer than necessary because Wille had a meeting, then taking the service elevator to sneak out to meet the man at his car.

Wille’s telling Simon something about a nature documentary he thinks they should watch when his phone rings.

“Hello?”

Simon hears a muffled woman’s voice on the other side, then Wille shoots up to sitting and Simon’s tumbling backward. “You’re what? But, it’s—”

Simon settles back into the pillows, watching Wille’s face slowly draw together in distress as Kristina rambles on. A moment later, Wille is jumping out of bed and pulling on his boxers with one hand. Simon sits up, too, concerned something has happened, until he nearly gets hit in the face by Wille chucking him his clothes in a balled up pile.

“What the fuck?”

Wille whips his head over and mouths, “Sorry,” then mimes zipping his lips. Simon can’t imagine Kristina would be able to hear him, and he doesn’t really appreciate being silently told to shut the fuck up. He pulls his boxers back on right as Wille hands up the phone.

“Sorry,” Wille says again, out loud this time, already flying around the room, picking other things up. A used condom wrapper, a lone tie. “You have to go.”

“What?”

“My mother is coming here, like, now. Something about a presentation tomorrow.” Wille doesn’t even glance at Simon. “You know you can’t be here.”

Simon stands from the bed and stares at Wille, confused, but slides on his wrinkled button-up, anyway. “It’s 9pm. You couldn’t tell her to wait?”

Wille scoffs, moving to the mirror to start fixing his hair, hair which not twenty minutes ago, Simon had his fingers knitted in. “Kristina doesn’t really take ‘No’ for an answer. You know that.”

The tone is condescending in a way that is unfamiliar coming from Wille. It makes Simon’s stomach churn.

“Right,” Simon clips, finishing getting dressed. He doesn’t even bother lacing up his shoes, just heads straight for the front door.

Wille doesn’t even say goodbye. The door slams shut behind him, and Simon has decided he is done pretending.

He manages to avoid Wille the next day, and then the whole week, but Wille corners him that next Friday.

“Hey,” Wille says, looking totally confused and innocent. “What’s up? You’ve been dodging me.”

“I’ve been busy,” Simon states blandly, already looking over Wille’s shoulder for an escape route. He really can’t do this right now.

“Did I do something?”

Simon holds back the urge to roll his eyes. “No.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, clearly not understanding. That is in itself is yet another splinter to the heart. “Do you want to come to mine this weekend? Or I could come to yours, if that’s easier.”

The air must have gone thin in this hallway, because Simon can barely get out, “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

There’s a long pause, and Simon tries not to meet Wille’s eye, but he can’t help it. He sees his own heartbreak reflected there, but also confusion, which makes the anger flare in Simon’s chest, and it makes it a little easier.

“What?”

“I think we should stop seeing each other.” Simon slides to the left to escape. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around.”

They don’t talk for a month. Simon barely sees Wille at the office, only occasionally through a conference room window or across the room at the cafeteria. He should’ve known that Wille wouldn’t fight for him, considering how he handled everything else in his life.

It doesn’t matter. The thing between them is over, and it never could’ve worked because Wille is under Kristina’s thumb and Simon is currently organizing a secret company-wide march for Labor Day. In two weeks, Simon will march with the all the retail workers from local stores, protesting their unfair treatment and money

Simon is working late on the project one evening, when he hears someone clear their throat. Standing in the doorway to his office, is Wille.

“What are you doing here?” Simon asks sharply, quickly shuffling papers together.

“I just wanted to—” He looks timid, and sad, and that sparks a bit of something cruel in Simon’s chest, because, yeah, Simon is sad, too. He wishes things could’ve worked between them, too. “How are you? You’ve been working late a lot.”

“Oh, you’re keeping tabs on me now?”

Wille takes a step back. “No, I just— I’m sorry.”

Simon sighs and collects the rest of his papers, holding them to his chest. “Look, I really don’t have time for this, I have to go.”

“Simon, wait, please. I don’t understand what happened. Please just tell me what I did wrong.” His voice is desperate, and it pulls at the parts of Simon’s heart that still feel things for him. Then, Wille lowers his voice to whisper, “I miss you,” and it nearly rips his heart out of his chest.

“Wille,” he grits out, trying to hold onto every sliver of self-respect, “I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

“But, why? I thought you— I thought you liked me.”

“I do— I did. I did.” Simon closes his eyes for a moment and tips his head up to the ceiling, trying to maintain control. He meets Wille’s eyes again. “But, I just couldn't be your secret anymore. I couldn’t live with myself coming here every day, fighting for the rights of these workers — your workers — begging you to do something about it, and then turning around and sleeping with you. It just— It couldn’t work any longer. You don’t want to use your position for good, fine. That’s on you. But I worked my ass off to get this job so I could do something with it.”

His chest is heaving by the end of it, and he’s exhausted and pissed and heartbroken. Wille says nothing, and Simon is not surprised, so he pushes past him in a hurry.

Things are moving too fast, though, because Simon’s tripping over his own feet and going tumbling to the ground, papers flying. He scrambles to get them, biting back his tears of frustration and embarrassment at the whole thing. Wille kneels down beside him, helping to collect the papers, and then he’s not, because he’s frozen, reading the text on one of the pages.

Simon freezes, too, watching him, suddenly terrified.

“You’re…” Wille starts slowly. “You’re organizing a—”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Simon bursts out, resisting the urge to snatch the paper from Wille’s hands. He quiets his voice again. “Please, Wille. This is really important to me.”

Wille looks at him for a long moment, eyes still sad. Then, he hands the stack of papers back.

“I didn’t see anything.”

Simon finds it hard to even be excited about the rally now. As much as he hates to admit it, he trusts Wille, and he doesn’t think he’ll tell. But, the heartache remains.

He throws himself into his work instead. The only time to work on the organizing is during non-work hours, so he arrives early and stays late. No one seems to notice. Days pass, there’s no word from Wille, and Simon wonders if he’ll ever get over him.

Första Maj lands on a Monday. Simon arrives early to the park to help get things ready, to start painting signs and handing out flyers and stickers to paste up as they march through the city. Too distracted by the day, he barely thinks about Wille, except that his family’s company is pasted on every sign, so that makes it a little hard to forget.

Ten minutes before they’re meant to head out, Simon’s putting the last touches on a sign, when someone says his name. He turns.

Wille smiles tentatively at him. “Do you have an extra sign?”

[sleekervae]

The Bride [0.7]

Masterlist

A/N: sorry I've been away for so long guys, I hit a bit of a depression when I came home but I'm slowly coming out of it. And ofc any time Tom's in a cowboy hat catch me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure lol.

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: Billy moves to Lincoln

Warnings: cursing, slander, mentions of shooting, anxiety and paranoia

Word Count: 5,222

Tag List: @poppyflower-22 @ponyslayer

The town of Lincoln was a booming, dusty town with a strong Mexican population. Despite its small size it was rapidly developing in housing, productivity, and opportunity. And where there was opportunity, ambition came sniffing around.

The first opportunity Lawrence P. Murphy saw was a monopoly; so many immigrant farmers eager to make a living, and he had the means to distribute their products to those who needed them. Of course, because he had been in the only game in town, no farmer could complain when Murphy began to slash their earnings, because where were they supposed to go? Who was going to compensate them?

Well, John Tunstall saw his own opportunity: completion.

Same distribution, same stores, better wages, better human rights. And when the farmers learned of what Tunstall had to offer, they of course clamoured to sell their grain, veggies, and dry goods to him instead of Murphy.

Another result of competition was jealousy... as well as greed... and then desperation.

Murphy became so desperate to keep his stocks, so desperate to hold on to the power and control he had within Lincoln, that he was willing to sub-contract criminals to keep the farmers in line. There was no real law in Lincoln, so again -- who was to stop him?

Seven had just struck the morning air, businesses were opening and children were beginning their chores for the day. It was a simple, ordinary day, up until an unfamiliar horse strided into town. On the back of said horse was a woman, a striking stranger donning a long canvas coat and a black, wide-brimmed hat. The horse matched her facade, black in its coat with a single white sock on its back leg, trotting away peacefully under the patient guidance of its rider.

Some of the locals stopped what they were doing, it wasn't often they'd see women riding horses by themselves. They'd never seen a strange woman ride into town, period; they were typically always accompanied by a man.

And yet, the town of Lincoln would come to find there was nothing typical about this woman.

They watched curiously as she stopped before John Tunstall's store. Dismounting her horse, she was much shorter than she appeared, however she walked with great confidence up the stairs of the store front and waltzed right in.

A store clerk glanced up, giving her his own curious gaze as she bypassed all the available product and approached the desk, "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked.

"Why yes," she smiled sweetly for him, lifting her hat off her head and letting her long brown hair cascade over her shoulders, "I heard Mr. Tunstall was hiring for a book keeper. I'm here to apply," she replied simply, plucking her riding gloves off her fingers one by one.

The clerk nodded, "I see. Do you have experience?"

"Yes, sir. Six years worth," her smile widened, the tinge of her southern accent was so effortlessly charming that the clerk couldn't help but be taken with her.

"Six years?" he queried. He couldn't have put this girl at more than twenty-years-old.

"That's right," she nodded, never wavering in her confidence.

She seemed sweet enough, the clerk didn't see the harm in her, "Well, Mr. Tunstall won't be back in town for another few weeks, but I'd be happy to give you the run through, if you'd like?" he offered.

"I'd appreciate that," she nodded, "Mr...?"

"Charlie works just fine," he stepped out from the counter to lead her into the back, "And your name?"

"Johana," she replied, reaching out to shake his hand, "Johana Delile,"

Working for Mr. Murphy brought in a lot of money, and for the most part, it was easy money. Intimidate the competition, disrupt supply chains, and remind the locals who held the monopoly in town.

That last part didn't sit well with Billy. Jesse, however, seemed to thrive on it.

The locals they were threatening, the supply chains they were disrupting, were typically Mexican families. Immigrants who had journeyed up North in hopes of achieving the American Dream. They were good people who just wanted to make an honest living. People who, despite their contracts with Murphy, were giving their supply to Tunstall because he simply paid better.

If anyone deserved a shot at making it in this country, it was them. Billy understood that better than any of Jesse's boys could, better than Murphy ever would. Murphy's solution was muscle and ammo, and despite how much Billy tried to keep violence out of it, he could only play peacemaker for so long before something snapped.

Billy found himself torn. He knew the pain of struggling for a better life, the desperation that came with it. He saw the fear in the eyes of the families they intimidated, and it ate at him. He could almost hear Eleanor's voice, urging him to do the right thing, to find another way.

But here he was, stuck in a cycle of survival and compromise, his hands tied by the very people he was trying to distance himself from. Each day brought a new challenge, a new moral line to cross, and Billy felt the weight of it pressing down on him, threatening to crush whatever remnants of his old self he had left.

Today was another warm one, summer would be coming to an end soon yet the heat was insistent on sticking around. Murphy had tasked Jesse with another intimidation tactic, Jesse naturally dragged Billy and Pat with him.

They made a good trio: Jesse was the aggressive one, hyper, quick on the tongue and on the draw, Pat, with his distinguished way of dress gave him some air of power and authority, people respected him. And Billy, well Billy's sensitivity came into play quite effectively. Jesse knew how much Billy didn't want blood spilled, he could tell from the moment he stepped foot into town. So Billy was naturally the last line of threat, encouraging the locals to wise up and respect Murphy's business.

Today however would prove to be just a tad different.

It wasn't the first time the trio had stormed into Tunstall's store, tearing through bags of grain, kicking bags of flour, making a real mess of the place. The clerk in charge stood helpless, unarmed, and outmanned. This was exactly what Jesse and his boys expected as they strode into the store. Jesse’s aggression could be sensed a mile away, and it was enough to make the poor store clerk quake in his boots.

"I thought we gave you a warning last time!" Jesse hollered, his boot connecting with another bag of grain, spilling its contents across the floor.

"And what warning would that be?" the clerk stammered, trying to stand his ground. Billy felt a pang of sympathy for the guy, along with a growing annoyance at Jesse’s antics.

"Shape up and ship out," Jesse replied with a sneer. "You've got no chance at competing with Murphy. He knows it, you know it, and I'm sure at this point Tunstall knows it too."

Pat chimed in, "You can’t even get the same quality product. It’s no competition."

Billy lingered in the back, staying quiet but ready should things escalate. They almost did with a farmer and his family the other day, and Billy had barely managed to reel Jesse back in, like a rabid animal on a leash.

"Where's Tunstall at?" Jesse demanded, hands on his hips.

"He won’t be back for a few weeks," the clerk said, trying to sound confident.

"You told me that last time," Jesse scoffed.

"Last time was the same," the clerk replied. "Mr. Tunstall’s a busy man, you know..."

A smirk tugged at Jesse’s lips. He glanced at Pat, then at Billy, before turning back to the clerk. "I bet he is. So damn busy, he leaves some gawky kid to run his store instead of being here himself. Real brave man,"

Just as the tension reached its peak, the door to the store swung open, and Billy swore he was seeing a ghost. Given the dumfounded look on Jesse's face, he felt the same. In walked Eleanor—or a more refined, polished version of her. Billy finally sat up from the crate he was resting on, studying her hard as she sauntered into the hostile room. Her hair was pinned up nicely, her slacks were traded for a nice dress, and her face was clean, free of any trace of stress or depression.

"Sam, you need help out here? I heard some bags fall over—"

She took in the scene with a quick glance, her eyes locking with Billy's first, then shifting to Jesse. The same gobsmacked expression hit her only for a moment; her eyes went wide, and Billy could hear her sharp inhale. Nevertheless, she remained cool and stoic, standing beside the clerk with a calm authority that commanded the room.

"What’s goin' on here?" Eleanor asked, her voice steady and her Carolinian accent heavier than before.

Jesse straightened up, stepping forward with caution, "Eleanor?" he muttered, but the edge in his voice had dulled.

She cocked a brow, glancing at Sam with curiosity before turning back to Jesse, "Who's Eleanor?" she asked plainly.

Pat himself was confused, glancing between the two men. Obviously, there was something about this girl that had them both as white as sheets.

Jesse scoffed in disbelief, "Don't play around, Ellie. It's not funny," he told her.

"Do you see me laughing?" she sassed back, one hand going on her hip, "Now I asked you a question, you still have yet to answer me,"

"They were just leaving, Jo," Sam informed her.

"Jo?" Billy finally spoke, coming to stand in line with Jesse and Pat. There were so many emotions flooding through him; relief because she was alive and appeared relatively unharmed, confused and hurt because she obviously recognized him and Jesse, but whatever role she was taking on now, she obviously couldn't let slip that she knew them.

"Johana," she said simply, "You boys work for Mr. Murphy, don't ya?" she cocked her head, staring directly at Billy now.

Billy took a hard swallow before answering, "That's right, ma'am," Jesse shot him a glare, pissed and annoyed that Billy was playing into her cock and bull story.

A pitiful smile crossed her face, "Then you don't belong here. Either buy somethin', or get out," she huffed, "We got a special on dried apricots this week,"

Jesse was still in disbelief, but he could register enough to see how she was talking to him. He could see which side she was playing for, and that automatically made her his enemy.

"You really wanna' do this, Eleanor?" he asked, "This is what you do to me?"

Eleanor simply shook her head, "Now listen, I don't know who this Eleanor girl is, but God save her soul should you ever find her. Now, I told you to leave,"

Jesse scowled menacingly, anger boiling inside him now, "Or what?" he took a step closer, "What the hell are you gonna' do?"

Billy watched anxiously as a viscous, petty smile crossed her face. He could see how much Eleanor was enjoying this, toying with Jesse, riling him up. But he couldn't have predicted what she did next.

Without warning, she let out an ear-piercing, murderous scream. The type of scream women let out when they knew they were in real trouble, the type of scream that townsfolk would drop everything for and run if it meant protecting their own. And that's just what happened, already Billy could hear people making their way to Tunstall's store. He knew exactly how it would look when they came in here, and he was eager to avoid as much trouble as he could.

They had to get out, now.

"Alright, alright! We get it!" Billy stepped forward, his hands out to try and calm her, "You win!"

Eleanor immediately stopped screaming, that same smile still plastered to her face. It was almost as though she had been taken on by another spirit, this wasn't the Eleanor that Billy had come to know. Even Sam was shaken as he cowered further back behind the desk.

"I'm glad you see it my way," she told him, "Now either run along, and I make up a ruse about a mouse runnin' loose around here. Or the townspeople can come in and I'll tell 'em all about how you tried to manhandle a poor, defenceless, little woman," her smile was overtaken by that all too familiar pout that Billy and Jesse came to know.

That murderous glare returned to Jesse's face, his fists balling at his sides. Of course, he couldn't do anything here, not now anyway. Billy wouldn't put it past him to return come closing time, though.

"Alright, we're leaving," Pat agreed, tugging Jesse by his jacket arm, "But Mr. Murphy's gett'n real tired of losing his suppliers,"

"Well, maybe if Murphy paid his suppliers properly, he wouldn't be having a problem?" Sam butted in.

"Money talks well, after all," Eleanor nodded coyly.

Jesse stepped back with the boys, his glare never leaving Eleanor's, "Don't get too comfortable, Johana. We'll be back,"

"Gimme' a head's up next time!" she called after them, "I'll put some coffee on!"

Billy grabbed Jesse and dragged him out the door, just as a few locals came rushing into the store to see what all the screaming was about. Sam and Eleanor -- or Johana, as they came to know her -- quickly quelled their fears with the story of a rogue rat, sending them all on their way again. All they were left with now was a giant mess to clean up.

"That was wonderful, Jo," Sam awed, "I don't know how you got it in you!"

"What do ya' mean, Sam?" she asked.

"You just stand up to them so well! That first guy was all up in your face and you never flinched!" he replied

"Well, it's simple," she told him as they began to clean up, "Don't let 'em see you scared, that's how they know they got power over you,"

Sam nodded, "S'pose that makes sense... were you scared?"

"Of those knuckle heads? Please," she scoffed.

"Why'd they keep calling you 'Eleanor', though?"

Eleanor simply shrugged, not letting any hint of stress show in her expression, "Hell if I know. Maybe I just got one of 'em faces?"

Sam began to laugh, "Maybe you look too much like his girlfriend that took off on 'im?" well, he almost hit the nail on the head...

"Maybe so," Eleanor chuckled back, though the thought of being Jesse's girl absolutely repulsed her, "I'm gonna grab the broom. You try to salvage whatcha' can,"

"Sounds good!"

Eleanor walked into the back of the store, her calm facade crumbling the moment she was out of sight. Her hand flew to her mouth, muffling her labored breathing. Her chest tightened like a bowstring as she fell back against the wall, eyes wide with panic. Jesse was in town. Billy was in town. They were working for the competition. If they were feeling spiteful, her cover was definitely blown.

She slid down the wall, her legs shaking beneath her, the reality of the situation hitting her like a freight train. Memories flooding back like a dam bursting, the life she had tried so hard to escape was back to haunt her. She pressed her palm against her chest, willing herself to calm down.

Footsteps echoed from the front of the store, each one sending a jolt of fear through her. Sam would surely be back to check on her if she wasn't out soon. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, fighting to regain control. She couldn’t let him see her like this, couldn't risk him finding out the truth.

Taking a deep breath, Eleanor straightened up, forcing herself to stand tall. She brushed her hands down her dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, and went to fetch the broom. She had fought too hard to create this new life, and she wasn’t about to let the Seven Rivers Gang destroy it.

Billy had never seen Jesse so furious. The moment he stepped out of the store, his boots stomped heavily across the gravel path. He kicked at a wooden beam supporting the building’s awning with such force that Pat worried it might come crashing down on them.

"That bitch!" Jesse roared, his voice echoing through the quiet town. "After everything we did for her, that's how she repays us?" He turned to Billy, eyes blazing with rage. "She say something to you? About her little plan?"

Billy flinched at Jesse’s snarl. "N-No!" he shook his head swiftly, meeting Jesse’s intense glare. "She must’ve come along here on her way from Rosario!"

"Like hell!"

Pat stepped in, anxious to calm Jesse and avoid drawing more attention. "Who is she, anyhow?" he asked.

"A little runaway whore I took pity on a year ago! Stupid me for thinking she’d be loyal!" Jesse snapped. "I let her outta my sight for one day —"

"Hey, c’mon!" Billy interrupted. "Don’t be that way, Jesse. You don’t know what she had to put up with out there!"

"Oh, and you do?" Jesse scoffed. He stopped in his tracks, stepping into Billy’s space, eyes narrowing. "You'll cling to anything to hang onto her, won’t you?" he growled, spit flying from his lips.

Billy held his ground. "That’s not true —"

"Are you sure? Because now my worry is you'll take one look at her, she’ll bat her big pretty eyes at you, and you’ll lose focus," Jesse huffed.

"And you won’t?" Billy shot back. "You knew her longer."

"And for reasons beyond me, she likes you better," Jesse replied, bitterness lacing his words. "Don’t fall for it, Billy! She’s a snake! A con artist! And we walked right into her next scheme!"

Billy clenched his fists, struggling to keep his composure. "Do you even hear yourself?" he asked, his voice tight with frustration. He didn’t want to believe Jesse, but the doubt gnawed at him viciously.

"You heard her in there! She's Johana. For now, anyway," Jesse spat, whirling around and striding away. Billy and Pat jogged to keep up.

"Jesse, what're you gonna do?" Billy asked, a knot of worry tightening in his chest. He had a sinking feeling about Jesse’s intentions.

"What do you think I'm gonna do? How do you think Tunstall's gonna feel knowing he's got a con woman running his store?" Jesse's voice was sharp, filled with a venom that made Billy flinch.

Pat grabbed Jesse’s sleeve, pulling him to a stop. "Hold on, now," he said firmly, forcing Jesse to face him. "Listen, I understand how pissed off you boys are. But how are you gonna look to Tunstall -- hell, how are you gonna look to Murphy -- if you go and accuse this girl of being who you say she is without any proof? Now, if she had her name and face on a poster, that would be one thing."

Billy nodded, desperate to keep the situation from spiraling. "Yeah, and exposing her doesn't serve us any purpose, Jesse," he added, his voice steady but pleading.

Jesse's jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with a mix of hurt and anger. He knew they were right, even if he hated to admit it. As much as he felt betrayed by Eleanor, he had to stay focused on their mission. She -- Johana -- whoever she was, couldn’t derail their plans.

"Fine," he snapped, ripping his arm from Pat’s grip and straightening his jacket. "Leave her be. She'll be out of a job in no time, anyhow." He then turned to Billy, his eyes narrowing. "And if I find out you go anywhere near her..." His words were harsh, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes -- a hint of the pain he felt, buried beneath the anger.

"I won't," Billy assured him, though the words felt like ash in his mouth.

As they fell in step, Pat attempted to shift the conversation to something trivial. Billy nodded along, but his mind was elsewhere, a heavy lump forming in his stomach. The sight of Eleanor had stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite shake. Relief at seeing her alive and well was overshadowed by a gnawing anxiety, questions spiraling uncontrollably in his mind.

Why was she here? Was she safe? What had she gone through to end up in Tunstall's store? His heart ached with the thought of her composed, cleaned up appearance in the store clashing with the Eleanor he remembered. She was pristine and lady-like, a true Southern Belle not quite herself, and if he hadn't seen her in the store there was a good chance Billy might not have recognized her at all.

Billy’s gaze drifted back to Jesse, who was now engaged in a conversation with Pat. Jesse’s anger was palpable, but Billy could see the undercurrent of hurt beneath it. He knew Jesse felt betrayed, but he also knew how deeply he had cared for Eleanor. It was a mess, all of it, and Billy was caught in the middle, unsure of what to do or how to feel.

If there was one thing Billy could never do well, it was listening. He knew he'd pay dearly if Jesse or anyone found out where he was going.

He hadn't planned to leave the party early, but Dolan Murphy couldn't help but push Billy to perform. And perform he did. Over ten targets shot down in less than a minute—a personal best some would reckon. Despite their admiration, despite the clear impression Billy had made, he could also recognize the fear in their faces. Good. In a way, he wanted Murphy, Jesse, even the U.S. Army General to fear him.

With every shot, he reflected on how he ended up here, his mission to abolish such a corrupt system quelled when he realized he was suddenly just as wrapped up in corruption as everyone else. Dear God, if his mother saw him now...

In the wake of his demonstration, Billy left alcohol spilled, glass shattered, and a small fire breaking out over a barn threshold. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but stop and watch the U.S. Army General swig down his whiskey while he chatted with the town sheriff. He recognized the colors he wore, the brim of his hat, the markings on his sleeve. He was of the same battalion as Eleanor's husband—or would-be husband, that is. If he was here, he wondered if that same captain was here too.

He wondered if Eleanor knew that...

His feet moved before his mind could catch up, carrying him away from the chaos he'd left behind and towards the edge of town. He knew the risks, knew Jesse’s wrath would be waiting for him if he got caught. But he had to see her, had to find out if she was okay.

As he walked, the night air cooled his burning skin, but did nothing to calm the storm inside him. He remembered the fear in the eyes of those he'd impressed with his shooting skills, the way they looked at him like he was something to be wary of. It was a twisted sort of satisfaction, knowing he could instill that kind of fear. Yet it was also a bitter reminder of how far he'd strayed from the man he once wanted to be.

His mother would be ashamed, and Eleanor—he didn’t know what she’d think. She might assure him it was okay, might try to understand, but the truth was he didn’t even understand himself anymore. The lines between right and wrong had blurred, leaving him adrift in a sea of confusion and guilt.

Billy stopped at the edge of the road, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of her. He didn't know what he was hoping for, but he knew he couldn’t walk away without trying.

The roads were quiet at this time of night, a welcome reprieve for Eleanor on her evening walk home. She still didn't have a "home" per se, but Tunstall paid her just enough to stay in a nicer boarding house. No holes in the curtains, no rotten bed mattresses, and locks on doors that worked properly.

It had been days since Jesse and Billy ambushed the store, and yet she was still as shaken as though it happened moments ago. Every step she took outside, her eyes scanned the faces in the street. Every glance out a window, she wondered if they were watching her, plotting something. Sam, bless his heart, was still oblivious to any stress she was under as he continued to run the storefront, leaving Eleanor to fret over the books and accounts in the back.

She had to wonder if God had a twisted sense of humor, or perhaps he was just taunting her at this point. Taunting her with Billy, always keeping him just within reach, but never enough to have him fully. Not that she ever thought she stood a chance, not out here, anyway. She had to wonder how he became so mixed up in such nasty business. When did he come back to the gang? Did Jesse feel more inclined to let him return because she disappeared?

Ditching Jesse was a move she knew she could never recover from in his eyes, but she seized her opportunity to escape the first moment she could. After all, there was opportunity for her in Lincoln; she never stood a chance with Jesse.

Not even with Billy.

As she walked, the cool night air did little to calm the storm inside her. Her mind was a whirlpool of memories and questions, each one more painful than the last. The image of Billy's face, the anger and confusion in his eyes when he saw her in the store, haunted her. She wondered if he thought of her as often as she thought of him, if he missed her the way she missed him.

But then she reminded herself of the reality. Billy was tangled in a web of violence and lawlessness, a world she had desperately tried to escape. A world she could never fully belong to, even if her heart stubbornly refused to let go of him.

There was a palpable tension in the air, a feeling that prickled at the back of Eleanor's neck. The sensation of being watched, of unseen eyes tracking her every move, gnawed at her. She tried to shake it off, attributing it to her frayed nerves, but the feeling only grew stronger.

The street lamps cast long, eerie shadows, and every rustle of leaves or creak of a wooden plank seemed amplified in the stillness. She quickened her pace, her heart pounding in her chest, every instinct screaming at her to get to safety. Her eyes darted around, catching glimpses of movement in the periphery, shadows that seemed to loom and retreat.

She could feel her breath quickening, a tightness in her chest that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of walking. Every step felt heavy, as if the weight of unseen gazes bore down on her. The normally comforting sounds of the night now seemed sinister, the hoot of an owl making her jump, the distant bark of a dog sending a shiver down her spine.

Eleanor's mind raced with possibilities, each more frightening than the last. Was it Jesse? Had he sent someone to follow her, lurking in the shadows to catch her off guard? She shook her head, trying to dispel the paranoia, but it clung to her, a dark cloud she couldn't escape.

Reaching the boarding house, Eleanor fumbled for her keys, her hands trembling as she pushed through the doors. The clerk was gone for the night, the sign-in book left open on the desk, and a dim candle burning at the end of its wick was the only source of light within.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, making the empty room feel even more eerie. Eleanor’s pulse quickened as she hurried towards the stairs, her breath hitching when she heard the door creak open behind her. Panic surged through her veins. Without a second thought, she reached into her bag, her fingers closing around the familiar handle of her switchblade.

She spun around, blade ready, eyes wide with fear and apprehension. But then she froze, the tension in her body melting into a mixture of relief and confusion. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim candle light, was Billy.

His eyes met hers, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before settling into a wary calm. He stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him, as if to show he meant no harm. Eleanor’s heart pounded in her chest, not from fear anymore, but from the sudden, unexpected rush of seeing him here, now. She slowly lowered the blade, but didn’t put it away, her mind racing with questions and emotions she wasn’t ready to face.

“Billy,” she whispered, the name barely escaping her lips, a mixture of relief and disbelief in her voice. She took a cautious step back, still not entirely sure what to make of his sudden appearance.

"Eleanor," he nodded, speaking softly, "Or... am I talking to Johana?"

She scoffed quietly, slipping the switchblade back into her bag, the tension flooding out of her shoulders, "Come on, quick. Before someone sees you," she whispered, fluttering her fingers to follow her. Without a second thought, Billy obeyed, Jessie's warnings be damned. He was just so glad to see her, to see her ruse falling for him.

She led him down the hall to a corner suite, unlocking the door to reveal a newer, cleaner, intact room. Billy took it all in as she drew the curtains, his eyes lingering on the small details that spoke volumes about her new life. The floral wallpaper, the neatly made bed, the organized desk—it all painted a picture of someone trying to build a semblance of stability. But the shadows in her eyes, the tension in her movements, told another story.

"Nice place you got here," he noted.

"I suppose," she shrugged as she lit the gas gamp, casting a warm glow in the room, "Bit of a step up for me, I'll admit," he noted how her voice softened, her accent wasn't so strong anymore.

"It suits you," he then glanced over her appearance, her long corduroy skirt, the matching vest with the flouncy white shirt underneath, "The whole get up suits you," She looked like a more grown up version of herself that she'd fit into with just a few more years.

"You don't have to flatter so hard," Eleanor went for her closet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, "Care for some?"

"Nah, I'm alright," he took a seat on the edge of the bed while she poured herself a glass anyway. The warm glow of the gas lamp cast a soft light on her face, highlighting the worry lines etched into her features.

"So..." she began as she sat across from him, her voice steady but low, "Who wants to go first?"

[saintmeghanmarkle]

We sinners and people all over want to know if those children belong in the LOS. by u/Technical_Ant_7466

We sinners and people all over want to know if those children’ belong in the LOS. There are so many questionable behaviours surrounding the two Meghan’s. There’s still a nagging question as to whether the California sprogs belong in the LOS.In a constitutional monarchy the rule of law is paramount as is who is eligible to be in the LOS.——————————-The ILBW had honed her fake smiles and silly ingenue mannerisms to marry a title, a walking, talking chequebook with the intellectual capacity of a particularly slow gumball machine. Poor Prince of the planks got engaged to her faster than the speed of light. She rudely announced her megnancy at Eugenie’s wedding , October 22, 2018.It didn’t take her long to start sporting strategically placed moonbumps. The truth, about her megnancies resides in a sterile clinic somewhere in the UK & LA, where surrogates , were carefully vetted and signed rock solid NDA’s.I’m sure the surrogates were well-compensated.There was a catch, of course and that was that in order to be in the LOS children HAD TO BE “ BORNE OF THE BODY”.TW, ever the opportunist, wasn't about to let a measly technicality like childbirth stand between her and a lifetime of money and fame. Moonbumps became her constant companions, growing and varying in size witheach passing month.The inconsistencies and irregularities where an orchestrated charade . The birth, a carefully orchestrated production, brought forth a healthy baby , with no witnesses and wildly varying stories about the hospital, the birth & accompanying legal documents.Moonbumps were hastily discarded,replaced by a parade of nannies who did theactual child-rearing but never stayed employed for long. The ILBW, spoiled and entitled, is a walking advertisement for the downside of unearned wealth.The ILBW and dimwit were secretly indifferent to the LOS rules , focused on expanding the family, adding a girl (another courtesy of the surrogate) to the family, and dishonestly said they had permission to call her Lilibet.( BBC proved that no such permission was given.The charade continued, a web of lies spun and children have never been seen.They could have come clean, and explained the surrogacy, but it wouldn't have suited her. The truth meant less control, less power. Besides, what kind of gold digger admits she doesn't even like children?Now ,as the rumours won’t stop what will they do?They’ve lost everything. That should include the inviskids place in the LIS, unless it can be proven that they belong there beyond a shadow of a doubt.The RF pretty much has said , visit the UK but only with the kids. They’ve never taken the kids to the UK.By now the RF knows that people have seen the crack in her/ their carefully constructed facade. The consequences of her lies SHOULD cost her the one thing she truly cares about: money. The story of the ILBW, the ultimate gold digger, chose to lie about baring children .If she really wanted children she would have admitted using a surrogate.If however, as I suspect she faked her megnancy because she was more interested in being the “mother “of heirs to the throne, and not because she loved and wanted children unconditionally, the Harkles are in a jam (no pun intended).She has no interest in being these children’s mom, not now when she knows it’s just a matter of time before all is revealed.They too will be discarded, as are all people in her life that are no longer useful.PS: Did you know she told Trevor she didn’t want children?Did you know she made her ex husband Trevor sign a pregnancy contract?⬇️https://ift.tt/4aDE0Nf post link: https://ift.tt/aVpOKHi author: Technical_Ant_7466 submitted: May 02, 2024 at 03:08AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 6/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

Some other happenings while Lucifer was in Heaven.

Reminder: Read story 1 first before starting this series! It adds some context and of course, I think it's a pretty neat prequel

-----------------------------------------------

The demons in the hotel have dispersed just after their King left for Heaven. Most kept themselves busy despite being worried because, really, what can they do except wait?

Charlie said goodbye to the Sins whom were going back to their respective rings. As much as she wants to have them at the hotel with her until her dad comes back, she understands that they can't leave the other rings unattended for too long.

Beelzebub: I really wish I could stay, baby girl. But I'm just call away, okay?

Satan: All of us are, Charlie. If you want, I can have Damien visit and wait with you?

Charlie: That's okay, uncle. I wouldn't want to bother him for something like sitting around and waiting.

Satan: If you're sure, your majesty.

Charlie: I- I'm not- I'm just acting Queen.

Asmodeus: Charlie, you are no less of a Queen as your mother was just because it's not permanent yet. As long as Lucifer is not here, you are our Queen.

Mammon: Heck yeah! By the way, do you want queen shit merch? I bet we would make a ton of money with your face in every tshirt or coffee mug!

Charlie: Haha. No thank you...

Mammon: Your loss! If ya ever change your mind though-

An elbow to his gut cuts Mammon off his never-ending, and in Charlie's honest opinion, poor sales pitch.

Mammon: Fuckin bitch! No woman is as brute as you-

Another hit sends Mammon writhing on the ground that made Charlie channel all her self-control not to laugh in his face.

Belphegor: Do shut up, Mammon. You are embarrassing yourself. If you have any questions regarding your duties, you can ask any of us. Except Mammon.

The Princess (acting Queen!) of Hell is so touched by the support of her aunts and uncles that she almost teared up. If not for Vaggie's eyes that never left her, she would've ugly cried already. She tries not to let her Uncle Mammon's pained shouts of 'f-f-uck you, Bel!' ruin the moment for her.

Leviathan: Call us when your father comes back.

Charlie: Of course! Thank you all again for being here.

Leviathan bends down to give Charlie a bow.

Leviathan: Of course, our Queen.

Giving one last goodbye hugs to each of them, Charlie doesn't notice Alastor with his ears pulled back. Husk does though.

Husk: Boss?

Alastor: Yes, dear Husker?

Husk: Ya alright?

When Alastor doesn't answer, he follows the deer demon's stare in the direction of Charlie and the Sins. Husk knows that meddling with anything Alastor will just get him scolded like all the other times he tried to express concern.

He'll never admit it but he did come to care for the psycho even just a little bit. Is it Stockholm Syndrome? He's not sure.

Regardless, if something was bothering Alastor then he and Nifty would get dragged into it eventually. So tries to reach out, even if his boss don't like it. Egotistical prick.

..

Husk felt a chill ran down his spine when he catches the Sin of Envy looking directly at their direction. More specifically, at Alastor.

'What the hell?'

He hears Alastor click his tongue then disappear to fuck knows where. And when he turned back to where the Sins were, it looks like they had left.

And so did the Sin of Envy.

Angel: Huskie! I need that drink ya always make me!

Husk only hopes that whatever that was doesn't bite any of them in the ass.

Husk: Yeah yeah, I got it.

-----------------------------------------------

Alastor went straight into his room but someone was already there, sitting in his little dining set up by the bayou.

The static he lets out would've scared any other demon but this one just looked at him in exasperation like he isn't the one trespassing in someone's private bedroom- in his territory!

Alastor: Ľ̷̹͚͚͔͓̥̭͂̃̓̉ë̸̻̳́a̶̱̦̻̱̼̔̚v̶̥̗̜̎̽̈́̂̋͆̊̔e̷̤̝̰̖̞̳̗͒̌͊͜͝!̶͍̯̠̃̔͆̈́

He summons black tentacles to attack the intruder but they stop just a hairs breath away. Alastor wills them, commands them, to strike but they don't move.

Leviathan: Using my own gift to attack me? Come on, Alastor, you know better than that.

Alastor bites his lips so hard, he bleeds.

Alastor: Y̷̥͐͑͝ó̸̗̇̾ṷ̴̧̟̺̀̅̕ ̴̧̡͕̈͜ṁ̷̱̰̞̰a̴̟̟͔͋̊͌ͅy̶̠͝ ̷̘̤̬̼͛̿̊̉ǒ̵̩̉̅w̴̩̍͑̕n̴̨̪͇̿̕ͅ ̸̧̤͈̀͋͠m̵̨͑ͅy̴̦̻͔̐͒͐̉ ̵͍̱̩̐s̷̯͂̄͂ò̴̖̺̩u̵͍̣̱̯̾̂͛l̶̻̭͖̾̾̊ ̸͖̱̍͝b̷͚̳͗̔̄͝u̸͖͊̒t̶̩͑̈́̊ ̸͖͋t̴̙̔͂h̷̬̻̫̮̓͗a̵̘̋͂̏͘ẗ̴͉̍̇͜ͅ ̸͍͒͑d̸͚̥̬̣̋̉̊o̸̭̖̯̳͌e̶̻̗͍͉̓̔͑s̴̨̥̙̈́͂ ̷̧̓n̴̢̘͓͉͂̆o̵̰͕͚͌ͅt̵͍̘̄́ ̵̧̪͔̋̓͂͐g̷̹̻̹͊̀í̵̧̨̝v̵̛̛͓̞̮̿̊ͅé̸͇͇̑͒ ̴̭̱̝̞̿ẏ̴̠͚̐̐o̵̧̓͑ų̴̻̾͆ ̶̻͍̲̃t̸͕̗͖͛̌͠h̷̩͈̗̀ẻ̷͇̈́͘͘ ̵̮̝͍͆͑̚ŗ̷͇̻̖̓̂i̵̱̦̻̩͋͛g̷̻͛̃͂͘h̶̛̼̤͙̘̒̏̕t̶͓͔̮̔̊͛͛ ̶͙̑t̵̼̣͚̐̒̅ͅǒ̴̾͘͠ͅ ̴̞̏̓̊͝d̸̡̈́͜ó̸̢͎͓̉ ̴̗̥̮̳̈́̆ằ̵̲̖̜͑̇ṩ̸̡̇͠ ̴̦̮͔͊̑̋͑y̶̤̳̹̔o̶̺̍͋u̸͎̎̅͒͘ ̶͓̫͖̪̎̓͐͝p̵̥͑̓̌͑͜l̵͓͔̻̇̑e̴̺̐͋̂̃a̴̫͇̭̥̔̔š̶̞̝ḛ̸̃̊͂͘.̷̥̰̮̆͑́͝

Leviathan merely rolls his eyes and barely even flinches from the ear-piercing sounds the radio demon is emmitting.

Leviathan: Relax. I'm not here to make you do anything. But I won't stand this disrepect.

Alastor: H̸̭͈͕̾̌ơ̸̮̖̫͉̐͒̏ẇ̷̛̱̙͌̕ͅ ̶̖͕̲͖̏͌̓d̵̛͉̭̈́́̊a̵̬͇͎̽̅̐r̷̪̣͗̐͑e̶͚̯̠͇̋̎̑͝ ̷͍̫͎̒y̵̹͆̀̅̐ô̷̡̭̣̥̎̍ú̷͔̂́ ̵̡̺̯̓t̷̞̾ą̷̮̻̔̈l̴͇̲̅͌̎͛ḱ̵̡̭̜ ̷͉͂͝ơ̶̞͓͕͗͋͜f̸̮̮̻̰̂͝ ̸̡̭̏͐͆͠d̷͇̟͙̖̈̊ī̷͚̩s̸͚̰̙̝̍̔̀r̵̰̐̉e̵̲̳̜̿͐s̷̯̳̦͈̏͐̚͘p̵̜̆e̴̡͖͕̅̈́c̷̼͓͒t̴͇́̈́ ̴̮̳̗͗͛w̷̨̟͙̳̍͒h̷̡̡̗̼̏͋̄e̷̗̓̈̽n̵͔̥͛ͅ ̶̤̉̋̆y̸̪̤̬͙̿͐͝ǫ̶͓̊͝u̷͚̭̳͎̔̓͑-̶̛̗̀̌̕

The aquatic demon snaps his fingers and suddenly, Alastor feels his power leave him. He has not felt tis weak since he was human.

Leviathan: I think I'm a pretty lenient master, Alastor. I gifted you a fraction of my power and let you kill your way up. I don't even meddle in your affairs and yet you still disrespect me? I asked of you one thing since the day you came crawling to me for power: protect the Morningstars. And frankly, right now you're not doing a good enough job.

Alastor: I do not know what you expected from a mere sinner. Plus, I don't seem to recall you doing much better on that front, your Sinfulness.

Leviathan had to let out a laugh. He could admit, the demon says some pretty hilarious things sometimes. It's even cuter when he know Alastor means it.

Leviathan: Ha! You really are a cocky demon. Talking to a Sin like that? Did your darling mother not teach you anything about respecting those who are clearly above you?

Alastor: Only those who deserve it. Like Lucifer.

Alastor still can't get any semblance of strength to pull himself off the ground. He really hates having these rare meet-ups with his master.

The embodiment of Envy stands and the next second, Alastor is being pulled up by his hair, making him look directly at the Sin. He had been averting his eyes for as soon as he felt a shift in the air but the sudden contact forces him come face-to-face with the real eldritch horror.

Leviathan: Let's get one thing straight, deer. I don't care about you, but somehow you made Lucifer do. And I would do anything for Lucifer and his happiness.

The radio demon can feel the tentacles caressing his face and he wants to recoil in disgust.

Leviathan: So, the moment I find out you're just using him for your personal gain, I won't hesitate to eat you over and over and over again. You'll never know a day without pain.

Despite the threat, he can't help the words that comes out of his mouth.

Alastor: But I am.

And if he dies today, he hopes Lucifer won't be too sad.

Leviathan: What did you just say?

Rosie always did say he had a mouth that can rival Susan. Honestly, Alastor has never felt so offended.

Alastor: Did you not hear me, master? I am using him for my personal gain. But not in the way one might think. I'm using him for my happiness and... I hope one day he will come to use me for his.

His answer must have been enough because he's suddenly let go and he can feel his powers flowing back into inside him.

'Right where they belong.'

He brushes himself off like nothing happened. Looking around, it appears that nothing was damaged after the Sin's power-play.

Leviathan: I expect you to report back to me regarding any happenings with the Morningstars and the hotel.

Opening a portal to a purple sky and raging waters, Leviathan gives Alastor one last warning.

Leviathan: Don't disappoint me.

Tsk. He really hates politics.

-----------------------------------------------

Sorry for the little Alastor dialogue! But!!! Leviathan??

Color me surprised.

I am not calling him Frederick even tho I know officially, he's called Frederick von eldritch.

You telling me that youre one of the most powerful demons in Hell and you name yourself Frederick??

[otomiyaa]

Ticklish Zayne x Reader

Romantic + 22. “Don’t laugh, I’m trying to talk to you!” Requested by @ticklygiggles for my 1K Followers Event🌻

Inspired by how hard the claw game was where my friend finally won this guy for me.

"You're quite persistent."

You could see Zayne was judging you as you held up another coin and put it in the machine.

"I want it," you said. It was not the kind of date he signed up for, you knew that. It wasn't really planned either. It was coincidence. Fate, actually!

When the two of you passed by a different kind of claw machine than you usually played with, and you saw what was inside, you were already sold.

You really wanted that big crow plushie. So, so bad!

"You are good at these games, so I'm sure you can get it at some point. Besides, stopping now would be a waste of the money that was already invested," you said, placing your hand on Zayne's waist.

With your other hand you pointed at the machine. "I think if you move it a little more to the back, and to the left, and then the next try, to the front, we can take it," you said while Zayne concentrated.

"I will try," he said, giving it another go, and missing.

"Alright, try again. I still have some coins left, and otherwise I'll go exchange my money for some more. I would do it but I'm not as good at it, so I'm afraid I'll... Zayne? Don’t laugh, I’m trying to talk to you!"

Zayne was shaking softly, trying to hide his laughter and failing at it.

"S-s-sorry," he giggled. "It's just, I've never seen you so serious about something before. It's a crow."

You raised your eyebrows. "You're kidding, right? I'm always serious! Besides, you know I love crows. I want this plushie. Hey, why are you still laughing hmm?" you said, using your hand on his waist to squeeze him softly. You felt him react, hehe. Dr. Zayne being so ticklish was a gift from the heavens.

"S-stop! I-if you're beheing like thihis, I cahahan't t-take your pluhuhushie, hehehey!" Zayne tried to keep his hand on the machine, but you were now tickling him with both hands.

"I see why you are calling me serious, it's because you are the opposite. What is it that's so funny, Dr. Zayne? Why are you giggling while I'm being serious?" you teased, still pretending like you had no idea what you were doing to him, and that while your fingers knew very well to find his tickle spots to tickle him there on purpose.

He made a cute little dance and shook his head. "Nohothing- just.. ahah!"

Zayne finally reached for your hands and tried to get you to stop. "Y-you're- ahahah! Nohoho stop thahahat!"

So cute! Your fingers crawled up and clawed at his lower ribs. Zayne jumped and let out the cutest mewl.

"Nohoho-wahh!" Your hands moved up further and brushed at the hidden spots under his arms. Zayne twitched so heavily that it caused him to stumble and...

"Wahh!" You both yelped in surprise when he fell with his shoulder against the claw machine.

To your surprise, the big crow swung from side to side, it swung even more and....

"IT FELL!" Your eyes widened as you reached inside and grabbed it. It was so soft and cuddly!

"Uh oh. Did we cheat?" you asked, looking at Zayne who was still red in the face. He breathed heavily, looked at the crow in your arms and then at you.

"I'm sorry, that didn't hurt did it?" you asked, rubbing the shoulder he bumped against the machine. You saw a playful twinkle in his eyes.

"And what if it does hurt? Will you kiss it better?" he asked. Oh the flirt. You chuckled and grabbed his hand. With your precious crow plushie under one arm, you pulled Zayne along.

"Let's first get out of here before they catch us. Hehe!" Together you ran, and when you looked behind you, Zayne had the most beautiful smile on his face. Looked like he was having fun after all!

[kanguin]

That poem hit me hard wow. Idk why I want to open up on Tumblr of all places but idk. I never share personal stuff in posts. Just oversharing in tags.

So yeah. I'm depressed. Depressed as shit. I quit my job recently because the commute, the low pay, and the high social energy cost of making 100+ phone calls a day just. Sucked the life out of me. Even my mother and fiance could see it. But this just marks burnout number... 4? I believe. I've experienced burnout and mental collapse 4 times now in the past decade. 4 years between the first two, 5 between the next two, and now just 1 year between this one and the last. And now I'm supposed to look for a job I like again, but... I don't know what I'd like. I'm not exactly enjoying life right now. And the thought of selling more of my life for money is not putting me in a good mental spot.

I don't play video games anymore. I haven't been able to do so for more than a couple weeks a year in ages. I never talk to my friends one on one anymore. I have no hobbies to speak of, really, aside from messing around on my computer, but it's not like I have the space to engage in any hobbies anyway since my broke ass still lives with my mom. I have my fiance living with me now, but while they're an emotional anchor, we have no space to our own besides the bedroom and a bonus room, but the latter is still technically a public space we can't decorate ourselves or use for painting or hobbies.

I feel stuck and miserable. I want to move out, I want my own home and space to be unbothered in, I want my own fridge and pantry with my own food, and to be able to be out of my bedroom without being on call for sudden required tasks or unwelcome socialization. I want a space to engage in hobbies; sculpting, painting, building, working with my hands. I want to be able to operate on my own schedule and not have to compromise on when is too late to start a task or eat a meal. I want to be able to start HRT in the privacy of my own home, so that I don't have to disclose my transition until I'm ready. I want... Freedom. I want to be able to live a life that feels mine, and not like I'm living in borrowed space and time.

But all of that requires money, and that just leads to a catch 22. I need money to achieve my desires, but need a job to get money. But I need a job I am happy doing so as not to burnout a 5th time, but I need to be able to enjoy life and work in the first place for that. And if I already enjoyed my life I wouldn't be in such a bad spot mentally.

I used to be so hopeful and determined for my future, but it's been 6-7 years since I graduated college with my bachelor's, and by now I've all but lost hope things will ever change. This genuinely feels like this is it, I'll be stuck here in this house until my mother dies, I get kicked out, or my heart takes me to an early grave like my father.

My next therapy appointment isn't for two weeks. I sure hope I stay on topic next time, because I only ever realized all the things I forgot to cover after the appointment. Even though I had my issues well memorized and written down.

...

If anyone actually reads this long ass ramble, I'm sorry. It's nearly 5am for me writing this.

.

..

To be honest, one of the aspects of my personality I miss the most is my love of making and keeping friends. Not that I was ever good at it, but I always enjoyed getting to know someone knew, and of course I loved learning more about my existing friends, too. There are so many people I can think of where I go "wow, I wish I had the energy to get to know them", but I can't really do that anymore in good conscience. Anyone I try and befriend nowadays is just going to get abandoned in a month or two when my overwhelming shame drive me to ghosting them.

[rocketturtle4]

Eclipse Episode 9

Okay so I am not as compelled to write but I wanted to inform my avid viewers (lol) that I have finished episode 9 and intend to watch epiosdes 10-12 in one hit, hopefully tomorrow afternoon evening so this will be the last update for 20-22 hours. (ADDED AFTER: I WROTE A TON LOL)

AND TUMBLR ERASED THIS POST AFTER I HAD FINISHED IT, T_T, TAKE 2:

@wen-kexing-apologist @grapejuicegay @thegalwhorants @plantsarepeopletoo You all are making this a ton of fun so thanks a bunch.

(this was earlier but I loved this pun ngl)

This episode started out with a bit of a sucker punch as Akk wanted Ayan to leave the school to be safe while Ayan wanted to stay in school because he was worried about Akk.

I just have to say that the utter wonderfulness of these boys relationship bring so much heart to the show it's amazing

He FLUTTERED HIS EYELASHES AND I DIED

Yes he has a boyfriend, ME - Loved this so much

I really enjoy that Ayan has decided they boyfriends even though Akk can't say it out loud yet.

Enough Simping, onto other thoughts

I get that the Car convo with Akk and Ayans mum was important but it was also PAINFUL ngl because Akk is already under so much pressure from adults and here's another one just heaping onto something I am sure he's already worried about

Principal speaking to Chadok is giving me chain of yelling vibes, principal Principal to Chadok DO SOMETHING Chadok to Ayan DO SOMETHING and so on, seems like Principal is being hounded by donors, money sure makes the world go round

Oh no if the prefect group is disbanded what about Akks future?

also has Akk told Ayan about how much he's potentially relying on financial aid? (and I say potentially because while the show has clearly shown this as key motivation they haven't really stressed how important this is).

The sign and the dripping paint!

Ngl I thought it was Namo but he's pretty convincing of his innocence

NAM BURNED THE POSTERS NOT AKK (sorry boy)

I'm still wondering how Wat's whole arc is going to tie in, I had kind of wondered if he's be filming and catch something by accident but now it sounds like he'll be looking to film it and tell a story on purpose so I wonder if it will be a key part of the resolution, you know a touching film to make the higher ups realise the light or something (though that feels a bit too neat)

actually that's something I hadn't considered, how neatly is GMMTV going to tie this one up in a little bow?

LOOK, Thua still feels SUPER SUS to me okay like he knows now that Chadok *probably* invented the curse so he's got to be even madder, and I still feel like he was behind the initial 3 protestors

I'm venturing into crazy town here but see, maybe he even encouraged Akk or Namo in their supporessive tactics and then turned around to egg on the protestors, now that Akks backed off, he could be the one doing the paint sign and burning the doll because he WANTS THE SCHOOL TO HAVE NEGATIVE ATTENTION. Like Akk says, he wouldn't do it because it's obviously going to get the wrong kind of attention but I could definitely see Thua WANTING that attention right?

And especially now he knows about the Curse origins and Akk no longer seems to be enforcing it maybe he's using it to his own advantage, how much of a mastermind is he??

OH SWEET THUA I'M SENDING YOU ALL THE VIRTUAL FLOWERS IF I'M WRONG OKAY.

Also I thought I'd been tracking what Akk calls Ayan for reasons, and I caught the slip up and self-correction but he called him Aye in the pool so did I miss it earlier?? I'm going to have to go back to the food scene and check because I want to know

Okay so last(ish) thing, it was actually in a previous episode but I want to talk about this

because it sent be into a bit of a tailspin about the KINDNESS this show is presenting as a core theme

In this scene the three protestors look confused and hand over their items with much less resistance than previously, Akk has seriously changed his approach and Namo comments later that 'he's changed'

Also they haven't really resolved this yet but Ayan Uncle has certainly been presented as a key point of kindness not just for Ayan but for the school kids too.

also previously Ayan used kindness to get the protestors to stop

actually Ayan is the core of this because he is SO CONFIDENT and FIRM is his convictions while being UNFAILINGLY KIND

His and Khan's whole interaction a couple episodes ago which I thought was going to be a jealous fight but then just...wasnt and then this episode Ayan was gently encouraging him to confess his feelings for Thua

Also Wat also just seems super kind

and the show has made a point of showing how different these three boys are when they're not enforcing the rules

Ayan and his ideals are a key stressors to Akks major ongoing identity crises (which may be the main focus of the post I can already taste on my fingertips for after I finish this show because Akk is...oh boy...very relatable) Yet he is also A PILLAR of patience, kindness and strength in Akks life even as he pushes and jokes and teases he accepts what Akk can give even when it's less than he wants.

Okay...I think I am done

Some bonus simping for y'all

Oh sweet boy everything about your face disagrees with you

(somehow his eyes look even more doe-y with dishevelled hair)

That's all

I'll back tomorrow!

He's so WONDERFUL

Okay I'm really done now