#please please please no one give me hate for this i tried to be SO NUANCED and i'll cry if i get any mean anons

[levanterhaze]

GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader this one is just pure angst and drama, no smut, just teasing each other like two idiots.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i had to continue this fic in a 2nd part, i felt necessary. maybe i'll continue it in a few more chapters (PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME) and thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has commented and appreciated this piece. it means a lot to a person who is non-native english wrt. without further ado, have a good read, loves!

♡ [part one]

you’re so indecisive of what I’m saying tryna catch the beat, make up your heart don't know if you're happy or complaining don't want for us to end, where do I start?

The pounding in your head was a testament to last night’s choices. Aspirin was non-negotiable. You could hear Eunji and Sohee's voices from the living room and were surprised that both of them were already awake after their all-nighter.

After leaving the room with Bangchan—because, of course, that happened—you ducked into the bathroom, shot off a text about vomiting and existential regret, and decided to make a graceful exit. Well, as graceful as one could manage after wild sex with the person you’d sworn to hate forever. Pride was nowhere in the equation, but who cared?

As soon as your eyes saw daylight, Eunji and Sohee looked at you judgmentally. You froze in your tracks, still wearing pink Hello Kitty jammies like a monument to your shame. Their judgment was immediate, sharp as a blade. Your heart sped up.

“You’re alive,” Sohee deadpanned, taking a bite of a cinnamon roll. “And looking like shit.”

“Appreciate it,” you shot back, throwing yourself into a chair. “Really warms the soul.”

Eunji’s smoothie slurp was unnecessarily loud, drilling straight into your skull. “We thought about waking you for breakfast but figured you’d need the recovery time.”

You dismissed the idea with a hand wave. "That's okay. Wouldn’t have gotten up anyway.”

"We can have lunch together, if you like. I really need a detox after last night." Sohee curled her lips into a grimace and you almost smiled. Detox advice from Sohee was peak irony.

But then Eunji, ever the chaos-bringer, dropped the bomb. “Oh my God, you guys, I heard the craziest thing last night! Jiwoon—my lit classmate—said he walked in on someone having super loud sex at the party. Guess who it was? Bangchan!”

Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

Silence remained and Sohee raised her eyebrows at Eunji.

“Apparently, the guy is a structural hazard,” Sohee chimed in, amused. “Minho said he once broke a floorboard. Who even does that?” Your red-haired friend says giggling.

Eunji giggled. “The girl’s lucky. If Bangchan wrecked me, I’d consider it an honor.”

You summoned your most convincing disdain, rolling your eyes with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed. “Honestly, can we not make him sound like some sort of deity?”

But guilt clung to you like a second skin, mingling with vivid flashes of last night—the furniture banging against the wall, Bangchan’s muscles taut as he tried to steady it. The memory burned, searing and humiliating, until Eunji’s voice yanked you back to reality.

The memory faded like mist when Eunji said it again. "Anyway, the girl’s lucky. I wish I was knocked down by Bangchan."

Lucky. That’s what they’d call you if they knew. Lucky—and a traitor to everything you’d loudly professed about hating him. They didn’t know it was you, and you intended to keep it that way.

From the tone of the chat, Jiwoon didn't see who was in the room with Bangchan, which means he didn't know you were the girl. Trying to ignore the talking and the sweat growing on your hands, you got up and declared that you were going to take a shower and maybe run some laps around the athletics track, because you really needed some fresh air.

The dorm felt claustrophobic. Eunji and Sohee were your best friends and you felt awful for not telling them the truth.

These were your best friends, but the truth felt like a grenade you couldn’t risk dropping. For months, you’d built your personality around despising Bangchan, and now? One night had unraveled it all.

Worst of all? You couldn’t stop replaying every second of it—and how much you’d loved it.

Sex had always been an exercise in mediocrity. Your exes? Predictably average, hitting the bare minimum on their way to their own finish line. As for finding the clitoris? Let’s just say they navigated like someone using a map upside down—an unsurprising disappointment every single time.

Now, though, Bangchan was something else entirely. A campus legend with a reputation as vast as it was unshakable. Everyone knew about his conquests—more women than you had fingers to count. Every rumor you’d rolled your eyes at turned out to be painfully, thrillingly true. He was better than anything you could have imagined.

Even after a long shower, his touch lingered, like phantom fingerprints etched into your skin. You could still feel him, every moment replaying in a maddening loop. No one had ever made you come twice in one night. No one. That fact alone made him unforgettable—and insufferably smug, no doubt.

Pulling on comfortable clothes, you grabbed a bag, stuffed in some essentials, and checked your phone. The group chat was overflowing with photos and messages from last night’s chaos, but you scrolled past all of it. There was only one person you needed right now.

You: Up for a morning run?

The reply came in under two minutes.

Hyunjin: It’s two in the afternoon. You: Morning for me. Hyunjin: Fine. Be there in five.

You tossed your phone into your bag and took a deep breath. A run was exactly what you needed—to burn off this restless energy and, hopefully, forget how guilty you felt.

You found Hyunjin on the running track near the outdoor field, surrounded by lush greenery and bursts of flowers the campus meticulously maintained. He looked effortlessly good, of course—baggy clothes hanging just right, dark hair falling over his face like it had been styled by the gods.

You started running side by side, silence settling between you. It was comfortable but heavy, like a bubble that needed popping. The kiss was the unspoken elephant on the track, but Hyunjin, ever observant, didn’t push. Not yet.

The day was crisp, the kind of weather that made you feel invincible. You poured your focus into your pace, and before you knew it, you’d pulled ahead. “Okay, okay—hold up,” Hyunjin called, his voice carrying just enough humor to make you smirk.

You stopped a few strides ahead, spinning on your heel to face him. He sauntered toward you, not even winded, like running was merely a mild inconvenience.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, his tone playful but probing.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you countered, already feeling your resolve falter.

“Uh-huh.” He stopped in front of you, his gaze narrowing. “Then why, exactly, did you ask me to kiss you last night?”

Well. There it was. No escaping now.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool as you grabbed the water bottle from your bag. “I was... needy, I guess.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, crossing his arms like he wasn’t buying it. “Needy, huh?”

“Look,” you said, exhaling sharply, “I’m sorry if it made things weird. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for that to get messed up.”

“Relax,” he said, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “A kiss isn’t going to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.”

His easy laugh melted some of your tension, but before you could respond, he clapped his hands together with mock seriousness. “Tell you what—first one to the other side of campus owes the winner a banana milk.”

The sudden challenge caught you off guard, and you raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, already turning on his heel to start jogging backward. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you bolted after him. “You’re so on.”

You lost the run, but of course, Hyunjin still paid for the drink. That summed him up as a friend.

After he dashed off to rehearse with Felix—because apparently, everyone else was rehearsing but you—a thought hit you like a lightbulb flickering to life. Rumors? Easy to spread. But if you wanted to get ahead of them, you had to go straight to the source.

With a mission in mind, you swaggered toward the gym where the basketball team was practicing. It wasn’t exactly classified info—every girl on campus could probably tell you when and where their training sessions were. You zipped your jacket up to your chin like it was some sort of emotional armor, grabbed your water bottle for moral support, and marched down the corridors. The door to the gym was already cracked open, and as you pushed it, everything seemed to slow down in the most dramatic way.

The guys were running drills, their shoes squeaking on the court like a broken record. The noise grated on your nerves, but you weren’t here for the sound; you were here for the spectacle. The stands were dotted with girls, some wrapped up in their player-boyfriend fantasies, while others... Well, who knows what they were thinking. You didn’t care. You had your eyes on the real prize today.

There he was, standing out like a sore thumb. His black and white uniform somehow looked too good on him. Focus, girl. You hid behind the staircase, crouched like a sneaky little spy, waiting for the game to wrap up.

It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually, the whistle blew. You adjusted your posture, trying to act casual, though you were definitely still paying attention to how the sweat trickled down Bangchan's forehead. It brought you war flashbacks. When the players scattered to grab towels and water, you took your cue to appear from behind the bleachers, giving a quick, awkward wave before ducking back again.

Bangchan's eyes scanned the area, and when they landed on you, his brows shot up in surprise.  In the meantime, he did the inevitable: he took off his shirt and used it to get dry. Great. Just great.

"Did you come to watch?" He smirked, that cocky grin of his. "Didn't know you were into basketball."

You rolled your eyes. His ability to flirt in every situation was almost impressive.

"Ha-ha. No." You sucked in a breath, desperately trying to obey your brain's commands. Don't look down. Don’t you dare look down. "Actually, I came to ask for a favor."

He leaned against the wall, eyebrow quirked, looking amused. "Okay...?"

“Right. I want what happened yesterday to stay a secret.”

Bangchan's eyebrow arched higher, an expression of entertained disbelief crossing his face. He crossed his arms, flexing those muscles in a way that made the mission of not looking at them impossible.

“'You think I'm going around saying we fucked?"

You roll your eyes, frustration building up, and clench your hand into a fist. Sure, say it louder, let the world know.

“Isn't that exactly what you do? Brag about your sexual life?”

The boy nodded, puffing out his chest, he shot back. "Ever heard me brag about it?"

“I don't need to hear it from you. The campus does it for you.” It was infuriating how this worked out. Everyone thought Bangchan was the type of guy, praising his victories and glorifying him every time he got between some girl's pants. 

Meanwhile, girls were severely censured for even kissing a guy at a party.

"Right. So you're just going off what people say about me?" His tone was challenging, like he couldn’t care less.

In a long drawn-out sigh, you fidgeted with your hands, intending to put the matter to one side. "Can you just keep this between us? I don't want anyone to know."

"Whatever, it's no big deal," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "If it's that important to you."

The words stung more than they should have. It wasn’t just the lack of care, it was the way he made it sound like it didn’t matter. No big deal. It hurt your pride, even if you didn’t mean it to. But that was Bangchan, wasn’t it? Haughty and self-righteous. Yeah, he was great in bed, but his attitude? Utterly shitty.

“Thanks.” You said it briefly, biting down your pride and leaving the scene as fast as you could. Speaking to him seemed like a fool's errand, but you couldn't risk it.

Behind you, Bangchan pursed his lips into a thin line, watching you go. To him, you were hopeless—always on guard, never letting your walls down. He knew he was right, even if it was a thin line. Sure, it was fun to rile you up, but it was maddening that you hated him for things he hadn’t even done.

Getting you to change your mind, though? That was the challenge. But if that’s what it took, he was more than willing to play the long game.

Early next week. Only Tuesday, and auditions loomed just a day away. You’d been agonizing over the perfect solo—one that wouldn’t just get you a role but the role. Monday was a blur of brainstorming with Hyunjin and Seungmin, your trusted theater comrades. Between swapping notes, debating song choices, and plenty of eye rolls, you managed to help each other refine your audition pieces. It was productive. Chaotic, but productive.

Your last hour of the day belonged to the theater, and it was sacred. The stage wasn’t just a place; it was a state of mind. The second the music hit, the world faded. Bills, homework, exes who ghosted you—it all melted away. Up there, you weren’t just alive; you were electric. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was instinct.

Your mom used to say you were born for the stage. She loved telling the story of how, as a kid, you’d belt out The Little Mermaid soundtrack so often the neighbors probably debated filing a noise complaint. Singing “Part of Your World” at the top of your lungs? A daily ritual. But the first time you sang for real—no plastic microphone, no stuffed animal audience—it clicked.

This was more than a passion. It was home.

Since high school, your hunger for the stage—and the spotlight—was insatiable. If there was a club, you wanted in. University was no different. People noticed you, not just for your knack for hitting sharp, glass-shattering high notes, but for your versatility. You could slip from sweet soprano to soulful belter faster than a drama major running late to class. On stage, you were magnetic.

Everyone gathered on stage, and Mrs. Baek appeared a few moments later with her round glasses and wavy hair around her face. Her figure was solid and powerful, as was her voice and knowledge.

But today, something was off. The crease on her forehead gave her away before she said a word. It was like a ripple of unease spread across the stage, and you didn’t miss a beat. You were already bracing for the bad news.

Then, a slim figure in a long skirt and boots strode into the center of the circle, sighing like she’d just carried the weight of the world—and maybe she had. “Okay, kids. Listen up.” Every pair of eyes locked onto her as if she were delivering the prophecy of doom. “We’re postponing the auditions. Indefinitely.”

Her announcement hit like a gut punch, and the stage erupted into chaos. Whispers turned to complaints, and complaints turned to full-blown outrage. Seungmin cast a skeptical glance at Mrs. Baek, then at you and Hyunjin, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

What the hell was going on?

“All right, settle down,” Mrs. Baek said, slipping her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose with that practiced mix of authority and exhaustion only she could pull off. “Jun-ho, our sound engineer, has officially dropped out of college. And to make matters worse, the university has decided to cut funding for the theater department in favor of... sports.”

“You're shitting me.” Nahee’s voice sliced through the commotion like a whip. She quickly caught herself, mumbling, “Sorry... but seriously—”

“That’s so unfair!” another voice chimed in from the back, frustration rippling through the group like a shockwave. “Basketball and soccer aren’t the only things this university has going for it.”

“I get it, kids. Believe me, I tried.” Mrs. Baek’s tone softened, but her words were anything but comforting. “I went to the administration, pleaded our case... But unless we can find enough volunteers and funding, I’m afraid auditions are canceled. Indefinitely.”

It felt like a cruel joke. The theater had always been your sanctuary, the one place where you could shed your armor and just be. And now? It was slipping through your fingers.

When Mrs. Baek dismissed the group, some students stormed out in anger, others lingered, trying to process what had just happened. For you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, the next logical step was the canteen. Food couldn’t fix this, but it was something.

“This is absurd. Now we're all supposed to close our eyes and applaud this nonsense?” Seungmin boomed as the three of you walked to the canteen. It was packed every day, regardless of the time of the day.

At a table outside, you spotted Sohee and Minho. Eunji, Changbin, Felix and Bangchan.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse...

“Tell me about it, I'm so pissed off!” Everyone looked at you, hearing loud and clear about your discontent. All three of you pulled up a chair and you sat down facing Changbin.

“Someone's jumpy.” Sohee leaned across the table. “What's wrong? You three look like shit.”

“It turns out the university cut the theater’s funding in favor of sports.” Your voice was sharp, and your glare shot directly at Bangchan, who was busy texting like the world wasn’t crumbling around him. He looked up, one eyebrow raised in confusion, as if you’d just accused him of single-handedly ruining the arts.

You looked away, rage bubbling in your veins.

“That sucks.” Felix shot back with a supportive smile. “I know how important the theater is to you guys.”

“Everyone’s been working so hard,” Seungmin muttered, sinking into his chair like the weight of the news had finally crushed him. “It’s just... unfair.”

A heavy silence settled over the table, broken only by the sound of Bangchan’s nails tapping on his phone screen. You glanced his way, the sight of him completely disengaged making your blood boil.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eunji twisted her lips, hopeful.

“Car wash?” Changbin suggested with a mischievous grin. “Classic fundraiser, right?”

“Sure,” you shot back, deadpan, “let’s exploit women for the sake of art.” Your glare could’ve leveled him then and there. Changbin leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine. What about food?” Sohee jumped in, glancing at Minho for support. “Muffins, cupcakes, something simple. People love that stuff.”

Hyunjin's face lights up like a light bulb. “Felix makes brownies. Amazing brownies.”

Felix smirked, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don’t wanna brag, but they’re basically legendary.”

“Alright, then.” Changbin grinned, pointing a finger gun between Felix and you. “You two make the brownies. And we,” he motioned to himself and Bangchan, “sell them.”

You and Bangchan exchange glances for a millisecond.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,”  he says, a wicked smile slipping from his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, laughing. “What? Are you going to sell brownies naked around campus?”

The grin widened, and that’s when you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Felix had assured you he could handle everything, but your stubbornness wouldn’t let you sit this one out. If it was for the theater, you were all in. He handed over his famous brownie recipe like it was a national secret.

So, on Thursday, you got hands-on. Literally.

Eunji had come through with the shopping, and soon your dorm looked like a war zone—chocolate smudges on the counters, flour dusting the floor, and batter splattered in places you couldn’t quite explain. You only had a cramped space and a big dream of pulling this off.

You were just pouring the batter into a pan when a sharp knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your skirt, you swung it open, expecting maybe Eunji or Hyunjin. Instead, there stood Bangchan, leaning casually against the door frame like he had nowhere else to be.

“Uh… hello?” You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Bangchan stood back for a second, observing how exceptionally good you looked.

“So… newsflash,” he started, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You might wanna double that recipe.”

Confusion flashed across your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He straightened up, clearly enjoying your puzzled reaction. “I may have the entire basketball team to help out with the sale.”

Your jaw dropped as his words sank in. “You what?”

His grin widened at your disbelief. “You heard me. More hands, more sales. I figured we could use the hype.”

It was insane. But it was also brilliant. A rush of excitement shot through you, lighting up your face. “That’s… that’s fantastic!” you blurted, beaming before instinctively biting your lip to rein in your enthusiasm.

Bangchan tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Thought you’d like that.”

“Oh, shit. I'll tell Felix, we're going to need an extra oven.” You walked over to the coffee table, where your phone was.

Before you could dial, Bangchan’s voice cut through your focus. “You shouldn’t go there.” He was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression surprisingly earnest. “It’s a mess. Like, biohazard-level chaos.” You lose heart, trying to think of another alternative. “You can use my dorm. If you want.” He quickly adds the last sentence.

Your stomach dropped at the suggestion. The idea of stepping into Bangchan’s dorm felt like walking into enemy territory. Risky. Dangerous. Not worth the potential fallout. “It’s fine,” you said, waving him off. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

But Bangchan leaned against the doorframe, his smirk resurfacing. “You sure? There are a lot of brownies to bake, and I don’t think you’ve got all night.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Time was slipping through your fingers like sand, and with the entire basketball team now involved, efficiency was critical. “Fine,” you muttered, hating the way the word tasted in your mouth. “But only if you help.”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

It turned out Bangchan’s “help” involved more than just offering his kitchen. He insisted on carrying every utensil, baking sheet, and ingredient across campus himself, as though showing off how capable he was. By the time you arrived at his so-called dorm, you’d pieced together another puzzle about him.

Rich, but not obnoxiously so. Still, his “dorm” was more like a chic little apartment, complete with a full kitchen, two bedrooms, and sleek decor that screamed privilege. The space was annoyingly Bangchan—polished, put together, and just distant enough to be intriguing.

“Cool place.” You muttered after he closed the door behind you. Scanning the room and trying not to sound impressed.

“Thanks.” he gave you a smile. “So, this is the kitchen.” He motioned to a modern setup that looked like it belonged in a Food Network show. Top class stuff. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” you replied, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Not just for the space but… you know, for helping.”

It was obvious that he was making this effort because the theater was important to his friends Seungmin and Hyunjin. Why else would he do all this? Still, you appreciated it.

His lips twitched into a grin. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back the retort bubbling at your tongue. Play nice. He’s helping. 

“Relax,” he added, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. There’s booze in the fridge, by the way. Help yourself.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, sidestepping the offer.

“I’ve gotta sort something out with the coach,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll be back in 20. Think you’ll survive here alone?”

Honestly, being in his apartment without him sounded like the best possible scenario. You gave a small nod. “Yeah, no worries.”

With that, he left, and the door clicked shut behind him. You exhaled, a long breath that carried the weight of the past few days. Now you were in enemy territory, surrounded by his world, and somehow, that felt far more personal than it should.

How had this become your life? Baking brownies in Bangchan’s kitchen? It was almost as absurd as sleeping with him—a mistake you’d promised yourself you’d never make. But here you were, crossing one forbidden line after another.

You weren’t exactly a disaster in the kitchen, but you weren’t a pro either. Somehow, though, in thirty minutes flat, four trays of brownies were baking away in Bangchan’s fancy oven. The rest of the kitchen, however, looked like a war zone. Eggshells piled in the sink. Flour scattered across the floor. Chocolate batter smeared on your shirt. Your skirt? A masterpiece of handprints from raw dough. But hey, it was all for the sake of art—and funding.

While you whisked and poured, you couldn’t resist turning on your favorite song, What Is This Feeling from Wicked. Singing along word for word, you hit every high note with a grin. That song had landed you the role of Glinda in high school, and the nostalgia hit you square in the chest. Those were good times. Simpler times.

The chorus was still ringing in your ears as you crouched to scrub a stubborn chocolate stain on the floor. That’s when the door swung open, and Bangchan walked in, freezing mid-step as he surveyed the chaos.

“Holy shit. Are you all right?” he asked, his tone somewhere between amusement and genuine concern.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you scrambled to turn off the music. In your rush, your phone slipped from your flour-dusted hands and landed on the counter with a soft thud. You straightened, cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing your hands on your already-ruined skirt. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”

He looked around, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. His eyes flicked from the chaotic kitchen to you, taking in the state of your clothes. “You’ve got something… there,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the chocolate smear on your shoulder.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll head back to the dorm and clean this up.”

Bangchan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your plan. “I can lend you a shirt. Might make you feel more comfortable.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “But thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind his neck and yanked off the black shirt he was wearing, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and a devilish grin. “Here,” he said, holding the shirt out to you like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “You know you could’ve just grabbed another shirt, right? Like, one you’re not currently wearing?”

He leaned in slightly, the grin widening in a way that made your stomach flip. “And where’s the fun in that?”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, equal parts annoyed and flustered. His shirt hung in the air between you, a silent dare. Finally, you snatched it from his hand, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, unbothered, and strolled over to the counter like he hadn’t just walked into the kitchen half-dressed.

After a few minutes, you walked back into the kitchen, now wearing Bangchan’s shirt. It hung a little loose on you, the soft fabric brushing against your skin and carrying a mix of fresh laundry and whatever cologne he used. Not that you noticed. Much.

Bangchan was at the sink, scrubbing a mixing bowl. His back was to you at first, but when he turned around, his gaze lingered a second too long before he coughed and looked back down. “Did you know,” he started, shaking his head with a teasing grin, “that you’re officially the world’s clumsiest cook? There’s brownie batter... under the sink.”

You glanced at the cabinet beneath the counter, then back at him. “Hey, I said I’d clean up,” you defended, marching into the kitchen with your head held high. “And for the record, I never claimed to be a good cook. I’m just trying to help.”

Bangchan barked out a laugh, drying his hands on a towel. “Help? No fucking way. You’re a disaster, love.”

You froze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, the oversized sleeves of his shirt only slightly undermining your indignation. “I didn’t see you stepping up to bake anything.. Let’s see you handle a whisk without breaking something.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. “Trust me, I’d still be better than whatever chaos you’ve got going on here.”

Your lips quirked into a slow smirk, and you reached for the bag of flour on the counter. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see you handle this.” Before he could react, you scooped a handful of flour and tossed it right at him, the fine powder exploding across his chest like a smoke bomb.

Bangchan froze for a second, blinking down at the mess. Then, his lips curved into a wicked grin that should have been your warning. “Oh, it’s on now.”

With your hands on your lip, you realized that you had fucked up. “I'm sorry, I...”

Too late. In the blink of an eye, Bangchan scooped up the sugar and poured it all over your hair. You stared, half-shocked, half-impressed by his audacity. You parted your lips to fire back, but before a word could escape, the sound of his laughter erupted from deep in his chest.

“Really? Is this how it’s gonna go?” You grabbed the cocoa powder with a grin. Oh, he wanted a war? You were so ready. “Bring it on,” you shot back, face lighting up with mischief. 

You were almost halfway to smearing him with chocolate when his hand shot out and stopped yours midair. The cocoa slipped through your fingers, and just like that, your plan hit the ground.

Then, you collided—chest to chest. Bangchan wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the shift in the air, the heat between you two now undeniable. His lips curled into that damn smirk, the one that told you everything. Your heart was racing, but the thought of pulling away didn’t even cross your mind. The only question now was who was going to make the first move.

A silent battle passed between you two. His gaze locked onto yours, sensing the shift in your expression—less defiant, more... willing. And just like that, the tension morphed into something else, something undeniable.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. Bangchan’s breath hitched, a soft grunt escaping him at the sudden contact. Your hands, still coated with the remnants of your baking disaster, slid over his broad shoulders. You were a mess, sugar and flour everywhere, but somehow, it made everything feel a little more real. And Bangchan? He didn’t seem to mind one bit.

All he seemed to care about was having your lips on his. And fuck, you could feel how much he wanted it.

Bangchan grabbed your ass possessively, squeezing it and making a raspy moan escape your lips. You pushed him against the wall, without detaching your lips, savoring how the softness of his lips felt like cotton candy.

When you finally broke away, your chests heaving, your fingers still pressed into his skin, you met his gaze. His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, and you could feel the pull between you intensify again, magnetic.

“I should probably clean up this mess.” your voice broke the tension, but the realization hit harder than it should’ve. Bangchan was clearly fed up with your habit of diving in and then ghosting the consequences. 

“Don’t you dare.” his voice was low, the words like a command you weren’t about to ignore. His eyes locked with yours—intense. “You want this.” his lips brushed against yours, a tease that made your heart leap, while his words hung heavy in the air. “I know you do.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but him.

“Bangchan.” You whispered, barely able to breathe. The heat from his hardness spread like wildfire, and your body seemed to betray you. “We can’t.” you licked your lips—stupid, because he was already there, sealing your protest with a sloppy kiss, stealing that last ounce of restraint.

You were losing it. Why did he have to be so... goddamn good at this?

“Oh yeah?” he pulled away, just enough to make you regret the distance. “Tell me one good reason. Just one.”

You snorted, doing everything you could to hold it together, but the pull between you was undeniable. “Please.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but instead he closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, walking away, but the air between you two still crackled.

The rest of the kitchen cleanup was like some strange form of punishment. You moved in sync, two people acting like they hadn’t just burned down every ounce of decorum in the room. The silence was deafening, the kind of awkward that made you wish you could pull the floor open and swallow you whole. But instead, you just scrubbed harder, hoping it’d drown out the thundering thoughts in your head.

He pulled away, no jokes, no teasing—just silence. It was like a switch had flipped, and the tension that had once sparked between you now lay dormant, suffocating. You didn't know if you hated the quiet or if you hated yourself more for letting things go as far as they had.

When everything was finally done, he still helped you carry your things to the dorm, his touch lingering just a little too long as he adjusted the bag over your shoulder. You were too busy battling the whirlwind of your own thoughts, replaying every moment, every look, and cursing both him and yourself for what you’d just crossed into.

You hated how easy it had been. How natural. And you hated even more that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret it—at least, not yet.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik

[kayhi808]

OK, let’s say he comes back from a mission and it was really rough on him and he kind of relapsed into the winter soldier(slightly very very slightly) and Steve let’s reader know that a lot happened. Abby has went away with Natasha for a weekend together as reader was really busy w work. Bucky comes home and is so so on edge and is afraid he will hurt reader and isolates himself especially after he almost hurt reader when she crept up too silent behind him. so he hates himself rn. BUT THEN ABBY RUNS IN OUT OF NOWHERE AND HUGS HIM CUS SHE WAS WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK AND BOOM man either lets out the craziest sigh or low keys cries because he realizes he is okay. idk something like that if it makes sense ¯\_(ツ)_/

🧹

Thank you, to my favorite anon!💕 It took me forever to get to this one. This was a lot to go on. It could have gone really dark and angsty, but I'm trying to keep my Abby stories a little lighter. Hope you like it.🤗

Bucky was gone on what turned out to be an intense mission & word just came back that his team was returning. Steve and Bucky were heading the mission so you weren't too worried. You always like when they are sent out together because you knew they had each other's backs. ALWAYS

The quinjet touched down & the crew disembarked. You saw Bucky and Steve walking down the ramp, deep in conversation. As soon as Bucky made eye contact with you, you felt something was wrong. Then he veered away from you to another entry into the Tower and you knew something was very wrong.

You started to follow him, but Steve blocked your path. "What happened? What's wrong with Bucky??"

"Y/N, give him some time, this mission was rough on him."

"Is he hurt? Is he ok?"

"Physically he's fine..."

Impatiently, "then tell me what happened!"

"It's his story to tell. He needs a little bit of time to sort out the demons in his head. That's all."

"That's all?!?"

"It's what he wants."

******

You were able to give him 2 days to himself, until you caved in & tried calling Bucky just to hear his voice. For him to tell you he's ok but needs time to himself. You'd understand that. But for him to send your call to voicemail pissed you off. You left a message last night & today's you were leaving to pick up Abby, you tried again & you got his voicemail.

"Babe? Can you please call me back, text me...or something, so I know you're alive yet purposefully ignoring me? That would be great." You sigh, "Is this how we are going forward in this relationship? This will be the new communication norm?"

You gather your things to head out of the building, but up ahead you see Steve & Bucky. You hurry to catch up with them. You grab onto Bucky's arm & before you can even say his name, his hand is on your sternum, and you're shoved against the wall. A startled yelp escapes & he releases you immediately. "Fuck!" His hands drop to your arms, "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" Steve pulls Bucky back.

You reach for his hands, "I'm fine. You startled me." You look up at him and he looks so tired. You go to hug him but he pulls away from you. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, Buck?" You turn to Steve, "Would you do me a big favor and pick-up Abby from pre-school, please?"

"Yea, sure " He shoots Bucky a worried glance before he leaves.

*****

Once you're back at Bucky's residence, "Are you ready to tell me what happened?" You flop yourself down on his couch.

"I can't... I can't let those things...touch you. You don't need to know about HYDRA."

"Bucky, I know about HYDRA. I work here! Nick Fury is my boss."

"You don't need to know about the Winter Soldier. You don't need to know about me back then." Bucky stops pacing & drops down into his chair.

"You don't think I've done my research before dating you? Before I let you be around my daughter? What you did back then was not your fault. You weren't given a choice. HYDRA had control of you. Babe, you are not the same person."

"I'm still capable..."

You move to sit at the foot of his chair, "No! Stop it."

"Doll, I could have killed you back there!"

"You didn't. You wouldn't. You're James Barnes, not the Winter Soldier!" You squeeze his hands. "Talk to me, Bucky. Let me share your burden. We're in this life together. Please tell me what happened."

With a deep sigh, "We went to hit an active HYDRA base camp." You nod. "Doll, there were cribs there. In the lab, there were children's bed and restraints." You softly gasp, squeezing his hands tighter. "We couldn't locate any of the children, but now I know they're out there somewhere."

"Oh, Bucky." Tears prickling your eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"I killed them all. Whoever was there." You kneel up to wrap your arms around him. It took a while for him to return your hug, but you didn't let go. He gives in and pulls you tightly to him.

"You think I wouldn't do the same if I could? Wouldn't anyone do the same? The only difference is that we don't have your skill set." Pulling away, cradling his face between your palms to get him to look at you, "Just because you have the skills, does not make you the Winter Soldier." You give him a soft kiss. "The job you took on isn't an easy one, but you're making the world a safer place. For people like me and Abby."

"I saw the cribs and beds and I...I thought of Abigail. And...I snapped." You nod.

"I understand how that could happen." Bucky pulls you onto his lap & he holds you for a long time in silence. You offered him comfort any way you could. You understand now why he was so affected by this mission. "You need to talk to me and tell me what's going on. You can't shut me out, Buck. I was so worried. If the situation was flipped, how would you handle me shutting down on you?"

"Not well." He gives you a slight smile.

Nodding, "exactly." You lean back against him as he wraps you in his arms.

"I'm sorry."

*******

Steve picks up Abby and visits with Ms Grace before returning to the Tower, hoping you and Bucky ironed out your differences. He texts you both letting you know he's got Abs in the common room watching TV.

"You knows what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs."

"Chloe and Mia says a new Lilo & Stitch movies coming outs."

"Oh, yea? Wow."

Abby stands up on the couch next to Steve and slings her arm across his shoulders. "Rights?? I so 'cited! You know what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs?"

"You wants to take me to the Lilo & Stitch movies?"

"Won't your Mama and Bucky take you to see it? Did they say no?" Steve has to ask. He's not going to be caught up in one of Abby's tricks and get in trouble with you.

"Mama gonna takes me, but you can takes me," holding up two fingers, "two time." She gives Steve a sweet smile.

"Abigail."

She cackles. "What if I likes it so much and wants to sees it again? Like Wicked?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "Fine. If you like it so much, I'll take you to watch it again."

Abby squashes her cheek against Steve's while strangling him around the neck, "Oh, tank you! Yous the best Uncle in all the worlds!" She sees Bucky in the doorway and Uncle Steve is quickly forgotten. "Papa! You homes!!" She bounces off the couch and runs to Bucky with arms spread wide.

Bucky steps back, away from your incoming toddler, banging into you. "It's ok, Bucky."

Abby doesn't slow down, so Bucky is forced to catch her and lift her into his arms. "I missed-ed you so much!" Abby peppers his face with kisses. She pulls away & squishes his face between her palms, "You missed-ed me, too?" A happy hopeful smile on her face.

Bucky nods, answering quietly, "Yea, baby. I missed-ed you, too," dropping a kiss on her nose which makes her do a happy wiggle.

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[evanbuckleyrecs]

January wrap up

So I haven't really had the energy to make separate posts lately, BUT I started track what I read and bookmark, so here is a list of all the 911 fics I bookmarked in January 2025!

Edit: I tried adding the author's tumblrs but couldn't find all of them. If you are/know any of them, please let me know :)

Please, please, please by bookinit

E rated | 8,7K | Buddie | touch starved Eddie | angst & smut | getting together | @bookinit02

buck doesn’t touch eddie anymore. eddie’s losing it, a little bit.

You'll Never Find Me Trying to Leave by DuoOfDiaz

T rated | 3,5k | Buddie | getting together | Christopher comes back from Texas | love confessions | @smolfunpenguin

Eddie and Buck are overjoyed that Christopher has returned from Texas. They organise a Welcome Back to LA party in his honor and it goes off without a hitch. Buck wonders whether the after party moment is finally the time to tell Eddie how he feels.

Please don't say I'm too much by buckleyys118

G rated | 3/3 chapters | 10K | Buddie | touch starved Buck | emotional hurt/comfort | getting together | angst with a happy ending | Tommy bashing | insecure Buck

a comment from Tommy causes Buck to spiral. Eddie fixes it.

Born with a weak heart by foxwatson

T rated | 7,4k | Buddie | post 6x11 in another life | touch starved Buck | getting together | idiots to lovers | touch as a love language

the one where eddie won't touch buck once he wakes up in the hospital, and buck goes absolutely bonkers bananas about it

If I loved you less by spaceprincessem

Rated T | 1,9K | Buddie | getting together | light angst | text messages | post 6x11 in another life | @spaceprincessem

Buck can't use his phone for two days. Eddie sends him text anyways

If You Need Me, You Know I'll Be There by soft_satan

Rated T | 4,1 K | Buddie | hurt/comfort | hurt Buck | no Ana bashing | soft Buddie | tending to wounds | mentioned hate crimes | protective Eddie | post s4 |

Eddie’s heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. “Buck? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” “No,” Buck laughed, breathless and bitter, just on this side of hysterical. He sniffled again, sounding like he was trying to stop himself from crying. “C-could uh… could you come get me? Please?”

Out of ashes by ashavahishta

Rated M | 6,6K | Buddie | presumed dead | kidnapping | established relationship | dark whump | worried Eddie | heavy angst | hurt/comfort | TW: implied/referenced torture, starvation, sensory deprivation | @ashavahishta

“They found Buck.” Hen’s hand goes to her chest. Chim stumbles like he’s been hit, hand curling around the back of a chair for balance. And Eddie - Eddie’s knees give out. He’s lucky there’s a chair right under him because he just buckles, head in hands, trying to remember how to breathe. “Is he - did they - what…what did they find?” “He’s alive.” “What?” Eddie’s head snaps up.

I Did It All (To Make You Love Me) by sirencalls

Rated E | 4,4K | Buddie | panties | top eddie/bottom buck | resolved sexual tension | praise kink

Honestly, Eddie is just trying to find the pair of boxers he knows he left here last week.

Won't you kiss me on the mouth (and love me like a sailor) by hirarih

G rated | 2,1k | Buddie | crack treated seriously | accidental love confessions | light angst | getting together | first kiss | POV alternating | idiots in love

Buck discovers he’s in love with Eddie, rants about it to Maddie, and doesn’t realise Eddie is right behind him.

I can read between your lines (dizzy from the spinning) by buckleydiazy

E rated | 4,3K | Buddie | phone sex | praise kink | pre-relationship Buddie | mention of past casual buck/omc

“So, theoretically,” Eddie sounds absolutely delighted, “if we didn’t know each other, you’d hook up with me in a public bathroom?” “Theoretically—I mean, do you want a serious answer?” Eddie hesitates for a moment. “Yeah,” he says quietly, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “Tell me.” “Probably,” Buck says. Then a little firmer—“Definitely.”

Not Doing This Alone by carpediaz

Rated M | 27,4k | Buddie, Buck & Chris, Eddie & Maddie | AU | Nanny Buck | mutual pining | getting together | angst with a happy ending | fluff and angst

The one where Eddie hires Buck as a nanny for Christopher and has to navigate falling in love with someone he shouldn't want (who definitely wants him in return).

The kiss that lingers by greenbergsays

E rated | 10,7k | Buddie | Buck’s birthmark | 5+1 | forehead kisses | non sexual intimacy | touch starved Buck | insecure Buck | getting together | fluff and smut and angst | @greenbergsays

5 times Eddie kisses Buck's birthmark & 1 time he doesn't.

Was I even on your way? By rangerdanger

Rated M | 3K | Buddie | past rape - Dr. Wells mention | panic attacks | established relationship | hurt/comfort | emotional hurt/comfort | worried Eddie | POV Buck

Buck gets reminded of something that happened he'd rather forget.

This Could Be Our Year; Don't Let Go of My Hand by allisonRW96

Rated T | 39,7k | 8/8 chapters | Buddie | mutual pining | alternating POV | getting together | Buck whump | worried Eddie | protective Eddie

After a routine call at the studio of a wealthy, eccentric fashion designer, the 118 find themselves invited to a masquerade ball on New Year’s Eve. Buck thinks it will be a perfect time to kiss Eddie. Eddie thinks it will be the perfect time to kiss Buck. Someone else has more sinister plans.

Rhythm of Your Heart series by devirnis

Part 1 rated T, part 2 rated G, part 3 rated M | Madney, Buddie, Buck & firehouse 118 | AU - criminals | 118 aren't firefighters | protective 118 | mutual pining | getting together | buck & maddie whump | total word count 39,6K | @devirnis

the 118 run a front restaurant for money laundering, and accidentally adopt the Buckley siblings

Baby mine by Fizzlespin

Rated G | 2,9k | Buck & Athena | hurt Buck | Buck needs a hug | Bathena are Buck’s parents | protective Athena | parental Athena

When Maddie tells him about Daniel, and being born for spare parts, Buck doesn't know what to do. Hurt, confused (and drunk), he goes to who he always goes to in a crisis for some calm, fatherly advice. But Bobby isn't home and Athena is left to pick up the pieces.

A minute from home but I feel so far from it by cozycatwriter

Rated G | 2,1k | Buck & Athena | post law-suit | post tsunami | emotional hurt/comfort | implied/referenced suicide

He thinks to anyone watching him that they might think he’s just lost in thought. He’s leaning against the pier fence, avoiding the bench this time around. Or maybe he looks like he’s about to throw himself off the wooden walkway and into the rocks below. He’s not sure which would be true. “Because you’re exhausting. We all have our own problems but you don’t see us whining about it.” He’s been back at station 118 for only a few shifts but it’s like the world has flipped upside down and he’s found himself within an alternate universe. Like Stranger Things.

Hen Wilson's Four Part Guide to Making Your Stupid Friends Date by songbvrd

Rated M | 25 K | Buddie, Hen & 118 | crack treated seriously | Chris comes back from Texas | POV outsider | miscommunication | post canon | locked in | idiots in love | @songbvrd

When Buck and Eddie aren't speaking, Hen decides to take matters into her own hands.

50 Cheeky Texts by songbvrd

Rated M | 20,9K | Buddie | b/t breakup | texting | pre-relationship buddie | drunken flirting | crack treated seriously | fluff and crack | bad pick up lines | hurt Buck | @songbvrd

Buck gets drunk-dared to send Eddie one cheeky text every day for 50 days. Eddie loses his mind. TW for the cringiest pickup lines in existence.

You warm me up (inside and out) by becausebuckley

Rated T | 3,4K | buddie | touch starved | cuddling & snuggling | sharing clothes | first kiss | getting together | @becausebuckley

after a shift leaves buck tired and shivering, eddie takes him home.

See y'all next month 🫡

[manlvrr]

I hate the CaitVi Sex scene

Everytime I see someone thirsting after the scene and gushing about how it's so hot, I feel so disgusted and ticked cause of how the scene came about and where it's located.

Before we get onto my rant about the scene itself, I want to mention the CaitVi scene that happened before that.

"She saved your life!"

"If you will just calm down for on-"

If you will just calm down for once? Hypocrite. Caitlyn's allowed to be pissy, allowed to call Zaunites animals (oh, "except" Vi though) and then fight like an animal by biting Sevika—

Sidenote:

That's also another scene I don't find hot at all. Any time I see it, I can't focus on how attractive Sevika is when she's smug (even though she totes is). All I can focus on is how Caitlyn bit Sevika. I don't remember who pointed it out, if it was on Tumblr or TikTok which I have promptly deleted since the ban, but someone pointed out that Caitlyn is fighting dirty—like a Zaunite. Caitlyn was backed into a corner, so she fought like an animal.

Fuck her.

I guess now she can somewhat understand why Zaunites fight the way they do. When you're backed into a corner, feeling helpless, feeling desperate, you fight like it and she did the same exact same thing she judged them for.

Bastard.

Lol can you tell I'm feeling bitter over her character?

Back to OG rant

—biting Sevika, gas the undercity and harshly interrogate someone who was a victim of Jinx's shenanigans, hit Vi for trying to calm her down from her grief driven rage, but oh, no Vi must calm down even though she's barely angry compared to when Caitlyn's angry. Not to mention that Caitlyn throws a tantrum herself and throws the tiny figure in her hand to the ground.

"—since you don't trust her enough not to shove her in a box."

Can we please take note of the tremble in Vi's voice when she says that? 'Oh, Jinx brought back her trauma from being in Stillwater!1!2!1' First of all, shut up. Second of all, yeah. . . So did Caitlyn?? Caitlyn may not have known what to do with Jinx, but the option for her to let Jinx go to prison was there and Vi hated it.

"Cait, she's changed."

"We can't erase our mistakes. None of us."

All the while not doing any time of her own for the crimes she committed—and no, I'm not talking about her gassing the undercity. What she did as a dictator, letting Noxians take over, and hardly doing anything afterwards even though she caused so much pain and misery to both Piltovians and Zaunites goes unpunished. Her losing an eye is nothing compared to the fear many people will feel while living under a dictatorship.

Get the guillotine!!

"Who decides who gets a second chance?"

Exactly. Caitlyn did no better than Jinx. She knows it too. It tears her up inside—as it should!!! Besides, did she think Jinx wasn't going to eventually get out of Stillwater? Or was one of her options to let Jinx rot there until she died? Yeah, I'm sure your girlfriend would love that.

Now, let's get to the scene itself!

But first let me talk about what happened right before that—

Vi tries to get Jinx on her side, Jinx rejects her, and Vi watches her sister leave while being told by her that Vi "deserves to be happy" and not to "worry about her anymore".

Yikes.

People say that what happened next with Caitlyn was Vi "finally being selfish", but it just feels wrong to me. Don't get me wrong, Vi deserves to enjoy herself after everything that's been done to her; however, you aren't going to have normal, healthy, healing sex right after seeing a loved one leave you for good.

Trust me lol I've had enough grieving/traumatic experience to know that you can feel upset for hours and won't immediately be able to get into a happy mindset even if you find something to entertain yourself with. You can have people try to cheer you up and you feel a bit better, but you still feel that lingering horrible feeling inside that will eat at you for who knows how long. You could give me Steb wearing the cutest little red panties I have ever seen in my life and I'd still be sad while trying to eat him out. You need to give me that like a day or so AFTER my little breakdown cause I won't enjoy it right after crying about losing my sis.

Sidenote:

Someone please remind me to draw that.

It would take at least an hour for Vi to get back to normal with the way she was reacting. At least. Vi was in that cell for who knows how long, but she was still upset and rather vulnerable when Caitlyn found her. No doubt she needed more time to get herself together.

Okay, now, let's get to the scene itself!!!

Bro, don't fuck me while I'm crying unless I'm crying cause I'm laughing too hard or because of sexy overstimulation. Fuck me? Nah, fuck you.

"I choose wrong every time—and because of it. . . I've lost everyone."

"Did you really think I needed all the guards at the HexGates?"

SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT AWWWWWUUUPPPPPPP—anyway,

Your girl is clearly upset, grieving her lost relationship with her sister (and likely other loved ones shes lost like Vander/Warwick), feeling guilty, and clearly not in any type of good mood yet your first reaction is to smirk???? You think this is funny?? Now is not the time to tease, Ms. Dumbass.

Vi needs compassion and reassurance not. . . Whatever that was. Yes, showing that you knew all along and didn't do anything to stop her shows that you do care for her, but it also isn't what she needs. Caitlyn did not reassure her that Vi wasn't going to lose her so easily.

Mainly because if she did, that'd be a lie, but that's neither here nor there.

"Sorry to say, you've grown a bit predictable."

Girl, you are not sorry. Quit lying. I can smell the smoke coming off your pants, but I'm not getting the fire extinguisher.

Again, this isn't what Vi needs. Any therapist would be able to tell you that you should seek healthier coping mechanisms other than sex. Does cuddling not exist? Does making out and then putting a stop to it because you realize your girl is not in the right state of mind for this exist??? Seeking sex after feeling so vulnerable and horrible about yourself is in no way, shape, or form okay. Shit isn't cute.

Caitlyn, you are more of an animal than you realize.

"Listen! While you were gone, I. . . Saw someone."

All of a sudden you realize that you should stop things because you feel guilty, but that guilt isn't over letting your girl go down on you after being upset and grieving, but about. . . Having another girl while she was gone???? Girl, seriously, your priorities are wack.

She does hesitate for a moment once she sees VI's injury (I can't remember where the injury came from. I stg if it came from Caitlyn or whatever Caitlyn ordered her to do. . .) yet she continues on. There are multiple reasons why they shouldn't do it right then and there, but Caitlyn is so horny she lets Vi pleasure her.

The reasons:

1. Vi is not in the right place of mind, she just lost her sister. Please let her grieve.

2. That is a jail cell. After what happened to her, their first time should be somewhere comfortable. Vi deserves comfort. She deserves to be spoiled. You're in Piltover, Caitlyn has a mansion with a really good bed, but your first fuck is in a dirty jail cell??

3. That is a jail cell that contained her sister. Vi can't reclaim shit about having sex in a jail cell if it's a cell that contained her sister. If there was better writing, she'd feel guilty over having sex in the cell she lost her sister. Her guilt isn't going to immediately go away because of one fuck. That's not how it works. Wish it was, but it's not.

Can I also note that Vi is the one pleasuring Caitlyn and not the other way around? Maybe Vi prefers to eat out rather than be eaten, but I think it just speaks more to her always servicing others rather than servicing herself or being serviced. If the sex scene was gonna happen, at least show Vi being completely selfish and enjoying herself by showing Cait be the one to kiss her down to her coochie. Maybe she's a stone top, but she gives off switch vibes to me.

Fuck you, Cait. Always wanting things to benefit you.

(If it was me, I'd eat Vi out, but, again, that's neither here nor there. . . She's not even in my top favs. I just want the best for her cause I hate Caitlyn lol.)

"I'm feeling fantastic."

FUCK YOUUUU

Okay *drops mic* , rant over

[romanoffsbish]

Insatiable

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

As you prepare for your college reunion, and life evolves around you, your wife realizes she’s ready for more. | WC: 1978

18+ | Minors DNI

Smut: Natasha has a penis | Oral / Fingering (R) | Overstimulation | 🤏 Penetration (R) | Breeding

You weren't exactly sure how you got here, or so you feigned—because one second you are on the phone, telling your bestie about your plans for the reunion today with Wanda, the other piece of your trio. Then the next you're pressed up against a door until things eventually escalated to the bed. Certainly, you weren't complaining but you did hear Darcy's muffled disgust followed by the earned dial tone, shortly after a moan.

———

Now though, after an hour, you were starting to feel an aching where pleasure once reigned. "Tasha please," you mewled but she just couldn't stop, "shh," her tone was hushed yet intensely raspy as she begged, "just one more for me detka, please." You moaned, discomfort quieted down for now, your spent body melting into the mattress as it succumbed to the pleasure; again.

Natasha couldn't help it, her eyes were transfixed on your cunt as she just continued to plow her fingers into you, the finest rings of white continued to form on her skin, passing her knuckles and thickening every time she pulled out to slam back in and curl up. Each time without fail you'd gasp, then whine rather incoherently—your pussy took over speaking for you as it gushed and her tongue communicated right back, all you could vaguely hear now was your juices splashing about since her lips had left the curve of your jaw to devour you.

It amazed Natasha just how much you always gave, she looked forward to making love to you every few days just so she could bury herself in your warm core. It wasn't scheduled or anything, just a perfect routine that always led to communal pleasure and comfort. It'd be daily but she liked to give you a break from time to time, even though she still spent it wrapped up in you because she couldn't imagine anywhere better to be.

Ever since retirement you'd become her only focus, she read novels from time to time—like whenever you were out with Wanda and Darcy, which in turn inspired many long nights as you usually walked in wearing a new outfit meant to catch her attention, with a sway to your hips that left her pants tight and her mind wild.

Outside of that though, she had no hobbies, her hero training replaced with nights of endless passion. You were astonished that your vagina still worked; it wept for her the same way your heart yearned for her care.

Natasha was a perfect lover, in all ways, but it wasn't always the case. It took years of patience to receive her unwavering love like this. You fought so hard for her too, making it through hell and back in this life just to find her, then it took forever to break down her walls. Because, up until you she had never regarded anyone romantically; everything was carnal for the redhead.

Now, there was a much deeper connection—a roaring fire lit within you by being her one and only lover. It never wavered; the passion, even on the calm nights where you two were just cuddling, the unique, for you intimacy, it just always got you to a point of neediness..

Like last night, when Natasha stretched behind you and you'd felt the soft outline of her bulge against your backside, it made you wet but then she curled around you so sweetly you'd fall for it, she yawned against your cheek before teasingly questioning your disengaged focus, "how are you liking the movie, moya 'lyubov?"

Knowing full and damn well you were more than likely desperate for her touch, she kept her grip on you firm but it was begrudgingly innocent enough. Which was distracting beyond words as you tried to remember any stupid scene you could critique before huffing, "I hate the Bond series, Tasha." Your wife snuggled closer and kissed you tenderly before changing the film, softening you into the perfect, pliable mess you now were.

Natasha was already clued in when you woke up today, you exited the room in a plush grey robe which usually insinuated you were working on your hygiene routine, shaving away your unwanted hair, leaving behind a soft mound for both of your comfort. You had grabbed a banana then winked at your wife as you walked by and she knew that was an invitation to come ruin you.

Whenever she heard the water being turned off is when she knew you would be close to ready for her, so she set her dishes in the sink and briefly waited for the sign. Soon enough the pipes in the wall swooshed and the redhead ran up the stairs, in a grey sports bra and boxers that had an embarrassing wet patch at the top.

Just as you exited you found yourself between strong arms, with warm lips repeatedly being pressed into the crook of your jaw and neck as her hands gripped your hips roughly. A sweet whimper left your lips as she nipped and sucked on your pulse and the redhead chuckled softly, endeared by your usual neediness.

Then a phone fell from your nervous hands right by her feet and she momentarily froze, then you moaned and she was back, the phone loudly disconnected. It was a blur of sinful pleasure; you were desperate.

Natasha pulled away rather abruptly, biting back a laugh with her smirk as you glared at her. "You've already RSVP'd detka, shouldn't we be leaving now?" It took you a long moment to understand what she was even referring to seeing as how the only thing really thinking for you was your dripping, needy pussy.

You were supposed to go to a reunion luncheon today, that's what you were telling Darcy, who was already with the redhead, because Wanda knew better than to expect you there. To greet the class that brought you into both of their lives when you could stay in solitude with your lover. Plus, she is only even going because she is spearheading a scholarship for young women in stem with her boat loads of Tony Stark's guilt money.

If not for her required presence to pass the first check on in a show, she'd be back at home with her wife, Monica, and their kids—Toby, a blue eyed siamese kitten, and Evelyn, their three month old daughter.

It was crazy to think about, how different life is after a decade of being in one another's lives. Natasha never imagined her circumstances would be this sweet and she thanks the witches ambition for it. She'd went to the college campus one day to visit the Sokovian, who decided to get an education alongside her hero gig. It was an end of the world situation, you were with your part time dorm mate at the time and so the Russian brought you too—muttering crap about your safety.

Four months on the lam later, and you were her girl. Tony apologized and got your education fees paid off for all your prior years and the rest to come for being the reason you nearly lost your future, but now you know you were just being rerouted to the right spot.

"Come back to me sweetheart," she cooed, her heart melting as she somehow caught your love drunk gaze. It was like she was lost in the memories with you. The chance to fall in love all over again was enticing but then she remembered her stubbornness and settled into the moment with you. "What's your color?"

"Yellow." It was an instant answer, but you shrugged because you were unsure if you were truly done yet. Natasha knew that what you needed here was a break, so she made the choice to ignore her throbbing cock.

The redhead hummed softly, then kissed your lips just the same, a smile instantly disrupting the gesture as she felt your delicate hands cup her cheeks to firmly hold her in place. There was no rush to the moment though, you two simply kissed, as if you weren't the same women who just missed a college reunion to fuck.

Natasha had plans for tonight though, while everyone there reminisced on their past few years she had you pinned to the mattress with the future on her mind. For years she turned your pleas down for a variety of reasons, but now, after seeing you with Wanda's baby she realized that there's no more time for her fears. You looked so at peace, with the infant you soothed in your arms and she could see your life to be so clearly.

The kiss that spoke your love for one another came to an end when she felt your grip on her face going limp. Natasha chose then to gently slip her fingers out of you. A soft whimper left you at the loss, soothed only into silence as the redhead lovingly kissed your neck.

Once she pulled back from your body, to kneel above you, her eyes were enamored by the way your essence coated her fingers and slowly trailed down the grooves of her palm. She licked her skin clean, sinful noises leaving her as she shamelessly slurped and moaned. She peered down to see your eyes shut, so she left the room. You were much too tired to protest the loss of your wife's comforting embrace, because the delicious void of sleep began to creep into your once clear vision.

Natasha returned to the room a while later, boxers tight with need but heart full as she found you snoring softly. You looked so pretty, curled around her pillow as if it had actually pained you to be apart from her. A singular tear trailed down her cheek at the feeling of your love that surrounded her in this quiet moment.

A sudden urge to fill you, to give you what you wanted, took over her body as she rushed forward. Still, her approach to you was tender, a thumb traced over the apple of your cheek before descending to your lips, where she gently tapped until you naturally pouted. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, met with the smile of your beautiful wife, you instantly smiled back at her.

"Welcome back," she teased, bringing a bottle of water to your lips before you could sass her right back. Then you were being fed various fruits from the tip of a fork, there was no conversation flowing, the both of you enjoying the comfort of the silence. You were oblivious to your lovers giddy look as you enjoyed a watermelon chunk, unaware she was ready to break it. Then you heard the sound of the fork scraping against ceramic, you flinched back to reality in time to hear her loud and clear, "I am finally ready to fuck a baby into you."

"Natasha no," you warned without the bark, she could see you were asking her not to joke, and her face lit up with resolute amusement. "Fuck," you gulped, her body now hovered yours once again, and you knew you were a goner when she wolfishly grinned down at you. "Detka," her hands wrapped around your ankles and you propped your body up on your elbows to watch.

"Color?" There was no hesitation from you, her eyes told you that she meant it, she was ready, "green."

"Oh fuck," you cried when the tip of her thick cock slid through your glistening slit, unrestricted for the first time, her thumbs dug into the dimples in your thighs as she felt your warmth envelop her. "Dermo." You knew once her mouth met yours—moans leaving her in carnal waves as her hips repeatedly met yours with brutal force, that you were screwed beyond a prayer.

Or, to be more on the nose, you were about to be...

[alastorthirsty]

Hooray For Makeup Sex! Chapter 3 - Alastor x f! fallen angel! reader

THIS IS AN EXPERIMENT

Words: 10101

Warnings/promises: Tons of smut, allusions to domestic violence, smoking, alcohol and drug use, angst, fluff, more smut, reader is a very good friend, arguing about work, piv intercourse, Alastor is a jealous man, Alastor says characteristically fucked up things, gelato

Remember the golden rule of fanfiction: You're responsible for your own reading experience! I trust you will stop reading if something bothers you. You're free to suggest tags to me.

Tags (this was originally going to be Herbert Saves The Day part 2 so you’re in the right place): @sirens-and-moonflowers @diffidentphantom @eris-norwega @1crazychick369 @thatbadassauthor @lukneetoonz @milkissesx @chibistar45 @songbirdpond @junieshohoho @modifiedmonster @screaming-potato @reath-solia @babyfoxflower and especially @genderlessdude92 💖💋

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

Masterlist

Comments and reblogs sustain me <3

There is an eerie lack of sound, even for the night. Sweat, tears, and blood fall onto the nap of ancient velvet rugs that line the hallways of the Hazbin Hotel. Angel tries not to cry, certainly tries not to bleed, but he hasn’t yet gotten a bandage, so he settles for quiet. Silent tears, silent hiccoughs, vision going blurry as he tries his best to stop. He stops several times to lean against the wall or a random door to catch the breath that had just been knocked out of him not five minutes ago. Each time, his fingers tremble as they come up to wipe the contemptible tears that roll down his cheeks. The rosy rouge for the cameras had worn off on the journey between Val’s studio and the hotel.

The silence is somehow deafening. A dumb little saying, an oxymoron, but it’s how he’s perceiving things, and hey, it isn’t like he’s sober to begin with. It is so very quiet that any little creak, any little sigh is amplified through the corridor. He looks around, over his shoulder, around the corners. Didn’t Charlie and Vagina shack up close by?

Please no noise of fucking please no noise of fucking please—

He takes a deep, shaky breath when he stops in front of Room 126. It has been…a long, long time since he came knocking on your door in the middle of the night, scared and heartbroken and so utterly fucking alone. Angel knows he’s being selfish—what is it, four in the morning? But hey, extenuating circumstances, right? If he knows you at all, he knows you’ll come fervently to the rescue, and that brings a happy tear to his eye.

He knocks gently and holds his breath.

Silence.

Angel knocks again, he bites his lip. He knows it’s way too late, he knows, but the shuddering in his body won’t be ignored. He leans against the wall miserably, knocking one more time. He rubs his face and holds his hand out in front of it. His palm is smeared in blood, sweat, and dirt. His fist closes in a claw and the door finally opens—

“Aw, shit,” Angel says, dragging his hand down his face again. “Hey, disco ball.”

Herbert floats closer and closer to Angel, coming up to his height, and he appears to have…an incredible sense of empathy. He wraps his body, such that it was, around Angel, giving him little pats. “It okay. It okay.”

Angel sobs softly, but forces himself not to break down just because a somewhat-purple bag of lights is giving him a hug. He pats Herbert, but his fingers seem to phase through him, somehow. There was pretty much zero chance Angel himself would ever come to understand this creature, beyond the love that you feel for it and how much Alastor blindly hates it.

That’s when he notices his feather boa slowly being pulled away. He smiles at Herbert and helps him take it off, wraps it around him. Feeling glamorous, Herbert spins in place.

“So, uh…I guess this means your mama’s not here,” Angel says in a shaky voice. He sniffles again.

“Mommy?” Herbert says.

Angel nods. “Yeah, if you prefer. As kids, we always said mama, or ma.”

“Mommy!” Herbert takes Angel gently by the arm, somehow (again), and glides through the halls, up a set of stairs, and to door 369. When they stop, Herbert says it again. “Mommy!”

Ah, shit, it has to be Alastor’s room. Angel had feared he would have to do this to get to you, but he can’t stop here. Not now that he’s come so far already, not when…he really needs…

Herbert interrupts his train of thought. “Popcorn?”

Angel gives a laugh that was more of a gasp. “Popcorn? I don’t got it on me, little man.”

“Al has!” Herbert says.

With a deep, steadying breath, Angel lifts a shaking hand to the door and knocks a few times. His eyes close and he swallows, frozen in place, just waiting. He can’t hear any activity inside, but he hears a buzz coming from behind him and all of Angel’s hair stands on end. He can’t breathe for a moment. He turns around.

“He-hey, Alastor,” he says, arms around himself.

“Angel Dust,” Alastor replies, because it’s your preference that he does not call him ‘spider’ any longer.

Somehow it just makes the man more intimidating. Those teeth are glinting, those eyes are sharp. Angel swallows “I, um, is she…in there?”

“More specifically, she is sleeping in there,” Alastor says. “Her rest is particularly important right now, as you know she has not been…physically well.”

“Oh…” Angel closes his eyes and pictures himself mentally. He knows how pathetic he looks. His clothes are all messy from the fight, there’s still dirt and blood on his face, tears streaking down no matter how hard he tries to stop it. He knows how pathetic he looks, goddamn it. He knows, and he knows how disgusted Alastor must be, but he needs you.

“Listen, I, uh…” He rubs one of his arms against another one. “I…you know I wouldn’t even be here at all, knocking on your door, talking to you at all, if I didn’t have to. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t…”

“Feel that you have to,” Alastor supplies, a correction.

Angel swallows again. “If I didn’t need to. I do need…to. I need her, please. I stayed away, I never bothered you, I never asked her to give up a single second of her time with you for me. I never asked you for a thing in all the time I’ve known you, not that I should have, because I may not have the biggest brain around here, but I know better than to need anything from you…”

“How charming,” Alastor says, his head tilting at an angle. The radio static intensifies.

“No, n-no, I don’t mean it as an insult, I mean it as…you know, showing you how damn scary you are, I know you love hearing shit like that. Is that what you want me to tell you? I’d never have to face a fear like this if I didn’t need her more than I need anything in the whole of Hell right now. I’d give anything you wanted, maybe my goddamn soul, if I even had it to give.”

“I have no interest in a joint-venture with Valentino,” Alastor says, checking his nails.

“Right.” Angel closes his eyes and feels more tears fall down his cheeks. “Right.”

He’s mortified, but the tears keep coming and the silent corridor is suddenly filled with little sobs and sniffles as the last of Angel’s dignity pours right out of him. Alastor visibly becomes more and more uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing, his jaw clenched, until he’s forced to speak.

“If you stop,” Alastor says after several long moments, “I will rouse her enough to ask if she thinks it is worth waking up. For what it is worth, I think not, and resent you highly for this, but far be it from me to interrupt the bizarre little friendship that you share. Wait here.”

He doesn’t want to know what it means for Alastor to highly resent him, but within seconds Angel hears your rising voice, demanding to know why Alastor had kept him waiting, and he already feels much more hopeful. There’s some stumbling on the other side of the door, presumably you getting dressed, and when it opens, Angel feels like a new man, almost.

“Oh, Angel, honey, what happened?” Your arms come around him tightly, and he feels at home, like with…Molly…

Alastor sighs. “At least take Herbert with you. He knows he’s not allowed in this room.”

Herbert approaches him anyway. “Popcorn?”

The Radio Demon hums, snaps his fingers, and a red and white bag of popcorn appears. He looks at you. “Dearest, I hope you come back to bed.”

“I’ll just stay over at Angel’s. Oh, if that’s what you want me to do,” you say to the lanky twink in your arms.

“Please,” he begs, his hands raised.

You smile at him and then at Alastor. “You heard the man. I’ll see you tomorrow. Be good, don’t kill anyone that doesn’t need killing.”

Alastor hums in fake outrage and snaps his fingers. “Damn you, woman! Foiled again.”

With that, you laugh and walk up to the next floor with Angel. Herbert follows along, munching on his treat.

“So,” you say when you’re safely behind Angel’s door. “What happened, honey?”

Angel takes a few moments to think before shaking his head. “Something that made me desperate enough to face Alastor just for a shot of being with you tonight.”

He stands up, begins to pace the threadbare rug.

“Here, let me just…” you snap your fingers and all the blood, tears, and dirt disappear from his face.

“Shit, doll,” he says with a trembly chuckle. He sniffs. “What else you got in that bag of tricks?”

“Oh, I have absolutely no idea. Drives Al crazy. He wants me to ‘use my potential’ without me fully understanding what they are. These things, they just come naturally to me. When they present themselves, I intuit them and then…it’s mine forever. I recently removed a bruise from my cheek without any idea that I could do it before it happened. I figured it stood to reason that I would be able to clean your face for you. No puffiness, no nothing. You’re just as beautiful now as when I met you!”

Fresh tears are still coming and Angel’s affirmative response is slurred. He keeps up with his pacing, back and forth, back and forth. Then he suddenly snaps. “Drug time! Time for drugs!”

Your brows draw together with sympathetic concern. “I don’t know, Angie. Maybe you should lay off until you’re feeling at least thirty percent better. I don’t want you going into a drug-induced spiral while you’re already in another spiral. We both know how that turns out.”

He groans loudly. “Okay, Ma, I’ll wait a while before doing a line of coke. A few lines. Many lines.”

“Attaboy,” you say, sitting up in bed and giving him grabby hands. “At least let me hug you.”

Angel chuckles softly and lowers himself to the bed. He really does not want to feel so vulnerable and pitiful as he has been, but at least you would never judge him for it. He knows you to be fiercely loyal, as a friend. You would never judge, never blab about this, not even to Alastor. He doesn’t want to be vulnerable, but of course he loses his fucking shit as soon as your arms are around him. Angel sobs loudly against your neck, his whole body shaking so much that the bed creaks gently. He wraps all six arms around you, holding on for dear life, as if you’ll poof, disappear from his life forever.

You, for one, hold him exactly as he needs to be held. Your arms close around him and the hold is firm, yet gentle. Just enough to remind him that he is loved and protected. Your fingertips push through the soft fluff on his head, playing gently.

“I do mean it,” you offer. “You are still as beautiful as the day I met you. Just as sassy, too. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. You are not required to just hand over your vulnerability like that. Just know that I’m here. I’m here with you, and not even my husband can drag me away.”

Angel stops crying for a moment. “Husband?”

You laugh softly and hold up your finger. “Yeah. We decided we’re walking through eternity together, why not be husband and wife? Enough about me, enough about me. Sorry, not intending to make things all about me. Tonight is all about you.”

God, he hates himself for being so covetous of the pure happiness in those few words. He’d give anything to be in love with someone who loves him back. Well, at least he’s got you. That’s something. That’s love.

“I’m not ready to talk about my shit,” he says. “Maybe I won’t ever be. I don’t know. But I do want to know…what’s going on with you and your…situation?”

“My situation?”

Angel nods. “Last time we talked, you said you had an unwanted admirer, outside of Alastor. You were convinced he would end it if he found out. So…did he find out?”

“Angel,” you say gently, “this is your night. I don’t want to make it all about me.”

“What if what I need is for this to be about you for a while?” he asks.

With a little sigh, you begin to fidget at the drawstrings on the pyjama bottoms you had put on. Next you nibble at your already nearly raw lips, then you cross your jostling legs.

“Shit,” Angel says. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“It’s fucked,” you admit.

“Giddiyup, buttercup, I gotta know it now.”

Herbert curls up in your lap, his popcorn now entirely eaten; he’d gotten himself all sleepy. You stroke him slowly as you think, still troubling your lip. “He does know, and he didn’t leave me.”

“That much I could tell,” Angel says, nodding. “What does the stalker do?”

“He’s in a…unique position to be the greatest stalker Hell has ever known. He has me followed, he has people taking pictures of me, he takes pictures of me, he aggressively sends roses to me every day at the studio—don’t ask me how it’s aggressive, it’s weird. Just suffice to say. There’s so much more. I just…it terrifies me just to think about it.”

Angel nods, captivated by the misfortune of another person for a moment. Not that he wanted that for you.

You sigh and continue. “He does everything he can to let me know he’s in charge of things. Sometimes he kidnaps me—“

“What? Kidnaps you?”

Now it’s your turn to nod as misery plants itself all across your features. You sigh again and pull your hair up.

“He hacks my phones. I had to destroy them. He always finds me and my phone, no matter how hard I try to protect myself against him. I have no intuitive ability against him, I’m helpless.”

“But…you said Al knows now. Even if you’re helpless against him, which I don’t completely buy, mind you, he should be able to handle it, no worries. Has he?”

You shake your head, jaw clenched. “No. At least not yet.”

The air of incredulity is stifling.

“Why the fuck not?”

You hold up a hand. “Don’t be quick to judge.”

“Who is it?” Angel asks. “You know you can tell me. I won’t tell nobody.”

It takes several moments to build up to a response. Feelings of guilt, fear, and sheer helplessness cause you to pick at your fingernails. “It’s, uh…it’s…Vox.”

The way Angel gasps is borderline comical. “Vox? Vox? Vox?”

Your eyes widen before narrowing. “I don’t know whether or not to be offended.”

“Oh, it ain’t an insult, really! More just…shock? Come to think of it, Val’s been complaining he can’t fuck Vox no more because he’s into somebody. Can’t believe it’s you. Fuck, I’m sorry, doll.”

“So you see, it’s just not feasible for Alastor to just…go in, guns a-blazing. Not yet.”

Angel nods along. “Yeah, yeah, they fought before, right?”

“Yeah, they have. I don’t know the full details. If he wanted to tell me he would have. No, he has this multi-stepped plan for psychological warfare. Stress him out, piss him off, get him desperate, get him sloppy, where he’ll make mistakes.”

“What’s he doing then?”

“Well, he’s done step one,” you say. “He walks me to and from the studio every single day. He can’t appear on camera so the drone footage is warped and glitchy, so Vox can’t feed his obsessions by watching my every step.”

“Why is that?” Angel asks.

“Why is what?”

“His deal with him and video cameras. Is it by choice or by design?”

“Oh, hell, I have no idea. If I ask, he just starts talking about how radio is the proper way to express one’s self and giving him that opportunity is just no bueno. The last time it happened was an accident, actually, it just slipped out of me and he just kept going and going. I was so rude, I just got up and left. He followed me, though, and he never once shut up. He followed me to the library, to the radio tower, to the parlour, everywhere, and never once shut up, ever.”

Angel laughs at that and Fat Nuggets climbs onto his lap. He pets him absently. “So, step one is just to ruin the video. What’s step two?”

“Step two was acquiring the souls of every flower vendor in town and forbidding them to allow any flowers to be sent to me, except for him. Now Alastor is the one sending them. Lilies, tulips, orchids. Vox had a habit of sending roses every day with little messages and gifts.”

“Gifts? What kinds of gifts?”

“Shit that probably had bugs, tracking devices, who knows what else.” You pause. “I feel the need to tell you something you have to promise me you’ll never repeat. Ever. Not even to me.”

Angel nods, completely entranced. “Yeah, of course.”

You take a deep breath and sigh heavily. “I considered it.”

He looks at you blankly. “Considered it?”

“Can I smoke?” you ask, already pulling one from thin air. When Angel lights it for you, you take a deep drag. “So, when we first met it was just like nothing, there was no flirting, no nothing. The first time he sent flowers and a note, I thought…’Man, that would really piss off Alastor.’ We were broken up then, and I was feeling so bitchy and angry, and I thought…But all those fleeting thoughts did was make me miss him more. I missed him so much. I knew Vox was trash. It was never a serious thought, but it was one that crossed my mind.”

Angel chuckles. “Don’t kick yourself around for that. I thought you were going to say something bad. It was petty, but it’s not wrong to think of shitty ways to get back at your ex. That’s actually a franchised sport in hell, toots.”

“Just…not a word, okay? It’s not my proudest moment. Herbert, no.” You bat the little creature away from trying to grab at the cigarette.

“You know your secret’s safe with me. You got way worse dirt on me than that.” Angel leans against your shoulder. “Is it all going to be okay?”

“I’m going to make it all okay,” you say, just as always. “For as ever much I can.”

He tightens his hold on you, all six arms, and you kiss the top of his head. “I know, honey. I know. And I love you.”

“I still don’t wanna talk about it,” he says after a long while, and you nod.

“You don’t have to. Maybe you should change into something more comfortable, though,” you suggest.

Angel actually gets up to do so, which honestly surprises you. He makes a twirling gesture with his wrist. “Go on. Just keep talking to me about stuff. Talk about Alastor.”

“Hm…” You click your tongue a few times in thought. “Oh, I am getting fucked a lot.”

Angel snickers. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, literally morning, noon, and night. He shows up at the studio during my lunch hour, right? He makes one of those pocket dimension thingies and shoves me up against a tree and fucks me so rough and dirty that I have to take extra care not to have any leaves or bark in my hair afterward.”

“Why’s he doing it? How, uh…you seem a bit less shy now, so I’ll just ask, but how often did you do it…before?” Angel crosses his arms.

“At least five times a week. I’ve been fucked 90 times this month, though. I’m not joking. Now I am getting shy, though! So let’s do something else.”

A profound sadness came over Angel’s features. His eyes burn as he tried to hold back a surge of fresh tears.

You rub his back. “What, it makes you sad that Alastor’s hitting it so much?”

He shakes his head, leans against your chest, and he sobs, prompting your arms to wrap around him again. You pat his back gently, then rub gentle circles over it.

“Oh pumpkin,” you say, pressing a kiss to his hair. “What can I do? Tell me what could make you feel better and I’ll do it, my love.”

Angel continues to sob for some time, until his voice becomes hoarse and he just can’t cry any longer.

“Fuck,” he rasps, rubbing his raw, sore eyes. “Fuck, I can’t do this no more. Please, I gotta fucking…”

“No, not until you’re feeling thirty percent better. I mean it, Angel, just trust me and the process. I have no reason to not let you get high other than watching you go down that road too many times. Please, Angie, let’s do something else to make you feel better and then I promise we’ll get super fucked up.”

He closes his eyes as his foggy brain tried to come up with something, anything, not drug-related to calm himself down, to soothe him. Then, it hits him like a Mack truck.

“Oh!” he says. “I know! I don’t know if we can make it, though…”

You give his arm a gentle nudge. “Name it.”

“My Nonna used to make this unbelievable olive oil gelato on Christmas and Easter…”

“That sounds really good!” You stand up and pull him to his feet. “Let’s go downstairs! We’ll make it and I’ll keep anyone from disturbing us. I’ll close everything off.”

“It kinda takes a while to set up…”

“Not for Angels it isn’t. I’ll get it frosty right away, we just have to make the base.”

Angel cracks a smile for the first time in a while. “All right. Let’s do it.”

In the kitchen, he plays music. It’s obscene, but you expect nothing less from him. You use magic to block the doors off and soundproof the room and Angel finds a recipe he approves of.

It’s actually quite simple, too. Blend together sweetened condensed milk, extra virgin olive oil, and vanilla, then whip the cream, then fold it into the mixture, then just a little more magic makes it smooth and cold.

Angel sits upon the cupboard with his bowl and spoon, scarfing it down with gusto. He tells tales, the way his Nonna dragged him to Midnight Mass, the first time she let him have a sip of grappa, how she looked the other way when he started kissing boys. You smile more and more as you listen to him, laughing, eating the smooth gelato. When the bowls and spoons are magicked clean and the doors open, Angel stands tall.

“So,” he says. “Ready to get fucked up?”

“Let’s have one of our classic sleepovers!” You say. “I’ll go get copious amounts of alcohol. Do you have any coke?”

That makes him snicker and lift a brow. “That husband of yours okay with you doing coke?”

“Never stopped me before!” You kiss his cheek. “I’m just going to say goodnight to him and get the booze. I’ll leave my shadow with you, just in case you feel lonely. She’s very supportive!”

Your shadow wraps her arms and wings around Angel’s shadow.

He looks at you with a bit of wonder. “What exactly is your fuckin’ superpower, bitch face?”

You smile and shrug. “Like I said, who knows? Want to play Cum Sluts Vs Zombies?”

“Now we’re talking!” Angel says excitedly. “I’ll go find all the coke. I have to hide it now or Fat Nuggets will eat it.”

“Probably a good idea to keep Herbert away from it too. God knows what he’s capable of doing, all coked up. Or at all. I’m still not sure what all he can do, aside from stealing my jewellery. Okay!” You clap your hands together. “I’ll meet you back in your room with the hooch. You’ll be fine with Her.”

“Her?”

You point to the wall where your shadow cuddles his. “Her.”

With a wink and a blown kiss you’re gone, making your way upstairs to Alastor’s room. It hurt to see Angel suffer so much, but things were looking up, even if substance abuse was involved. A little now and then in hell couldn’t hurt. You smile when you see the light under the door come into view.

You open the door. “Al?”

He looks up from the book he’s reading by the fire. “Oh, quelle surprise. My lovely wife, sans spider.”

“He has a name,” you insist as you come to stand before him. He has to start getting that right, to start acknowledging the people that are part of your life, even if he doesn’t accept them into his.

“Angel Dust.” The book closes and Alastor stands. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

You smile at him. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

“Why? I don’t sleep,” he says.

“But I do. Eventually. Maybe not until tomorrow afternoon. You won’t be seeing me for a while so I thought I would come say goodnight, a brief goodbye until I’ve sobered up enough for you to ravage my fucking body.”

He rolls his eyes. “Cocaine again? Really, it’s so pedestrian. That’s what poor veterans used to take after the Great War, cocaine and heroin.”

“And alcohol. Promises to be a wild night.” You wink at him. “But I missed you while I was gone. I’ll miss you more when the feelings are intensified by massive amounts of blow and vodka.”

Now he sighs and moves his monocle so that he can rub his eye. “Darling, for one you know I do not approve of vodka in any of its forms, and I don’t think—“

“You saw him,” you say in a gentle tone, squeezing his forearm. “You saw how he was. I’ve spent the past few hours cuddling him better, but that only gets so far with him. Now he needs to be free from thinking of it for a while. Come on. I’m your wife, and I’m his friend. Stand by me.”

He sighs again and rolls his eyes. “Fine. No phones, though. Do not even touch his. Do not let him so much as point the camera at you.”

You nod along. “I’m going to take his phone away from him anyway, when he’s on coke he has a tendency to text…unwise statements to Valentino. I’ll put it in a Faraday cage.”

His eyes light up and he stands straighter. “That’s actually quite a good idea. Maybe we should keep you in a Faraday cage.”

You scoff and push his shoulder gently, but then he suddenly pushes yours until your back touches the wall, and then he leans down to kiss you.

After a few moments, though admittedly blissful, you break apart. “No, no, not now, not now, I can’t. Angel is waiting.”

Alastor lifts a brow. “I think this is the only time you have ever denied me. What a new feeling.”

“Is it?” You tilt your head. “All the same, I should still—“

“I will wager that I can make you come in two minutes or less,” Alastor challenges.

You can’t help the smile that works its way to your features. “A bet, huh? What are the terms?”

“When I win, I am going to fuck you so hard you will be walking a slight bit funny when you go back to the spider’s chambers.”

“Angel Dust,” you correct.

“Indeed. Angel Dust. And if I lose, which I will not…”

You wait for a moment. “If you lose you can’t give me any kind of shit about all the booze and blow I’m going to consume tonight.”

His shoulders tense for a second before he relaxes again. “Very well. I will not even mention it. If I lose. I most certainly will if I win.”

You laugh, your hand on his stupid, precious face. “Yeah, I know, I know!”

“Are you ready?” he asks, pressing you against the wall again.

“You don’t want to do this in bed?”

“Nope.” Alastor easily reaches into your pyjama bottoms and stares right into your eyes as he touches you. “Aw, look at that. Already wet for me. Tell me, what did it for you?”

His fingertips, now blunted, move smoothly through your folds at the slick gathered in them. His grin turns lascivious, self-congratulatory.

Your head tilts back against the wall and you bite your lip when you smile at him. “What am I to do, apologise that you can get me wet?”

“No,” he says, “I just assumed it would take effort.”

You laugh softly, pull him down and kiss him. Rather quickly, though, you’re moaning against his lips. His middle and ring fingers slip inside you and his thumb works against your clit. Your grip on him holds more firmly, and he becomes bolder. Brazen, even.

“Ah, look at you,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers working faster, that fucking ‘come hither’ of his. “Coming apart for me, as always. Relax, darling, enjoy yourself. That is the point, and I want to see how soon I get you there.”

“Trust me, I’m not fighting it,” you whisper, your breath mingling with his.

He leans closer. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

That’s all it took. Your thighs clench around his hand, your pussy clenches around his fingers, and you’re screaming for him.

“Atta gal,” he says, grinning down at you.

“How long was that?” you ask, panting.

“Exactly one minute and forty-two seconds,” Alastor says, now pushing you over to the bed.

You laugh playfully, pulling his coat off of his shoulders. “Damn, that easy, huh?”

“Quite the contrary, my love,” he says, shoving you into the mattress. “It is not that it is easy to do, I simply know you. I know your body, every little bit of it, and it is so utterly and completely mine that I know how to play it perfectly. Every note, composed by me. Now, would you prefer to be on your belly or your back?”

“Hm.” You test the positions. “My back this time. I have mattress burn on my knees from earlier.”

“Poor thing.” He presses you down harder, a smirk on his face, when he completely rips away the clothes you’re wearing. His hands move up and down your sides, grazing over little marks his teeth had left earlier in the night. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, chills on your skin from the heat of his fingertips.

His forehead touches yours; his hand dips down below your waist again, fingers moving in and out, keep you stimulated. “Say how much you love it. Say how much you need it. How much you need me.”

“Oh, darling, isn’t it apparent?” you ask, kissing your way up the side of his neck. “I could never have enough of you. Such a thing could never exist. I’ll hunger for you every day of my life until the end of it all. I love every fleeting moment your hands are on my skin. Your touch warms every part of me and leaves me wanting more. I need you so much, Alastor. Words are inadequate.”

Alastor’s free hand comes to cup your cheek. “You are all there could ever be. Understood?”

You smile at him and lean into his hand. “Yeah, understood.”

He carefully pulls his hand out from between your legs and quickly gets his pants open. His clothes disappear and he’s on you again, so deep inside you, and pushing further and further in.

“Goddamn,” you gasp, hanging onto him. He’s knocking the breath out of you, your diaphragm working overtime just to get enough oxygen flowing through your body. Your fingers finally dig into the fur on his back, hanging on for dear fucking life. You manage one single word: his name, spoken breathlessly in the crook of his neck.

One of his hands grips your hip so hard that it leaves blue marks, the other holds your head by the hair, twisting in it.

“Say it again,” he growls. “Who do you belong to?”

The way he’s slamming in and out of you makes it even harder to breathe, let alone speak, so it takes several moments for you to muster it.

“You, Al,” you whisper. “You.”

He shoves your right knee aside so that he can go deeper. The hand in your hand travels down to your throat. “You beautiful, beautiful little thing.”

He doesn’t squeeze, but he doesn’t have to. Never does. All it takes is the weight of his hand against your throat to push you ever the edge. Your pussy clenches around him, making him grunt, and he relishes every little moan and gasp that escapes your lips. For good measure, he fucks you harder and harder until his orgasm nearly breaks him.

“Oh my God,” you exclaim when you get up to dress after. A pleasurable little ache.

He smirks. “I told you that you would be walking a tad bit funny. Enjoy the alcohol and cocaine, dearest. I will be nagging you about it the next time that I see you.”

You blow him one final kiss goodbye before leaving the room. When you get up to Angel’s, two bottles of vodka in hand, that little wobble in your step, wearing different clothes after being gone for quite a while…

Angel cocks a brow at you, grinning. “You whore.”

###

The comedown from the coke was chased by alcohol and six hours of playing video games before you fell asleep together, with Fat Nuggets and Herbert nestled between you. When you finally woke up, it was only to find a quick note from Angel thanking you for being there for him and letting you know he’d left for Val’s studio/fuck-chamber. You sit up, stretch, and luxuriate in the fact that you’ve never had a hangover in your life, not even in hell. You make sure to give Nuggets before leaving him with his cartoons. Herbert slips out of the room with you, still wrapped up in Angel’s purple boa.

“You’re looking rather glamorous,” you say, smiling at him as you walk downstairs. “What a dapper little guy you are. You were so good last night! You’re going to have lots of apples today. Come on, I’ve got to wash all the coke and booze off of me and then we’ll go downstairs and get some breakfast. Or lunch. Maybe dinner? I’m not sure what time it is and I had to throw out my smart watch.”

You open your door and jump about ten feet when you see someone on your bed, but it’s just Alastor.

“Jesus Christ!” you exclaim, followed with frustration. “Herbert, go sit on him, he’s an asshole.”

This backfires; Alastor actually pats Herbert’s new feathers and lets him sit in his lap. “For your information, my love, it is one in the afternoon. I expected you much later.”

“Wait, then why are you here already?” you ask.

Alastor lifts a brow and crosses his arm. Herbert bounces up and down in his lap. “Am I not welcome in here just as you are welcome in mine?”

“You are, of course.” You sit beside him and kiss him. “How did you fill up all your time while waiting for me?”

“Work-related pursuits,” Alastor assures you. “I believe you said something about a shower.”

“You heard that?”

“I could hear a mouse breathe if I wanted to.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you say before standing.

“Would you like a bit of proof?” he offers.

“No, there’s no actual way to prove it, I can’t perceive things for you. But I did say I was going to take a shower. I spilt a good bit of vodka on myself and that I know you heard. It was a reasonable distance.” You kiss him quickly. “I’ll be fast.”

“I have no doubt in that, my dear,” he says before opening his book again.

When you return, towelling your hair, you sit down beside him again and he sets aside his book.

“Why did you come here to wait for me? Surely you know I’d seek you out.” you ask.

Alastor fiddles with his book. “I did not want to miss out on any quality nagging time, but the longer I sat here the more I pondered something.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and kiss his neck. “And what was that? Vox vengeance?”

“No, although I did have some new ideas about that last night after the spi—after Angel Dust stole you from my bed.” Alastor presents an apple to Herbert, who takes it to his nest. “I have something to speak about and it is very important to me. I have been modestly pushing for this for months and now I am going to assert it. Now, play with my ears.”

“That’s what you’re asserting?” you ask, putting a pillow in your lap and pulling him down to it.

“No, merely a bonus.” He closes his eyes when you touch his ear. “I am here to aggressively pursue the idea of moving to my hotel room.”

You smile as you look down at him. “No. I’m not living in a bayou.”

“It is a swamp,” he corrects.

“All the same. I respect that it’s for you, but it took a long time just for me to get used to sleeping in there, I don’t think I can live with it full-time.”

Alastor tenses, regardless of the sensory pleasure. “Then move into the room next door and we will open the doors between them when the situation calls for it.”

“How is that any different?”

“It isdifferent to me,” he insists before sitting up and taking your hands in his. “A lot has happened. Many things have transpired that change the nature of our relationship irrevocably. This is not the same as it used to be. We lived this way when we were not even in a proper relationship and now we are married. It is no longer tenable. I simply cannot live this way anymore. I want you with me. Just as you respect my living arrangement, I respect yours, but that does not mean change is not necessary.”

After a few seconds, you nod. “I see that. Okay. I have my own swamp-free space next door and at night I simply walk through the door to sleep with you, full time.”

He perks up. “Really? That is a commitment you are willing to make?”

“For you?” You smile at him and pull him back down to the pillow. “Of course I will. I was being a little selfish.”

“You were not,” he says. “My living space is unique, that is true, and I appreciate that you have never once attempted to change it. I respect that.”

“And Herbert can stay in my space,” you suggest.

“I can live with him being next door, never crossing over.”

“And Charlie won’t mind?”

Alastor waves the thought away. “It is the same amount of rooms used, and anyway, she more or less leaves me to my own devices and does not ask questions. I am the host of the hotel, after all.”

“Then it’s official. We’ll do it.” Your fingers move on to his antlers, which instantly branch out. “I love you.”

“And I you, beloved,” he says. “Now, I believe we have some time to make up for.”

“Make up for what?”

His hand touches your thigh and he takes you through the dark, to his bed. He shoves you down onto it.

“The way that I look at it, we should have been intimate by now. Twice,” he adds.

You smile and chuckle softly. “You’re insatiable.”

“Merely reacting to hormones and stimuli,” he says, eagerly taking off your shirt. Alastor nips your ear lobe, his tongue trails down your neck. “I love to pleasure you.”

Your eyes flutter closed and your fingers mesh through his hair, grasping, but not too hard. You knew each other’s bodies well. You moan when his nimble fingers conquer the clasp of your bra and the clothing is pulled away from your body. Your heart is already racing with the sheer potential of this, this shared moment. When he kisses you, your fingers go straight to the little buttons on his shirt.

His tongue is deep in your mouth when his scarred chest is finally revealed to your roaming hands. His shoulder twitches when your fingers pass along a particular long, deep scar, but he makes no move to stop you. When they trail lower, down to the zipper on his trousers, he growls and shoves you down onto the bed.

He runs his hand through his hair before looking down at you, how he’s holding you there. “You smell so sweet and I’ve hardly even touched you yet. I can tell that you’re wet and I haven’t even touched you there—yet. Look at you. Shameless. Brazen in your lust. Mine.”

Just before you speak, one hand completely covers your mouth, pressing you down harder against the mattress, while the others yanks off the bottoms you put on after the shower. The touch is rough, but not violent. Your sense of safety is never once violated. All you can feel is arousal and intense anticipation.

“Not a word,” he commands when his hand leaves your lips. He doesn’t pay attention to your nod of acknowledgment, but getting the rest of his clothes off; when they’re gone, he holds you down again, his hand covering your mouth again. “If you thought last night was intense, you should adjust your expectations and spread those pretty legs wide. For the next few hours, you will be in this bed. You will be fucked again and again. You will thank me for it, if you know what’s good for you. Do you understand me? Nod your head.”

You do, feeling a surge of heat between your legs before the head of his cock presses against you, rubbing along the lips of your pussy.

“You really do feel perfect,” he admits. “So good for me. Are you ready?”

The kiss you pressed to his palm was all the indication he needed before he pushed into you, all at once, bottoming out. His hand slips his hand away from your mouth, but he’s still pressing you down into the mattress.

“You beautiful fucking thing,” he says, his strokes hard, rough. “You feel so soft, so warm. I can hear how fast your heart is beating for me. I can hear how hard it is for you to take breath. You are the loveliest sight I have ever seen, every time, every day.”

He reaches down between you, his fingertips swirling around your clit. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he chases that. He chases every little moan, every muffled little gasp, chases them like they’re his own breath. When your pussy clenches around him he moans, too.

“You were made for my cock,” he says, fucking you harder and harder. “Your whole existence, that’s what you were fucking made for, my beautiful little dancer, all worked up, just for me.”

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly.

He smirks. “So obedient, darling. That’s a good girl. Tell me, what were you created for? Piqué turns, or this?”

You’re quickly losing your breath again, and Alastor is not a patient man. He grabs your chin and forces your eyes to meet his.

“Were you made to twirl around a stage?” he asks.

“No,” you whisper, a rasp of a sound.

“Was your little cunt made solely for me?” Alastor asks, his pace brutal.

You cry out and nod as quickly as you can. “Yes, yes!”

His breath lingers over yours as he nods, apparently unable to speak again, not just yet. His eyes close and you look up at him with such long and wanting. Your pussy flutters around him as the pleasure gets closer and closer, grows, and the pressure around his cock forces his eyes open again.

“Oh, you’re filthy,” he says, fucking you harder and harder. His tongue flicks up to touch his lip. “Such a good fucking pussy. I’m going to do this to you every goddamn day, and you’re going to thank me for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe, nodding as his hands grip your hips just a tad too tight.

“Good girl,” he says. “Good fucking girl.”

You gasp loudly, diaphragm working hard again. “For you?”

He gives an amused little huff. “For me, for eternity.”

You’re not the only one breathing a little harder, but for the most part he ignores the burn in his chest. There’s something so much better, so much more meaningful and important—namely those delicious little trembles of those thighs wrapped around him. He can tell that you’re getting close and he’s considering how merciful he should be. Let you come, or make you work for it?

He starts to rub your clit again and takes in all the little moans and throaty breaths that fall from your pretty lips. He wants to bite them. He wants to see that little wrinkle between your brows that always forms when you come, and he wants to see it now. He lets out a sharp gasp when he feels how your pussy is squeezing him. Not long now. He’s never fucked anyone else, but he still believes with all of himself that you’re still better than any other woman possibly could be. He’s never wanted anyone else, ever, hadn’t thought it was possible, until he did.

He’s pulled out of this little reverie when you shout and he realises just how close you really are. His fingers work quicker on your clit. “Come for me, sweet girl. Come for me.”

It’s always so beautiful when you come. That little crease he’d been wanting to see, but also the way your lips part. The feeling of your tight pussy fluttering and clenching around him, the feel of your chest heaving against his, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your clit until your whole body is shaking. He never normally does this without express permission, but he bites down on the side of your neck until a few drops of golden blood collect on his tongue.

That’s when the pleasure is almost unbearable. He comes inside of you, thick ropes running up your walls, and he pumps into you a few more times just for good measure before falling onto the bed beside you.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your shoulder before kissing it. “So fucking good.”

You’re still catching your breath, which makes him smirk. He wraps his arms around you.

“Come here,” he says, grabbing you closer, tucking your head under his chin. At the same time, he uses his fingers to shove cum back inside of you. He does that a lot, actually…

“Holy fuck,” you whisper breathlessly before laughing.

“Indeed, my darling. Holy fuck.” Alastor gives you a little squeeze. He swallows. “You are all that I love.”

You smile when you remember the last time he’d used that exact phrase. “I love you too.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he says. “You have fifteen minutes before I take you again, and there shall be no mercy this time.” 

“Someone is waiting for you,” Natasha says quickly, marching past you quite quickly. It was lunch hour at the studio and every single dancer and instructor present knew not to go to the dressing rooms. You practically skip on the way there, whistling a tune Alastor had played yesterday evening during his radio broadcast. You catch a glance at yourself as you walk down the mirrored hallway, the lights bright, your leotard, practice tutu, and bun in perfect condition.

When you open the door, you see Alastor fumbling with something.

“What are you up to, troublemaker?” you ask.

“Hello, darling,” he says. “I am trying to figure out this device.”

You take a look. “That’s a balancing pad. Alastor, leave that alone, you’ll pop it.”

“What joy does this give you?” he asks, the tip of his staff now touching the delicate tulle and silk of your tutu. “Hm? This really is quite revealing. Ballet is thought to be so prudish but I can see the entirety of your gorgeous legs in this manner of dress.”

“Alastor if there’s blood on that—“

“Yes, I know, you’ll teach Herbert a new word. You know, that threat is rather…blunted, now. He says something new every day.” He smirks and moves closer to you. “There’s no blood, darling. I can touch you as much as I like.”

“Well, at least use your hands!”

And that was all the invitation he needed. Yes, he was very careful in removing the tutu, pulling it off of your body and onto a nearby clean surface, but that was the last thoughtful incident.

You, however, have other plans. Before he can summon up a swamp, you push him down onto his back on the rug.

He looks flummoxed. “Exactly what do you think you are doing, my darling?”

“I want it this way,” you say, and he flips your positions so quickly that it jars you. You’re on your belly, your cheek pressed against the rug.

Alastor gives an amused little chuckle when he pulls aside the crotch of your leotard, his thumb creating a hole and stretching it just wide enough. “I can see that you’re feeling like a rather naughty girl today. I can accommodate that, and quite gladly, I might add. If you move out of this position, if you so much as lift your head, I will punish you.”

There was no such thing as ‘funishment’ when it came to Alastor, but his promise makes you grin nonetheless.

“Not too hard, please,” you say softly. “I still have to dance after.”

“I am aware of your activities and will not stand in the way of your success, however much I would like for you to finally quit, but that is neither here nor there. Now spread your legs for me, slut.”

You try so hard not to giggle when he says that, and you do manage to cover it up as a slight cough into the rug. If he sees through the ruse, he says nothing of it. You do as you’re told, spreading your thighs wide for him, and he continues to stretch and pull at your tights until they rip further and further. 
“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him. “I have like five extra pairs in my dance bag.”

“Lovely.” He just rips the fabric away now, stretching the material as much as he needs.

“Now,” he says, lowering down behind you as you breathe against the rug. “I want you to beg.”

You hear a bemused little chuckle when he touches your pussy and finds it as wet as ever. There’s a zip and then you can feel his cock against your lower back.

He presses you down harder against the rug. “I said beg.”

You take a few deep breaths, eyes closing. “Alastor, please. I need you to fuck me in this tiny little room with the paper thin walls that anyone can come into at any time. There’s not even a lock on the door. I need you to fuck me, please, fuck me here against this rug. Please, love, please.”

“You make a very compelling argument,” he muses, the blunt tip of his cock right against your entrance. “I suppose I should give you what you want. . .”

“What I need,” you supply. 
“Well, if you need it. . .” Alastor, for the first time in days, pushes in slowly, almost lazy in its hedonism. His lips press against the back of your neck, and presses a kiss there. His arm comes around you as he fucks you, holding your hips the way that he wants them. All of his movements command control.

“Alastor. . .” You moan loudly. “You just fit. You fill me so perfectly. . .”

As he fucks you, deeper and deeper, a static growl emerges from his throat. “Say that again right now.”

“You fill me so fucking good, Al,” you whisper hoarsely. Your breath comes in uneven spurts as he pumps in and out of you. “You’re all I want, you’re what I need. . .”

He’s relentless now, but you can tell he’s keeping himself under control so that you can still dance properly once this is over. It brings a smile to your face, full of love and wonder. He hits your g-spot and you moan loudly, legs shaking.

Alastor lets out an amused chuckle. “Careful, darling. We would not want for everyone in this corps to hear what kind of desperate slut you are, hm?”

“God, I don’t know why it makes me fucking gush when you say shit like that but it does, what does that say about me?”

This time he laughs outright. “Because I am touching on the truth without touching it completely. I can call you a slut whilst the both of us know that it is limited to me. A slut for me. It makes you feel. . .closer, in a way. More intimate.”

“Does it make you feel closer? More intimate?” you ask.

“It embodies the power that I have over you, the control that you give to me. I think it is. . .different than what you feel, but I would say it’s equivalent in its effect. Darling, you’re squeezing me so good. . .”

You’re panting now. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Your orgasm is a breath away, simmering beneath the surface, and he’s working harder and harder to force it out of you as quickly as possible, and. . .why make the man wait?

You cry out quietly, or as quietly as you are able, as your body trembles, your pussy clenching down around him, forcing a loud grunt from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he whispers against the column of your neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pretty soon you’re both gasping for air as his cock spurts inside of you. When he pulls out, as he’s been doing here lately, he pushes cum back inside of you. It’s a tad odd, but never off-putting or even notable enough to comment on. If it’s what he wants to do, you won’t stop him from something so trivial.

When he lets you stand up, your stumble over to your dance bag to change your tights and leotard. “You see, I’ve been telling you how insatiable you are these days.”

“I’m not the one that shoved you down onto the rug first, my love,” he points out. “I believe it was I that hit the rug before you did, I simply followed your lead and had you ‘gushing’ on my cock. That was the word you used, wasn’t it?”

You laugh from your position in front of the mirror. Your bun definitely needed to be redone, so you pull out the elastic and reach for a hairbrush. “Yeah, gush.”

“See? My own dirty little slut.” His arms wrap around you from behind and he leans his head down to kiss the side of your neck.

You chuckle loudly. “You’re messing me up!”

Alastor takes the brush away from you and does it himself. “Oh, that girl I sent for you, what is her name?”

You had to think for a moment. “I think it was Natasha? If I’m remembering who came to me correctly.”

“Ah, Natasha.” Alastor ties the elastic in your hair again. A perfect high bun. “If she speaks to me again I will pull her spine through her throat.”

“Strong words,” you say. “I’ll make sure she knows. They’re all very, very afraid of you, even the instructors.”

“And no one will ever dare say a word to you about that,” Alastor says proudly. “They know what’s good for them.”
 You smile at the mirror and then turn around to kiss him. “I love it when you visit.”

“And I have no intent to stop coming to visit. Perfect couple, honestly,” he says.

“Perfect couple indeed.”

He picks up his staff and twirls it. “Now. When shall I expect you to return to me tonight?”

You wince in anticipation of his next words. “Late rehearsals. You’ll just have to wait to get me when you’ll get me.”

“Quit.” he says loudly. “Just quit.”

“You know that I’m not going to, so why are you always pushing for it? I don’t want to end this interaction on a bad note, I don’t want us to part in anger. The performances are two weeks away and opening night is going to be huge for us, two of the Sins will be attending.” Technically three, since Lucifer had his ticket and let it be known that he would be present, but now wasn’t the time to tell Alastor that.

“Which Sins? Wait, I do not actually care which Sins are in attendance. Fine. If it gives you joy, then I will not stand in the way—but you will rest. I am not ‘playing’ with you, you will take proper time to rest and recover on the days you do not perform. Things are out of control. As if polar spells were not enough, you’re coming home exhausted.”

“Okay, okay! I promise I’ll find more time to rest, as long as you promise not to keep talking about this,” you say. “No nagging when I’m in compliance.”

“Fine,” he says eventually. He looks at his pocket watch and puts it back. “Now is the time for us to part, my love. I expect you’ll be coming to me as soon as you are done?”

You nod. “And you’ll get Mexican food?”

“Yes, all that you want.”
 You smile at him and kiss him. “Thanks, my love. Go on a killing spree. There’s supposed to be some sort of parade today, maybe start there.”

“I believe I shall! Until tonight, dearest.”

“Until tonight.”

Once he’s gone, you take your water bottle to the sink for a refill and head back up front. Rehearsals stretched on for hours still, and when it was finally over, you were dead on your feet.

You’re just scooping your bag up from the floor when Natasha comes up to you again, but this time there’s something different.

“Someone’s waiting for you,” she says, just like before. “Back there. Someone is waiting for you.”

She’s gone before you can even thank her.

Fuck, had he even left at all? You pull the strap of your dance bag over your shoulder and head to the back. You head for the same room as before. When you touch the doorknob, there’s a pop of static, zapping your fingertips.

“Shit,” you say, looking down at your hand as you enter the room. “I just shocked the fuck out of myself.”

“Sorry about that, my love.”

You look up from your hand instantly and your lips fall apart.

“Vox,” you say softly, backing up to the door. “You shouldn’t be here. You can’t be here.”

“I know that he’s made it very hard for us,” he says, advancing on you until you’re close enough to take your hands in his. There’s no static this time, but it still feels as though his hands burn through yours. “I know that he’s selfish, that he hides you from me, that he doesn’t want us to be together.”

“I don’t want us to be together,” you manage to say before gulping hard. The hands in his shake, tremble.

Vox just chuckles. “Of course you do. He’s not here, there’s no need to pretend.”

When you shudder again, it’s from the cold. The intense, bone-biting cold that floods your body. You can’t stop shaking, but this can’t happen, not now!

“Vox, go. Go now.”

“What’s the matter?” he asks, tilting his flattened head.

You push him away weakly, but it does nothing. You sink down to your knees, trembling out of control as your skin grows lighter from the cold.

Vox sinks down next to you, pulls you into his arms.

“Ssh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

[minniesfiles]

JUST TO BE LOVED

Soonyoung didn’t know what hurt more, you falling apart or how you couldn’t see what was right in front of you.

❧ PAIRING; soonyoung x reader

❧ GENRE; angst

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; best friends, unrequited love, angst

❧ WORDCOUNT; 0.8k

𐚁₊⊹

▍12 JANUARY 2025

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, but they kept falling faster than you could catch them. Your chest was aching, your breathing was uneven, and every part of your body felt heavy with the unbearable loneliness pressing against your ribs.

You sat on the floor of your bedroom with your knees to your chest, sobbing softly. Across from you, Soonyoung watched helplessly with his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

He hated seeing you like this.

You were always the strong one, the one who laughed the loudest, who ran barefoot through the rain and danced without music. But tonight, that spark was gone. The light in your eyes was no longer there, and he could feel the heartbreak radiating off you like a storm about to break.

As he sat down beside you, he was hesitant but unable to keep his distance.

“Y/n,” he said softly, “talk to me.”

You shook your head and curled into yourself even more. Soonyoung exhaled sharply as he tried to push down the anger simmering in his chest. Not at you — but at the person who had done this to you.

After what felt like forever, you finally spoke.

“I just don’t understand,” you whispered. “What’s wrong with me?”

Soonyoung’s heart clenched. “What do you mean?” he asked.

You let out a shaky breath and rubbed your red, puffy eyes. “I try so hard to be good enough. To be pretty enough, interesting enough, lovable enough. But it’s never enough.”

You turned your head towards him as your face crumbled. “All I really want is to be loved.”

Soonyoung inhaled sharply once again.

You had no idea.

You had no idea how much he loved you.

How every time you smiled, he felt the world tilt on its axis.

How every time you cried, he felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling.

How, for years, he had watched you chase after people who never deserved you — who took your love and gave nothing in return.

His fingers twitched at his sides, and they ached to reach for you, to cup your face in his hands and make you see what was always right in front of you.

But instead, he swallowed his feelings like he always did and forced his voice to stay steady.

“Y/n,” he murmured. “There is nothing wrong with you. Not one single thing.”

You scoffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “Then why doesn’t anyone stay?”

Soonyoung clenched his jaw. “Because they’re fucking idiots.”

You let out a hollow laugh as you shook your head. “It’s not just them, Soonie. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I’m just too much or—”

“Stop.”

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Startled( you blinked at the intensity in his tone.

“You are not the problem,” he said as his eyes burned into yours. “You love too deeply Y/n. You give your heart away so freely to people who don’t know how to hold it. That’s not a flaw. That’s—” he exhaled while running a hand through his hair.

“That’s one of the most beautiful things about you.”

You just stared at him with your lips parted slightly. You searched his face like you were seeing him for the first time, and for a split second, he thought — maybe, just maybe — you were starting to understand.

“Soonie,” you whispered, and Soonyoung held his breath.

‘Say it, Y/n. Please. Say you see it. Say you know. Say you love me too.’

But before you could speak, your phone buzzed loudly against the floor, breaking whatever moment that was building between you both.

You glanced at the screen, and Soonyoung couldn’t quite read your expression. But he didn’t have to look to know who it was.

It was the same guy who shattered your heart only hours ago. The same guy who walked away and left you in pieces — pieces that Soonyoung was always the one to pick up.

You bit your lip in hesitation, while Soonyoung swallowed hard.

He could beg you not to answer.

He could tell you that if you let this guy back in, it would only hurt you all over again. He could finally, finally confess what had been sitting heavy in his chest for years.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he forced a small smile, “you should answer that” he said.

You studied him for a moment. But then, you nodded and picked up the phone, pressing it to your ear as you got up from the floor and walked out of the room.

Soonyoung stayed where he was and stared at the empty space you left behind.

And for the first time in years, he wondered if you would ever see him the way he saw you.

Or if he was destined to love you from the sidelines forever.

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 20: Final

wordcount: 9,860

(Sorry babes I'm like that toxic ex that comes back in ur life and gives you hope just to ghost you 💔👻 BTW no this is not 'final. Series is done' there is a Scream 5&6 I'm combining but this is the final for 4.)

—————————————

   You laid in bed with your own thoughts. you REFUSED to sleep at night in this damn hospital after what happened last time. Getting startled in your half-sleep state was common. Even by Karla knocking on the door and Mindy and Chad barreling in during the late afternoon while you had almost dozed off.

“Hey! She's hurt you two.” Karla scolded harsher then she usually did as Mindy almost tried jumping on your hospital bed and reluctantly stayed to the side. “We brought your purse that was in Randy's car. Oh, and your suitcase from the house.” She offered as she sat both down on the floor near a hospital chair.

“Oh…Thank you.” You murmured sitting up to look at her in a tired voice. Then casted your gaze to look down at the two bright eyed innocent kids staring up at you.

…You couldn't help staring at them and wanting to cry. Seeing Randy's lopsided smile and curious eyes in Chad and seeing his personality and sharp tongue in Mindy. You felt your throat tighten seeing them all dressed up. Karla in a black dress shirt and pants…Already knowing where they had been today.

Mindy and Chad asked you so many questions and you realized you had just been blankly staring at them with tears in your eyes.

Especially when Mindy just bluntly said, “Our Daddy died. We buried him today.”

As if you didn't already know.

You swallowed hard and furiously nodded, “I-I know honey. I'm so, so sorry.”

The guilt from just looking at them. How in the Hell could you see them knowing their Dad died because you got careless? Because of a stupid choice you made to go talk to those two in that barn and separate from Randy…That his final wish was you to stay far away from him and his family...How can you live with it?

Both 6 year olds looked sad, confused and concerned. This had to be so hard for them to fully process.

Karla, with a tight smile, talked a bit softer this time as she told them, “Here. Go to that vending machine down the hall where I can see you. No further.”

They took the money and nodded; running off as Karla tiredly sat in a chair near the door to watch them before asking you, “How ya feelin’, YN?”

“Better I guess. Not as sick. I…Should be asking you that.” You spoke barely above a whisper and tried not to cry. “I'm so sorry I missed Randy's funeral today. I-”

“No, not at all. Please, YN. Don't think like that. You can barely get out of bed.” She gave you a remorseful look. “I just- Shit. I should've known. I mean, you meet a man at a survivors meeting for victims of serial killers and think your life will be normal?” She wryly smirked and shook her head all before it faded. She looked at you with her own guilt. “YN…I didn't know you were kidnapped by those men when I called. I'm sorry, I should've known or helped or something. I could've accidentally got you killed! I-”

“No.” You interrupted her. “It's alright, I didn't speak in code or anything and…I'm okay.”

You hated being vague but she couldn't know. No one could. Dewey and Gale were a nightmare enough to deal with.

Karla watched her kids before leaning closer to whisper, “YN…Are you sure you're okay? They…They didn't? They didn't force you or…” She trailed off her question with immense worry on her face.

You stared before quickly shaking your head, “Oh no! No, nothing like that um…I don't know why they gave me up other than, uh, fear of being caught?”

You swore the way she looked at you was skeptical but maybe that was just your paranoia?

She exhaled, averting her eyes as something was clearly on her overworked mind before she just forced it out. “I gotta know...What happened?”

Your chest ached and stomach turned at her question. You already knew she'd ask. You almost hated talking to her because of it.

“Karla, I…” You faltered. Could you completely lie to her?

“Please.” She grasped your hand. A pleading gaze thrown your way with tears in her red rimmed eyes. “It makes no sense for Randy to split up. He wouldn't leave you alone, he wouldn't be in a parking lot of cars in a dark field by himself, he shouldn't have even been at that party…Why? Please YN, why? Dewey won't tell me anything and Gale…She's saying crazy things. I deserve to fuckin’ know as his damn wife, do I not?!”

“Crazy?” You repeated with a tense look at her hand clasped over yours.

“Talkin’ all kinds of craziness like you…Ya know. Like you know the whole story and you're…” She trailed off swallowing as her gaze wavered. “Not tellin’ it all or something.”

You frowned. “Gale's wrong. Whatever she said is just her hounding for more fame the older she gets…I had nothing to do with anything. NOTHING. I would never.” You couldn't even finish getting too devastated and angry to speak. That Gale, that dumb bitch, might be telling Karla YOU ACTUALLY could've killed Randy. That you murdered your best friend...It made your blood boil; Made your heart monitor rise a little too.

“Shh, I know.” She affirmed in a hushed tone at hearing your beeping heart monitor rising. “I just…I'm frustrated that no one has answers.”

Truly she was the only friend you had left, and yet, you had to lie through your teeth to her.

She continued in a whisper, “I also know you were his friend and you were together before he died. Please. If you know anything…Something.”

You stared at her for a moment before sighing, “...We went to the party cause we heard a noise at your house and figured we should be trying to catch the killer rather than wait…We did split at the party…We had…An argument-” Tears tried burning your gaze as you blinked up at the ceiling.

Karla looked both equal parts sympathetic yet urgently curious. “About?”

Your frown deepened as you tried to not let your lower lip wobble.

“YN, please. Not a single thing about any of this makes any damn sense. Where are those guys? Why is Dewey avoiding everyone? Why did they take you? How were you and Jill attacked at the hospital?...Please, what did you and my husband argue over?” Her voice grew more firm. Unrelenting in her pursuit for the truth about why she was now a widow.

Your voice failed you especially as you saw her crying as well. She quickly wiped her tears and you did the same as the kids came back and Chad slid you a candy bar. “Here, so you feel better.” He told you in his tiny voice. His eyes, despite being Karla's color, were Randy's round observant eyes to a Tee.

"I picked it out!" Mindy chimed in.

"Did not!" Chad scoffed.

"Did too!"

Karla quieted their petty bickering as a wry chuckle bubbled on you at their carefree issues they focused on at 6.

You forced a smile. You didn't have the heart to tell them you were so sick that even hospital food tore your stomach up on these heavy antibiotics. Let alone a candy bar. No you'd just hold onto it. “Thank you. I just ate but I promise I'll eat it later and think of you two being so thoughtful!”

You kept that forced a smile and also forced your voice to be sweet. But on the inside; You felt…Like a stranger. You felt like an outsider. Everytime you looked at these kids it was painful. You knew Karla would not rest till she knew what you and Randy argued about and you couldn't tell her. You just couldn't tell Karla and it ate you up inside. She was going through it. Husband dead, two kids, a bank teller job she didn't make enough on to really afford anything now that she was a single income household.

Mindy and Chad yapped away while you looked at Karla who dabbed her eyes. She looked ready to go step into the hallway or bathroom to collect herself but she had more stress on her shoulders than you felt she deserved.

There was only one thing you could do. You were 32 with no kids and in the lifestyle you had; it would be selfish to bring any into this. You had your home, you had passive income from ‘Out of Darkness’...And who were you kidding? Who needed retirement if Ghostface would kill you? You'll be lucky to make it to 60...After all, Randy made it to 32 almost 33 and still didn't make it.

“...Mindy? Can you get in my purse?” You asked her as she paused to hear your request before obediently getting it with an eager ‘Yes!’.

In all the chaos; you forgot it. Hell, you wouldn't have had your phone had it not been in your pocket that night. “Careful, too heavy. Your Godmother has too much stuff in there... Thank you.” You joked as you helped her lift it over the bed with what little strength you had right now.

All three of them curiously watched you get in your checkbook and get out a pen.

Mindy and Chad watched while Karla looked perplexed before she mumbled, “What are you?...” Then dumbfounded as you wrote a check and handed it to her. “What is this-” Her voice trailed off and eyes widened to saucers as she saw the amount.

“A check. Pay for the funeral cost, live on it, I suggest moving the fu-”

Chad and Mindy gasped. Mindy pointed, “Aw, you swore!”

You couldn't help a snort like chuckle that hurt your stitched up stomach. “Ugh, sorry. Moving from Woodsboro.” All before seriously looking at Karla. “And if you stay then…Use it to get the best security system known to man.”

Karla was floored at the amount of 0's you wrote. “YN! There is no way I'm accepting this!”

“Karllaa,” You drew her name out in light scolding. “Take it. Put your pride aside and think of these two…You don't owe me anything. I'm the one that owes you.” You sighed at the last part.

She gave you an odd look, “Whaddya mean?”

“...Nothing. Survivors' guilt, I guess....”

She tried shoving the check back at you, “YN, you don't owe me for living! Randy would never accept this from you and neither am I!” She went to rip it.

“Karla!” You forced out firmly. “Use it for his funeral, use it for groceries, damn it, think of your kids! Just because Randy was stubborn doesn't mean you have to be.”

She faltered, her fingers on the check as she gazed down at the twins. Her eyes softened just looking at her children she and Randy brought into this world together. They stared up at her, their only source of comfort and protection now.

“Please…It's all I can give you. It's the only way I know how to make this right. I promise, that isn't going to break me. I have plenty to live off of.” You gave a tight smile while trying to reassure her.

This was the only thing you had. If you couldn't bring Randy back then you'd at least take care of his family. He's probably rolling in his grave cussing you out right now for this but all well. If you couldn't tell her the truth then this was the least you could do.

“YN…” Fresh tears of a different kind tried springing to her eyes. “I-I…I don't know what to say but…Thank you.”

For the first time in days, you felt a warmth spread through you as she hugged you. Leaning over to give a friendly hug to show how grateful she really was under her pride to not accept it at first. A small smile graced your lips as you soaked it in.

The kids watched and as you released her. You patted the bed offering them to sit on either side of you. Karla helped them as you looked between them. “I don't know how often I'll see you two after this.”

���But why?” Mindy urged.

“Yeah, why?” Chad begged even more. Eyes looking extremely sad and it tugged at your heart.

“Well…” You pondered what to say. “I just have a lot to think about. And you guys do too…And after all this I have to be very careful coming back to Woodsboro.”

Mindy frowned, “I heard people saying people die when you're here…”

“Mindy.” Karla scolded.

“No, no they do say that. I don't know if that's true or not but I can't risk it.” You sighed out ruefully.

Chad's eyes looked so scared, “So we'll never see you again?”

“Oh…Oh no, no. I'll try. Maybe when things settle down you can visit or I'll visit but…I need to go home and recover and figure things out.” You offered him a small smile.

He took this even harder than Mindy as he bribed you. “You can sleep at our house! You can have my bed!”

You gave a sad smile as you hugged him close and rubbed his back. Keeping one arm around Mindy as well.

You couldn't risk it. Not with Dewey, Gale, Jill…And besides that, even if Randy didn't mean it, he still told you to never see his family again. It felt like a direct spit on his grave if you came around every holiday or god forbid lived with them. It would also put them in danger of Jill or Billy and Stu or anyone else…Besides, the guilt would be astronomical and you knew if Karla knew the truth; she'd tell you the same thing Randy did if not worse.

“No, I need to go home. We'll figure this out somehow. Just know that I loved your Dad, I love your Mommy and I love both of you…We'll be together soon I just need time to think.”

It hurt. It hurt so goddamn bad. But they were in kindergarten. They'd move on, forget about you the more you space out visits and phone calls and soon you'd be like some distant family friend they forget for their own safety.

You just sat on that bed comforting them as Karla watched. Just soaking in this normal human warmth and contact. This motherhood you'd never get to experience. This family you'd never have of your own…Maybe if Mark would've lived; you'd have some kids of your own? Just imagining him as you remembered him. Some domestic normal fantasy of him smiling at you in the morning making pancakes with a daughter or son in the morning…But it faded to reality just as quickly. Of Ghostface storming in and Mark going for his gun and the kids screaming…That was reality. Domestic bliss was never for you. Fate had other plans.

At least you had the peace of mind that Randy's death wouldn't be in vain. He didn't have to work his ass off anymore and Karla didn't have to either for quite some time. They could rest. Something they needed after losing a husband and father.

———————————

Days went by. Jill was out of the hospital and already doing interviews on tv. You just turned the channel every time.

Everyday, Karla and the kids visited you and you were both grateful yet…Sad. It made things harder. And only one day went by of her not prying; you could tell it was eating at her. Why wouldn't it? Her best friend and husband she loved made her a widow over a secret argument that split you and him up while a killer was on the loose and you couldn't tell her what it was about. You prayed she didn't think it was an affair or something outrageous especially since you and Randy dated for a hot minute years ago.

You finally had to lie poorly and say it was stress over this killer and things got said that you shouldn't have that neither of you meant. Blaming each other in the heat of it all…Not a complete lie but a piss poor one that made you feel like shit for telling it. You swore one day you would just start hallucinating and see his ghost mocking you or something…

She bought it, comforting you that whatever he said, he didn't mean…But if only she knew. None of it made you feel any better.

And what made you feel worse, was besides the media trying to sneak in or Gale trying to act friendly like you were an idiot thinking she didn't have on a damn wire…But that Dewey didn't visit you. Not even once.

It went from heartache to bitter anger that he wasn't willing to talk. To hear you out without Gale present. To not ask his own questions…But then again, maybe you couldn't trust him anymore anyways?

You even played with Sidney's locket you had in your suitcase Karla brought and suddenly it felt empty too. Somehow in your mind, you had clung onto hope that her and Tatum would forgive you and understand the position you had been forced into for years but with Randy and Dewey's reactions…You weren't sure now. You weren't sure this locket that now felt like any other teen short lived friendship instead of a beacon of hope wasn't just…A thing. Just a thing that the person that died had gave to you and that the person wouldn't hate your guts or act like you don't exist if she was still around.

You sighed, hanging your head with the locket in your grasp…

You knew on that video that piece of shit Charlie had; was a recording of Randy begging for his life and not only for his kids and wife's lives but yours as well. It hurt so much worse than if he would've hated you to the very end. And yet, you couldn't be sure. Would he try to forgive you somehow? Rally against you and say fuck Dewey and Gale?... Or would his reaction be like Gale and Dewey? Agree with them even?

And yet, something in you screamed he may have been angry but eventually would have attempted to be a Mark and help you catch Billy and Stu and get therapy or something. At least you hoped. Another part of you said with his family now; he would've told you to stay away. Dewey couldn't look past his grief of Tatum and the betrayal of you lying. Gale was just an enemy in disguise from day one. The one friend who could possibly have forgiven your sins was dead and his wife and kids were reminders.

You got off your hospital bed and now dressed in comfortable clothes…It was time to leave. Well, actually it wasn't but it had been a week in here and you were ready the second they switched to oral antibiotics. You were both scared yet relieved. Tired of expecting cops to bust in your hospital room to book you or Jill to finish off as a loose end. You swore she tried but to your relief, it seemed despite his reluctance to see you; Dewey and now Judy were not taking chances after last time. Your room was monitored round the clock.

Sooner you leave to go to your secure home in the woods away from everyone, the better…Even if it is lonely.

“Do you need a car called for you?” The receptionist asked.

“No, I'm just going to the nearest bus station. Thank you.” You mumbled. Not sure who to trust.

So here you were, recovering but healed mostly, and lugging a suitcase on wheels behind you on the sidewalk. Thankfully, even if some recognized you, they were too hung up on Jill as you tried to avoid everyone. Frowning deeply at the bookstore you passed with a permanent closed sign. Passing all the changed buildings from when you had lived here in '96…You'd give anything to go back to being that 17 year old YN in the 90's.

You walked until you almost got on the outskirts of town, then settled. Getting out your phone…Karla knew where you lived…Maybe just this one time? Maybe have dinner and-

You looked up feeling watched. And you instantly scowled…That little bitch.

You just knew it was her. You tsked and hauled your suitcase up the best you could; subtly getting your knife that had been in your purse transferred to the inside of your boot lining. You stooped down to ‘pick up’ something and shoved the knife inside your jacket's sleeve.

As you got near the cemetery at the edge of town, you felt a presence as if someone was right behind you and whipped around.

“You wanna finish it? Do it!” You snapped. Tense and ready to fight that stupid cunt once again, and this time, you'd risk prison if it meant she was dead after everything she did.

“Oh, I wanna finish alright. But if I do it, you'll yell at me.”

You blinked at the voice before seeing Stu near a tree in garb he'd normally not wear to disguise himself.

“...Stu?” You gasped out and he shhed you harshly.

“Babe. We have been over this for 15 years. Stop name dropping in public.”

You looked around and got closer to whisper to him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. It's been a week. Too risky to call you.” He nonchalantly gave. “Ready to leave?”

“Um…Yeah but?-”

He grinned, “C'mon. Asshole is nearby. We'll take you home. I got on better meds at a hospital for a few days and we're both fine just waiting on you, Sweetcheeks.”

You eyed him skeptically.

He rolled his eyes, “Hey, that hurts. And after our moment? Tsk.”

“...No thank you.” And kept lugging your suitcase.

“No??” He looked dumbfounded and folded his arms. “So you're gonna huff it on foot clear back to your cabin an hour away, huh?”

“I'll figure something out. Just stay away from me.”

“Ouch.” I scoffed.

“I'm serious!” You hissed out picking up speed. “If Jill or Dewey or Gale or Judy sees you with me, you idiot, we're both fucked. Go!” You grumbled as you nervously looked around.

He sighed heavily. “Fine. Have it your way.” And to your immense relief he walked away. You let out a sigh of relief and kept walking away. You'd get Karla or a car to the nearest town or rent one or something.

You huffed to yourself trying to drag your suitcase too heavy to constantly carry across the sidewalk. You knew this was being stubborn but after so many have attacked you…How were you going to just be like ‘Oh yes! I am a suspect that was dropped from multiple cases and yes the internet thinks I did it and yep of course you random person can have directions to my secret location where I live!’

What fucking choices did you have?

You panted and took a break. Your infection is mostly gone but you were still weak, woozy and short of breath. You looked up seeing the street you were near and decided to take it.

Damn…What a blast from the past. Your mind tried remembering the houses and shrubs from late September to Early October 1996. Teens walking everywhere talking with backpacks. 90's fashion and older more reliable vehicles on the roads. You passed the streets that were familiar yet foreign now. And finally you got to an area where Billy had jumped out at you as a teen. The bushes there were gone now…You got to your old house and not a single bit of it was the same at all yet you recognized it. It was your home for only a little over a year but you still remembered walking through the front door, saying hi to your cat, getting on your house phone to talk to Sidney or Tatum, going upstairs to listen to cassettes and do homework…Damn…God what you wouldn't give for a time machine. And you asked yourself as you stared…Would you have let Gale kill Billy? Would you have let Sidney kill Stu or kill him yourself? A decade ago; fuck yes you would even with Stu visiting you. After their help this time…You weren't sure.

You saw people staring in their yards and forced yourself to keep walking. If they didn't know you from the massacre of '96 and Stab; they'd probably think you were a burglar staking out a place or a drifter or something. Your stitches still hurt but they were manageable. You still felt sick but it was like a mild belly ache and fatigue.

You should've never come back. Period. You should've never convinced Billy and Stu to return. You and Randy should've fled town that night instead of going to that party; let Kirby and Jill and all those teens that died anyways figure it out. Why the fuck did you always have to be the hero just to get tossed aside after? Like some service dog forced back outside once its job is done…You felt so defeated. What good did you do this time? Jill got away with it, Randy's dead, you have to lie to his family, Dewey can't stand to look at you, Gale is just a bitch as usual but you put your pride aside to give her the benefit of the doubt and look...And now, all you had was Billy and Stu. Unbelievable.

You got on the outskirts of town near the ‘Leaving Woodsboro Sign’ same as the one on the highway the opposite way and…Your handle on your suitcase broke with everything tumbling out as the zipper busted.

“Fuuucckkk…No, please no-” You groaned pitifully and you tried getting on your knees to put everything back. Hissing in pain at all your injuries and as you tried putting it back and it didn't fit and…And…

You just collapsed on the ground on your rear and couldn't hold back tears. What the fuck did you do to deserve this life? WHAT!? Just the wrong friend group as a teen? Being nice to two guys that didn't deserve that kindness? A stupid teen crush or two that went horribly wrong? Trying to do the right thing-

You quietly sobbed in your hands, shoulders heaving each tiny cry. You didn't care who saw. You didn't even care if Jill came up behind you and finished the job. Hell, Stu and Billy might. Even if you and Stu kissed; he had a fucked up logic and way about him. He'll even admit it.

Instead, you just sat there. Done crying after a few moments with your face in your arms propped on your knees, knees to your chest. Just shutting the world out. About to suck up your pride and shove caution to the wind and call Karla that; yes you passed her house on purpose but you couldn't do this alone...

You didn't know how long you sat there till you heard brakes squeaking, creeping to a halt in front of you. You sighed heavily and looked up seeing Billy and the van.

“You getting in or what? We don't have all day.” His even toned voice rang out.

You narrowed your eyes and looked away. “I'm fine.”

“Really? Cause you look like you're two seconds away from a mental breakdown.” He mumbled.

“I'll…I'll get Karla.” You gave quietly.

“Yeah, you could… And let her pester you the whole way on what you know about Meek Geeks Death or risk her life or something with that bitch on the loose…Get the fuck in here before someone sees, idiot.”

You stubbornly hesitated. But damn it, he was right. An hour ride with Karla would be filled with awkward guilt and ‘the talk’ of Randy because no matter how much you rehearsed it; she was upset and guilt ridden and just going over it like clockwork. You understood even if it was bad for you to keep explaining half truths and lies. You knew it. If the kids were there, it may buffer but…

Billy added, “You know we gotta talk anyways about all this. You owe us that.”

You glared. There it was. This ‘owing’ thing they constantly claimed. They act nice and there it was…But, what choices were there?

“...Fine.” You grumbled like you were 18 again and hauled your suitcase the best you could as Stu opened the sliding van door. You got in and closed your eyes leaning back in the seat. “Please…Just take me home. Same cabin as before.”

———————————

The whole ride was awkward silence but more comfortable than what it would've been with Karla's rehearsal of what happened to Randy.

Stu tried to make conversation every so often but you tiredly ignored them. Talking only to stop and order at a drive thru. You swore, Stu was bionic or on some DAMN good pain relievers as injured as he had been and he still leaned over Billy's driver seat saying, “Hey yo, gimme a number 5-”

You couldn't help it. You stifled a rueful smile at the enraged look on Billy's  mug at Stu just laying over him and his ass almost in his face. Billy raised his fist to hit it and Stu told him mid order, “Smacking a guy's ass is gay, man.”

Billy sneered at him and jerked him back to his seat by his shirt instead. Stu made some snide remark about pulling off clothes; Purposely moaning to make it gay just to embarrass his former partner in crime. You looked away rolling your lips to not smile. Yeah, you were wallowing but it felt like a necessary guarding of your mental health right now.

You ate your simple order, took your pills for the day, made small talk about how they treated you in the hospital when finally Billy just blurted out the elephant in the room.

“...What did Jill tell you?”

You sighed and told him as you all drove, “She was waiting on me when I woke up. Whispered to me what to say. We both described you as having dark hair, blue eyes and a hooked nose and Stu as reddish hair, tooth gap, dragon tattoo on the right shoulder.”

“Aw man.” Stu scoffed. “Now what if I wanted a dragon tattoo there?”

“Too bad.” You shrugged.

“Hmph.” He huffed, “You couldn't make me Asian and 5’8 or something?”

Billy rolled his eyes, “They saw us on Camera, douchenozzle.”

“Exactly. We had to make you guys close but not quite. Just enough to give you both time…We're lucky as fuck Jill was cornered somehow and was willing to cooperate.” You wanted to yell at them for making a risky choice for you that could've got you arrested or killed but held back.

“She try anything?” Stu asked suddenly with a more serious tone.

“Oooh sure.” You smirked wryly. “Unlucky for her, I was awake at night and Dewey had cops outside my door at all times.”

“Yeah, probably to make sure you didn't flee.” Billy mumbled.

You faltered and grew silent. A part of you really hoped it was protection...But...

“...Yeah…Yeah probably.” You quietly agreed. “Can we make a stop? I gotta pick up something.”

—————————————

It was the longest talk of your life you had to cut short with your family but their house was on the way to yours anyhow. They grilled you for not letting them know you were in the hospital or answering your phone right away once you were safe. You just used their safety as a half truth. You lied and said Billy was a friend taking you back and cut off questioning before they really dug in. Hugs, condolences on Randy, fear, them believing Jill's lies, anger at you, sadness but relief. You promised you loved them and you'd talk to them more. It was the type of love you give to family just because they're family but at this point any contact was better than absolutely zero options. And love was love even if it wasn't chosen.

And they did watch Cherri as your elderly Golden Retriever sat in the backseat while Stu tried loving on her, “Hheeyyyy, old lady, how's my favorite girl?...Hey…Cherri!…Hey, dog-” He snapped his fingers and she huffed and rolled over to ignore him. “Well fine, guess I'll see you from your 15th nap today, you old bitty.” He playfully grumbled in disappointment only remembering her at about 3 or 4 years old not 13 with cataracts and lighter aged fur. You smiled and petted her as she snored. Thank God for her.

“Think cops could be here?” Billy asked as he drove up the hill to your house way off the beaten path.

You shook your head and replied, “No. If they were gonna arrest me, they would've done it in Woodsboro or on the way here…Place might be staked out though. Like, Media in the woods.”

“Maybe I should take off my pants near the woods and give them a show?” Stu gave a sly smirk and you rolled your lips to not grin.

“They see plenty of twigs and berries out there.” Billy mumbled. “I think they'll ignore it.”

“Hey-” Stu scoffed, “Fuck you, man. I have a log down here, alright? They'd probably be overwhelmed by the sheer size of my manhood.”

“Manhood? The Hell is this? Some Erotic novel on your mom's bookshelf?” Billy huffed mockingly with a bewildered expression.

You shook your head in amusement as he drove up the mountainside to your secluded residency. A few neighbors but far and few in-between. Was it lonely? Yeah. But it was also peaceful. You learned a long time ago you'd rather be alone than be surrounded by people that make you feel alone.

“So…” Billy pulled up to your cabin. There was a weird silence among you. The curves, dense forest, your unchanged cabin are the only comforting sights these last few days. “...That's it?”

You nodded solemnly, taking a breath to reply. “Yeah…Yeah, it is.” You shakily sighed, “She won.”

“...YN, that's bullshit.” Billy uncomfortably mumbled.

“No, she did. She fucking won and that's that.” You scoffed with a humorless laugh. “She took everything from me. My best friend, my freedom, my life, my career, my sanity. How can any of it be the same now? No more Randy…Can't even see his kids without immense guilt.” You sniffed trying to keep yourself neutral as you looked down while talking. “Always gonna be looking over my shoulder, always scared I'll get a knock on my door from FBI or a news article of me being a suspect, can never go to Woodsboro or see Randy's family again even if I wanted to…My Grandma is buried there for fucksake and I can't even visit her grave. Not really.”

Stu frowned in the front seat and Billy looked at you with his mirror.

“I know I know. Preaching to the choir with your lives but you made a choice and…Oh fuck. So did I. Unlike you two, I just thought it was the right choice. It wasn't, obviously.” You wryly huffed with a smirk and wrung your shirts hem as you kept going, “The one person, Dewey...Okay, the one person who should have my back?…Told me to not come back and won't even talk to me. I understand why but…I did all this for him and Randy. If they weren't a thing? I would've left Woodsboro the second a murder was announced. And look-” You shrugged with a heavy sigh. “I fought for them and it kicked me in the ass, tossed me on the ground and spit on my face while I'm down there too. Jill destroyed everyone's lives, made everyone else comply, got treated like the victim, is gonna be set for life and the people that should believe me; don't…She won.” You quietly ended your rant with a shaky tone.

“Man, screw that and screw her.” Stu grumbled. “We'll get her.”

“You can't.” You firmly told him dabbing your eyes to not accidentally cry in front of them. “She's gonna be heavily guarded and prepared. Especially from you two…She won.”

“She didn't.” Stu firmly gave with a glare. “Okay, I refuse to be outsmarted by a teenage bitch like her!”

“Why? You guys were once-”

“Har Har, YN. Because we were teens…” Stu made a face and waved it off. “We're grown men now. Advanced. Okay, we have years under our belt compared to that prissy ass thing…We'll get her. She'll slip up and BAM-!” He smacked his hands then grimaced at his injuries.

Billy rolled his eyes, “Yeah well, count me out of it.”

“Seriously? Pussy.” Stu scoffed.

“Look, dickhead.” He growled out with his own glare at Stu. “For the first time in a long time; we may be off the hook. I'm not going to prison or death row because some little twat wanted to put on the mask. I'd LOVE to kill her and that entire fucking bloodline…But it's over.”

You stayed silent as they bickered before Stu huffed and fell back in his seat muttering cowardly diverted insults. You frowned and went to lug your suitcase out and despite your best efforts a bit of pain hit you where Jill cut you and your stuff fell all over the yard. You smacked your hands against your thighs and didn't see Stu giving Billy a look and Billy rolling his eyes as they both got out to help. Cherri groaned, getting her old joints moving and wagging her tail at being home.

Stu and Billy helped and you reluctantly mumbled, “Thanks…Can you?-” You gestured to the suitcase as you lightened it by holding some of your stuff.

“Yeah of course.“ Stu had replied carrying the mostly empty busted suitcase eagerly to your house.

You looked back at Billy, “You might as well come in.”

“Oh…” He had his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I don't think that's exactly great. Uh…Considering everything.”

“Well, can you at least bring my purse in?”

Billy rolled his eyes, “What am I, you're damn Butler?” He grumbled under his breath still walking like an old man with being cut horizontally over his abdomen and shot in his leg.

Cherri just moseyed around the yard with its fence as you all went inside.

“Jesus YN, do you ever want a change of scenery??” Billy mocked as everything was the exact same as it was in 2001.

You shrugged, “Hey, I've been busy the last few years. And no. I like my quaint home.”

Stu mumbled as he gingerly sat down the suitcase with a groan, “Who are you to talk? You had 80's paneling and shag carpeting in your trailer.”

“Oh fuck off.” Billy tossed your purse and started going to the door. “It housed your ass just fine-”

They both bickered as usual as you sat everything down and your heart sank seeing Sidney's locket but more so seeing your answering machine…You hesitantly clicked it and closed your eyes. Swallowing hard as Randy's voice played. “Hey YN, um I can't get ahold of your cell so maybe you're book signing or-”

You almost zoned out hearing his voice. Your eyes burned and watered and your lips trembled. Frowning to force yourself not to cry.

…Stu and Billy heard it and faltered their petty bickering back and forth. Billy steeled a neutral stare at your back while Stu looked a mix curious and concerned as your shoulders tensed and you looked down at Sidney's locket sitting on a pile of clothes. They both knew it was her's. “...That fucking cunt.” You gave low in your throat. They both looked surprised when you tossed it aside. “FUCK her!”

They looked confused thinking you meant Sidney until you ranted, “Jill Roberts. That bitch…That fucking-” Your hands were tight fist at your sides.

Stu looked more than understanding. Mildly glaring while Billy looked away.

You sucked in air and then finally said it, “...You're right, Stu. She's not getting away with this.” You shook your head and angrily started unpacking your things. “She isn't getting away with killing my friend and ruining my life! What life I had!” Jerking Sidney's locket from where it landed. It wasn't just a necklace yet it also didn't hold the weight it once did upon you.

Stu smirked, “Hell yeah.” He softly agreed at your declaration.

“Tsk. Yeah well-” Billy went to leave. “Good luck with that.”

“Wait.”

Billy stopped and raised a brow. Curiosity got the better of him as you swallowed and tried to find the words. Your pride and past regret and hurt and anger warring with each other. But right now, justified rage and contempt for the latest Ghostface won out.

“...I need you. I need both of you.” You forced out.

“Yeah yeah, we're your body guards or killers depending-”

“No!” You cut Billy's cynicism off. “No, I need you and you need me. We all 3 need each other. Now more than ever.”

Stu's eyes widened. “...What are you saying?”

You sucked in a breath. After all this? Priorities changed. Now that you weren't in Woodsboro or under threat. Now that it was settling in. Now that you heard Randy's voice knowing it was the last…Suddenly, Tatum and Sidney felt like distant memories. Suddenly, past wounds felt temporarily sealed with a good metaphorical bandaid. Now all the sudden, you had no one but them and the pros outweigh the cons.

“I am saying…” You paused a beat to ponder your next statement as bitter tears had ran down your cheeks, “That Jill doing this has us completely looped together now. Think about it. We gave vague descriptions but they could still match up. They could find your fingerprints at the crime scene. Your blood. Your hair or clothing fibers. I bought you both time; not safety. And me? I'll never be safe. Jill is coming for me one day; she made that pretty fucking clear.”

“So?” Billy shrugged and tried looking aloof but you knew better. Could see it in the way he didn't look at you. “We'll go into hiding and deal with it when the time comes. Like we always have.”

“Yeah…” You shook your head. “But I don't want to. I almost died. Once from being gutted and again from sepsis. I laid on that kitchen floor in my own blood holding onto you thinking that was it.”

Stu frowned but said nothing and Billy glared at the floor.

You continued, “Why? Why are we living far away in hiding and trying to get ahold of each other halfway through the murders when it's pretty much too late? These fucking Ghostface are not going to stop.”

Billy huffed and smirked wryly, “Cause of us right?-”

“We're past that.” You sternly cut him off. A fire in you that you hadn't had in a long time.

He looked with widened eyes at you. It was no secret you usually blamed them and yes, they did horrible things and started all of this. But right now? Jill took the whole damn cake.

“Jill made an enemy of all of us. She heavily injured us, got your faces on camera, got your DNA at the crime scene, may know your van now, made me as much of an outlaw as you two as far as ever even attempting to relax or have normalcy!…" You ranted with pure emotion. "And she ruined my friendship and killed the other. Fuck that bitch. She's gonna pay.”

Adrenaline pumping just thinking about what you wanted to do to her. Thinking back to the last Ghostface that tried you after tragedy. How you stabbed that wannabe star so many times it shocked everyone; even you.

“God you're even hotter now.” Stu mumbled in awe. Zero filter.

Billy rolled his eyes and pinched his nose bridge. “So what? You want us to be…What!? Fucking cool with each other or something-”

“I want that bitch dead, Billy.”

Billy's eyes widened a fraction more and his mouth parted while Stu grinned in wide eyed excitement.

You continued and held your stare, “She'll fuck up. One day, she is going to fuck up. Majorly. She'll get paranoid that we're after her or she'll get paranoid I'll talk. Or maybe she'll just get bored and crave that itch again because NO ONE kills their entire friend group and first boyfriend and their own mother just for ambition. She loves the hunt, she loves the kill, she'll get cocky…And when she does? I want to hang her and have her bleeding out of a fucking tree.”

“Fuucckk, I'm so hard right now.” Stu groaned loud enough to interrupt your train of thought.

You blinked, your anger momentarily halted by…Whatever that interruption was as Stu grinned like a kid in a candy store at you. He came towards you, “Sweetcheeks…Baby…You might as well be proposing to me. I am down. So, so down. I say we hunt her and-”

You put up a hand, “No." You halted his train of thought. "Not right now, anyways. Too much publicity.” You looked at him then Billy. “What I am saying is…We all need to stay in contact. We need to stick together even just texting…We just can't separate and let her one day pick us off. It's not enough to keep our promise to get any Ghostface's after Neil and Roman. She's got too good of a handle on this and we are fucking prey. You two are prey now just as much as Neil made all 3 of us sitting ducks back then. Only this time, there is no definitive answer.”

Stu grinned even wider, “You mean…Like, calling? Texting? Hanging out?”

You faltered…Was that what you were saying? Not exactly but…In a way…

“Okay, this has been a real fun time.” Billy waved you both off. “And by fun I mean pain in the ass. But if you two think I'm being chummy? You're both nuts! I have tried to kill you both plenty of times and after Stu punched me and you have been avoiding my kill list for years; I want to stab your faces more.” He mockingly smirked. “So fuck you both. Don't call me unless a new threat happens DIRECTLY to me-” He grunted and fell on his ass as a wet Golden Retriever barreled him over in the doorway. Rain pouring outside and just getting so much so that it was a white out.

He groaned in pain at his injuries as he fell and Cherri to add insult to injury shook off water on him, “You stupid mutt-” He grumbled going to shove her away as she left; old and oblivious to him.

Stu just stood there snickering while you went to help him up. He didn't accept your hand at first but had to when he hissed in pain through his teeth.

“Sorry. She's very demanding in her older years.” You sheepishly gave.

“Rain. What is it with rain whenever I'm near you??” He grumbled clutching his still bandaged stomach.

You shrugged, “It's almost winter. And we're elevated land. We get a lot of rain.”

“Maybe God cries every time he sees your face?” Stu mumbled in mock innocence.

Billy whipped his head to glare and you gave Stu a look but thankfully he groaned and led Cherri to the bathroom to towel dry her. Everything the same as the last time he was here. Well, mostly.

“...You might as well stay. You can't drive in this.” You offered softly.

He sided eyed you, “What is wrong with you? Why are you being nice, huh? I killed your friends, your Highschool Sweetheart, I tried to kill you multiple times and still plan to.”

Why indeed. Were you suicidal still? Maybe. Were you desperate? For sure. Were you lonely?...Regrettably, yes.

You breathed through your nose as you pondered, “...The enemy of my enemy is my ally. Or however that goes. You have no one-” He huffed in offense but you cut him off before he argued and repeated. “I have no one. Stu, well I actually don't know what the Hell Stu has. But all 3 of us are wanted or could be and our lives lie in the hands of a psychotic narcissistic teenager.”

“...Hmph.” He huffed and looked out the open door at the rain pouring off your enclosed porch.

“Huh. Maybe life does work out? Wanted you to stay a while.” You mused.

“Don't start getting philosophical with me, you freak.” Billy grumbled with no real heat in his words.

“...This might fill up my pond.”

He raised a brow. “You have a pond? Where?”

A sly smile crept upon your face as you gestured him to follow you. He looked puzzled but shut the front door and walked with you to the back of the house. You opened the secured back door to show him…True to your word; a man sized open grave like hole right there in the yard.

“It's half filled with water now. Might be kinda gross to bury you in it if you act up.”

You expected anger, mockery, defensiveness…Instead, Billy gave a low rumbling chuckle that eased to a soft laugh. “Yeah right. Keep dreaming, bitch. I'd use it for your body instead but I like to display my corpses.”

He walked away and you smirked slightly. A hint of camaraderie between you both that seemed inevitable considering the circumstances. You shut and locked up the backdoor to see Billy groan and reluctantly take the recliner while it rained.

Stu came out, “Umm…That is my chair. It was my claim a decade ago.”

Billy shrugged, took the remote. “Oh was it? Awww…”

He reluctantly grumbled and took the couch. Trying to get Cherri to sit with him when she kept staring at Billy. Billy huffed out, “YN, what does your ugly ass dog want?”

You couldn't help but chuckle at a rumbling groan of displeasure from your dog as she stared at Billy.

“You're both wrong. YOU are in her seat.” You called as you made coffee.

“Too bad, mutt.” He replied and faltered at her resting her face on the arm and looking sad.

Stu awwed, “Awww...Give her the chair, asshole! She's probably got minutes to live. She's like a corpse now.”

“No, I am not!” He smacked the arm in frustration and she took it as an invitation to just crawl up and make herself at home. “Ack! Fuck, watch the stitches you damn-” He growled out with a grimace as her big body laid on him.

Stu huffed, “You don't want his smelly lap! C'mon. C'mon girl-” He whistled and she just tried sleeping on Billy. “Traitor.”

Billy sighed with a glare. “You can have her; as soon as this rain lets up I'm out of here. You coming with me or what?”

“Undecided.” He gave a sly smirk as he eyed you up and down. Indulging in his new appreciation rekindled as you moved around the kitchen.

You came back with coffee for each of them. You knew you were being too nice and hospitable to literal killers but…What else was there? It was obvious even if things weren't ‘good’, they were not the enemy now. Or at least, not the immediate threat they once were.

You sighed, “Listen, I don't care how long you stay. We need to discuss how we're going to handle Jill. When? How? What signs?” You mumbled as you sat in the other chair.

Stu grimaced, “Ugh, babe. You know I take sugar in my coffee.”

“Now, how would I know that?” You deadpanned and gestured to the kitchen. “Cabinet on the right.” As he got up slowly with his injuries and hobbled to the kitchen. None of you were in any shape to fight or kill each other; let alone Ghostface's.

You and Billy talked amongst yourselves as Stu rummaged. He was sneaking, he just couldn't let you know. Curious about guys in your life, your personal life, all while ‘trying to find the spoons’. He was a controlling, possessive, demanding guy and if he had to kill competition then he would.

Then…He found a knick knack sort of catch all drawer…

He went to shut it but something caught his gaze. His blue eyes sparkled in wonder, softening at what he saw.

A necklace he had worn all the time. He lost it back in the day while visiting here. You most likely found under or behind something…And the note he wrote you with his number was A

all wrinkled and worn but still there.

You didn't forget him. A rare warmth bloomed in his chest at that. That maybe, just maybe, he really wasn't a last resort...

He chuckled a bit and with a coy rare little smile, gently put the note back where it came from. Acting like he saw nothing as he stirred sugar in his coffee.

This was…Going to be an interesting turn of events.

————————————

One Year Later…

“Hey! It's Jill Roberts!” Some guy called out and ran up to her, “Holy shit, can I like get a selfie or?-”

“Yeah, of course.” Jill forced the smile and that sweet act for the public her first day at Uni. She did a kissy face as he snapped a picture of them and rambled to her; asking for her socials and she declined.

It wasn't anything for guys to ask if she had been sexually assaulted or if being stabbed turned her on. She was attractive in a world of dehumanizing horny teen boys. She also got plenty of jealousy from girls. She just ignored it mostly.

She hated going to University but she was pressured in Interviews and she couldn't say ‘Take the money you idiots give me and spend it on a birkin.’ No, she had to say ‘I want to go to University and study something to help others!’ She settled on Medical for now. She just kept telling herself she could drop out in a year or two once the hype died down then work on a book deal…Hmm…Maybe if it gets too stale; another Ghostface killing spree she ‘narrowly’ escape could boost her relevance again?

On her laptop, all she did was scroll past a few nosey people saying she did it and on her phone she got prank calls constantly but she had to answer to make sure it wasn't an important person wanting her.  Despite it all, she smirked as she walked. They were talking about a documentary about her. Best of all? YN has gone MIA. No one has seen or heard from her...Good.

She walked and paused hearing someone calling for her. “I'm not into autographs or sharing details. Sorry.”

“Jill, it's me.”

…She froze hearing the familiar female voice. Of all the people…She heard news Kirby lived about a month after everything but Jill distanced herself on purpose. She turned around with a fake smile, “Hheeyy!”

Kirby smiled and they both awkwardly hugged. Kirby had a longer pixie cut, “Um how are you? I called you and you never really got back with me a few months ago.” She lowered her voice, “Jill you're my best friend and we almost died, I mean…Shouldn't we stay in contact?”

That Dipshit Charlie... He couldn't do one job.

Jill forced a smile while her eyes looked nervous, “Yeah I'm reaaalllyy sorry about that. Life has been…”

“Yeah.” Kirby agreed and nodded. “What major? I'm going into Criminal Justice with a few Sciences under my belt. Maybe some Sociology.”

Jill gave a tight lipped look, “Uh Medical. Nursing.” She vaguely gave.

“Really? Wow, man. I just…Never considered you into that, I mean, you were always as obsessed with horror as me and after what happened...”

“I need stability.” Jill saved with a sharp tone but forced herself to soften it. “You know, after everything.”

“No, I get that. I might epically fail Crime stopping anyways.” She gave a self deprecated joke as they both forced a chuckle. “Actually…I really wanna talk with you. You know about everything.”

Fuck.

“Yeahh.” Jill forced out with a too big of a smile, “Yeah, absolutely. We'll just fit our schedule.”

“Cool. The stab wound is healed ya know, if you're wondering.” Kirby mused almost passive aggressively at Jill not even asking.

She had to get her shit together. She couldn't let a year of planning and careful narratives be washed away- “Sorry, sorry. I suck.”

“Yeah you do.” Kirby smirked. “Coffee?”

“Uh, not right now. Sorry. Just trying to settle in.” Jill grimaced slightly as Kirby grabbed her phone.

“Welp, you leave me no choice. Here's my number. Call me or I'll hunt your ass down and call you.” She chuckled before handing the phone back. “I'm glad you're alright, Jill.”

“Yeah. You…Too.”

Jill watched Kirby leave and her smile dropped. No, Kirby didn't see the kitchen. She got stabbed outside by Charlie but…If she brought up that viral dark web video most sites took down every few weeks just for someone to inevitably upload it again of Olivia's murder…

Her only hope was to say Charlie had to have planted it in her room and admit to any affair and…DAMN IT!

Her hand tightened on her bag. This stupid paranoia never went away. It was all YN's fucking fault. That and those two. And Gale…She might hate Gale most of all, the ex journalist still snooping.

She had a paper thrown at her while walking and she scoffed, “Okay, asshole. Who threw that?” She announced but everyone kept walking, spared a glance but ignored.

She grumbled and picked it up. The note reading, ‘I know what you did-’

She tore it up, not even reading the rest. “Real fucking original.” She grumbled as she tore it up and tossed it like confetti…Not even knowing who sent it…Who threw it…

Or the person watching her from across the Courtyard.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

In Any Reality: Revelations

(continuation of the alt!Assistant AU-- they are no longer boss/employee at this point)

---

Please come.

That’s all the text on Kara’s screen says, and even though she waits several minutes, no further clarification comes in.

Where are you? She sends back. Are you okay?

Apartment.

Kara is already logging off when the response buzzes on her cell. Working late, there’s no one to criticize her speedy exit. She flies to Lena’s apartment, but when her x-ray vision confirms Lena is alone and in no apparent danger, Kara ducks into an alley to wait a reasonably human amount of time before officially arriving. 

Only then does she let herself up, using her key to slip inside Lena’s apartment. There she makes a beeline to where Lena sits on her too-white couch, elbows on her knees with her shoulders slumped. 

“Lena?” Her girlfriend doesn’t look up at her approach, and alarm flares in Kara’s chest. She crosses the room and kneels in front of her, taking Lena’s hands in hers. “Lena, what’s wrong?”

Finally, Lena lifts her chin, meeting Kara’s gaze with flat, empty eyes.

“Lena, what happened?” Kara insists. 

“Is this real?”

Lena’s voice is rough and dull. Kara blinks in confusion. “You mean us?”

“I mean… me.”

In an instant, Kara knows exactly what’s happened. It’s her turn for her shoulders to slump as she sinks back on her heels. “Lex told you.”

Not a question. There’s no doubt in Kara’s mind. Only Lex would see his sister happy, then pull the rug out from under her entire reality, just to see her miserable. Broken.

Lena exhales. “He says I’m just an echo. A construct of his will.”

“Lex is a self-obsessed maniac,” Kara snaps. “He couldn’t build a construct of you if he tried.”

Green eyes sharpen. “But it’s true, isn’t it. He made this world– made me. This version of me.”

Shaking her head, Kara releases Lena’s hands to reach up and cup her cheeks instead.

“You are real,” she says firmly. Lena’s eyes fill with tears. “You are real. Lex may have had a hand in shaping this world, but he made nothing.”

“But…”

“Do you think he would be this pissed if he had any control over you? Over us?”

Doubt clouds Lena’s gaze, which self-consciously slides away from Kara. “He says you loved her too.”

“Yes, “ Kara says. “I did.”

Lena pulls away from Kara’s hands. “I must be a poor consolation prize.”

Gritting her teeth, Kara struggles to rein in her temper. She doesn’t understand why Lex can’t stand to see Lena happy. Before, she would have believed it was just Lena’s happiness with her, a Super, that burrowed under his skin. But in this reality, where she isn’t Supergirl, where she only rarely uses her abilities… This is about Lena, not Kara. 

Lex hates his sister. 

“You’re not listening to me,” Kara says, keeping her voice even. “Lex didn’t create you.”

“But–”

“Lena. Look at me.” Kara waits until Lena meets her gaze. “Some things may be different. But no matter how different things may be… In any world, in any reality, I love you.”

“And you’ve met so many of me then?” 

Kara bites back a laugh. In the old reality, her experience reality-hopping with Mxy had hardly seemed different from any other thursday, but here in this reality? Kara shakes her head, half to herself.

“It’s too long to explain,” she replies, “but yes. I have.”

Lena doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Kara gives her time to absorb the new information. Finally, Lena nods, running her palms against her thighs. 

“All right,” she says. 

Genuine confusion crests over Kara. “All right, what?”

Lena gazes at her solemnly. 

“I’ll help you get home.”

Silence hangs between them. Kara’s heart twinges– she can’t deny she misses her old life. It’s like losing Krypton again, in a way, but with the continued reminder of what used to be in the faces of her friends and family. If she had a choice, would she return to that world?

Luckily, she doesn’t have to make that impossible choice.

“This is the only home there is,” she delivers plainly. “It’s a miracle even this one still exists.”

Lena’s features soften. “I’m sorry.”

Kara nods her gratitude. “I’m just relieved I still have you.”

“Lex said…” Her voice cracks. “Lex said we hated each other.”

Of course he did. “We had a falling out,” is all she says. “We didn’t have time to work through it.”

Lena swallows thickly. “You loved her?”

“I love you. All of you.”

“I don’t…” Lena’s voice sounds uncertain, for the first time Kara has seen in this reality. “I don’t know if I can live in the shadow of another version of me.”

Kara bites her lip. “That’s a decision only you can make,” she says softly. “But know this: of all the Lena’s I’ve ever loved, and those I’ve lost, you are the only one I’ve ever kissed.”

—-

Kara gives Lena space over the following week. Her stomach churns in apprehension of Lena’s decision but she refuses to let despair claim her. No matter what happens, Lena is alive– she exists, and she’s breaking away from Lex with every attempt he makes to tear her down. 

Alex notices the change in her demeanor, but Kara declines to share. This feels too intimate to explain, even if she could. But Alex doesn’t know the truth of the multiverse, and Kara has no desire to walk her through it. 

On the sixth day, Kara is at her easel– fiddling with her brush more than she actually paints– when a knock sounds at her door. Even without looking, she knows that it’s Lena. Taking a breath to steady herself, Kara sets her brush aside and lifts away from her stool.

Lena stands stiffly beyond the threshold when Kara opens the door. Her discomfort is plainly visible, and her features hold too much uncertainty to put Kara’s heart at ease. 

“Hey,” she says softly, stepping aside to invite Lena in.

“Hey,” Lena returns, just as soft. She ducks her chin as she enters, and looks up through her lashes at Kara. It’s an image Kara knows well from the previous reality– it’s the first time she’s seen it in this one. 

“Lena…”

“I want to know.” Lena finally lifts her chin. “I want to know why we hated each other so much.”

Kara breathes a quiet sigh. “I’m an alien.”

Lena clearly wasn’t expecting that. She blinks. “Oh.”

“That wasn’t why you hated me– it was that I lied about it, and let you believe I was two different people for far longer than I could justify.” She swallows. “I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Even though…?” 

Even though it never happened. Even though it didn’t matter any more.

“Even though,” Kara confirms. Crisis may have eradicated countless worlds and lives, but Kara’s regret will persist to eternity. 

Lena looks at her hands, where her fingers nervously twist and worry each other. 

“Kara… I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. And I don’t know what I would do if I had the memories you do.”

Kara’s throat tightens. She braces herself against hope and disappointment both. 

“All I know,” Lena continues, “is that I love you. So if you’re willing to love this flawed, inglorious version of me, then… I’m not going to let Lex take you away from me.”

Kara closes her eyes, sending tears spilling down her cheeks. She sniffs, and a sob pops out of her. She hears a thump when Lena drops her purse to the floor, and then Lena is reaching for her, tentative hands pulling Kara’s arms from where they’ve wrapped around herself, until their hands link together.

Kara offers a trembling nod, blinking up at Lena. 

“Thank you.”

“No,” Lena whispers hoarsely, voice thick with tears of her own. “Thank you. Thank you for finding me.”

"Always."

[thegeminisage]

lucanis's pet snake

lucanis mentions in veilguard that he has a pet snake, but he doesn't give the snake a name. however, i know in my heart that the snake's name is illario. please come on a journey with me to consider a scenario:

lucanis wants a pet but crows don't do that sort of thing but he can have a pet if it's a snake because that's not a pet that's a little venom machine :) it's even kind of like a tiny wyvern if you squint right :) 

and caterina is like ok you can have a snake 👍 but don't like love it or get attached to it or anything. absolutely do Not give it a name do not embarrass this house

and lucanis is like ok yes i can do this and of course decides he Must name the snake. he will die on the spot if the snake is not named, by him

but it can't be like a Real Name because what if he says it loud and then gets caught Loving The Snake (i am picturing lucanis in his teens which is fine some snakes can live up like 30-60 years)

so he names the snake illario because if he accidentally refers to the snake by its name he can just pretend he's talking about human illario

(the unforseen outcome of this is that he is now in danger of calling his cousin human illario, which is a really normal thing to call your cousin around people who don't know what you named your snake)

snake illario (snillario if you will) is not like human illario. snake illario doesn't complain about lucanis's dossiers. snake illario is happy to do his part as a crow (making venom for lucanis's poisons). snake illario doesn't care that lucanis never says no to caterina. snake illario would never make fun of lucanis for being a virgin. human illario may have done this a time or two. or ten. or twenty.

it is so crucial to me that human illario Hates This Snake. he's like, why would you own a pet snake. what kind of freaky shit is happening in that snake enclosure oh EW andraste's holy cabbage cousin is that a fucking MOUSE (wigmaker job illario is infamously fussy and squeamish). the very first time he sees that snake unhinge his jaw he is done with snakes forever for the rest of eternity. get a cat or something, freak. the snake is not the reason illario decides to kill lucanis but it doesn't have nothing to do with it either

meanwhile, lucanis is so happy because snake illario doesn't fight with him about who is going to be first talon or whether or not he should quit being a crow. snake illario is just happy to be here. snake illario accepts displays of affection (the display of affection involves dead mice). it's kind of like getting to cook for human illario without all the complicated emotions. snillario is the best thing that's ever happened to him

anyway and then illario pays to have his cousin killed and while lucanis is presumed dead and in the ossuary, out of cousinly guilt human illario tries to feed snake illario like one (1) time and then immediately decides he has enough money to pay to have this done but there is not enough money in the world to get him to touch a dead mouse

and even after lucanis gets back from the ossuary illario never finds out what the snake's name is.

here is an artistic depiction of snillario by my good friend @maulthots

thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[fandoms-in-law]

Not Billy

Summary: Lucas makes the kids realise that while everyone talks about King Steve as if he was the same kind of high school bully as Billy, he definitely hadn't been. It sparks a quest to figure out who he actually had been.

Author's note; Only reason I'm posting this now is I'm currently against WIPs and have a fanfic writing month planned for February and started this one a couple weeks ago. If you want chapters, find it on AO3 please cause tired brain is not up for fighting tumblr on that currently.

/\

Steve was not Billy.

Everyone seemed to think that was an insult since Hargrove came to town, but Steve could not agree. He’d seen close enough to Billy his entire life, sometimes in his father, often in Tommy. He wasn’t surprised the boy that had been his best friend latched onto Billy so strongly.

Steve was not Billy, but he could tell people thought he was.

The first time he felt like pointing out he wasn’t Billy was to the other boy directly, but somehow the words never fit together in his head during those moments. Though Steve also noticed Billy deliberately tried to keep their interactions like that, all words and no giving Steve a moment to reply before Billy left. He didn’t worry about it much, as long as he and Nancy knew he wasn’t, it should be fine.

Perhaps it was because of the king nickname, everyone who had it must have been exactly like the current owner of it, so of course Steve was like Billy. Sometimes he thought goldfish must have better memories than the average high school student.

After Tina’s party and the bullshit speech Steve wondered at Nancy’s own forgetfulness over what were his actions, their choices and the actions of someone completely different to him. He was just glad that everything in the speech had at least been between them but the views didn’t fit from how he’d been viewing their relationship.

Billy was not Steve.

Now that was an insult which Max said precisely once.

He treasured the entire rant she’d gone on that day, coming into Scoops to have a break from home while the rest of the Party were busy. Robin had laughed like he’d been the one insulted and Max tore into her too, about how Steve was never Billy. If anyone knew just what she meant to be an insult or to be a comparison Steve came out on top of it was Max about her step-brother and Steve and she wasn’t going to let anyone laugh for the wrong thing.

Sometime after the fire to cover up the Russians and Mindflayer fight, Robin admitted she understood now what that sentence meant.

/\

Steve was never Billy.

Everyone remembered Billy and the hate he pushed through the school. They forgot that Steve was not Billy though, and hated him for someone he never had been. That often felt especially true about Mike out of all the kids Steve looked after now.

“Just shut up Steve, go back to being a douche somewhere else.” He scathingly called when Steve had been reminding the kids not to get into fights.

“He’s not Billy, Mike.” Lucas countered, glaring at his friend. “Stop acting like everyone that’s ever played basketball besides me is the same.”

Mike gestured over at Steve, “That guy? The former King of the school? You really expect me to believe he wasn’t-”

“He Wasn’t!” Max cut him off. “He’s the one who stopped Billy first of all of us when I was dragged into Hawkins mess and that’s after I’d had months of hearing the actual assholes Billy hung out with declaring him more fun than Harrington. More fun because he hated anyone like Lucas, and joked about assaulting the Byers if Jonathan hadn’t proven better than Harrington already. Plus what was Steve just doing that you needed to insult him over? Looking out for kids that don’t fit in because he wants us to be safe? You really think he could ever have been as bad as Billy?”

At the start of the rant Lucas had looked like he’d say more to argue with Mike too, but now he just crossed his arms in a gesture they all knew was learnt from Steve, waiting for Mike’s reply.

Mike deflated, facing them. “So what was Steve like?” He asked. “Because he definitely changed and gave up his popularity instead of keeping it.”

The trio exchanged looks, and a glance back to where Steve was still sat in his car, looking from them to the arcade he’d dropped them off at curiously before reversing the car when he saw them watching.

/\

Steve was not Billy but the kids now wanted to know who he was when he was King.

“Robin? Who was Steve in school?” Max asked, leading Lucas and Mike into Family Video when she’d seen Steve leave on his break.

Robin didn’t look up from where she was returning some videos to the shelves. “He ate bagels in class and dropped crumbs all over the floor.”

“Okay but who was he?” Mike repeated the question as if it was a demand.

“The guy most girls had crushes on.” She quipped, looking over now as if wondering what the point of asking was, “Honestly even after you guys arrived he was the main crush once the new kid fever died down.”

Max huffed at her, folding her arms. “That’s not who he was. Who was he?”

“Not a clue. I was not popular and tried not to pay attention to them at all.” Robin narrowed her eyes at them all, somewhere between concerned and curious over their focus. “What’s with all the Steve questions?”

“We want to know. All we know is that he wasn’t as bad as Billy.” Lucas explained with a shrug, showing he was actually interested and not just following his girlfriend and friend on the quest for answers.

Robin leant back, looking them over before suggesting, “Try asking Nancy. She dated him while he was King of the school, right?”

/\

Steve knew people had forgotten he wasn’t Billy. The kids were not enjoying finding that out.

“Nancy, what was it like to date Steve?” Max had dragged Lucas upstairs while their friends were setting up a game night in the Wheelers basement

Looking through a crack in her door, Nancy rolled her eyes. “Max, it’s cute you have a crush, but you’re not meant to ask that when your boyfriend is next to you.”

Lucas leant forward to stop the door being shut on them, “Oh no, I’m curious about your answer too.”

“Not the kid I thought would ask me about that. Why?” Nancy narrowed her eyes, before turning away, clearly deciding to avoid asking him about a possible crush.

“No reason.” When trying to decide if they actually should ask Nancy, Mike had made it clear they shouldn’t mention why they were asking, “Who did you think would ask?”

“None of you.” With that the door was shut on them and neither kid was ready to keep bugging Nancy over it just yet.

/\

Will had heard from Jonathan about the fight with Steve, and the apology that turned into fighting the demogorgon. He knew Steve was never Billy.

“You want me to ask Nancy what it was like to date Steve so you can find out what Steve was like when he was king of the school?” He looked at his three friends dubiously, shaking his head when they remained serious in their request. “You’re making this more convoluted than the puzzles I tried to create for campaigns.”

“We need to know!” Mike insisted.

Deciding not to question that again he decided to say what had come up with Jonathan while they were in California one of the times talking about dealing with high school. “Brash, quick with the easy insults and overly aware of how people around him got insulted so the people latched onto him to be popular too wouldn’t turn against him. Quick to try and apologise too when he went too far but kept apologies private as too many being known about apparently damages popularity. That’s what Jonathan said anyway.”

“Jonathan!” Max, Lucas and Mike yelled together, looking between themselves before turning as if to hurry out the door just as they heard someone approaching.

The kids were going to learn who Steve Harrington used to be, somehow.

“What’s with the shouting? Everything okay?” Jonathan asked, leaning around the door.

“Tell us who Steve used to be!” Max insisted, tugging him through.

“Nancy said a couple of you had a crush on him but this doesn’t seem like that.” Jonathanblinked at them, and made an amused noise when Will made a gesture as if saying he had no clue, “I’ll tell you what I remember but why?”

“Because Max insists he’s never been like Billy but all I know is that he was king of the high school too and everyone says he was a bully.” Mike rushed to get the words out.

Jonathan nodded at the explanation, moving to sit on Will’s bed, “Nah, the bullies were the people clamouring to be his friend. Let’s see…”

/\

Dustin heard what his friends were saying about Steve and he was going to get the best answers he could.

Thankfully a lot of college kids were in Hawkins to help their families rebuild and he recognised one face from lots of photos Steve pretended he no longer had.

“You’re Tommy Hagan?” He asked, squinting at the boy cleaning a car outside the address he was sure was correct. He couldn’t remember ever having met Tommy before so wasn’t sure if this was or was not the right person.

Tommy looked him over, gesturing down the road. “And you’re a twerp I don’t know. Move on, I’m busy.”

Dustin shook his head, moving closer. “No. You’re going to tell me about Steve Harrington.”

“Don’t know him any more. We lost touch. Go away.” The words were accompanied with an eyeroll hidden mostly as he leant over the car to wash the windscreen.

“Then tell me who he was when you did know him.” Dustin pushed, certain that it would work sooner than later.

“Why would I?” Tommy huffed, still focusing mostly on washing the car. “You’re a brat that didn’t even introduce yourself before demanding my attention.”

“I could get my friends to come and ask you questions with me or you can just tell me. I’m Dustin Henderson and I will do that.” Dustin offered, dropping his backpack to get his radio out.

“You carry a walkie talkie to call your little friends with?” Tommy said disbelieving. “Why is a nerd asking about Steve?”

Dustin didn’t move to radio anyone, just watching Tommy again, “Tell me about him and then I’ll tell you.”

/\

Steve wasn’t Billy and Tommy knew it. That why he didn’t panic at the sight of his car pulling up while he was still being interrogated by the kid.

“Henderson, we’ve been looking for you all over. What are you doing?” Steve called, walking around the car and only realising who Dustin was with after getting closer, “Tommy?”

“Hey Harrington, the twerp has been asking all about you. Still don’t know why.” He explained, pointing a thumb back at the kid and trying to sound annoyed by it. It was actually one of the more amusing things to happen since getting back from college so he wasn’t being as much of a dick as he would once have been.

Steve nodded, standing with his hands on his hips and looking to the kid expectantly. “Dustin, care to share?”

“Mike and Max had an argument and realised all they know about who you were is that you aren’t Billy. Them, Lucas and now Will and me decided we need to know.”He pulled a notebook out of the backpack, flicking through it as if checking notes.

“So you looked through my stuff and decided to find Tommy.” Steve surmised.

“Clearly.” Dustin had no shame about admitting that and Tommy was curious over what Steve would have kept that showed them together. “Everyone else wasn’t getting anywhere. Jonathan was the one who had the best information that shared it and I know he barely knew you.”

“He really had friends to call to increase how many were asking me questions?” Tommy muttered rounding the car to wash the other side as well as better watch his old friend and the weird kid. “Steve your kid is weird.”

“Tell me about it.” Steve agreed, before focusing on Dustin again, “Who else had they asked?”

“Robin and Nancy. Robin knew barely anything and apparently Nancy decided they were asking because of crushes on you.” Dustin promptly replied.

“What? Why? How…” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, “You know what, thank you Tommy for entertaining this shithead. I’ll stop him giving you any more of a headache. Please tell Carol to call if he tries asking her about me next.” He started pushing Dustin to his car while calling over his shoulder.

Tommy laughed at the comment, “You don’t think I’ve given him enough details to stop this?”

“With these brats I’m not sure there is such a thing unless the subject they’re asking about tries to kill them. See ya.” Steve sounded like an exhausted parent as he spoke, fond but frustrated by his kids.

“See you around Harrington.”

/\

Carol had scales in high school over how rumours and views of the popular kids went and she could tell you with facts and figures how Steve was better or worse than Billy Hargrove over all of them. She could not however explain two girls inviting themselves into her home to ask about him.

“This is breaking in and I’m calling the police.” Carol stated, immediately going to her phone.

“Tell Hopper to pick us up in twenty and you can tell us about Steve until then.” The girl with red hair demanded, “I’m Max. That’s Hopper’s daughter El.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, turning to them in challenge, “The chief has a daughter since when?”

“We’re asking the questions.” Max insisted.

“Since 1983. He gives me waffles.” El added, “Steve does too. You can tell us about Steve.”

The subject the girls were pushing didn’t seem enough to break into her home over but Carol couldn’t see any cause that would be; either way she leant against the door and shook her head. “Not currently. You could do better since I’ve not spoken to him in a few years.”

“High school Steve.” Max snapped, “Who was he?”

Thinking for a moment, Carol let out a heavy breath and turned to leave the room, “I’ll get the scales, if it will make you leave.”

While she was upstairs she heard Tommy calling, “Hey Carol, you left your door- Why are there two kids here?”

“To ask about Harrington apparently.” She yelled back.

“I’ll call him.” The certainty in that decision made her pause, moving back to the top of the stairs curiously.

“Why?”

“Just had the same thing happen and he interrupted the kid that found me. Said to tell you to call if that kid came here, but I guess any kid counts.” Tommy half shook his head before glancing behind him, “Names?”

Carol blinked twice, “They said they’re Max and El.”

“Thanks, what are you doing?” Tommy finished dialling the number neither of them would forget, but carried on chatting with Carol as if the kids weren’t watching them.

“Digging out the scales.” Tommy laughed at the comment, remembering when Carol had decided to make them and how she argued they were better than guys making similar scales because they weren’t frivilously given or constantly used to hurt.

As she finished finding the scales and gathered only the relevant ones to Steve together she could hear Tommy’s side of the call happening. “Hey Steve, sorry, but a Max and El are at Carol’s. Yes, that’s why. No, I don’t know that. Fine, see you soon.”

“Did you have to call him? He’s going to lecture us again.” Max complained, just as Carol started bringing things downstairs.

“Seems like you need that.” Carol remarked, debating if it was worth the annoyance of the chief to call the police on his daughter.

El had a stare that seemed to dissect Tommy when she directed it at him before asking, “You are Steve’s friend?”

“Sure, or I was once.” He agreed easily.

She nodded as if that explained everything. “Friends don’t lie. Of course he called.”

“Er, yeah,” Max frowned a little, glaring at Carol and Tommy’s scoffing, “We’re going to have to go over how things really are for most people at some point.”

“What’s this all over anyway?” Carol asked, placing the things she’d fetched on the coffee table.

Max went straight to looking through the folders. “Steve isn’t Billy but everyone seems to remember him acting just like him. I want to know who Steve was.”

Tommy laughed then, grabbing one folder right out of Max’s hand, “Came to the right place for facts then.”

“And to attack you.” She continued, vehemently glaring at him and snatching the folder back.

He took a step back, sharing a startled glance with Carol over the threat. “Um, what? Kid, I was Steve friend remember.”

“And Billy’s.” She countered, “You came round enough I know it.”

“Read this.” Carol quickly opened a folder and flicked through a notebook to shove it at Max, “Tommy shut up before she tries to. I won’t stop her.”

“Carol!” He protested.

/\

Eddie had known Steve wasn’t Billy.

He really wasn’t happy that the kids decided to learn who Steve actually used to be the weekend he’d finally got the courage to ask for a date.

“Am I TPK-ing the party or cancelling movie nights?” He yelled through the house, not caring that everyone that could be directed to were in the front room and easily seen, “Hi Perkins, I got out before Steve parked. He’ll be yelling to himself for a few minutes.”

“You can’t cancel movie nights!” Max yelled back.

“I can, Mayfield. You interrupted when I told all of you not to.” Eddie insisted, meeting her glare with one of his own. “Did you really worry about Steve’s lecture but not me?”

El stepped between them, “We want to know.”

“El, going behind someone’s back and doing your shit to track down their old friends is not how you learn this shit.” Eddie countered, eyes narrow and only turning to look over the room after finishing that sentence. They he burst out laughing at the scales Carol had out, “Although, Perkins, how did you make popularity nerdy? Is this an insult dictionary attached to it too? Professional Ice Queen turns people into maths. Not something I expected.”

Carol scoffed, tossing her hair back, “Why are you here, Freak?”

“Because we had a date and I decided not to leave El unsupervised. She’s reacted without thinking too many times.” Steve came in saying, grinning as he saw what was out, “Hey Carol, you kept all that stuff?”

“Yes, when did you figure out you could date guys too? There are bets that need settling.” She began, only to notice Eddie had somehow got the notebook detailing those bets in his hands now.

He glanced over at Steve shaking his head. “Don’t answer that. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Who?” Steve leant over his shoulder to see who would win if he answered truthfully, “Oh yeah, um who do we think does? Tommy, thoughts?”

“Any of the cheerleaders updated their bet to be within reason?” Tommy mused, looking the pair over, “Guessing since Munson is here you don’t want the basketball team to win.”

Eddie tapped a name in the book, “Robin is on the list, Steve.”

“She is? Bitch, when did she place that?” Steve burst out laughing and taking the notebook from Eddie, “And why hasn’t she mentioned it like ever?”

Carol took it from him almost immediately, “After the Halloween break-up and another band kid placed it for her. Apparently Buckley mentioned her guess when complaining about bagels or something and he thought getting her to win would get him a date.”

“Thanks Carol, so we’re saying she got it right.” Steve decided, nodding to Eddie and Tommy.

“How?” Tommy asked finally able to see when Robin’s bet was placed for. “Weren’t you working in the mall then?”

El and Max had moved to the door while the older teens had been distracted talking about the bet, “Hey Steve. We’re just going to go. Let you two head back to your date, stop asking these two our questions. That’s what you want right?”

“No movie night for two weeks like Eddie said-” He began.

Max was quick to protest, “He didn’t say two weeks!”

“But after that, Carol, Tommy, Eddie, Jonathan and I will recount the time of King Steve. Then you will all drop it.” Steve finished stating what would happen over their and Dustin’s meddling with his old friends. “Also what the hell did you say to Nancy? Dustin just said she wouldn’t tell you anything.”

“Asked what it was like to date you.” She admitted uncaring, “Thought that would be what she remembers most so she’d answer it.”

If Steve had been drinking something he would have choked but as it it is he just coughed once and pointed insistently at the girl, “Okay and after that, Max, you specifically need to get to know Nance cause that says you know barely anything about her currently.”

El started pulling Max out straight away, “Bye Steve. We’ll go see the Wheelers now.”

“El!” Max fought to remain and argue.

“Bye El, Don’t scream at her on the street Max!” Steve waved after his kids, before turning back to the conversation they’d begun, “Now yes, Robin’s bet is for when we worked at Scoops so her incessant teasing over striking out made me try flirting with some guy that came in and I found that was just as much fun and easier given how horrible that hat was.”

Carol raised an eyebrow at him, “And when is she meant to get her winnings?”

“That gathering to satisfy the shitheads curiosity.” He decided, “I’ll tell her it’s a bribe to not go off on a rant about bagels or you’ll tell the guy who placed a bet for her that she won.”

“Do I need to update the dictionary over that?” The question was asked while she picked up said book.

Steve pushed her hand back to the coffee table. “I really don’t want you to so am not going to explain it. And if she offers to, I’m telling that guy she won.”

“Harsh.” Tommy snickered.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Like I wouldn’t also be threatening him for being such a prick at the same time.”

“Kids have stopped, you’ve decided who won the Steve likes guys too bet, can we go back to our movie date at yours now?” Eddie asked, looking around the group.

Carol nodded, waving towards the door. “Yes do. Harrington, get out and take Munson with you.”

“Bye, I’ll call you both about when that evening’s happening.” Steve waved over his shoulder as he was tugged out of Carol’s house now.

Steve made one small error in letting the kids investigate how who he’d been early in high school differed from Billy Hargrove. He let Carol and Tommy get to his house early to talk with him Robin and Eddie. Now there was a whiteboard stood in his living room, giant paper hung over it and his four friends were dissecting not just who he’d been but who he was today.

None of them were actually being flattering at all, even if he could see the positive attributes getting written down.

[neeeooon]

when you’re on your period ;

blue lock x afab!reader

isagi yoichi

-> #panicking

-> that one boy in class who skipped the period video cause the word “blood” made him pass out, so now he knows next to nothing about periods

-> lived a peaceful life of fake-it-til-you-make-it until he started dating you

-> “hey, isagi? do you mind picking some pads up on your way back from practice?” “… like make-up pads?” “uh, period pads?” “period pads?” “… for blood?” “bl—“ and he sees stars

-> you have to sit him down and give him “the talk”

itoshi sae

-> feigns disinterest but is a total secret sweetheart

-> he’d drag his feet a bit when you ask him to grab ice cream for you, but will buy four pints of every flavor you ever mentioned liking

-> when sae returns with bags of ice cream, you cry

-> he freaks out a little, though he knew it was likely due to your hormones. “did i get the wrong kind..?” “YOURE SO CUTE I CANNOT STAND YOU.” “should i leave—“ “PLS HUG ME RN.”

itoshi rin

-> like isagi, he is clueless

-> you don’t have to have “the talk” but you do tell him that he’s going to be annoying to you no matter what he does for the next few days

-> he’s lowk offended but tries not to take it to heart. even when he grabbed a little too much of the blanket you were sharing and fell off the couch when you snatched it back

-> rin doesn’t fear many things. he has issues, yes, but none that count as a “fear”. he quickly realized he is very afraid of you on your period

-> he’d be hiding in the bedroom when you throw the door open and tackle him. “honey! let’s watch grey’s anatomy reruns!” “NOOOOO” as you drag him to the couch

bachira meguru

-> he grew up with a single mother. he knows what to do

-> knows before your period starts that it’s coming and stocks up on supplies: products, teas, snacks, towels, etc.

-> you get super depressed on your period, so bachira acts as a ray of sunshine, bringing light everywhere he goes. it doesn’t always make you feel 100%, but you never have the heart to turn him away

-> bundles you in blankets like a cocoon and wraps his arms around your middle. “does it hurt?” “mm, not as much anymore <3”

kunigami rensuke

-> kunigami knows it’s just a part of life, and though periods really freak him out, he’s never let you know that

-> “hey, babe? can you please grab a tampon from my bag? the second pocket!” “tampon… tampon…” he finds your emergency stash and just hand everything to you since you had a few separate brands and he can’t tell which is better

-> you find his cute cluelessness endearing and thank him with a cheek kiss before going to clean yourself up

-> he does lots of research after that and will gladly let you drag him around the house to help you with things or listen while you rant/cry/beg for snuggles

chigiri hyoma

-> he has experience helping his big sister out when they were younger (not by choice) so this stuff doesn’t sway him

-> chigiri has such a chill presence that you don’t find him annoying, which surprises you because you tend to hate everyone on your period

-> though he hates it, he’ll entertain you and your antics. “i’m dying.” “you’re not dying.” “i’m dying and the only way i’ll survive is with a kiss. and an extra large cheese pizza. and a churro.” “*sighs*”

-> he’ll help you with your skin care when you’re too tired and play with your hair when you ask

yukimiya kenyu

-> omg such a gentleman

-> somehow he knows more about your period than you do?? when you tell him your side hurts, he rubs a spot you didn’t even point at, and all your pain vanishes

-> “are you a wizard?” “what was that, sweetheart?” “you’re a magical period vanquishing wizard, aren’t you?” “uh, sure!”

-> would love to take you to dinner to relax but knows you wouldn’t be caught dead out of the house, so he cooks for you instead

karasu tabito

-> you aren’t entirely sure why, but he is great when it comes to that time of the month

-> he claims he’s an “empath” and at first you thought it was a cheap flirting tactic, but your mind changed when he was able to pick up on your moods without even looking at you

-> somehow never gets on your nerves. it’s like he knows exactly where the line is and knows to stay very far away from it

-> karasu absolutely spoils you during this particular time of the month. let’s you pick everything without complaint, even when you’d usually decide on where to eat or what to watch together

-> “how much longer do you think we can live on sushi and chocolate cake before we die?” “how many days are left in your period?” “about two.” “then about two.”

otoya eita

-> bro cannot be serious

-> hops on twitter and starts spamming how awful period cramps are, how the world would be a better place if the menstrual cycle didn’t exist, etc.

-> everything he does ticks you off, and he knows it. he finds it very attractive when he gets under your skin, even when you threaten to behead him

-> “i might shave my head bald.” “fine !” “and then paint my head pink.” “go for it !” “and tattoo ‘i <3 y/n on my face.” “NO.”

[dervampireprince]

there was a little interest in me sharing my writing drabbles and ideas about lucien (my visiting king oc) and lysander (my villain oc) as a couple so here's all the things i shared in my discord last week (how was it only last week, it feels like forever ago).

[18+ only, minors dni]

note: lucien and lysander are both trans men with bottom and top surgery

i tried to format this in a way that's readable. it's a mix of different little scenarios including my entire summary of their plot of how they'd meet and get together. i had no idea how to format thisss.

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the message that started it all: peaking in from my uhh 3 hours of drawing as i attempt to make a design for the villain and keep hating what im drawing and scrapping the design and starting again to say hey. you know who'd treat him right? the visiting king

i thought about it as a joke but um. i dont think its a joke anymore.

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What if I shipped them:

Villain submitting looks like him crying, head throne back, sobbing, the king gently and slowly breaking him down, praising him, cradling him

King submitting looks like him on his knees, begging as the villain’s boot presses down onto his cock, begging to be touched however the villain sees fit, villain telling him how useful he is being 

Luce: I missed you. Ly: I was only gone for a week. Luce: Even an hour without your presence feels like a lifetime [kisses his hand]. Ly: [internally: what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck] [blushing profusely]

Lysander crying the first time Lucien fucks him because he’s being so gentle, works him open so slowly, tells him how beautiful he is, “Oh Zander,” Lucien coos when he’s finally seated inside him, Lysander embarrassed at how emotional he is, but Lucien pulls his hands from his face, kisses his them, tells him he’s perfect.

Lysander leaving Lucien with a cock ring on while he’s away.

Lucien is on his knees, ring around his straining cock. His moans are muffled, his hair tugged back and forth, as Lysander fucks his face. When Lysander pulls his cock out, Lucien begs. “Please Zander, please let me fuck you.” “Hmm,” Lysander pretends to think about it while Lucien keeps babbling, pleading over and over. “And what if I want to fuck you?” “Anything,” Lucien doesn’t even blink. “As long as my skin gets to touch yours, please, give me anything.” And what really can Lysander do with that other than have Lucien bent over the bed, fucking into him over and over, every time he gets close… he stops. He edges himself inside Lucien’s hole, all the while Lucien is unable to come from the ring around his cock. Once Lucien is relaxed and out of his mind enough to stop begging, to just take whatever Lysander gives him, to stop thinking, that’s when Lysander will let him come.

okay so how i see it happening.

lucien somehow finds out about what's going on in lysander's city and wants to help. they start meeting each other. lysander does not trust him, doesn't want to trust him, because he's never been able to put any trust or faith in a nobility or royalty or higher ups. but lucien just seems so... nice. good. and that can't be right, no one can be that nice without something to gain, without some agenda.

but time passes. lucien is really just that nice. and he sees good in lysander. and lysander knows what he's doing isn't wrong, he believes what he's doing is right, but he also doesn't really believe he's a good person. and lucien tells him he is. and that annoys him because it makes him *feel*.

and lucien ends up helping too much. or doing something to help lysander's people that makes lysander feel inept. who does lucien think he is, swooping in with his riches and power. doing things for them lysander couldn't because he didn't have the money. and maybe lysander takes it as lucien trying to make him feel small and poor, but that isn't how lucien meant it. and lysander knows that deep down. but it's easier to get angry at lucien than accept that it's okay if he wants or needs this man's help. so he gets angry at lucien.

and lysander know's he's wrong for blowing up at him. for pushing him away. and after an amount of time of feeling sorry for himself, he goes to see lucien. shows up on his doorstep and apologies. and lucien just accepts it. this stupid fucking kind man just accepts it, says he understands, *he* apologies for overstepping, that he should have consulted lysander, doesn't want to cross any boundaries, tells lysander he's doing a good job and that wall inside lysander just comes crumbling down.

lysander stays the night, in his own room lucien has set aside. and in the morning lucien invites him for breakfast. and then on a walk, touring his gardens. and lysander asks what the fuck all of this is. and lucien says he just wants to help, but admits to having one ulterior  motive. and lysander thinks finally he's got him but the lucien says "i wanted an excuse to keep seeing you".

lysander calls him a stupid man. blusters and tries to act like he doesn't understand what lucien is getting at, but he does. and lucien just stands there patiently, until lysander has finished ranting, and then asks lysander if he can court him. if he can kiss him.

and lysander says yes.

Lysander telling Lucien to stop fucking him like he’s gonna break. Lucien says he’s not into causing pain. But Lysander’s not asking for pain, he’s just asking if Lucien ever wants to just pound into him. It takes some convincing that he’s allowed too (Lucien is worried he’s too big and could too easily hurt someone) but Lysander assures him that he wants to be fucked hard.

[the-spam-specialist]

Fluff? Pomni and Caine fluff you say? Well I have some options!

Pomni is usually the one to ask Caine for a hug, but what if Caine really wants one so he's giving the biggest puppy dog eyes he can like "please? please ask? please ask now?" Hugging ensues.

Or

2. Caine has all of the suggestion cards out again as he thinks over what should be the adventure tomorrow. Pomni sits in on the side and the two brainstorm together.

choose wisely.

Ayp hold up, I've been holding onto a Caine puppy-eyes scenario for a hot minute. Now I finally get to use it!

He's Certainly Persistent

Caine is feeling affectionate and wants a hug from his good friend and favorite jester, Pomni! But she's too busy reading. Guess it was time to break out the big guns!

Characters: Caine, Pomni

Word Count: 500-ish

The digital circus lounge was, surprisingly, quite cozy today. Sunlight, or what passed for it in this strange digital realm, streamed through the nonexistent windows, casting warm, if slightly pixelated, light across the plushy, mismatched furniture. Pomni, perched on an overstuffed armchair that seemed to swallow her whole, was attempting to read a book. Attempting being the operative word, because Caine was currently hovering a few feet away, his denture-head tilted at an unnerving angle.

“Pomni,” Caine said, his voice bubbling with his usual boundless enthusiasm. “Pomni, Pomni, Pomni!”

Pomni kept her eyes firmly glued to the page, though the words were blurring into meaningless shapes. “Yes, Caine?” she asked, trying to inject a sense of nonchalance into her tone that she definitely did not feel. It was hard to be nonchalant when a pair of large, cartoonish eyes were intensely staring at you.

“Hug?” Caine chirped, holding out his arms in an imploring gesture. His eyeballs, already large, seemed to widen further.

Pomni offered a small smile of pity. “Caine,” she sighed, lowering her book slightly. “Not now, okay? I’m trying to read.”

Caine didn’t seem to register the ‘not now’ part. He just locked onto the ‘hug’ part of his request. His upper jaw, surprisingly mobile, seemed to droop slightly in what Pomni could only interpret as sad puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeeease, Pomni? A nice, big, friendly hug?”

Pomni snorted, a laugh bubbling up despite herself. “Stop looking at me like that! You’re…you’re all eyeballs!”

If anything, Caine seemed to take this as encouragement. His eyes dilated even wider, becoming comically large. He blinked slowly, deliberately, the epitome of digital puppy-dog eyes. Pomni turned away, trying to refocus on her book, but it was no use. She could practically feel his gaze boring into the side of her head.

Caine then floated to the other side of her armchair, positioning himself squarely in her line of sight, those gigantic eyes unwavering. She huffed and looked away again. Undeterred, Caine zipped to the front of her chair, bobbing slightly.

Pomni was forced to look at those puppy eyes again. She hated how she could actually feel herself wavering. She tried to swat him away, “Stoooop.”

But Caine was on a mission. He kept flitting around, always managing to be right where she looked, those ridiculous eyes pleading for affection. Finally, on an impulse, Pomni reached out and, with a swift motion, clamped Caine's jaws shut, effectively shutting his mouth and obscuring his eyes behind his teeth.

There was a moment of muffled silence. Then, a disconcerting gritting sound echoed through the lounge as Caine’s eyes clipped right through his head and continued staring at Pomni.

Pomni stared, then burst out laughing. Uncontrollable, giggling laughter that shook her whole body. “Okay, okay! You win!”

She opened her arms, offering him the hug he so desperately craved. Caine squealed with delight, a noise that was surprisingly high-pitched coming from the AI, and launched himself into her embrace. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, letting out a little hum of contentment. 

“Thank you, Pomni!” he mumbled into her shoulder, his voice muffled but genuinely happy.

Pomni hugged him back, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. He might be a chaotic, sometimes unsettling, AI ringmaster with questionable memory functions and a head made of dentures, but he was also her friend. And sometimes, a hug from a friend, even a very…unique friend, was exactly what you needed in this digital world. 

[bellixpog]

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Ultraviolence- Kang Noeul

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pair: Kang No-eul × F!Reader

context: part.2 of my other imagine

warning: hair pulling, bad word (just one sentence), possessive and obsessive jealousy

words: 4,5k

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Two weeks passed. No-eul watched you walk past the store every morning, heading to the café in front of the clothing store, with only a road separating the stores. No-eul noticed that you worked there, simply because you came in at the same time as her, and left work half an hour after her. As soon as she noticed this, she started to leave work in a hurry and go to your cafe, sitting at the tables in the back, watching you work, every move you made. Everything watched by her. She also noticed that you hated your boss, because every time she spoke to you, you would give a fake smile and turn away, rolling your eyes. She loved watching you. It was, however, one afternoon that you finally noticed the woman.

You recognized the face, but you couldn't remember where it came from. Ignoring that, you walked over to the girl, smiling slightly. "Hi... Would you like to order something?" You asked, with your notepad and pen in hand. No-eul smiled slightly and replied, "A chocolate donut and a black coffee, please." You nodded, writing down the order. Before leaving, you looked at the girl and analyzed her, "You work at the store in front, don't you?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. No-eul's smile widens and she nods. "Yes, that's me." You bite your lip, smiling and letting out a nasal laugh. "What is your name?" "No-eul...And yours?" No-eul asks, leaning slightly over the table, curious "Min-young..." You answer and No-eul analyzes you "Nice name... It suits you" You blushed and smiled shyly "Your order will arrive soon"

You say, and head to the counter, still slightly red from the woman's compliment. She exuded a confidence you had never seen before, it was like nothing affected her. It both delighted and frightened you, in a way. You left it aside, starting to prepare the order for No-eul, and other pending customers. You just needed to finish those last few orders and your shift would be over, and you would finally go home to see your little dog, Molly. A sigh left your mouth when you realized your shift was over. You took off your apron and let down your hair, looking around the space, noticing that No-eul was still there, sitting on the same place. "We're closing... Do you need anything?" No-eul raised her head and smiled, standing up. “To take a girl home, if she accepts…” You raised your eyebrows in surprise, and lets out a nasal laugh, grabbing your coat. "I don't think she sees any problem with that..." You say, and No-eul smiles, walking towards the door. "Ladies first." She says, opening the door and making room for you to leave. You smile shyly, stepping out the door, waiting for No-eul.

We can say that these little "dates" were repeated for two months. No-eul was amazing to you: She wrote you letters by hand, your Fridays were spent at a restaurant you both liked, and your Saturday and Sunday mornings were lazy, with No-eul's wet kisses on her neck and shoulder. You noticed No-eul's jealousy. The shape bit the inside of her cheek whenever she saw you talking to someone she didn't know who it was - that is, everyone - This slight possessiveness was something you happily accepted, and sometimes ignored. The request for a date was not something surprising, after all, you were actually being treated as a married person. Over time, there were some things that bothered you a little.

No-eul started to get more jealous, checking her phone every day, even asked you to change jobs so she could "spend more time with you". She even tried to hire someone to walk your dog Molly so you wouldn't have to leave the house, but giving up your dog was not in the cards. Over time, things got...intense. One day, you were putting on your coat, getting ready to take Molly for a walk, when you felt No-eul grab your hair, pulling you back. You groaned in pain, and No-eul rested your head on her shoulder, and whispered in your ear "Where the fuck are you going, Min-young?" No-eul whispered in your ear, she seemed calm, but to you, who knew her quite well, you knew that there was anger in that whisper.You didn't have to say anything: Molly appeared, and barked, wagging her tail. No-eul understood and let go of her hair and took Molly's leash "I'll go with her, babe. You stay." No-eul said wearing her coat. It wasn't the first, nor the last time that his displays of love were a little... rough, so to speak. But every time she hit you, or pulled your hair, it was like a kiss. A real kiss of love. That's how you knew she loved you, in her own way.

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a/n: that one is so small, someone kill me, please

THAT'S IT BABIES, I'M ALREADY WRITING THE NEXT ONE

Hope you liked it, xoxo!

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[lolazoel]

As a traumatised fanfiction writer of this generation i have a total of maybe 3 motivators, called stress, attention and sleep. Attention is the motivator for hobbies also known as my creative endeavours, therefore, dear merlin fandom, gimme some attention so i actually write this idea instead of just daydreaming about it?

Remember the Sigan episode? What if at some point Sigan had possessed Arthur after shedding his first vessel, and Merlin had had to kiss Arthur to basically suck Sigan's soul out of Arthur. It would be their first kiss, with Merlin only remembering having started it and being upset because while it was Arthur he was kissing, Arthur wasn't in control, wasn't reciprocating, wasn't actually present for it. And Arthur only remembers the end of the kiss, of feeling Merlin's lips on his, just as he tries to reciprocate because suddenly he isn’t a prisoner in his body anymore, Merlin-who-isn't-right-who-isn't-properly-Merlin-anymore draws away, snarling and cursing, eyes shifting back and forth in colour in a battle of dominance. And Arthur calls out for Merlin, in that moment his eyes shift to their regular blue before turning a liquid gold and the essence of Sigan leaves his mouth and slams into the containing crystal again.

Merlin staggers backwards in fear of Arthur, who is just looking at him. "You have magic"

Merlin tears up, falling backwards only to crawl weakly after fighting off Sigan. "Arthur, please, i'm sorry. Please!"

Arthur takes quick steps towards him. "You kissed me to defeat Sigan with Magic"

Tears stream down Merlin's face as he ugly cries. "I couldn't let him hurt you. I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I promise I only ever used it for you. I would never hurt you. I promise, Arthur. Please."

His babbling dissolves into sobs.

Arthur pulls him to his feet, taking his wrists into his hands to lower Merlin's arms. Even as Arthur lets go of the wrists, Merlin doesn't move, seemingly resigned to be manhandled.

"Merlin... i seem to remember one very distinct thing about this night, something that will never reach the ears of court. Something you will never be allowed to do again."

He fists Merlin's jacket lapels, pulling him in until they feel each other's breath on their faces. "Never again kiss me without giving me the chance to remember," Arthur whispers into the space between them as he closes it.

A last sob, this time of surprise and elation, leaves Merlin's mouth. Their lips meet in a kiss that is them, no third party, no prisoners, just a prince and his warlock. Arthur can taste Merlin's tears but at the same time he feels Merlin claw at his armour, pull him closer, push himself like an offering at Arthur. Gently he releases Merlin's clothing, instead his arm sneaks around Merlin's waist and shoulders, a hand cradling the back of his head oh so softly.

They part after a few seconds, gasping for breath. Merlin rests his head in the crook of Arthur's neck. "Hold me? Please just hold me?"

In that moment Arthur realizes that the powerful sorcerer, who had protected him for years, who could fight against one of the most powerful magic users in history and win within moments while Arthur was powerless, he was a bit younger than Arthur himself. That he needed Arthur just as much as Arthur needed him.

"I was so afraid. Afraid you'd hate me for having magic. Afraid you'd be disgusted by me for loving you."

Arthur just tightened his grip. "I don't care about magic when it's in your hands. And how could i fault you for liking me if i feel the same for you?" Because what was Magic without Courage and Strength? What was a warlock without his prince?