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fizzigigsimmer · 5 months ago

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Back At One Part 2

Pairing: Caligator, Billy Hargrove x Gator Tillman

Fandom Fusion: Stranger Things & Fargo S5

Dom/Sub au

*Title taken from this truly sappy love song by Brian McKnight that these boys would NEVER admit was kinda okay lol.

<<<<PART I

“When is that fella of yours gonna make an honest man out of you?" Dot asks, just as Gator reaches for the pans stacked on top of the fridge, and he jerks, pulling too quickly, sending a cookie sheet clattering toward the kitchen floor - he just manages to save it. Scotty raises the cover of her book to hide her face, but his ears work just fine and he hears her snicker.

"What do you mean?" he gripes as he fumbles with the cookware. This is what he gets for trying to do something nice for his boyfriend on his birthday. "Billy's already registered as my dominant."

Which means if Gator really does burn the house down trying to make this fucking cake, Billy can have the honor of identifying his barbecued remains and save Dot the trouble.

Dot’s giving him this look though. Like she can see right through his bullshit. Let's get real. She always could read him like a book and play him like a fiddle.

“Alright, lets bake this mother fu-uuning,cake” Gator self corrects, remembering Scotty at the last minute. Shit that was close. Dot only has a few rules for when they’re together: no talking about the past when Scotty’s in earshot and no potty mouth. She literally calls it that. It’s kind of annoying though, cause the kid is like twelve right? Gator could curse in three different languages by the time he was twelve. But apparently that’s not the thing to be proud of that he thought it was when he was twelve.

“Real nice save Hon.” Dot laughs at him.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just do this.” Gator grumbles in reply, and they do.

Dot ties an apron around Gator's waist and hands him a mixing bowl while Scotty eagerly climbs up on a stool to read out the recipe as they work. She’s only meant to be walking him through the basics of a simple white cake with Billy’s name spelled out on it, but somehow the kitchen quickly descends into chaos.

"Okay, first we need to cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy," Scotty reads.

Gator dumps an entire stick of butter and a heaping cup of sugar into the bowl. He picks up the electric mixer and jams it in after, cause that much he can figure out for himself. Only it sends a plume of sugar into the air the minute he powers it on.

“Holy shit!”

"No, silly!" Scotty giggles. "You have to soften the butter first or it won't mix right."

Grumbling, Gator fishes the hard butter out of the bowl and tosses it into the microwave. A few seconds later, there's a loud pop - because he’s a fucking idiot and apparently it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to warm butter. One glance inside confirms the worst: the stick is now a molten mess, and butter drips down the microwave door.

"Oh honey," Dot sighs, grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess. "Just grab another stick and leave it on the counter for a bit to soften."

“Jesus. Come on. Get your head in the game!” Gator admonishes himself, trying to shake off his embarrassment and the feeling of shame welling up inside of him from fucking up something so simple. “I have cooked before. I’m just -”

What? Nervous? Fucking stupid? What else is there to say when he can’t even melt butter.

Dot lays a hand on his back. She doesn’t need to say anything, and she doesn’t as she hands him a clean bowl and Scotty reads out from Dot’s phone that it’s time to sift the dry ingredients together. He upends the bag of flour over the sifter, and thinks it might be too much. It definitely is, because he doesn’t get more than a few taps in before flour has started to overflow everywhere, dusting his hands and the arms of his black t-shirt. But hey, some of it is getting into the bowl.

Somehow with Dot's patient guidance and Scotty's enthusiastic "assistance", they manage to get the cake batter mixed and poured into pans. Gator slides them into the oven, sets the timer, and leans back against the counter with a sigh, his shirt and jeans thoroughly dusted with flour, bits of batter streaked in between.

Dot chuckles as she hands him a damp towel. "Well, that was an adventure. I think Billy will appreciate the effort you put in, even if it's not perfect."

Gator wipes his hands and grumbles. "It better turn out decent after all that. I still think I shoulda gotten him something else though. Something big, to really wow him, y'know?"

Dot studies him for a long moment, and then finally broaches the subject that has been festering like a smelly turd in the corner of the room.

"Want to talk about what happened at the store today?"

No. No he really fucking doesn’t. Gator turns to snap on the faucet, thinking that he’d like to stick his head under it and drown himself right about now. He focuses intently on scrubbing the batter caked on his nails instead.

"Nothin' happened. She was a stuck-up bitch is all. Lookin' down on me like I'm nothin' just 'cause I ain't some fancy dom in a suit."

He hears Dot murmur something quietly to Scotty about going to get her things together, and grunts in acknowledgment when the twerp says a shy goodbye before slipping from the room. He immediately feels like shit, because Dot can’t really punish him anymore - it’s not her place, and she’s got too much respect for Billy to overstep - but she can take away the one thing she knows he really wants. He wasn’t ready for them to leave, but he can’t blame Dot for not wanting her kid around him when he’s like this.

Her family is not something that Dot plays around with, and Gator might be someone she cares about, but there’s a stark line between whatever the hell they are to each other and the beautiful thing Nadine - fuck - Dot, built for herself with her own grit and guts in the aftermath of the Tillmans.

He understands. He gets it. He does. And yet he still flinches when she speaks again, body somehow unprepared for her to still be there even though he would have heard her leave if she wasn’t.

"She shouldn't have treated you that way," Dot says softly. "But Gator, how you reacted wasn’t like you. I haven’t seen you do something that rash in a long time. What’s this really about?”

Gator's jaw clenches and his hands still, suds dripping from his fingers into the sink. The air grows heavy with all the things unsaid between them.

"It’s nothin'. Alright?" he mutters unconvincingly. "I lost my cool is all. Won't happen again."

Dot sighs and leans her hip against the counter next to him, arms crossed. Her eyes are filled with gentle understanding and he hates it. Hates how much it reminds him of his mom, and all the times after, when she was gone and it was Dot standing in her place, filling the void as best she could. Hates most of all that he’s never been strong enough to resist the comfort Dot offers and the temptation to fall apart in her arms. She was his safety, even when safety was a lie and she was just a kid who couldn’t do shit to keep herself safe, let alone him.

But no matter how hard Gator had tried, he’d never stopped needing someone to lean on and take him apart and clean out his rust and dust, to put back together again good as new. That’s his curse, the sub in him, which is hard to swallow most days but Billy makes it better. No one does any of that for him like Billy Hargrove does. Even when Gator makes it hard on him, Billy always knows just which way he’s bent and how to fix it. Yeah it bugs the shit out of him, but he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with himself now without it. If Billy left he’d -

Stop that shit! He flinches away from the thoughts, and reminds himself for the umpteenth time that Billy isn’t going to leave him over some dumb shit like a lame birthday gift. He needs to just quit already. Why can’t he make the thoughts stop?

"You've been doing so well lately, Gator. Really making progress in therapy, communicating better when you’re dropping... What happened today?" Dot presses again.

Gator's throat works as he swallows hard. His hands clench the edge of the sink, knuckles going white. He doesn’t want to talk about this but maybe it will help. God he hopes it helps.

"I just... I wanted to get him somethin' special, y'know? Somethin' to show him how much he means to me." His voice cracks slightly on the last word and Dot's face softens. She reaches for him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh honey... Billy knows how much you love him. You don't need fancy gifts to prove that."

"Don't I though?" Gator argues, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "He does so much for me, Dot. Takes such good care of me, even when I'm a pain in the ass. And, like when am I not a pain in the ass, huh? You were gonna kick his ass and like send him to the Gulag. How am I worth that?”

Dot laughs, giving Gator's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Listen to me. You are a pain in the ass, but only when you’re trying so hard not to be the sweet, kind, and wonderful man I know you are. You're a good boy, Gator. You always have been. And yes, at first I was worried when I found out your Saftey-Dom had a thing for you. Who wouldn’t be?”

Gator shrugs away her very good point - doms who are employed to counsel and provide subs with therapeutic care are bound by a strict code of ethics. Billy could have been in deep shit if anyone other than Dot had found out about their relationship before Billy stopped being his therapy dom.

“I kissed him Dot, and he never let it happen again while I was still just a case.” Gator laments. “That’s what I’m talking about though, all I could do was think with my dick - meanwhile I could have seriously fucked up his life. And he still took care of me!”

“He did. Which is what convinced me he’s the best thing for you.” Dot says. “It’s because he loves you for who you are, flaws and all."

Gator shakes his head, jaw tight. "You don't get it, Dot. I'm not...I'm not good like you keep saying. The shit that goes through my head sometimes…”

He trails off, shame burning hot in his gut. He can't even bring himself to say it out loud. But with Dot he doesn’t need to.

She was there through the worst of it. She’s seen the worst of him. Shit Billy knows about, but hasn’t seen. Hasn’t really lived it, the way Dot had to live it, and maybe that’s why Gator’s been fucking everything up.

Maybe he’s trying to see once and for all whether or not someone who isn’t trauma bonded to him will stay once they see him for what he really is.

"I know I'm fucked up, alright? I know I got a long way to go before I'm anything close to the kinda sub Billy deserves.” He tries to shrug off the admission like the words aren’t sending pain twisting inside him like a knife.

But Dot, perceptive as always, cups Gator's face, turning him back to meet her gentle gaze. "Oh honey... Is that what this is about? You want Billy to collar you?"

Gator's breath hitches. Hearing it stated so plainly sends a jolt through him, equal parts longing and terror. He jerks away from Dot's touch, arms wrapping defensively around himself.

"No! I mean... Fuck, I don't know," he stammers, the words tangling on his tongue.

Dot is quiet for a long moment, letting his confession settle heavily between them. When she speaks again, her tone is thoughtful.

"Have you talked to Billy about this? About wanting his collar?"

Gator barks out a harsh laugh. "No. No fuckin' way. He'd probably laugh in my face if I did.”

Dot's brow furrows, her eyes shadowed with concern as she clicks her tongue in admonishment. "I don’t believe you really think that for a second. That Billy would laugh at you for expressing your needs."

Gator's shoulders hunch, defensive. He keeps his gaze fixed resolutely on the mixing bowl in the sink, watching the dregs of batter slowly dissolve under the running tap. The sweet scent of vanilla and butter hangs heavy in the air, incongruously cheerful.

"I didn't say I needed it," he mutters. "I'm just sayin'... a guy like me askin' for a collar. It's funny right? Like, I’m not some needy bitch who needs a collar to keep from dropping, and I don’t need Billy thinking he gets to boss me around more than he already does. Guy’s an absolute control freak."

"Uh-huh and you love it. I've seen the two of you together. The way Billy is with you... It's special. He'd move heaven and earth to make you happy. To give you what you need." Dot says. Her voice is soft but sure.

Gator swallows thickly, his eyes stinging. He blinks rapidly, determined not to let the tears building behind his lids fall. "Sure. Why hasn’t he done it then? I’d put that shit down in two seconds, but he hasn’t even tried. Y’know?"

And the reason why is obvious. Yeah, there’s the fact that Gator doesn’t need a collar, but even if he wanted one he’s too much work, too damaged.

Dot sighs heavily, like he said the last part out loud.

"Honestly Honey, I think you should think about it from his perspective. With the way you talk about it... He may not realize how much this would mean to you. Billy does a good job, making sense of what’s going on in that squirrel head of yours but he’s not superman. Talk to him.”

Gator grunts noncommittally. Because hell no. He will not be begging his dom to collar him any time soon thanks, but he doesn’t want her to worry either.

Dot says she has to get Scotty home in time to start dinner and he follows her out to the front door where Scotty is waiting with Dot's purse and her school bag. He sees them off with a wave and a promise to attend some talent show at Scotty’s school next week. Dot gives him a kiss on the cheek, urges him to talk to Billy one more time and reminds him that her mother-in-law knows the president, and really can get Billy thrown in the gulag if he really does laugh in Gator’s face.

And then he’s alone. Alone with his thoughts. Which is frankly the best way to be. Gator can think much more clearly about this now that Dot’s not here, reminding him of the past and making him feel weaker than he actually is. He can totally still salvage this situation. He’ll just make the cake really impressive. Like those 3D ones that look like real shit? Billy loves to chill with him on the weekend and watch that show where people try and guess which random item is cake or not. Gator’s usually tied up, plugged or gagged when that happens so his memories are a little hazy - but it doesn’t look that hard. It’s just cake right?

When the timer goes off Gator brings the cake out of the oven.

He whips out his phone and starts scrolling through cake decorating videos on YouTube, determined to find something suitably impressive. His eyes light up when he spots a tutorial for a realistic 3D surfboard cake, uploaded by some fruit calling himself Barry Bakes. He doesn’t really want to take advice from some dude with pink hair, a full face of makeup, wearing a sparkly crop top with the word TWINK encrusted on the front, but the cake is undeniably badass.

"Alright, let's do this," Gator mutters, cracking his knuckles. He fast forwards through the beginning of the video, impatient to get to the good stuff.

First step - carving the cakes into a surfboard shape. Easy enough. Gator grabs a serrated knife and starts hacking away at the layers, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. Crumbs fly everywhere as he saws off uneven chunks. When he's done, he steps back to survey his work. It...sort of looks like a surfboard. If you squint. And tilt your head to the side.

Next up - the "ocean" frosting. Gator mixes a batch of blue buttercream, dumping in what is probably way too much food coloring, but whatever at least he softened the butter without blowing up the microwave this time.

Gator continues to follow along with Barry Bakes' tutorial, growing increasingly frustrated as each step seems to go awry. The blue buttercream frosting he mixed up is a garish turquoise color from the excessive food dye. It's also too thin and runny, dripping off the cake in gloopy rivulets.

He blames Barry, that fucking fruit, because if he weren’t so hell bent on turning everything into some kinda innuendo maybe Gator could actually concentrate on what he is doing!

"Shit shit shit," Gator grumbles under his breath, frantically trying to smooth the messy frosting over the lopsided surfboard shape he carved. It's a losing battle. The cake looks like a melted smurf.

Next, Barry cheerfully pipes delicate white frosting swirls and curls to create realistic seafoam on his perfectly smooth blue surfboard. Reminding the audience that big tips are better for piping, and everybody loves a good pipe.

Gator glares at the screen. His own piping bag is loaded with frosting that's somehow both too stiff and too drippy at the same time. When he tries to pipe, it comes out in sad, deflated spurts. He can only imagine what Barry would have to say about that.

"Motherf-!" Gator bites off the curse, chucking the piping bag down on the counter. This was a stupid idea. He's no baker, who was he kidding? He should've just bought Billy a damn gift card like a normal person.

Dejected, Gator slumps against the counter, hanging his head. Failure churns in his gut, sharp and nauseating. He can't give this monstrosity to Billy. He just can’t. Can’t bear to watch him try to hide his disappointment.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Gator gives up on trying to salvage the cake. In a fit of pique, he grabs a spatula and starts roughly shaping the blue frosted mess, not even bothering to smooth it out anymore. He carves angry slashes and gouges into the cake's surface with the edge of the spatula.

Before he even fully realizes what he's doing, the cake has taken on a new, crude shape under his hands - a lumpy, misshapen hand with the middle finger extended in an unmistakable gesture of "fuck you".

Gator steps back, breathing hard, and stares at his handiwork. The hand is far from anatomically correct, with uneven sausage-like fingers and a palm that curves at an odd angle. Globs of sticky frosting cling to the digits in gloopy turquoise clumps. The raised middle finger lists slightly to the side, like it's too heavy to hold itself up properly.

It's possibly the ugliest cake Gator has ever seen. So ugly it crosses the line twice and becomes perversely impressive in its sheer awfulness. A surprised, slightly unhinged laugh bubbles up from his chest as he takes it in.

This is what he has to show for his efforts. This fuck-ugly, lewd gesture of a cake, cobbled together from the dregs of his failure. It suits him.

“Yeah don’t know what the fuck else I expected.” Gator grumbles, despondent. He goes to the fridge to fetch a beer and tabs it open roughly, determined to drink thoughts of the stupid cake away.

He’s not crying over cake like some lame ass. It’s whatever. It’ll probably still taste good, and if Billy doesn’t like it he can throw it in the trash. They’ll order a pizza or something and Gator will ride him till his dick goes numb and call it a night. Happy birthday.

Gator stomps to the bedroom he and Billy share and pulls out the trunk where he keeps his hunting gear from under the bed, because it’s been awhile since he polished his knives and that always helps lift his mood. He takes the trunk out to the living room and gets to work. Ques up his workout playlist on his phone and connects it to the TV so he can put it on blast.

It helps a little. Allows him time not to think. But the time gets away from him, because he doesn’t even hear the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Billy's entrance is marked by the faint scrape of his boots against the hardwood floor as he turns the corner into the living room. He pauses briefly, taking in the scene before him—Gator, surrounded by an array of gleaming knives, his trunk spilling open on the coffee table, and the ear splitting rifts of heavy metal blaring from the television speakers.

A faint smile tugs at Billy's lips as the dom sets down his bag and sheds his leather jacket, revealing the broad contours of his chest hugged by a tight white T-shirt. The room is thick with the scent of metal and leather, a comforting familiarity that wraps around Billy like a second skin. He approaches Gator slowly, noiselessly, his gaze fixed not on the array of blades but on the man holding them as gently as baby chicks.

Billy casts a long shadow across the coach and Gator finally notices him. He jumps up, fumbling the knife in his hands which clatters to the floor. The music crescendos, a dramatic backdrop to the moment. Gator lowers the volume, and whips around to glare at Billy who laughs at the fright he gave him.

“Hey, Baby Gay.”

“Don’t call me that!” Gator snaps. “And don’t sneak up on me. I was like, this close to killing you!”

“Oh?” Billy arches a mocking brow. “Probably shouldn’t have dropped the knife then.”

“Haha. Very funny asshole. You’re lucky I did,” Gator grumbles in reply, bending down to pick up the fallen knife. “You know how sharp one of these babies are? With one o’ these I can cut through the shell on a coconut just like that.”

He flicks his wrist to demonstrate the ease with which he could peel Billy’s flesh off, and Billy gives him this look - like Gator is just fucking adorable - and it’s god damn condescending, is what it is. But it also makes the back of Gator’s neck tingle with awareness, and his dick try to get hard. So yeah.

It’s probably a good thing that Billy’s so distracted anyway. Because swearing at his dom is firmly against their rules on account of the fact that Gator uses it as some kinda defense mechanism to keep Billy at arms length.

Or that’s what Billy said anyway when he made the stupid rule. Gator doesn’t make the rules here, he just follows them.

“I’ll count myself lucky then. I think I’ll get a beer. You want one killer?” Billy asks, already on his way to the kitchen.

FUCK! The Kitchen. Gator remembers too late that he forgot to clean up and do something with that awful cake and scampers after him.

Billy strides into the kitchen before Gator can stop him.

His stomach knots as Billy pauses, his gaze landing on the misshapen dessert surrounded by strewn icing bags, crumbs and powdered sugar. Slowly a grin spreads across Billy's face, and blue eyes sparkle as he turns to look at Gator, where he lingers hesitantly in the kitchen doorway.

"Is this cake trying to tell me something?" he teases, amusement rich in his voice. He leans forward slightly to inspect the cake more closely. "Is this your way of telling me you don’t want to sixty-nine later, or is it a failed science experiment? Hard to tell."

Gator feels heat rush to his face, embarrassment mixed with irritation bubbling in his chest. He knows Billy is just poking fun, yet it stings, tapping into that deep-seated insecurity instilled by years under his father's critical eye.

"Scotty was here with Dot and it gave us something to do. That’s all," Gator mumbles defensively, his words sharper than intended. Then, unable to stop the words from tumbling out recklessly, he adds, "Just thought it would be nice to share, but you don’t have to have any if you’re just going to be an asshole."

As soon as the words are out, Gator regrets them. Swearing at Billy is one thing, but lying to him breaks one of their most cardinal rules. It’s not just about respect; it’s about trust.

Billy’s expression shifts subtly; the playful light in his eyes dims as he adopts a more serious demeanor. He closes the distance between them with measured steps. "Gator," he says softly yet firmly, "That’s the second time you’ve pulled that tonight. Watch it.”

Gator snaps his mouth shut and fumes silently, hanging his head. God, Billy sounds so disappointed in him and it’s worse than he even imagined.He wants to puke.

“Did Scotty really make this?” Billy asks, and Gator can tell just from his tone that Billy already knows the answer, but he’s waiting for Gator to fess up to it. Gator shakes his head, hot tears stinging at his eyes that he blinks away as rapidly as he can.

“It’s for you.” He confesses, feeling a weight lift off his chest despite his overall misery. “I made it for your birthday, and you made fun of it.”

“I did.” Billy acknowledges too easily for Gators liking, but before he can say anything Billy goes on. “I could have handled that better. You’re right. But before we get to that, don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“No. Can’t think of anything.” Gator immediately denies, because how is it fair that he has to apologize for a little white lie when he only did it in the first place because he knew Billy was going to laugh. He knew it.

“Oh?” Billy’s face is impassive but he’s unhappy with Gators answer. It crackles in the air between them. “Do you need a reminder of the rules?"

Gator swallows hard, defiance battling with remorse inside him. He shrugs stiffly, avoiding Billy’s gaze. “Let's just forget it. I don’t need a lecture right now.”

“I’ll decide whether you do or not.” Billy’s tone is calm but carries an undeniable edge of authority—one that sends shivers down Gator’s spine and fear bolting through him all at once. “You know, I was looking forward to a nice night with my boy. Didn’t know I was coming home to a brat.”

Gator ignores the voice inside that screams for him to stop stop stop, barreling ahead in desperate angry defiance.

“Fuck you and what you want! Maybe I want a boyfriend who knows how to lighten up huh? Sorry I’m not your perfect little bitch. Go cry about it to someone else!”

His insides shake from the fear and lingering tension. Gator has just royally pissed off his dom. It’s in Billy’s eyes and the slow exhale of breath he takes. Punishment is inevitable. Gator longs to take it back but he can’t - can never take it back - and nothing will fix it. Or fix him. He’s all wrong inside and nothing works no matter how hard he tries.

But the thing is, Billy is safe.

Billy is angry and Gator is terrified and trembling but It’s nothing like it was before, in his father’s house. When the fear of a hand went bone deep and lived in his nightmares.

Gator loves Billy’s hands. They way they touch him. The way they hold him fast and glue him back together. They’ve never let him down those hands, which is why Gator is shaking like a leaf right now, terrified that they won’t reach for him.

He didn’t yell those things at Billy because he wants more space. It’s stupid, he knows, but he yelled them because he needs Billy to take over. He can’t stop himself running full speed ahead toward a punishment. Billy will straighten him out. He can trust Billy to know what to do even when he’s lost sense of which way he’s turned.

Gator’s dom considers him for a long moment, the silence stretching taut between them.

“Go in our room and get me a paddle.” Billy finally orders. Then, deliberately turning away, he starts rummaging through the kitchen cupboards - no doubt in his mind apparently that Gator will obey him.

Of course he does. Knees shaking, Gator stumbles out of the kitchen because now that he’s driven them to this point his skin is crawling with the need to make it right. He’s aching with the need to be good so bad his knees feel like jelly and it’s everything he can do just to follow the order. He wants to hit the floor - go to his belly and plead for his dom’s forgiveness but that’s not what Billy asked for.

He will be good. He’ll make Billy forget that mouthy idiot who talked back and clearly had shit for brains. He can be such a good boy. The best boy! Just give him a chance and he’ll come wagging his fucking tail.

It’s pathetic.

But it’s also a relief, when he returns to the kitchen a few minutes later with a paddle from their toy chest and sets it on the table and Billy acknowledges it with an approving nod.

“Good boy.” he says, and Gator’s knees buckle. He catches himself on the table, holds himself up with palms pressed firmly to the wood because Billy hasn’t told him to kneel yet. He forces himself to focus on Billy as the dom takes an empty glass vase inexplicably sitting next to a bag of rice on the table, and places it on the floor between their feet.

Gator watches warily as next, Billy grabs the open bag of rice and tilts it sending a stream of white grains cascading down onto the tile. He stops when the bag is empty and kneels briefly to stir through them gently with his fingers before straightening and meeting Gator’s eyes again.

“Pants off.” he orders, and Gator sucks in a breath. He doesn’t have to ask why, and doesn’t bother, cheeks hot with shame as he reaches for his belt and gets to work.

"On the floor," BIlly commands softly, when Gator is down to his underwear. The dom points to the pile of rice on the floor.

"Kneel."

And Gator folds like fucking cake batter, sweet sweet relief coursing through his veins. He puts himself at Billy’s feet where he belongs, where he wants to be and shudders, biting his lip to stop himself from begging for the dom’s touch. He hasn’t earned that. Doesn’t make him want it less, but he can be good for Billy and prove when he remembers how.

Billy picks up the paddle that Gator chose – sleek and dark, crafted from polished walnut. As Gator settles on his haunches, head lowered in submission.

“You picked the heavy one. My favorite.” Billy remarks. “That why you picked it, or do you just really need to feel it tonight? You can answer.”

“Want to feel it.” Gator licks his lips. “Want you to be happy.”

“Good boy.” Billy says, leaving Gator to wonder which he is pleased with: that Gator wants his ass beat so raw he can’t sit or Gator wanting those things because they please his dom?

“Alright Baby, are you listening? I want you to pick those up and put them in the vase. Count each one,” Billy instructs, motioning toward the scatter of grains. His voice is firm. It brooks no argument.

Gator looks down at the nearly indistinguishable mass of tiny grains and feels a rush of frustration. "All of them?" His voice is a mix of incredulity and unease. What if he can’t do it? What if he can’t be good and Billy is disappointed in him again?

“Every last one Baby boy," Billy confirms with an implacable nod. “Don’t think about it. It’s not your job right now to think. Just do what I ask you to do. Can you do that?”

Gator takes a deep breath, steadies himself on the sound of Billy’s voice and nods. He can do that. He can follow Billy’s instructions. He doesn’t have to worry about ho much rice there is or whether he can even find it all. That’s not his to worry about. Not his place. He just has to listen.

He reaches out shakily to touch the closest grain, his voice barely audible as he starts, “One… two… three…” His fingers tremble slightly; counting each grain feels like an impossible task. But Billy never sets him up for failure - not the way his dad used to. Billy doesn’t ask him to do things he’s not capable of just to fail. He asks Gator for things he knows he can do, and if he fails anyway it’s because Billy wants to be there when he breaks. He won’t leave Gator laden with shame and misery that will eat away at his insides.

As Gator focuses on the rice, Billy steps behind him. Without warning, he brings the paddle down gently but firmly across Gator's backside. The sound cracks sharply in the air, followed by another count from Gator's lips that judders from the impact.

“Four… five…”

Billy administers each swat in time with Gator’s counting—methodical and paced.

The pain is not harsh but it accumulates with each slap—the stinging warmth spreading across Gator’s skin contrasting starkly with the coolness of the floor beneath his knees and hands. Tears prickle at Gator’s eyes as he continues—his voice breaks around “twenty-nine… thirty…”

It’s more than just physical pain; it's a release valve for all he’s been holding inside. Every impact sends ripples through him, but it’s not just his body. It does something to his soul too that he can’t explain. Something he no longer wants to deny.

“Let it out,” Billy murmurs close to his ear between paddles—a soothing contrast to the sharp swats.

“Thirty-one… thirty-two…” The numbers start blurring together as sobs hitch in his throat. The task which seemed merely frustrating at first now feels poignant— slowly, bit by bit, Gator cleans up the mess on the floor, and swat by swat Billy cleans up the mess inside. He doesn’t hit Gator after every grain, that would be excessive. He takes breaks at interment periods, spacing them out so that it’s impossible for Gator to try and guess when he might start up again. The fresh sting whenever he does is brutal, worse in some ways than if he had just continued until Gator’s cheeks were numb.

“Two-hundred and ten…”

Billy pauses, placing his hand gently on Gator's shoulder as he surveys his progress.

"You’re doing well," he encourages softly, and that little praise, that nothing bit of touch, is enough to break him. Gator chokes on a sob, hot tears spilling down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them in.

“Keep going.” Billy reminds him and Gator nods emphatically, tears dripping off his chin, because he hadn’t meant to stop. He was doing so well. Billy said so. He’ll never stop. Not until Billy tells him too.

With shaking hands Gator pinches grains of rice between his fingers and continues to count aloud between sobs and hits from the paddle—each number spoken is more than just an acknowledgement of rice grains; but of his submission to Billy.

Billy’s little murmurs of praise and sounds of pleasure make him feel high. Like his head is floating in the clouds.

He loves subspace. Wishes it were easier for him to reach and he didn’t have to be taken down so hard. But finally he feels the familiar edges of it and the tears fall faster as he lets himself go.

Gator sinks into the feeling of weightlessness as it rises up to take him. Billy maintains a rhythm that is both firm and considerate, attuned to Gator's responses—his body language, his breathing, his blown out pupils and slurred speech.

This is no longer about punishment. It’s a guided breakdown.

As Gator’s cries begin to subside into quiet murmurs and his ability to speak leaves him, Billy lessens the intensity of his strikes until he stops altogether.

“That’s enough. You were beautiful Baby.” Billy halts Gator’s hands woozly still trying to lift rice and the sub sags against him. “You’re always so good for me baby boy.”

He brushes his fingertips along Gator's heated skin, tracing the raised welts along his buttocks and thighs softly, and making him shiver. Gator’s mouth stretches in a dopey lopsided smile, beaming from inside and out. He soars. Works his mouth to ask Billy to do it again - he can take more - but can’t get past the mushmouth.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and leather, the only sound now the quiet thud of Billy’s heart and Gator’s shaky breaths.

Hands roam over Gator’s back and legs, soft, soothing caresses that glide over his flushed skin. Billy leans close, his breath warm against the nape of Gator’s neck, whispering reassurances that float through his head like feathers.

The shift is gentle, a tender transition as Gator's breathing evens out and his trembling subsides. Billy’s hands are confident, knowing exactly where to touch to bring Gator back from the intense high of subspace. With each calculated stroke on his back and whisper against his ear, Gator feels the ground slowly come back under him, the weightlessness dissipating as reality takes hold once more.

Billy finally eases back, giving space for Gator to gather himself in the afterglow of their session. He cups Gator’s face tenderly, wiping away the trails left by tears with his thumbs.

“Talk to me, Gator. What’s been eating at you?”

The use of his real name pulls Gator further out of his dazed state. He blinks slowly, focusing on Billy’s concerned face, grounding himself. “I... I’m scared,” he admits, voice still hoarse.

“Scared of what?” Billy probes gently, petting the long side of Gator’s hair now.

“I’m scared I’m not enough for you,” he confesses, dropping his gaze to where their fingers are entwined. He knows the words will hurt Billy. Make his dominant frown in the middle of his brow and start thinking of all the ways Neil Hargrove used to tell him he was a waste of space - too broken and wrong to ever take proper care of a sub. Nothing could be further from the truth. But if there’s one thing Gator knows it’s daddy issues and how they can haunt you.

But to his surprise Billy’s expression doesn’t change. He just nods quietly, still petting Gator’s hair. “Why would you think that?”

Gator hesitates, lips parting but no sound coming out. He swallows hard and shrugs.

“Listen to me Baby.” Billy says after a moment, fisting Gator’s hair between his fingers and tugging until he brings his eyes up. “You’re what I want. You. Even when you’re being a greasy dirtbag leaving your shit everywhere and blaring your candyass music.”

“Hey, lay off my Skyfire man.” Gator can’t help but smile, because Billy’s lips have curved up in amusement and they’ve had this argument a dozen times or more and it just makes him feel so good, that Billy pays attention to which albums he gravitates to depending on his moods. “They aren’t candy. Fractal is the best album produced since Reign In Blood.”

“Why are we talking about fucking Slayer, or Skyfire, right now when Ride the Lightning exists?” Billy growls, tugging on Gator’s hair until his scalp stings just the sweetest bit. “I should beat your ass again just for that.“

“Yeah. If you wanna.” he pants, eager, and Billy’s smiling mouth kisses him, hot and hungry. Billy licks into Gator’s mouth, possessive and sweeping, until he whimpers. The dom nips at his plump lower lip with a grin before pulling back.

“Don’t think you realize how sore you’re gonna be when you come down off this high babe.” He says. “But you heard me right? When I said I loved you? Cause I do. I wasn’t about to lose you before over shitty timing, and I’d never let anything take you from me now. Not Dot. Not him. Not anyone or anything. Okay?”

Gator shivers, but even the mention of his father can’t intrude on the blanket of safety Billy has woven around him, the sure way his gaze holds Gator and rings with truth.

“Yeah.” he sighs, breathless.

“Yeah?”

But it’s not good enough, according to Billy’s tightening grip. And fuck that feels good. Gator is suddenly aware of how hard he is in his briefs, but it’s strangely distant. Like he’d be happy to just sit here hard for another hour or more, letting Billy play with him.

“Yes Billy.”

“Good boy.” Billy's voice is soft, infused with a warmth that seeps into Gator's bones, coaxing his tight muscles to loosen.The room around them—their living room with its deep blue walls and plush gray couches— disappears momentarily, focusing all existence on their intimate bubble.

Billy lifts Gator’s chin so their eyes meet. "Nah nah, stay up for me Baby boy. I need you present." His thumbs brush under Gator’s eyes, rubbing warmth into his skin while he waits for Gator’s eyes to focus. "I think it’s time I show you something," Billy continues, when Gator’s gaze is clear once more.

"In the bedroom," Billy instructs softly, "In my sock drawer, there's a small white box. I want you to go and bring it to me."

Gator feels a jolt run through him. It shocks him rather unpleasantly back to reality, like he’s been dropped from a short height.

“Wait what?” he tries to ask, tries to think, because Billy can’t be hinting at what his muddled brain is trying to convince him he is. Can he?

“Shh. Don’t ask questions.” Billy warns. “And absolutely no peeking either. Just go get it.”

Gator’s movements are slow and automatic as he stands and makes his way down the hallway. This isn’t happening. Well obviously it is, he is on his way to their bedroom to open Billy’s drawer - which is strictly hands off unless he has permission - and get some mysterious box. But it’s probably like some new toy they can enjoy together. Maybe Billy went out and finally got those chains Gator found on that web store, the ones with the studs that dig into your wrists the more you struggle? He’s going to feel so owned wearing those. It’s gonna be great.

He’s convinced himself down off the ledge by the time he gets to the bedroom, but his heart hasn’t gotten the memo because it starts going double time in his chest as he reaches for Billy’s drawer. It slips open smoothly under his fingers which are trembling slightly. From fear or excitement, he isn't sure.

Inside lies a small white box, unassuming in its simplicity yet Gator just stands there and stares at it like it’s a bomb for a full minute before lifting it from its nest among Billy's socks. The weight of potential futures presses down upon him as he clutches the box in his hands.

He should be a good boy. He can just turn and go back into the living room and - Fuck it! Gator’s not kidding anyone. Least of all himself.

Before he knows it, Gator has torn off the ribbon and lifted the lid on the box to peek inside.

And there lies a beautiful black leather collar, its surface smooth and flawless except for the bold engraving of 'GATOR' studded across it in shining silver letters.

Gator stares at it in disbelief, eyes flooding with fresh tears. His heart trips over itself in his chest, thrumming against his ribcage like a caged bird desperate for flight.

The room is silent except for the sound of Gator's shallow, ragged breathing. Gator runs his fingers over the cool, shining letters that form his name, the studs scraping against the pads of his fingers sending tingles through him.

He lifts the collar, feeling its weight in his hands. It's heavier than it looks. He brings it closer, inhaling deeply—the leather smells rich and earthy. It’s the good shit. Supple and strong enough to take some serious pull, and yet the inside of the collar is lined with soft velvet, ensuring his comfort.

Something white resting on the blue lining of the box catches Gator’s eye. It’s a folded card, its crisp edge nearly taller than the sides of the box. Gently plucking it up, Gator flicks it open and scans, eyes widening at the one word message inside.

Peeker!

An unexpected burst of laughter escapes him as he wipes away tears. The simple word on the card speaks volumes, but so does Billy’s presence in their bedroom doorway where Gator finds him leaning when he looks up.

Billy is gazing at Gator with an intense mixture of emotions.

"Do you like it?" he asks, and there’s something like worry there. As if Gator might actually have shit for brains and do all that stupid stuff he’d told Dot he’d do back when he was scared shitless. All because he’d convinced himself that Billy wasn’t true - that he’d disappear like every other good thing has.

“Yeah.” Gator sniffs through his red nose, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. “Shit man. How long have you had this?”

“Since right after your birthday actually.” Billy confesses with an easy shrug. Like he isn’t just standing there admitting that he bought a collar for Gator and has been hanging onto it since September.

“Billy! It’s fucking March!”

“I know! I thought if I forbid you from going through my drawer eventually you would. I know what you’re like.” Billy said. Meaning of course he knows that no matter what, Gator eventually messes up.

But Billy says, “I guess I underestimated what a good boy I’ve got, huh?” with this soft look in his eye, like he’s looking at the best sight in the world and not his fuckup boyfriend standing in the middle of their bedroom in his tighty-whities.

Gator might be melting a little, which is why he has to sit down heavily on the bed before he crumples.

“Hey Billy?”

“Yeah, Babe?”

“I’m your sub…” Gator begins and Billy laughs, the sound loud and full of joy instead of mockery.

“No shit?”

“Come on, Billy please. Don’t be mean.” Gator whines, lifting the hand still holding the collar wordlessly and Billy finally takes pity on him and crosses the room to take it from him. Gator trembles, straightening up and bending his neck a little to give Billy room as he claps it on. He gasps a little, shuddering when Billy leans back and the heavy weight settles against his skin.

"You’re my sub," Billy repeats with finality."With or without this. But when you wear this, I want you to remember," he pauses for effect, letting his fingers softly caress down Gator’s neck and over the dark leather. "You’re my gift. The love you give me, makes me Gator, and I thank whatever lucky stars I’ve got that you came into my life when you did. Okay?"

A simple nod is all Gator manages in response; it’s all that’s needed. The smile that spreads across Billy's face is radiant—as if a piece has clicked into place within him too.

Carefully, lovingly, Billy cradles his chin and pulls him into a kiss.

It tastes sweet… like buttercream icing.

#billy hargrove #gator tillman #billy x gator #gator x billy #caligator #dot lyon #fargo season 5 #stranger things #fizzi writes caligator #collaring #dom/sub #tw: mentions of abuse

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terrorsbeauty · 1 month ago

Text

Truly

notes: geto x f!reader, possible sukuna x f!reader ;college au!!!! everyone is kinda the same age???? reader and shoko are med school buddies; everyone is slightly ooc

part 1

“Anatomy is crucial in medicine. Why? Because it is a language. How can you treat the body, without understanding it first?” he started, pacing around the room, his lips in a straight line.

“ I’ll save you some time. You can’t. That’s your only job, as medicine students. Learn the body’s language, learnt its intricacies, and you’ll find that everything is connected, and everything has meaning.”

Professor Yaga had this somberness to him, that made everything sound like a verdict. It was either this, or that, never grey. You supposed he would need to be so sure of himself in his line of work. Being a surgeon leaves little room for uncertainty, and it certainly requires a deep knowledge of the human body, that could be seen in the way he spoke about the subject. He was clearly fluent in this language, and you had the chance of learning it from the best. That only meant you had better get on it.

The class was over, but there was a stillness in the air, like everyone just now realized what they were getting in to. Oh well. You took your bag and swiftly made your way out to the back of the Anatomy building, to the smoking area, and lit a cigarette, sighing at the fact that there was only one left. You just got here yesterday, and the pack was already finished, how the fuck did that happen? Clearly there was some damage control that needed to be done.

“ You have a lighter?”

You raised your eyebrows, startled by the voice, and hand her your brand new clipper, bought at the gas station not too long ago.

The girl just nodded her head in sign of appreciation, and stood besides you, neither wanting to start any kind of conversation. The silence was eventually too much to bear, so she started speaking, but you didn’t quite register it, because you kept looking at her eyes. They were so peculiarly bright, not in color, but there was something… unusual.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She looked at you funny and laughed. “Parliament. Aqua Blue. You have good taste.”

It was your turn to laugh. “I suppose. Better than those Lucky Strikes you’re smoking.”

“They’re the real deal, not those Vogue bullshits.” she said, her mohth corner slightly dropping in disgust.

“ Yeah, but by the end of college we’re both gonna need new lungs.”

You both smile, a small cloud of smoke forming over you.

“I’m Shoko. I think you’ll be my new cig partner.” she says finishing her cigarette and stepping on it.

“Y/N. You in Dorm B?”

“Yeah, don’t tell me we’re on the same floor, cause that would be some freaky fucking shit.”

“Last floor. I have to climb all the fucking stairs cause the stupid elevator doesn’t work.” you said rolling your eyes. What a pain in the ass.

Shoko nods her head understandingly, pursing her lips and slightly squinting their eyes.

“Makes sense. I bet those fuckers put all of us first years there.”

You throw her an amused look, fiddling with the lace of your hoodie, thinking maybe this wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought it would. Yeah, you had to climb seven floors just so you could crash in your bed, but having someone to share that torture with would make it bearable. You liked her. She was blunt, but also reserved, the real embodiment of not giving a fuck, something you clearly lacked but desperately tried to achieve; she was the kind of girl you could sit in silence without being awkward, not needing to make useless conversation just to fill the air with words.

The day flew by extremely fast, and when you finally got back to your dorm at 8 pm and realized you hadnn’t eaten anything but half a cookie Shoko gave you, you sighed. How were you going to keep up with med school if the first day already has you in shambles? You didn’t even want to think about having a social life, going to the gym, and maybe taking up some extracurricular activities, no, you couldn’t think about that because you didn’t even unpack. The stacks of boxes seemed to stare at you in disappointment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You stared at the stained ceiling- how did that stain even get there- your eyelids starting to slowly close, when your phone started ringing. Shoko’s contact appeared on the screen and you contemplated letting it ring, but ultimately decided do answer, because college was supposed to be about making new friends, trying new things, having life-changing experiences, and staring at the duck-shaped stain on the ceiling only brought you closer to wanting to sink into the mattress and hibernate for a couple months.

“Are you in your room?” she asked with a curious tone. You answered her and suddenly saw your door open large, your guest making herself at home.

“ You look like you’re having an existential crisis, get up.” she said not even sparing you a glance and immediately opening your closet, sighing at the emptiness of it. Not even a second later she started rummaging through your boxes, opening every single one and groaning for a reason you couldn’t figure out.

“ Hello to you too, of course you can come in, yeah , sure, have a look around, it’s not like I care about my privacy or whatever.” you said , standing up and stretching with a yawn.

Shoko squealed happily upon finding a pink box - fuck, you thought, not the party box - and bringing it to your bed.

“ That’s the way things are going to be from now on, so you better get used to it.” she raised her shoulders, smiling and wiggling her eyebrows. “I love this box, by the way. We’re going to be very good friends, I can tell just from looking at it.”

“ You can tell that by the fact that I have a box full of alcohol and skimpy clothes?” you said incredulously.

“ Yup. You should wear this top tonight, it’s perfect, classy and slutty at the same time.” she huffed out and then threw it in your face.

“ You can’t be seriously thinking about going to that stupid freshman party.” you whined.

“ We,” she said while pointing at the two of you, “are going to the party. You can start getting dressed, I’ll make the drinks, we’re meeting my friends in an hour.” she explained casually, as if it was the most obvious thing, and you couldn’t do anything but comply. Even though you were more than tired, the truth was, you could never say no to going out - you were only human - and it seemed like Shoko read you perfectly. You liked her, and more than that, you liked that she acted as if you were best friends since birth.

“ We have to do shots then, because I am not going anywhere sober.” you added, while reaching for the tequila bottle in your box. Shoko gave you a big smile and the fun began. It took more than an hour, but it was to be expected, because getting ready for a party makes up for more than half of the fun. A couple shots and cigarette breaks later, Shoko knew the story of your life, you knew hers, you were planning matching tattoos and moving in together- it came naturally, as if the two of you were always meant to be friends, and the universe only now put you in the same place.

After successfully walking in the cold for 20 minutes, you reached the designated party place and calling it overcrowded would be an understatement - even the sidewalk was full of people. Shoko simply grabbed your hand and guided you through the house, which she seemed to know perfectly (you were definitely asking her about it the next day), and after bumping into countless sweaty people, you reached a closed black door. What the fuck was this?

“It’s a long story.” she said looking at your confused face, then knocking.

“ How could they hear over the fucking music?” you asked her and for a moment she just stared at you, and then quickly got out her phone. You couldn’t hear what she was saying while talking on the phone, partly due to the loud music, and partly due to the fact that just maybe, you were a little tipsy.

The door suddenly opens and this tall, white-haired guy looks at you grinning just like the Cheshire Cat. He was freakishly tall, and he had these weird round glasses on- what was going on? You enter the room, and took a look around, seeing way fewer people than you expected. What was this?

“So you are Shoko’s friend!” the white haired guy said almost screaming at you. “I’m Gojo, Shoko’s love of her life, nice to meet you, sweets.” he continued while putting his hand over your shoulder. You couldn’t even answer because Shoko snorted loudly and slapped his hand away.

“ Call yourself that again and I will use your cadaver as a learning tool for my anatomy class. I can’t stress this enough Toru, you are the reason I have so few girl friends. Just shut up.” she said half smiling at him.

“ What’s up with the glasses? You have some sort of disease or what?” you asked, studying his glasses. He gasped and flashed you a boyish grin.

“Why? You want to study me or what, sweetheart?” he said mimicking you.

“Yeah, I’m just dying to, sweetheart” you laugh, taking a sip from the drink Shoko just shoved into your hand and then get dragged away by her.

“ Don’t get too flirty with him, we don’t want his ego getting bigger than it is - if it’s even possible. ” Shoko whispers to you and you both giggle like little schoolgirls.

“What’s up with this room? Is this the VIP section or what?” you ask as you go sit on a kitchen counter.

“Gojo’s father basically owns the whole uni, so everyone will kiss his ass so they’ll get on his good side. We’ve all been coming here since high-school, and we decided the kitchen is our safe space - sort of.” she explained while lighting up a cigarette.

“And he lives here or what?”

“ No, he said he wanted to have the “full college experience” ” she said while rolling her eyes, “ so he lives in the dorms. ”

“ Not to be mean, cause he’s your friend and all, but that’s typical rich people bullshit.” you answered, shaking your head.

“ Yeah, he may be a little peculiar but he’s a good friend. Don’t tell him I said that though.” she muttered through the smoke.

You brought your own cigarette to your lips when a spark appeared in front of you. You looked up in front of you, only to see another freakishly tall guy.

“Damn, everyone here is so tall.” you thought out loud, making the guy in front of you raise his brow, while getting a laugh out of Shoko.

“ You’re welcome.” he said, calmly while also lighting his cigarette - the same brand as yours. You nodded, feeling a rush of blood in your cheeks and mentally thanking whoever it was that turned off the lights, leaving on only the red neon sign on the wall. You took a drag and looked at him through your lashes - broad shoulders, gorgeous black hair and cold, dark eyes. Shoko had good taste in friends, for sure. If the other one was Gojo, this had to be Geto, which made Shoko right - they truly were the embodiment of Yin and Yang.

“This is Suguru, Satoru’s husband.” Shoko chuckled and he slightly rolled his eyes while fake punching her shoulder.

“This is Y/N, my future wife.” she presented you, and you blew her a kiss.

“ Don’t you think we’re moving a bit too fast?” you asked her pouting.

“Not at all. I told you we were meant to be from the start.”

Geto scoffs. “You’ve been hanging out with Satoru so much you start to sound like him.” he said and Shoko’s eyes widen.

“ Take that back!”

He put his arms in the air and cracked a tiny smile, and as his shirt rolled up just the tiniest amount, you couldn’t help but notice some tattoos going down his abdomen. You didn’t let your eyes wander for too long, because you felt an arm on your shoulder - Gojo.

“ Shoko, you mind if I steal your beautiful gorgeous fellow doctor-to-be for some shots?” he lolled his words while squeezing you.

“ My darling handsome whatever you are going to be, if my wife doesn’t come then I won’t either.” you added, and Shoko sighed.

“ Enough with this talk, you’re making us all sick. Let’s just go.” Shoko deadpans, making a disgusted look.

“ You and I are going to get along perfectly.” Gojo exclaimed, looking at you through his glasses, revealing a concerning shade of blue. That definitely had to be some disease, you thought, not giving voice to your said thought and just smiling at him.

You looked at Geto who had a completely flat face - frankly, he didn’t look happy to be here. You flashed him an awkward smile that he didn’t return - what a dick - and made your way through the crowd, guided by Gojo.

The huge living room smelled awful, the floor was sticky, and there were so many people you could barely breathe, but you were in a perfect state of inebriation, not completely drunk off your mind, but close enough so that you didn’t care. You became extra social, as you usually did in this state, flashing smiles left and right, talking to everyone about everything. You and Gojo seemed to make an unstoppable duo when drunk, that couldn’t be stopped when there were shots involved, leaving Shoko surprised.

All the dancing and the smoke started to make you dizzy so you made your way outside, leaving Shoko talking to a very pretty girl from your class, Utahime you thought was her name, knowing you’ll definitely tease her about it in the morning - fuck, morning.

Tomorrow was tuesday, it was currently 2:37 am and you were on your way to being seriously drunk - so much for being responsible in college. You took out your phone, setting an alarm at 7 am, and looked for your cigarette pack, only to come to the pained conclusion that you must have lost it somewhere inside. You sat down on the wet grass, thinking about how annoyed you’ll be when you’ll have to wash your jeans, and put your head on the wall behind you, sighing.

“You lost your pack.” you heard a deep voice to your right, only to see Shoko’s brunette friend throw you your pack.

“ Holy shit, thanks.” you said, confused and grateful at the same time, while taking out a well-deserved ( or so you told yourself) cigarette. Realizing you had no lighter, you looked at the man with the best puppy eyes you could muster, only for him to roll his eyes.

“You sure looked like you were having fun with Satoru.” he said coldly, almost accusatory.

“ What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you asked annoyed at his tone. Was he jealous that his friend was actually having fun instead of sulking around like a loser? “Thanks for the lighter.” you added curtly.

“ Nothing.” he stated, lighting his own cigarette, continuing stand at an awkward distance - close enough so you could hear what he was saying, but still far, like you were in first grade all over again and he didn’t want to get caught talking to a girl.

“If you’re not having fun , why are you here?” you said taking a drag and turning towards him.

He laughs - a short, almost bitter laugh. “Who says I’m not having fun?”

You scoff. “Please, you look like you’re one inconvenience away from killing yourself and everyone here.”

“You know, that’s kind of rude to say to someone you’ve just met.” he replied, still not looking at you.

“I have a feeling you’ll get over it pretty fast.” You thought you saw a small smile in the corner of his lips, but it quickly went away. As you finished your cigarette, you looked at the time again, groaned and got up.

“ Thank you for rescuing my pack, Geto. It was nice to meet you.” you uttered, giving him a forced smile and leaving him outside. As you entered the house, Shoko latched onto you.

“ We have class in 4 hours.” she murmured in your year. “We’re fucked.” Exactly your thoughts. You intertwined your hand with hers and exhaled.

“ Let’s go sleep.” you said, mentally preparing yourself for walking drunk and cold back to your dorm. Shoko just hummed and followed your lead, as if you were in a better state than her.

The bed felt like heaven and you quickly drifted away to sleep, with the room slightly spinning, thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a bad start to college.

let me know if you like it!!!!! <333333

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detective-inspector-her · 8 months ago

Text

Left Behind AU Incorrect Quotes

Gordon: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

Valkyrie: Gordon what-?

Saracen: It was difficult, so you’ve just given up. You might fail, so why bother trying?

Gordon: Exactly.

Gordon, to Tanith: I told you he’d understand.

Saracen: I want a trip down memory lane.

Valkyrie: proceeds to grab every warrior cats book they have and sets them in Saracen's lap

Valkyrie: I heard you needed these?

Saracen: YES! ALL OF THEM!

Gordon: Hey, Ghastly, are you free on Friday? Like around eight?

Ghastly: Yeah.

Gordon: And you, Tanith?

Tanith: Umm... yes?

Gordon: Great! Because I'm not. You two go out without me. Enjoy your date!

Tanith: Did he just-

Anton: What?

Saracen: You know, there’s something weird going on with your face?

Saracen: You’re smiling! I didn’t know you could do that?

Ghastly: What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.

Tanith: Hey, Ghastly, what do you think it would be like if we had kids?

Tanith: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?

Ghastly: Can't really say I have.

Tanith: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes.

Ghastly: Sorry, Tanith. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody.

Dexter: Chillin' in a hot tub!

Saracen: Two bros!

Saracen and Dexter, in unison: Zero feet apart 'cause we're GAY AS FUCK!

Valkyrie: You a cop?

Dexter: Hey, aren’t you Valkyrie?

Dexter: No.

Valkyrie: Then yes, I am.

Tanith: Oh, I’m sorry.

Dexter: I asked Saracen out.

Dexter: Why?

Tanith: Well, I assume he said no.

Dexter: No, he said yes.

Tanith: Really? Then I’m sorry for him.

Tanith: He once referred to sand as "heterosexual glitter."

Dexter: So, what's it like living with Gordon?

Dexter: ...

Tanith: I love him so much.

Gordon: *Ugly crying*

Skulduggery, holding out a cookie for Gordon: Look! This ones a heart, that’s how I feel about you!

Skulduggery, holding out another cookie for Valkyrie: This ones like Michigan, that’s how I feel about you!

Valkyrie, throwing their hands in the air: What does that mean?!

Valkyrie: Okay-

Skulduggery: Yo dumbass, get over here.

Gordon: *gleefully runs past* I’m coming!

Valkyrie sadly: I thought... I was dumbass...

Valkyrie: Um… the moment I saved you from getting killed.

Skulduggery: When did you become a hero?

Skulduggery: You’re the last person on earth I wanted to rescue me.

Valkyrie: Well… sucks to be you, don’t it.

Valkyrie and Dexter: *fighting and yelling at each other*

Saracen: Can I get a waffle?

Saracen: Can I p l e a s e get a waffle?

Valkyrie: When I join this friend group I thought you guys would be dealing with my bullshit.

Valkyrie: You know what?

*Saracen, Dexter and Tanith continue screaming about mould water*

Valkyrie: Not the other way around.

Ghastly: I dunno, sounds like you need to drink the mould water.

Skulduggery: The reason I wake up every morning.

Saracen: So, what is Valkyrie to you?

Saracen: ...That’s adorable.

Valkyrie earlier that morning, barging into Skulduggery′s room, smacking pans together: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!

Skulduggery: You slept for three hours last night! Why are you surprised?!

Valkyrie: I'm tired.

Valkyrie: I'm not surprised. I just wanted to complain about it.

Dexter: Only the ambulance ride to the hospital.

Valkyrie: You were stabbed. Do you remember anything?

Saracen: That wasn't an ambulance, I drove you.

Dexter: But I heard a siren.

Anton: That was Gordon.

Gordon: Sorry, I got nervous.

Saracen: Uh, no, no, that is basil.

Dexter: Is this mistletoe?

Dexter: Too bad cause if it was mistletoe I was gonna kiss you.

Saracen: Yeah, no, it’s still basil.

Skulduggery: ...

Valkyrie: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?!

Valkyrie: Oh, right. The lying.

Tanith: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back...

Skulduggery: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.

Valkyrie: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Saracen: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

Dexter: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Gordon: Mental stability, my old friend!

Skulduggery: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

Anton: Oh, I would... but I don’t want to.

Dexter: Hey Anton, do you wanna help us?

Valkyrie: Yes.

Dexter: So... This is my full potential?

Dexter: So, then it's...

Valkyrie: All downhill from here.

Dexter: Like Skulduggery.

Valkyrie: I do not know what this Skulduggery is. But it sounds disappointing.

Tanith, in defeat: Let’s go.

Skulduggery, smugly, after security arrives to escort Tanith and Valkyrie out: So, do you wanna walk out of here or do you wanna be carried out?

Valkyrie: Wait.

Tanith: What?

Valkyrie: I’d kinda like to be carried out...

I'll probably do this for other fics that I want to write. Like, a heads up for some of the insane bullshit that's been hiding in my head for the past few months.

Valkyrie: And now for a gay update with Saracen and Dexter.

Dexter: Getting gayer.

Valkyrie: Thank you, Dexter.

#skulduggery pleasant #valkyrie cain #tanith low #saracen rue #dexter vex #anton shudder #ghastly bespoke #incorrect quotes #Left Behind AU

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isabelinlove · 4 days ago

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Merry Christmas, Dickhead

Pairing: Isabel x Roman (pre-relationship)

Word count: 1k

Summary: Isabel and Roman have slightly different views on Christmas. Takes place during season 1 (the Christmas following the infamous 1.05 Thanksgiving).

Warnings: Mostly fluffy, but contains very brief canon-typical allusions to childhood trauma/abuse. Also contains typical Roman weirdness.

A/N: Tis the season… for a Romebel Christmas fic!! I actually wrote this one last year but it’s still one of my faves <3

“If I have to hear Holly Jolly Christmas one more time, I’m going to fucking strangle myself,” Roman grumbles as he enters his office, hastily removing the scarf from around his neck and throwing it across the back of his chair.

“Good morning to you, too,” Isabel replies, not looking up from her computer. After a month and a half of working for him, she’s grown used to her boss’s erratic behavior.

“Seriously, I don’t know how anyone can fucking stomach that shit,” he continues.

“Christmas music?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like it.”

“You’re shitting me,” he replies, walking over and leaning up against her desk. “Why? It’s all Jesus and reindeer and touchy-feely bullshit and ‘you’d better be in the holiday spirit or Santa will personally shove a candy cane up your ass.’” He mimics the action with his hand, and Isabel rolls her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be into that crap.”

“I know,” she replies. “But… it’s nostalgic. Reminds me of my childhood, I guess.”

“Yuck,” Roman says, making a face.

“I’m guessing you don’t feel the same?”

“Well, growing up, Roy family Christmases weren’t exactly holly and jolly,” he replies. She expects him to leave it at that, but he continues. “I mostly remember a lot of yelling, as a result of Mummy and Daddy’s rapidly deteriorating marriage. Then there was the time Kendall threw a snowball at me that was 90% ice and I had a black eye in all the family photos. Dad was livid about it. Probably because he didn’t want people to think he did it. But, hey, at least we had Mummy’s Christmas cookies! Which of course weren’t made with love, but purchased from the most expensive caterer in town. One time she scolded me for eating more than one and told me I was going to get fat.”

“Oh,” is all Isabel can manage in response. She’s always wondered why Roman is… well, the way he is, but never before has he divulged so much information about his less-than-happy childhood.

“Fuck you, don’t look at me like that,” he says, noticing the way her face falls. “I don’t want your pity.”

“Fine, asshole,” she replies, quickly pivoting. It’s much easier to dish Roman’s snarky attitude back to him than say something sincere. She knows it’s what he prefers, too. “I’m just surprised your spoiled ass doesn't have memories of getting every gift you ever could have wanted every single year.”

“Well, yeah, I have those, too,” he retorts, straightening himself up. “It’s just… the other stuff kind of stuck with me more.” He says it quietly, almost vulnerably, then returns to his own desk before Isabel can reply. She turns her attention back to her emails, trying very hard not to think about how bad she feels for her pathetic jerk of a boss.

The following Friday, Roman returns from a miserably boring board meeting to a quiet office. He checks the time — 5:17 — and realizes that Isabel must have already left. He’s given her two weeks off for Christmas, a hefty bonus, and — maybe against his better judgment — a Chanel bag, hoping that it’s enough to say ‘thank you’ for everything she’s done for him. He’s never been good with kind words.

Roman turns his attention to his own desk, and is surprised to find a present sitting on top. It’s rectangular and fairly small, neatly wrapped in shiny green paper and tied with a large red ribbon. At first, he assumes someone is making a merry attempt to either bribe or poison him, until he reads the note attached to the ribbon:

Merry Christmas, dickhead.

Love,

Your long-suffering assistant

PS: Eat as many as you want, I don’t care if you get fat (you won’t)

He grins and begins to unwrap it. Inside is a Tupperware container filled with Christmas cookies. Homemade Christmas cookies, he realizes, as he removes the lid. Two different kinds — peanut butter with chocolate Kisses in the center, and sugar cookies cut into various festive shapes. The icing on the sugar cookies is a little wonky, but that makes them all the more charming. Still smiling, he pulls out a snowman and takes a bite. It’s good — way better than anything he remembers from his childhood. A funny feeling washes over him as he realizes that this is the most thoughtful gift he’s received in years.

Christmas comes several days later, and, as expected, the Roy family dinner is anything but jolly. Connor is freaking out about the doneness of the roast, Shiv and Tom are having a domestic dispute in the living room, and Roman’s father is once again questioning him about his inability to keep a girlfriend. After making some half-assed excuse about wanting to focus on work, he sighs and downs his glass of Merlot, attempting to tune out the cacophony of unhappy voices around him. Just two more hours and he can get out of there.

Roman’s mind starts to wander, and soon he’s thinking back to the conversation he had with Isabel. He wonders what she’s doing right now, and hopes she’s having a better time than him. She probably is, if Christmas music makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside instead of nauseous. All of a sudden, his mind conjures up an image of her baking the cookies she gave him. She’s dressed in a bright red sweater, smiling sweetly and humming along to Holly Jolly Christmas as she mixes the dough, like something out of one of those shitty Hallmark movies. It’s absolutely fucking ridiculous, and never in a million years would he admit that he’s having such domestic fantasies about her. But as the dinner drags on and his family’s arguing becomes more heated, his thoughts keep drifting back to it. It’s a wholesome contrast to the shit show unfolding around him at the moment. And maybe, just maybe, it makes him feel a little warm and fuzzy inside.

Tagging @tomfoolies

#❤️: business as usual #my writing #that title is a jumpscare HAHA but i’m trying to get a consistent format going

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seaside-writings · 1 year ago

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Hello, hello, all you holly jolly people! It is the first day of my “12 Days of Prompts” event and we're starting off with something a little scary.

Every Christmas season there are two horror movies that my family and I watch over and over again. The first one as you can call see is “Krampus” and the second you’ll see later on!

Krampus is by far one of my favorite Christmas movies, I know that sounds strange, but it’s the truth. I love the monster designs, how the characters a portrayed, and how it still feels more like a Christmas movie than a horror movie, even during some of the actual horror parts. Plus, I like that it doesn’t try and take itself too seriously.

So if you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend it!

Like always if you do use these prompts please tag me so I can see what you’ve made!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays: Celia ❤💚❄⛄🎄

“It started with the wind, on a cold night, much like this,” - “It's Christmas. Nothing bad is going to happen on Christmas!” - "That's what a family is, baby. People you try to be friends with, even when you don't have a lot in common,” - “You're not thinking of going after that snowplow alone, are you?” “A Shepherd's gotta protect his flock,” - “It's the blizzard, honey, nothing's working right now,” - “They can see dust specks on Mars, but no one noticed a giant blizzard hurtling towards us,” “Well, as soon as the power's back, you can write an angry e-mail to the National Weather Service,” - “I would just be calmer if I knew how we were gonna survive Christmas with 12 people stuck in a house with no hot water, no heat, and no electricity,” - “You know, she and I, we butt heads, but I can't imagine life without her,” Yeah, I know what you mean,” _ “And that night, in the darkness of a howling blizzard… I got my wish,” “Oh, lay off of him! The kid deserves a prize for telling the truth!” - “It's just a scratch,” “Oh, my gosh,” “It looks like something bit you.” “Nope! Probably a bear trap under the snow or something,” “We don't have bears here,” - “Dear Santa, I know I haven't been great this year and I'm sorry for that, but I was really hoping you could help out me and my family this Christmas,” - “So, where’s the nog? I need to get merry,” - “Come on, kids, I'm gonna teach you how to make peppermint schnapps,” - "A little sugar, a little spice, makes everything nice." - "I haven't been this hungover since the Pope died." - “But Krampus didn't take me that night… He left me, as a reminder of what happens when hope is lost, when belief is forgotten… and the Christmas spirit dies,” - “They too had given up. And eventually, so did I,” - “What’s she saying?” “This… This is all our fault… he’s come for us all... He?” - “And for the first time, I didn't wish for a miracle, I wished for them to go away… a wish I would come to regret,” - “I'm old enough to know when life is coming at me with its pants down,” - "Listen, why don't we just leave? Right? We can all pile in the truck and we'll just see as far as we can get, and we can pick up-” “The truck's gone,” - “And I just wanna say I’m sorry for… thinking you’re such a spineless dick all these years,” - “Poor bastard must have sailed clear through,” “Looks more like the opposite,” “What’d you mean?” “The glass is punched in,” - “Don't suppose you got me a backup generator for Christmas, did you?” “Yeah, it's under the tree next to your ties and underwear,” - “Blah blah blah. Bullshit, bullshit. Ah, here we go, the wishlist!” - “Enough with the sappy crap, let's open up the damn presents,” - “See? Let them out of your sight for one second, and boom, shotgun wedding,” “Can you not, please,” “Well, you ought to know,” - “What did you see up there?” “You don't wanna know, sweetheart,” "Honey, I just got my ass kicked by a bunch of Christmas cookies, so trust me when I tell you I can take it!" - “It's not starting! It's not starting! Why isn't it starting!?”

“I think our best bet is to stay put, board up all the doors and windows, and as soon as the weather breaks, we'll go find her,”

“Hey, asshole! I take back my wish, I take it all back! Give me back my family!” - “I, um-- I just wanna say thanks for, uh, you know, saving my ass back there,” - “Twisted fairytale horseshit!!” - "I've hunted a lot of game in my day, those are hooves. Big ones too. Could be an elk or a goat,” What kind of goat walks on its hind legs? - “How much ammo do you have?” “A couple shells still loaded, maybe a dozen in my pocket. Why?” - “What? “She said we're screwed,” - “They had forgotten the spirit of Christmas, the sacrifice of giving. And my family was no different,” - “And as he had for thousands of years, Krampus came not to reward, but to punish, not to give, but to take,” - “I tried to help them to believe again, but we were no longer the loving family I remembered,” - “I knew Saint Nicholas was not coming this year. Instead, it was a much darker, more ancient spirit. The shadow of Saint Nicholas. It was Krampus,” - “I just wanted Christmas to be like it used to be, but forget it! I hate Christmas! I hate all of you!” - “Evil Santa? She’ll be yammering about a rabid Easter Bunny come Spring,” - “What are we gonna tell the kids?” “I don't know. The truth?” “Sure, which version of it?” - “Yeah, well, you know-- she always gets a little weird around Christmas,” - “Baby, please don't do this, listen, we can figure something else out,” “This is how I figure things out,” - “You had mom's angel this whole time?” “Yeah, I thought you knew,” “No,” - “It was almost Christmas, but this Christmas was darker, less cheerful. But I still believed in Santa, in magic and miracles, and the hope that we could find joy again,” - “I'm sorry, I just wanted Christmas to be like it used to be,” - “Our village had given up on miracles, and on each other,” - “Remember we used to fight over who got to place her?” “Yeah, you fought dirty, I still have the scars,” “Where do you think my girls get it from?” - “I don't like this,” “Whoever did this is a demented son of a bitch,” - “Come on, come on, please,” “I'm trying! I don't even know how to drive a stick! We have a hybrid! - “The snowplow?” “The keys were in the ignition-” “And it was beat to hell!’ “But if it runs, I drive it back here, and then everyone piles in the car and follows while I clear a path in front of us,” “And go where?” “The mall doubles as an emergency shelter, and if it's empty, we'll try the police station,” “And what if they're gone too?” “Then we keep driving till we see lights or people, plowed road, somewhere safe for the kids,” “And then we bring help back here,” - “I think it's panicking, trying to get outside,” “Well, we boarded everything up,” - “What are you doing? We've got four other kids here to protect,” - “It's not what you do, it's what you believe, and what you've given up," - “I think all this might be my fault,” - “What are we gonna do now?” “We keep the fire hot,” - “Oh, hey, there you are! Hey, kiddo. we thought the sugarplum fairies may have gotten you,” - “Everybody, hold on to each other,” - “Be good,” - “Wow, what's this all about?” “It's nothing just… merry Christmas,” “Merry Christmas to you too, baby,”

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roosterbox · 2 years ago

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Fic Rec Friday 6/16/2023

Title: The Best Part of Me is That I’m the B-Side to You

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, And ensemble

Additional Tags: Hurt and comfort, Angst, Established Relationship, kind of, Fix-It, not a slow burn we burn fast like cheap cigarettes, [magnolia park's "i'm back on my bullshit" plays in the background]

Summary: Maybe it was too early to say that. Maybe it was too early to say Steve was in love. He usually fell hard. He thought he was in love with Nancy Wheeler. He fell hard for her too.

But Eddie Munson?

Eddie Munson is intoxicating.

----

AKA the one where Steve and Eddie have been dating Eddie's entire senior year.

———

*heavy breathing*

Okay. So. This one is a bit of a doozy for me. I hope the 80k isn’t too intimidating for you - if it is, I get it - because holy shit I cannot recommend it enough. You know a fic is fucking good when you read it once and immediately resign yourself to never reading it again because it’s just… too much. That was me months ago when I first read this. The very thought brought me to tears. And if that wasn’t enough, I couldn’t listen to Head Over Heels again until like a week or two ago, lol. And now I’ll have to wait months and months again before I can listen to it without immediately tearing up. The power of incredible writing.

This is probably (definitely) my favorite of the ‘Steve and Eddie are secretly dating’ subgenre of Steddie fics. As well as my favorite ‘Eddie and Steve knew each other while Steve worked at Scoops’ story. They’re both very niche genres, of course. So much of this fic has kind of wormed itself into my brain and my own headcanons that re-reading it for this rec was an eye-opening experience. “Wait, that was from this? I thought I made that up!”

I never would have thought that a substitute phrase for I Love You could make me tear up, but dammit, if I even slightly think of the words “I’m forever yours,” I’m gone. In tears as we speak. With that out of the way, yes - I cried again while re-reading it. Not as much as I did the first time, mind you, but yeah. Y’all know me; I am as soft as a gently baked batch of cookies.

To summarize: cute boys being cute together and almost dying makes Roosterbox cry like a baby, lol.

Highly, highly recommended.

Important side note: No link, except to the login page. The writer has locked the fic for the time being. Not gonna complain or judge them for it (if they’re reading this, I understand - you do what you feel you must), just FYI. You can still find it if you have an Ao3 account.

———

Next Week: Okay guys, I’m gonna level with you. I think it’s time to dive headfirst into one of my favorite fic tropes. One that a loooooot of people aren’t into. For various reasons. And I get it. I do, I swear I do. But you know… it’s always been one of my comfort tropes. I am, of course, talking about the M word. Mpreg. And it’s my favorite type of Mpreg story: one where it isn’t explained. Is it ABO? Maybe but probably not. Is the guy trans? Maybe. Is it just that men can get pregnant in this universe? Maaaaaaaybe. Draw your own conclusions and/or have your own headcanon. Just enjoy the ride.

Oh, and it’s Arthur/Eames by the way. Figured that was important to mention.

Until next week, darlings ❤️

#fic rec friday #steddie #writer: novacorpsrecruit #canon compliant #secretly dating #watching the actual show will never live up to this #sorry Duffers #lol #actually i’m not sorry #these boys deserve good things

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iamvegorott · 2 years ago

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Happy Family Pt. 7 of 8

The Three Musketeers

Months passed, and Google, Bing, and Chase grew closer together as they all worked together to help raise and care for Etta, Penny, and Lucas. It was to the point that it was rare to see one without the others outside of work. Chase started feeling better, finally adjusting to the sudden gain of full custody and separation from Stacy. It’d been a good month since the last time they spoke, and usually, that would concern Chase, but he’d accepted that this was how it would be and everything would be fine. The kids were happy, he was happy, and Google and Bing have been so supportive, and Chase felt very lucky to have them in his life.

Right now, they were all at Chase’s home, spring cleaning had kicked in, and they decided to start at Chase’s today and then do the same work at Bing and Google’s tomorrow.

“Heracles! Heracles!” Bing chanted as Google grunted and pulled the fridge away from the wall. Etta, Lucas, and Penny were playing in the twins’ room.

“I feel like that grunt was for show.” Chase teased as Bing swept up the loose debris into a dustpan. “You moved the fridge way too easy.”

“The fridge usually slides once you get that first ‘umph’ of movement.” Google made a face when he made a noise instead of a word to explain what he meant. “And now I feel like I’ve been around you two too much.”

“Embrace the noise making.” Bing giggled, dumping the contents of the dustpan into the trashcan as Google grabbed some ‘Goo-gone’ and sprayed the spot on the floor with it.

“We make plenty of noises with each other~,” Google said with a grin to Bing.

“Googs!” Bing lightly smacked Google’s arm.

“You two can’t keep joking about that without inviting me to play.” Chase winked before using the scraper to get to work on the floor.

Bing and Google froze at Chase’s flirty comment, watching him work on the floor for a good moment, thoughts wondering before they were pulled away from it by Etta’s voice.

“Daddy, can I have apple juice, please?” Etta rocked on her feet as she asked.

“Y-Yeah, of course.” Google cleared his throat and went off to get the requested drink.

x~x~x

“One good thing about having little kids is no one will judge if you have plenty of ice cream in the freezer.” Chase joked as he plopped himself down on the couch between Bing and Google, a big bowl of ice cream on each of their laps.

“Oh, there is always someone that will judge,” Google said.

“Can never parent the right way no matter what,” Bing added, clicking his tongue.

“True. But I don’t care because I have my favorite people under my roof and got a lapful of cookies and cream.” Chase chuckled.

“Don’t.” Google stopped Bing as soon as he saw him open his mouth.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything.” Bing faked an innocent face.

“Bullshit, you weren’t.” Google rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Say what? I’m just talking about the-oh!” Chase finally caught on to what kind of joke Bing would make and started laughing. “Nah, man, that type of cream happens after I finish this one.” He did a playful shimmy and wiggle of his eyebrows before breaking into another laugh. “Although, I’d be the cream filling since I’m between you two,” Chase added, and his laughter got even louder, only stopping when Google put a hand over his mouth.

“You’re going to wake the kids up,” Google said, a tint of pink on his cheeks. “Gah!” He pulled his hand back away. “Did you just lick me!?”

“Careful, Googs, you might wake the kids.” Bing giggled.

“If they’re not awake by now-” Chase’s comment stopped when Penny, dressed in her butterfly-patterned pajamas, entered the room. “Hey, Pens.”

“Are you eating ice cream?” Penny asked.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Chase grunted as he stood up, setting his bowl on the end table.

“Can I have some?” Penny asked as she got walked out.

“And have you up all night? No, thank you.” Chase chuckled, his voice getting softer and softer as they went.

“Googs?” Bing sat his bowl aside and moved so he leaned against Google, head resting on his shoulder. “Do you think we should…you know?” He took Google’s hand with his own. “With everything we’ve discussed before, other late nights with the three of us talking about…things…I think we should finally take the leap.”

“You have a point.” Google hummed, placing his head on Bing’s and squeezing his hand back. “The worst that can happen is that he says no.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

x~x~x

“It’s just a simple dinner and a simple question,” Google said out loud to himself as he stressed-cleaned the living room.

“Googs, hon, you’re acting like Chase isn’t over here every day. Why are you trying to make the floor shine enough to see your reflection?” Bing stood at the living entrance, watching Google scrub the floor with a brush on his hands and knees. Etta was at Dark’s home with Lucas and Penny. Wilford and his kids were there as well. Bing had spoken to Wilford about their plans for the evening, and he was more than willing to help watch the kids with Dark. He had said something about it being a perfect way to practice having a big family. Bing didn’t question it beyond that.

“Aren’t you anxious about asking Chase out?” Google asked, finally taking a break from his cleaning.

“Of course I am, but I’m not getting myself worked up over it. Plus, if I get too worried while cooking. I burn things.” Bing said with a shrug, and as if the universe heard him, smoke started coming out of the kitchen, and the alarm went off. “Shit!”

“Well, that proves you’re worried,” Google said as he scrambled to his feet and followed Bing back to the kitchen.

“Please, no fire, please, no fire.” Bing grabbed some mitts and opened the oven door, thankfully not seeing any flames. He pulled the tray out and sat it on the counter, showing a charred piece of what had been meat. “I…I thought I turned the oven off. I set it high to give the outside the crisper crust and apparently left it on.”

“Do you think it’s too late to order a pizza?” Google poked the charcoal meat, feeling the heat of it and ending up with the tip of his finger becoming black. His question got answered by the front door opening and Chase calling out; I’m here.

“Shit.” Bing picked up the tray and tried to rush off to hide it in the back room, but he fumbled over his feet and fell over. The burned meat also fell off the tray, and Bing, not thinking much in his panic, grabbed it and sat it back on the tray, hands now covered in the black charcoal.

“Are you okay?” Google went down to the ground with Bing to check on him.

“Burnt meat stinks,” Bing grumbled, using the heel of his palm to scratch his nose. He ended up making it black with charcoal as well. Bing paused when he realized what he had done and glared at Google when he started laughing. “Rude.” Bing huffed before smearing his palm across Google’s cheek.

“Bing!” Google gasped as now Bing was the one laughing.

“Are we good here?” Chase asked as he came into the kitchen and saw the mess.

“Oh! Chase, we-we-uh-we were wondering…uh…” Google tried to say something but a mess of gibberish came out instead.

“You wanna go on a date with us?” Bing blurted out.

“A date?” Chase paused, and his cheeks started going pink. “Like a date date?”

“Only if you want to, of course, no pressure,” Google’s words almost overlapped as he spoke.

“Sounds great,” Chase said with a big smile.

----------

First: Link

Prev: Link

Next: Link

#bingle #bingleaverage #happy family commission #veggie writes

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suckitsurveys · 2 years ago

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Anything you’re looking forward to this month? My niece turns 5 on Friday! And we have the day off Monday for Memorial Day

What’s the current temperature? It’s in the low 60Fs right now.

Have you or would you ever forage for mushrooms? Sure.

What’s something you dislike about spring time? I haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate spring weather. The transitional bullshit where it doesn’t get above 55F for forever.

What’s your favorite lollipop flavor? Sour apple blow pops will always be my favorite.

Are you into gardening and what do you enjoy planting? I love gardening. We plant veggies every year and flowers in pots. We planted perennials a few years back and tend to those as well.

What’s some flowers you find to be pretty? Hydrangeas, daisies, petunias, gardenias.

Would you say you’re easy to get along with? I think so.

Who did you last hold hands with? My husband.

What sounds help you sleep? White noise, like a fan sound.

Do you have a loud or more soft laugh? Soft, I guess.

Tell me your best pick up line. I’m glad I got my library card ‘cause I’m checkin you out!

What’s a song that reminds you of warm weather? Oh there are SO many of those. Harry Style’s latest album is an example.

Do you have any interest in fairies? Eh.

What’s the last refreshing drink you had? Water.

Do you name your plants? Nah. Maybe I should.

Do you like to dip your fries in a frosty or ice cream? It’s not something I normally do but I have before. It’s okay.

Do you prefer staying in cuddled up or going out for a date? Both are nice.

Cookies or brownies? Brownies.

What is something you are proud of? My nieces.

Are you a fan of musicals? Some, yeah.

Do you like lemonade? Do you add anything to it? I like it sometimes. and Arnold Palmers.

Are you more of a fast talker or do you talk more slow? I never really thought about it honestly.

Is there anyone who makes you smile no matter what mood you’re in? My nieces.

What are some inanimate objects or things in general that have the same energy or vibe? What is this even asking?

What is something that is quick to cheer you up? Food.

Have you ever stargazed with someone? Sure.

If you were royalty, what would you like to be addressed as? I’m good.

Are there any foods you could eat daily and never get sick of? Sushi.

Are there any things coming up that you have to travel for? I’m thinking about going to see Post Malone in Wisconsin in July, and maybe traveling to the Dells before that as well.

What was a time when you have laughed so hard you cried? Sometime recently.

Plan a good day. Relaxing on a beach or at a waterpark, with all expenses paid..

What would you do with $10,000 right now? Give some to my dad and some to my sister and use the rest to travel somewhere.

If you had to create an alter ego for yourself, what would they be like and what’s their name? I’m okay.

What’s one of your biggest accomplishments today? Work shit.

Do you believe in reincarnation? why or why not? I believe your souls remain on earth in some form or another.

What relative are you closest with? My dad.

Do you have any recurring dreams? Sure.

What last had you startled? The radios my coworkers use to communicate shit across the campus malfunctioned earlier and made the LOUDEST fucking noise and it was so scary.

What emotion have you experienced most lately? Stress.

Let’s say there are no obstacles preventing this.. What would you do for the rest of your life? Travel to every state in the US.

What last made you feel proud? My nieces.

What’s an odd phobia someone you know has? I don’t know.

What did you last search online? The hours for the restaurant we might go to when we go to the Dells.

Do you have any ghost stories you’ve experienced? Eh.

If you were to be a food, what would you be and why? I don’t know.

When did you last dust your home? A monthish ago.

If you could pick an age to stop aging at, what would you choose? I'd be fine staying in my 30s honestly.

#surveys

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olliedollie1204 · 2 years ago

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a winter's tale (chapter 1)

Remus goes to a winter break party... so does his love-stricken brother, his meddling roommate, his nosy-ass friends, and, oh yeah, his totally-not-a-crush. What could go wrong?

Read here on AO3

“You need to tell him.”

“I’m not gonna tell him. You need to tell him.”

“Well, I’m not gonna tell him!”

“Children, please,” Janus said tiredly. “Daddy’s trying to read.”

Roman glowered at his roommate from across the kitchen table. “Please don’t ever refer to yourself as ‘daddy’ in my presence.”

“Oh, can I call you daddy?” Remus asked, chipper and bright even in the midst of yet another spat with his brother over the breakfast table. He flopped over the back of Janus’ shoulders, wrapping his arms around his chest and making obnoxious kissing noises against the back of his head. Janus patted his arm.

“A tempting offer, but no thank you,” he replied. “I’d rather not become yet another excuse why you refuse to confess your hopeless crush on Logan.”

Remus gagged, moving to step away, but Janus suddenly grabbed his forearms and kept him from leaving the conversation.

“Truly, it’d be such a shame for yet another year of your friendship to come and go without you finding the balls to inform him of your growing romantic feelings for him,” Janus continued.

Remus hissed and struggled against the hold Janus had on him.

“Ah, yes, a perfectly mature response. I’m shaking in my slippers.”

“And it’s not like he’d get mad about it!” Roman added. “Even if Lo doesn’t feel the same way, he has the right to know how badly you want him!”

“And you have the right to ask for what you want from him.”

“Maybe he’ll say he likes you too!”

“Or maybe he’ll reject you, and you can focus your attention on rebuilding your shattered pride and redirecting your emotions toward self love instead.”

Remus stopped struggling. “Oh, I love myself plenty, thank you very much.”

“Yes, I know, we share a wall,” Janus replied. Roman gagged.

“No sex talk at the table, please?”

Remus quirked his head. “Is masturbation sex?”

“You know who would love to have that fascinating debate with you?” Janus interrupted suddenly. He twisted around to catch Remus’ eye without letting him out of his grasp. “Logan.”

Remus groaned. He dropped his head against Janus’ shoulder, banging it softly. “Why are we even talking about me? Roman’s the one who almost sucked face with Virgil last night.”

“We had a moment,” Roman corrected primly. “And… yes, perhaps said moment would’ve been nicely bookmarked with a proclamation of my long-term romantic interest in him, but a bitch is anxious, okay?”

“And if you hadn’t been so distracted eating all of the cookies I literally just baked yesterday,” Janus said to Remus, “then you would’ve heard that Roman actually does intend to profess his love tonight.”

“Bullshit! That’s what he’s said before every winter break party we’ve been to for the last two years!”

“I have a plan!” Roman insisted. “Virgil always leaves parties early, and I know he walks home because he doesn’t want to ask anyone to leave the party to drive him— I’ll find him before he leaves, ask to accompany him home, we’ll have a wonderfully romantic midnight stroll, I’ll time my confession so that I finish just as we’re arriving to his house—”

“Do not make a joke about finishing,” Janus muttered just as Remus opened his mouth.

“Wherein he will have the immediate escape option of going inside if he needs time to process my declaration!” Roman finished triumphantly.

“Is that honestly your plan?” Remus asked.

“It is exactly my plan, brother dear.”

Janus hummed. “And how many times have you attempted to initiate this plan by offering to walk Virgil home, only to chicken out halfway back to his house?”

Roman stuck his tongue out in lieu of answering. And people say Remus is the immature one.

“Well, you have fun with that!” Remus announced, finally pulling himself away from Janus’ grasp. “While you’re pussy-footing around with Virgil, Jan and I’ll be starting our bi-annual semester-ender bender.”

“Unless…” Janus started, before trailing off. Remus froze and looked at him.

“Unless?”

Janus cocked his head and gave Remus an appraising look. “Unless you… follow Roman’s footsteps…”

Remus’ jaw dropped. “Oh, fuck off.”

Janus scoffed, slapping down his newspaper. “Well, at least Roman is trying to pursue his romantic endeavors. You, on the other hand, you’d rather— what? Dance around the subject until you and Logan both finish grad school and your opportunity will be lost to the sands of time?”

“Tonight’s the perfect opportunity!” Roman added. “He’ll be so relieved the semester’s over, he’ll probably start making out with you on the dance floor right then and there. Isn’t that what you want?”

A spark of something hot and sharp burst in Remus’ chest. “You don’t know what the fuck I want.”

He knew of all people, his brother and his roommate were the least likely to be shocked by his outbursts, but even they stopped the ribbing to look at him cautiously. Which Remus hated, because cautious borders on concern which borders on pity, even though he knew that they were just trying to be respectful of his feelings. Bastards.

Because, in reality… Roman really didn’t know what Remus wanted. Remus really didn’t know what Remus wanted. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss Logan or to hold hands with him, if his fantasies of them two of them together ending with fucking or cuddling, if he even wanted Logan to do anything other than look at him and listen to him and talk with him. That’s all he could think to ask of Logan: he just wanted to hang around him all the time.

Not like he was actually going to ask Logan anything.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Roman said softly, pulling Remus out of his stupor. He rolled his eyes, half on instinct and half to diffuse the tension in the room.

“Oh, don’t get soft on me, Pissy. We all know I do what I want, when I want— and what I want is to get fucking smashed at this party tonight. Not dragged down by a bunch of sappy confession shit.”

Roman snorted, raising his hands in surrender. “Message received, Gross-feratu. All I ask is that you consider your options— can you think of any better time to have an emotional conversation with Logan than immediately after his final exams are over, when his endorphins levels are at their peak?”

“And at the risk of sounding… altruistic,” Janus added, nose wrinkling with distaste, “I believe you owe it to him to tell him how you feel.”

Remus stuck his tongue out. “Since when do you prioritize other people’s feelings over your own self interest?”

“Since the two of you brought Patton home like a stray,” Janus replied drily. “Besides, the only thing I like more than deception is blackmail. Tell Logan you want to pursue a romantic relationship with him, or I will.”

“Me too!” Roman chimed in. Remus fixed him with a glare.

“Want me to snitch to Emo Nightmare about your little crush, Princeypie?”

“It’ll be mutually assured destruction, dear brother.”

“Yeah? Then I guess you won’t mind if I tell Virgil about all the poetry you’ve written for him.”

“Well, then I’ll tell Logan about the drawings you’ve done of him.”

Remus flushed. “That’s— that’s different, you piece of shit—”

“Aw, what’s wrong? You thought we didn’t notice all the times you pulled up his Instagram just to stare at his pretty face?”

“Don’t call him pretty, zit head!” Remus snapped, bounding around the table and reaching for Roman. Roman squawked and jumped out of his chair just in time for the two of them to begin racing in circles around the dining room table like a couple of cartoon characters.

Janus sighed, flipping to the next page of his newspaper. “One day. One day they’ll kill each other and then I’ll be free.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #remus sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #intrulogical #background prinxiety #my writing #my posts

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years ago

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Caught in the Fire 27 - Crowded Places [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves ❤ Here’s the new chapter, I hope you like it and please don’t forget to tell me what you think of it! kisses!❤

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Past catches up with people.

Warnings: Violence, death, crime, explicit language, dysfunctional relationships, drinking, kidnapping, mentions of sex, murder, blood. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Sometimes, you suspected that your friends came to your bakery only to create chaos, and this was one of those times.

You really didn’t have time for this. You had barely had any time to process what had happened in the last couple of days and each night you had nightmares that woke you up breathless.

But it wasn’t as if you could tell them you had killed someone, so you ended up humoring their absolute chaos.

“And why exactly do I have to come to that goddamn party again?”

“Because you’re a great friend?” Hunter suggested, taking a cookie out of the cookie jar Jace was currently holding in his lap, but dropped it back when Jace smacked his hand away.

“Hey!”

“This is my jar!”

“That’s no one’s jar!” you said as you put down the cupcake you were decorating on the tray. “No seriously, why are you guys dragging me into this?”

“Well, lots of reasons,” Summer stated. “Jace has been talking to this guy and he invited all of us, apparently he’s working there.”

“He’s working at Sam’s brand new club?”

“Working for Sam,” Jace corrected you and you gawked at him.

“Jace, please tell me you’re not dating a mobster.”

“The hypocrisy and the audacity in this bakery—“ Jace pointed between you and Summer. “You dated a mobster, Summer is probably fucking Rogers—“

“I’m not fucking Rogers!” Summer defended herself and Hunter scoffed.

“Are you going to keep calling him Rogers in bed too?”

“Like a regency couple?” you added and Summer rolled her eyes.

“I’m not fucking him.”

“Is he fucking you then?” Jace asked and she flipped him.

“I’m not touching a mobster with a ten foot pole, unlike you.”

“Oh I’m touching him alright.”

“Jace.”

“Y/N, you might want to sit this one out.”

“She broke up with the guy okay?” Hunter said, making you motion at him as if saying here you go. “That doesn’t count.”

“Uh, no it does count when the said guy is wreaking havoc all over the city because his heart is broken.” Jace said, munching on the cookie and you shifted your weight.

“That has nothing to do with me.”

“And Hunter, don’t think I haven’t seen you stealing glances at Romanoff when she dropped by the bar the other day.”

“I was looking respectfully.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’s in love with some doctor, Hunter.”

“To repeat, I was looking respectfully,” Hunter said. “Also, I’m the only one in this group who hasn’t slept with a mobster so—“

“I’m not fucking Rogers!” Summer said loudly and you grinned.

“But are you guys flirting?”

“That doesn’t—that’s—“ Summer stammered, “That doesn’t count. I’m pretty sure the guy is flirting with like one hundred other people so…”

“Not really, he’s a romantic. Wait,” you stopped and turned to Jace. “Is Bucky going to be there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Probably not?” Summer said, “Ste—um, Rogers mentioned the other day that Barnes is quite busy.”

You arched a brow and she shifted her weight.

“He happened to invite me to the party, happy?”

You scrunched up your face and looked at Hunter. “So we’re the only ones who don’t have a date to the prom?”

“I’m bringing someone too.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Y/N, why don’t you bring Alex?” Summer asked. “You said you bailed on him the other day, so it could be a nice gesture.”

You thought for a moment. “Are we sure Bucky won’t be there?”

“What do you care?” Jace asked, popping another cookie into his mouth, “Didn’t you say that you were done?”

“Well yeah but…” you trailed off, then paused for a moment. “I guess.”

“Besides, who cares if he’s there? You’ll be there with Alex.”

“I’m not using Alex to get back at Bucky.”

“That’s not getting back at him though,” Hunter pointed out. “It’s just you moving on.”

You pursed your lips, deep in thought and shrugged your shoulders, then grabbed your phone.

“That jar better not be empty when I get back,” you pointed at Jace who made a face at you, then you walked out of the kitchen to the backyard, then found Alex’s name on your contacts and touched it.

It rang twice before he answered.

“Hey there.”

“Hey,” you said. “Is it a good time? Are you busy?”

“Depends. Do you count ordering twenty rolls of crepe paper busy?”

“What do you need twenty rolls of crepe paper for?”

“Little monsters like those.”

“Right. So I’ll invite you somewhere if you promise you’ll leave your rolls of crepe paper at home.”

“It’ll be difficult but I think I can handle it for one night,” he said, even from his tone you could tell he was smiling. “Where are we going?”

“You’ve heard about the opening party of this new club?”

“Uh huh.”

“My friends are going and I figured maybe you’d want to come along?” you asked, shifting your weight from one foot to other. “We could leave if we get bored or something.”

“Sounds good. What time should I pick you up?”

“Oh we can meet there, it’s fine,” you said. “I’ll text you the time and location. One thing though.”

“Hm?”

“There might be mobsters involved.”

“Jesus, there too?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are these guys everywhere?”

“Welcome to my life,” you muttered. “If it’s a problem I totally get it—“

“No no,” he said. “Will your jerk ex be there too?”

“Unclear,” you said. “Why?”

“No reason, just curious,” he said. “I’ll wait for your text then.”

“Okay,” you said, smiling. “See you there.”

You hung up and flipped the phone in your hand, biting down on your smile to control your expression and walked back to the kitchen.

“He’s coming?”

“Yeah.”

Jace and Hunter exchanged glances.

“Is he going to be our new stepdad?”

“Jace, I’m going to take that jar from you.”

Jace’s jaw dropped and he clutched the half empty jar tighter, looking at you as if he was scandalized.

“I’m telling dad!”

Judging by just the opening night, it was obvious that the club was going to be very popular. The music was blasting, there were people everywhere and as soon as you walked in the club, you were taken aback by how beautiful it looked.

Sam Wilson had great taste, that was for sure.

“Does it make me old if I say this is too loud?” Alex shouted into your ear through the music, making you let out a laugh as you both made your way through the crowd.

“Not your type of fun, Mr. Teacher?”

He held up his hands “No no, I didn’t say that.”

“Come on,” you said, nodding towards the bar. “We need to get you a drink so that you won’t look this tortured for the whole night.”

He followed you like a lost puppy as you approached the bar to order two drinks, your eyes scanning the crowd to see Hunter, Jace and their dates already dancing. You didn’t have to wonder where Summer was because she was by your side as soon as the bartender gave you your drinks.

“Danger danger, I’m losing my shit—hi teach.”

You took a sip of your drink. “What’s going on?”

“I saw Rogers.”

“….Okay?”

“He looks—“ she flailed her arms around. “He has this suit thing on, and even his stupid beard looks good and I’m like—“

“You like Rogers?” Alex asked and Summer gasped.

“No!”

“Yeah she does.”

“We need to keep me away from him when he looks like that.”

“Summer, why don’t you just go talk to him?” you asked, exasperated. “He’s a nice guy, and it’s obvious you’re attracted to him—“

“I’m not talking to him!” she exclaimed. “I’m just going to stay away from him and drink and I’ll keep my mouth busy so that I can’t talk to him.”

“Or kiss him.”

“Y/N!”

You grinned, taking another sip of your drink.

“You know what?” Summer said. “This is a crowded place, I’m sure he has some enemies here. Maybe he will murder someone and everyone will see that and he’s going to do life for murder so I won’t have to see his stupid face again.”

“You have such a unique approach to having a crush,” Alex mused and Summer’s eyes widened.

“Shit, I think I just saw him, excuse me.” she was gone as soon as she came, bolting through the crowd and you shook your head.

“Unbelievable.”

“She’s a very determined woman.”

“She’s nothing if not—“ you were cut off when your eyes caught the sight of the corner of the club. It was a secluded area, probably VIP and as soon as your gaze fell on the person who was sitting there looking completely bored even though he had a girl sitting on his lap—

Bucky.

Oh.

You could feel the acid burning your throat as the anger ran through your veins, making you clench your jaw. The girl said something to him but she didn’t even seem to have gotten a reply from him as he exhaled the smoke before sipping his drink.

Jesus, the nerve of the guy…

“We can leave if you want?” Alex’s voice shot through your thoughts and you managed to drag your gaze from Bucky to him.

“Hm? No, why would we?”

“Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders and downed your drink, then motioned for another one.

“What? Bucky doesn’t own the place, Sam does.”

“How does a person even get into that…line of work? They seem to own the city itself.”

“They kind of do,” you murmured. “Mostly family, but there are a bunch of other ways.”

“And Barnes got it through his family?”

“His father, yeah.”

“Huh,” he said. “Must be nice to have someone who hands you things.”

“You wouldn’t want that life,” you said, shaking your head. “Trust me.”

“No I wouldn’t,” he replied quickly. “I can’t even imagine that— oh he just saw us.”

You managed not to turn your head, instead just raised your brows, keeping your gaze on Alex.

“I don’t care.”

“It looks like he cares,” Alex pointed out. “How do I piss him off in a way that’s respectful to you, I wonder.”

You scoffed a laugh. “You’re way too sweet.”

“Can I whisper something completely random in your ear?” he asked as your smile widened. “Because he’s a dick and he needs to be jealous.”

You wiggled your brows. “Whisper away, teach.”

He held you by the waist to pull your closer, making your stomach do a flip and he leaned in so that he could murmur into your ear.

“This is going really well, I would say.”

“Uh huh. So what exactly are you going to be whispering in my ear that is random?”

“Uh…” he said. “Anything? The only thing I can think of right now is that song for the school.”

“What song?”

“I… Jesus this is lame,” he said, making you giggle as he tightened his grip, his pleasant scent filling your nostrils. “Did Emma not sing you the song?”

“No, what song?”

“It goes like; we know our alphabet and numbers too,” he sang through the club music blasting through, “We all can write our names and tie our shoes…”

You burst into a laughter, holding onto his arm for support as you clutched at your stomach.

“Oh my God…”

“I know, it’s lame but kids love it so we sing it basically every week,” he pulled back to shoot you a sheepish look. “I bet no one whispered that in your ear before.”

“No,” you shook your head, still laughing. “No they haven’t—God, I haven’t laughed like this in a long time…”

“Anytime.”

“Thank you,” you said and looked up at him. “Really, Alex. I—it means a lot.”

“Hey, don’t mention it,” he said. “Em seriously never sang that song?”

“I don’t think so!” you said. “Oh speaking of, I need to check up on her and say her goodnight. Will you be okay here?”

“Sure thing, tell her I said hi.”

You nodded and walked out of the club, then went to the back alley so that you could get away from the music and touched the contact on the screen.

“Hi honey.”

“Hi dad,” you said. “Is Emma awake?”

“Yeah, I was just putting her down to bed. Do you want to say good night?”

“Yes please,” you said and there was a shuffle on the other line before Emma’s cheerful voice reached you.

“Hi!”

“Hi sweetheart!” you said. “You’re going to bed?”

“Yep! What are you doing? Are you dancing?”

“Not yet but I will,” you said. “Did dad read you a bedtime story?”

“Yeah but he can’t do the voices like you do.”

You grinned. “Tomorrow?”

“Deal.”

“Okay, I won’t keep you up then,” you said. “Good night Em, sweet dreams.”

“You too!” she said and hung up, then turned the phone in your hand. Leaving Emma somewhere –even if it was your father’s place- was getting more and more difficult especially after the whole kidnapping. You felt like you needed her to be at your place to get a good night’s sleep but Josh had called it helicopter parenting and you had to admit that he had a point.

“There’s no way he’s that funny.”

You didn’t even have to turn around to recognize Bucky’s voice, but you did anyway. You raised your brows, tilting your head.

“What?”

“That asshole you came here with. What is he, a comedian now?”

You rolled your eyes. “I mean he’s funny and sweet and polite. Makes a nice change.”

“Sweet and polite isn’t what you want.”

“It actually is,” you said. “You were a bad exception.”

He bit inside his cheek.

“Can we talk?”

“Nope.”

“Peaches-“

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

He heaved a sigh, running a hand over his face. “Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I honestly don’t want to talk to you and that girl inside is probably missing her chair, so you’d better go back there.”

“Who?” he asked, confused for a moment before he scoffed. “You were the one who told me that night meant nothing to you.”

“It did mean nothing to me,” you stated. “You’re free to take whoever the fuck you want home so don’t let me keep you.”

“I’m not taking her home.”

“Makes one of us because I’m probably taking Alex home,” you pointed out, the words leaving your lips before you had a chance to think them over and for a moment, he looked like you had just slapped him.

“You wouldn’t.”

Well no.

No you weren’t going to, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Why not?” you shrugged your shoulders. “I like him a lot. He makes me laugh.”

A shadow crossed Bucky’s eyes and he clenched his jaw.

“That’s what you want?” he asked. “Or are you just trying to take revenge?”

“I don’t care enough about you to take revenge.”

“Bullshit.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly. “Sorry,” you said, “But hey, if anything, I’m sure your date for the night is fun too. Did you get to ask her name or-”

“Alex is not your type.”

“And you know my type because…?”

“I know you.”

“Oh you don’t know shit about me,” you let out a laugh. “You said it yourself, a relationship with me wasn’t the same as it was in your imagination.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Why are you here?” you cut him off. “Seriously. What is your game here?”

He took a deep breath. “Listen, I really need to talk to you. I need to explain—”

“I don’t want an explanation, I want you to leave me alone.”

“Peac—Y/N, please. This is not the place, I don’t want to have this conversation with you in some back alley, can we just go somewhere quiet?”

“Fuck no we can’t.”

“I know that I broke your heart, I know but—”

“Good for you but you don’t seem to understand,” you said. “You don’t see it, do you? You or your…whatever it is you’re going through is not a priority for me, I have more important things to worry about and honestly, I’m getting really tired of your bullshit here.”

“If I could just—“ he started but stopped talking when his eyes found something over your shoulder. He blinked a couple of times before his gaze snapped back to you and he took a deep breath.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice almost too gentle. “I’m going to need you to be very calm right now.”

You were damn sure that someone was probably pointing a gun at you but you should’ve known.

Bucky would’ve pulled his own gun if that was it, he wouldn’t have been frozen on his spot.

You turned around and as soon as you did your breath got caught in your throat, your heart slamming against your chest. The shock spread through you and for a second you couldn’t even say anything, but eventually you managed to find your voice, staring at the woman in front of you.

“…Mom?”

Chapter 28

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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musclesandhammering · 3 years ago

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Every Single Issue I Have With S*lki (It’s Not Just The Selfcest)

Here goes. I threatened to post this a few days ago and never did, but I just saw a s*lki stan Twitter account claim that Loki caring about Sylvie more than the whole multiverse was a Good And Romantic thing and it pushed me over the fucking edge, so now you all have to read this. I’ve divided it into categories cause there’s just THAT much.

OOC Bullshit

• First and foremost, no amount of mental gymnastics you do will ever make me believe that this specific Loki- the one that just invaded New York, that just came off a year of Thanos Torture, that just got done being influenced by the sceptre, that was literally in the middle of a crisis already, and then on top of that went through all the trauma of Ep 1- would even be worried about a romantic relationship. That would be the furthest thing from his mind. Go back and watch how he acted in Avengers- you think that guy would abandon his previous mission to become a snivelling simp for a girl he’d just met 3 days prior? Yeah, there’s no universe in which that makes sense.

• “It’s very in character for Loki to fall in love with himself lololol-“ NO, it’s literally not. Out of all the characters in the mcu, I don’t think I can think of anyone that genuinely hates themselves more than Loki. He even referred to all his other male variants as “monsters” and said meeting them was “a nightmare” in this series. He’s got so much self-loathing, plus the fact that he genuinely thinks himself to be an evil backstabbing scourge- so there’s no evidence at all suggesting that he would ever develop a fondness for, or even be inclined to trust, another version of himself, after only knowing them for 3 days.

• Building on that, the whole concept of Loki falling in love with a version of himself just feeds into the annoying ass misconception that he’s a narcissist. No matter which way you stack it, he’s not. If you’re referring to NPD, he doesn’t fit the criteria, and if you’re saying “narcissist” just as a slang term meaning “selfish and arrogant”, that still doesn’t accurately describe him. But when creators like Waldron and Herron do things like having him fall in love with himself, it makes it so much easier for casual viewers to think that he is.

Shitty LGBT Rep

• It’s kinda sus that Loki’s are allegedly genderfluid and yet the only female-presenting variant we see (and apparently the only female-presenting variant there is, cause the male Loki’s all seemed unfamiliar with the concept) is treated as some kind of mind-bogglingly special paradox. Also very sus that, out of all the Loki variants, the one our Loki falls in love with just so happens to be the only female one. What a coincidence.

• The fact that the creators of the show went around bragging about Loki’s bisexuality and Marvel purposefully (lbr) allowed stories about Loki possibly having a male love interest to circulate, specifically enticing queer viewers to watch the show (you know, the definition of queerbaiting), and then instead of having a male love interest (Loki was the first queer main character, so it was the perfect opportunity) they gave us *gestures to this dumpster fire* this… it’s just a middle finger to LGBT fans. The fact that they would rather have this relationship with all its myriad of problems than have a gay relationship is just……. Very telling.

• While him being with a woman obviously doesn’t refute his bisexuality, the fact that they showed/talked about him being interested in 3 different women (flight attendant, Sylvie, Sif) and never even hinted at him being attracted to a man, definitely makes it seem like they were trying to cover up his bisexuality to smooth things over with the more homophobic viewers. You know? It’s like “I know you’re pissed that we sorta confirmed Loki as bi, so we promise we’ll never mention it again! Or even hint at it! As a matter of fact, we’ll give him lots of female lovies and make him seem as straight as possible! That’ll take your mind off of that horrible crumb of queer rep, right? Please please please keep giving us your money!!!”

• Aside from all the other issues, at its core, the biggest reason why I think I’m so irritated with s*lki is that it took one of the most interesting, complex, and diverse characters in cinema atm and squished him into a tired ass unnecessary heteronormative subplot…. Like literally every. single. other. protagonist. ever. Loki is such a unique character, and it’s so so so incredibly disappointing that they stuck him into that same boring cookie cutter romance that happens to every other character in every other movie I’ve ever seen. It’s a disservice, and it’s honestly just not compelling or entertaining at all.

Thematic Issues Galore

• His arc didn’t need a romance. With anyone. It was unnecessary and it didn’t make sense plot-wise. In fact, one of the reasons he was my fav prior to this was because he was the only big-name mcu character whose story wasn’t muddied-up by a romance that didn’t need to be there. So much for that.

• He wasn’t emotionally ready for a romantic relationship with anyone. Hell, just a genuine friendship would’ve been pushing it for him at this point. He was in such a bad state that any relationship he got into would’ve been toxic and unhealthy for both him and the other person, and it doesn’t make sense why the writers would want to put him in one when there were so many cons and essentially no pros (other than “Uwu aren’t they cute together”).

• Sylvie’s character in general was unnecessary and Loki’s character was robbed just by her being there. The whole show became about her post-Ep 2. They spent most of the time giving her backstory, building her up, telling us how awesome she is, trying to convince us to like her, etc when what they really needed to be doing was building Loki up- cause I gotta say, if I had to describe TVA!Loki in a few words, they would be Flat, Boring, and Weak.

• The romance overtakes the plot. They spend time portraying their supposed connection that could’ve been spent adding depth and complexity to literally any of the characters. They make the big Nexus Event them giving each other googly eyes on Lamentis when it could’ve been so many other way more profound things that speak to the fundamental nature of Loki’s. They have the climax of the finale be “oh no she betrayed him to kill He Who Remains” when it could’ve been something way more compelling (Loki having a moral crisis over whether or not to kill HWR, Loki contemplating the state of the multiverse and weighing the pros and cons of freedom vs order, Loki looking into some What If situations and getting emotional about what could’ve been regarding his family, Loki realising the gravity of HWR’s offer and finally coming to terms with how important he is to the universal cycle, etc etc). The entire plot suffered in favour of a romance that half of us didn’t even want.

• It essentially reduced all of Loki’s potential character growth down to “He did it for his crush.” He seemed to at least have some motivations of his own in Ep 1-2 (feeble as they were) but after Sylvie showed up in Ep 3, literally every action he took was just him being a simp for her. Why did he lie in the interrogation? To try to protect Sylvie. Why did he fight the minutemen and Timekeepers? To survive kinda, but mostly cause it was important to Sylvie. Why did he get pruned? Cause he got distracted trying to confess his crush to Sylvie. Why did he try to get out of The Void? Cause he thought Sylvie needed him. Why did he stay in The Void? Cause Sylvie was staying. Why did he try to enchant Alioth? Cause Sylvie told him to. Why did the multiverse get cracked open, leading to an infinite number of Kangs waging war on all of existence? Cause Loki didn’t wanna hurt Sylvie in their fight at the Citadel and then get distracted by her kissing him. It’s uninteresting and honestly pretty embarrassing.

• Throughout their “relationship arc” the writers do their absolute damndest to convince us that we should like Sylvie more than Loki. And you know what? It’s the most hypocritical shit I’ve ever seen. They preach and preach about how Sylvie’s life has been so difficult/we should feel bad for her/she had it so bad/poor poor sylvie/she had it SO much worse than pampered prince Loki…. But then they never even touch on any of Loki’s trauma of hardships (the ones that have been ignored for literally 3 movies now). They frame Sylvie as a good person and a Freedom Fighter after she spent literal decades/centuries mass-murdering brainwashed TVA agents and showing exactly zero remorse for it….. but then they make it their mission to constantly remind us that Loki is a terrible person and constantly put him in situations where he’s forced to acknowledge his wrongdoings/show remorse/admit to how “evil” he is for being a mass murderer for like 2 years. They show him on-screen having a wider range of powers than her, and perpetuate his whole shtick of being a “master manipulator” or whatever….. But then they make Sylvie “the brawn” more competent, intelligent, and physically capable than him. Tell me how it’s a good thing for a ship to be so narratively biased toward one character.

Missed Opportunities

• If they absolutely had to have a romance subplot, then they could’ve paired Loki with one of the characters that have already been established OR one of the characters that were a big part of the whole TVA storyline anyway. It would’ve been so interesting if they’d revealed that Loki had a history with some of the players from previous films (Sif and Fandral both come to mind). It also would’ve been really interesting if they’d given Loki a love interest that actually had some allegiance to the TVA as a whole (Mobius maybe, but not necessarily. It also could’ve been Renslayer or B-15). Hell, imo it would’ve been cool if they’d followed through with that “See you again someday” line that he said to the flight attendant in Ep 1. ALL of these characters have way more chemistry with him than Sylvie, and they were also already relevant to the plot without wasting half the show to give background info on them.

• If they absolutely had to have a hetero-presenting love story involving an enchantress-type figure, then there’s a whole Enchantress (Amora) that was actually Loki’s love interest in the comics. Plus, fans have been screaming for Amora to appear in the mcu for years. Plus, Tom literally pitched an Amora/Loki storyline way back in 2012-13. Also, Lorelei (another enchantress) is also one of Loki’s love interests in the comics, and she already exists in the mcu (she was on Agents of SHIELD). There were several different established characters for them to choose from. Creating a whole knew amalgamation of a character and going with the “she’s a Loki variant” storyline was just completely unnecessary and made no sense.

• They completely robbed us of a Chaos Twins dynamic. Had they handled Sylvie better and not forced her and Loki to smooch, the two of them could’ve had a really really complex and interesting sibling relationship. Loki could’ve stepped into Thor’s shoes and sort of used that new role to gain some self importance, and Sylvie could’ve finally had somebody to look out for her/teach her magic/be there for her. It would’ve been very aesthetically pleasing, the vibes would’ve been out of this world, it would’ve been way more profound than this bs, and frankly it would’ve been much more entertaining to watch.

• Loki’s relationship (read: obsession) with Sylvie completely overshadows all Loki’s other relationships in the show. Loki and Mobius were literally the focal point of the series in Ep 1-2, but after Sylvie showed up in Ep 3, they barely had any interactions with each other, and Mobius pretty much faded to the background entirely. Loki had the beginnings of a pretty interesting antagonistic relationship with Renslayer (with her wanting him pruned, then arguing with Mobius that he couldn’t be trusted), but after Sylvie showed up the dynamic shifted to focus on the history between her and Ravonna. Loki and B-15 started off very badly and openly disliked each other throughout Ep 1-2, and then in the end of Ep 2, Loki showed a little bit of concern for her when she was possessed, hinting that they might be inching toward a reconciliation- especially considering how obvious it was that Loki was gonna uncover the TVA’s sins eventually. There was so much potential for him to be the one to give her her memories back and convince her to change sides, but no, of course that honor went to Sylvie. In fact, after Sylvie showed up, Loki and B-15 never even spoke to each other again.

Various S*lki Fails

• If they were trying to convince us that this affection was mutual, they completely failed. There’s nothing I’ve seen that even hints at Sylvie feeling the same way about Loki that he does about her. At most, I’d say she has a slight endearment to him. She finds him likeable and she’s grudgingly fond of him, but she definitely isn’t in love with the guy. Maybe she thinks he’s cute and hopes that he gets out of this mess alright, but her mission obviously comes before him- whereas, it’s been confirmed multiple times that Loki cares about her above anything else. She doesn’t trust him, she looks at him like he’s an incompetent fool half the time, she shows little to no reaction during most of his confession moments, and she kissed him as a means to distract him so that she could get him out of her way. Look, all I’m saying is, when you get into a relationship where one of you is way more invested than the other, it never ends well.

• This goes without saying for a lot of us, but the selfcest is just straight up odd and cringey. If you’re cool with that sort of thing, fine! People can ship what they want! But don’t pretend it’s not at least a little bit uncomfortable. Yes, I know they’re not technically siblings so it’s not technically incest, and they’re also not technically the exact same person, but they’re similar enough that it makes things weird. And yes I know selfcest can’t happen in real life, so there’s no way to judge it morally, but neither can most of the other stuff that happens in these shows/movies (the Snap, Loki destroying jotunheim, superhero with powers being held accountable, mind control) and yet we still find ways to judge their morality, because they all mirror real-world events. (The snap= genocide; Loki destroying Jotunheim= bombing other countries; superhero accountability= weapons accountability; mind control= grooming and coercion). And lbr the closest real-world mirror to two versions of the same person (who may or may not share DNA, family, backgrounds, physical and emotion characteristics) being romantically involved with one another is incest. And you can be ok with that if you want- that’s your prerogative- but don’t get pissy just cause a lot of us are squicked out by it.

• The whole mirror metaphor (learning self love via each other) thing just fell completely flat. First of all, having Loki learn to love himself by looking at someone who mirrors him did not, in any way shape or form, require them to be romantically involved. But they were. Of course. Secondly, the creators have contradicted themselves so many times on whether Loki and Sylvie are the same or not, that it doesn’t even really register to the viewer that the mirroring thing was what they were going for. Finally, Loki and Sylvie are shown to have so little in common- and to have only the most bare minimum of similarities personality-wise- that it doesn’t even make sense that Loki would “learn to love himself through loving her”. Like? They’re nothing alike. So how would he make the connection that he himself is actually pretty cool, based on her alone? There’s virtually nothing in her that reflects him.

• I know the objective of the entire show was to convince us of how awesome and unique Sylvie is, but honestly her relationship with Loki just did the opposite. A hallmark of a Mary Sue is having her constantly upstage the male lead, and then having him instantly fall madly in love with her anyway. And that’s.. exactly what happened here. Everything they’re doing to try to force her character to be more stan-able is really just forcing her to look more like their self-insert OC. Which is exactly what she is. It would’ve been so much more satisfying if she didn’t have to try so hard to look cool, if they didn’t have to try so hard to make her backstory tear-inducing, if they didn’t have to turn our protagonist into a snivelling simp just to prove how incredible she supposedly is. Very much #GirlBoss energy and we all know how performative and cheap that is.

• The entire thing was too rushed, there was too little build-up, and it was nowhere near believable. As stated above, it’s ridiculously unlikely that Loki would canonically even be interested in Sylvie, and this show did nothing to explain why he was. He just suddenly was. There was nothing they showed us as viewers that would justify a guy as closed-off and preoccupied as Loki falling head-over-heels for a girl he just met. Their was no explanation, no big revelation, no reasoning, it just… kinda happened. And I’m also severely skeptical of any love story that has the characters go in this deep after only 3 45-minute episodes of exposition.

I’m sure there’s other stuff, so if anyone thinks of anything, let me know and I’ll be more than happy to add it. Tagging @janetsnakehole02 @raifenlf @natures-marvel and @brightredsunset800 for expressing interest. This is all your faults.

#antisylki #loki meta #kinda #loki series critical #loki series negativity #anti loki x sylvie #anti loki series #anti sylvie #frosty bby #loki deserved better #I don’t even like TVA!Loki tho so I guess it doesn’t matter with him lmao #tva loki #loki laufeyson

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