#awkwardly meeting lil' bitch

[godnectar]

[radioisntdead]

I have an idea.

Mom susan and daughter are reader

How about the reader tries to introduce her husband to her mother??

Good evening my dear! I wanted to see a Susan and Alastor in-law showdown and I wrote a drabble and then some headcanons, so I hope you don't mind, but if you do just let me know and I can replace Alastor with another requested character or an oc or something,

The mother in-law

Susan & daughter reader, Alastor x female reader

Warnings!!

Cannibalism, violent elderly, implied Violence AGAINST the elderly in the headcanons mostly, Susan invading boundaries, Alastor gets insulted by Susan, Reader needs a drink, poorly drawn Cat Alastor in a suit, OOC characters, not proofread, does anyone know a replacement for Grammerly??

Alastor made the most of falling to eternal damnation, seeing it as a new opportunity,

He become an overlord, a cannibal, the feared Radio demon,

It was shocking enough to him that he had met you, and while it did take awhile and a long long friendship he did end up realizing he had feelings for you, a sweetheart of a cannibal, who worked with his dear friend Rosie and asked to court you in the gentlemenly way, with a bouquet of seven roses and a kiss on your hand, He was the happiest lil' deer in all of hell.

He'd take you dancing, you'd do something like reading or taking a nap as he did his radio broadcast, the two of you would go on walks,

It was bliss

Unfortunately or fortunately depending how you look at it, Alastor disappeared for seven years taking you with him, much to the distain of your mother.

During the time away you were wed, it was a small ceremony, only the two of you and the fucked up cat thing that looked strikingly like Alastor you adopted as your witness.

Anyways with the sudden seven year disappearance and marriage, he never got to formally meet his mother in law that you've told him so much about,

So once everything was settled and you got to visit your dear mama a couple of times, you decided to finally introduce them,

Unfortunately they already knew each other.

Oh no.

Alastor wore his best suit, he even put that evil radio cat into a suit, you wore a lovely dress that matched the aesthetics of cannibal town [Or an exact copy of Alastor's regular suit if you wanna give Susan a heart attack]

He walked arm in arm with you to the cannibal town home your mother lived in, and from the moment the door was opened there was only one thought on his mind.

Oh shit it was Susan, you were the daughter of the Ornery old bitch,

How was someone like YOU related to SUSAN??

Were you adopted? You had to be, he refused to believe that old lady had spawned you in any type of way, maybe she picked you up off the street?

Susan grabbed your hand pulling you in and looking over you, not bothering to greet the radio demon beside you,

"Where have you been I thought you died, Why are you with the guy with the shitty haircut that looks like someone went at him with a fucking hedge trimmer"

"Mama I visited you last week,"

Susan questioned immediately as you laughed nervously, barely two seconds in and she had already insulted Alastor,

you look over to Alastor who stood awkwardly in the door way, waiting to be invited in, the cursed cat in a suit standing by him also waiting to be invited in.

"And apparently you already know my Alasto-"

you were cut off swiftly by Susan squinting at Alastor

"You married the fucking embodiment of red-40?"

Alastor blinked, "Excuse me?"

"You're excused." Susan moved to shut the door in Alastor's face but was stopped by you stopping her

"Ma, please, Alastor come on in"

You said gesturing for your husband and the thing to enter, Susan scoffed mumbling about something as she turned around and sped into the kitchen.

Alastor leaned into you, hooking his arm with yours as the messed up cat clone moved around immediately crawling upon Susan's rocking chair.

"My dear it's not too late to leave and dine elsewhere''

"Alastor please, It's just one dinner with my Ma''

"Who's an ornery old-"

"ALASTOR."

It's a very very awkward dinner, Alastor tried to compliment Susan's meatloaf? He got bullied, you did step in to shut that behavior down but that didn't do much, Alastor tried to help wash the dishes after supper? Susan stood over him watching as he washed every plate and each piece of cutlery, judging him.

Susan did not fear the overlord, and you were concerned.

After dinner was finished and dessert was eaten Susan stared both you and Alastor down as you sat on her couch.

"How long have you been married?"

"Six years."

"Where are my grandchildren then?!"

You hold up the mini Alastor, it's tail wagged slowly as Susan looked upon it with a look of disapproval,

"That's a shitty looking rat, is your husband dysfunctional?"

"Ma, can you not- NO, Alastor put away the tentacles she will RIP THEM OFF-''

AND HEADCANON TIME BECAUSE I am not the best at writing action.

You poor soul.

They can't kill each other because you exist,

It's like stopping two toddlers from fighting except one's well over a century old and your married to the other one,

You're an unpaid babysitter I'm so sorry

Alastor was raised to respect woman and the elderly but he is very close to attacking Susan

He can't do much because he doesn't want to get into trouble with Rosie because attacking one of her cannibals no matter who it is, was a whole can of worms he rather not open, and also she was unfortunately your mother,

He's questioning that, like after this dinner expect him to sit you down and just start throwing questions, like how?

He liked Susan's meatloaf well enough, he could live without it though,

Susan runs into him randomly on the street? She asks if she has a grandchild yet, no? He's getting attacked with the cane and asked if he cannot perform properly Violence on the ace deer

She tries to convince you to leave him and tried introducing you to a random cannibal she pulled off the street, but she stopped after you got upset at her.

Assuming you live at the Hazbin hotel with Alastor Susan visits, she somehow got a key to the room you and Alastor shared so you could be sleeping and Susan pops in swinging her cane, dropping lore

Alastor lives in mild fear, he's changed the locks, he's put Niffty outside the door as security,

Susan always GETS IN.

You have boundaries with her but she breaks them and your working on getting her to stop,

It becomes a hotel wide situation of getting Susan to not break in

She oddly enough likes Angel dust and you use him as a distraction whenever she appears without warning,

You owe Angel several favors.

You are in debt.

Susan eventually grows a fondness for the freak grandchild, she gets clothes, dresses him up and calls him sonny,

Alastor's not the most pleased but it's better then getting asked if he suffers from certain conditions

They sometimes fight over your time, like he's taking you out on a date and Susan pops in and drags whisks you away for tea or something,

They can't do much aside from verbal Insults and glares, but they did get into a physical fight, Alastor got hit with a chair, Susan almost got eaten, Alastor sent Niffty on her and she almost got stabbed

You threatened to tell Rosie and they both stopped, thankfully

Susan keeps divorce papers on hand just in case you ever change your mind, she's not afraid to attack an overlord, this woman is down below for a reason and she is FERAL.

If she catches Alastor chompin' down on your arm he's getting whooped with a cane and the both of you are getting a full lecture on if he's doing anything he's not supposed too, and if he is, he needs to go.

Alastor is very adamant that he would never intentionally harm you apparently the BITING DOESN'T COUNT AS HARM???

Dude has a fear of becoming like his father.

They have issues but they agree on things like this,

There's eventually a group meeting about Susan breaking into the hotel and while she's welcome she needs to stop popping in at late hours of the night or at the crack of dawn,

There's a Susan security system set up now.

Susan's never going to fully approve because you'll always be that small child she found on the side of the streets long ago to her and no man, woman or whatever is going to be good enough for her little girl, but she'll put up with it, she knows that while Alastor isn't the best person it could be worse.

She eventually respects your boundaries, yay!

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in! I hope you liked whatever this was, I'm slowly working though requests! Now it's 3 am and I'm tired, goodnight! Have a cursed cat Alastor in a suit that I drew with my fingers

He looks like a tatortot

[scoonsaliciousupdates]

1.3 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 3.1k

Previously On...: Bucky got his first glimpse of you.

A/N: Accidentally posted this to the wrong blog. Apologies!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You were having so much fun getting better acquainted with Nat and Wanda that you didn’t even notice when the pool game broke up and its players meandered over to join you. Nat made quick work of introducing you to everyone, and you were fortunate most of them were so famous, you already knew their names, otherwise you would have been lost in a whirlwind of new faces.

Everyone was exceedingly friendly as you went around shaking hands– Peter (that was the first name of the boy Nat had called ‘Parker’) was entirely too enthusiastic in his handshake, but it was endearing, all the same. Thor bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and you were almost positive you saw Wanda swoon by proxy out of the corner of your eye. Steve’s handshake was firm, but basic (‘boring,’ you couldn’t help but hear Wanda’s voice say in your head), and Sam was brazen and went in for a kiss on the cheek– not that you minded in the least. 

When it came time for you to be officially introduced to Bucky, you found yourself practically tingling with anticipation. God, he was even better looking up close.

“Major,” Nat said, giving you a sly smile, “this is Bucky. Bucky, this is my friend, Major.” He took your hand in his, enveloping it, and the heat radiating from where your skin touched sent an electric current down your spine. “Major.” You watched the way his full, pink lips formed around the syllables, as if he was tasting your name, rolling it around in his mouth, something to be savored. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

You offered him a shy, half-smile that you hoped looked flirty and not cringe-inducing. “It’s really nice to meet you, too, Bucky.”

You smiled stupidly at one another before you realized you’d been holding hands for just a little too long. Reluctantly, you let go before you looked too weird.

“I’m Lily,” the petite blond woman you’d noticed him with earlier said, stepping forward slightly so that Bucky had to take a stumbling step back from you to make room for her. 

“Watch it, Lil,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady himself. “You almost bulldozed me over.”

The other woman flashed him a smile before turning back to you, her gaze now hardened. She took your hand and shook it firmly, almost aggressively.

“Major,” you said, matching her pressure with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Lily.” 

“Should we move this party to a booth?” Sam asked from where he stood a few feet away. “This table ain’t big enough for all of us.”

You had to agree– the high top you sat at with Nat and Wanda was not nearly large enough to accommodate your enlarged party. You all made your way to a back corner of the bar, where there was a large, circular booth available. 

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze,” Nat said, eyeing your group, “but I think we can manage it.” You all began awkwardly sliding in, and by some miracle (or Nat’s manipulation, you weren’t quite sure), you ended up pressed against Bucky on one side of you, and Sam on the other. 

“Hi,” Bucky said shyly to you once everyone had gotten themselves settled.

“Hi,” you replied, trying so very hard, and failing, not to blush as he looked down at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

“So, Major,” Sam said from where he sat on your right, “how did you come to be friends with our Natasha?” 

“Wow, wasting no time in interrogating the new girl, huh, Sam?” you asked him with a teasing grin. 

“Hey, it’s not often we get such pretty new company in our midst,” he said, giving you a playful nudge. “Barnes was our last newbie, and he’s ugly as fuck.” 

“Nat’s a customer of mine.” You ducked your head in the hope of hiding your blush at being called ‘pretty’ by an actual Avenger as Bucky shoved Sam over your head. “We’ve known each other… what? About half a year now, Nat?”

Natasha nodded. “Major owns her own business.”

“That’s really impressive,” said Bucky from your left. “It must be nice to be your own boss.” 

You nodded. “It is. It’s stressful, but it’s also really freeing, really rewarding.”

From Bucky’s other side, Lily snickered. “Please,” she said, drawing attention to her. “Half the time these “women small business owners” are just morons who got sucked into an MLM; a pyramid scheme. So, which one is it, Major.” You didn’t like the way she sneered your name, but you opted to ignore it. “Herbalife? Beachbody? Oh god, don’t tell me it’s Mary Kay?” she giggled.

“Uh, no,” you said, feeling defensive, though you weren’t quite sure why. “I own a place called The WarZone?”

“Hold up,” said Peter enthusiastically. “Isn’t that the rage room by Sunset Park?” You nodded, pleased to have someone recognize it. “That place is sick! You own it?!”

“Yeah,” you said, self consciously brushing back a piece of hair that had fallen into your face.

“Me and my friends go there sometimes on the weekends,” Peter chirped. “It’s awesome!” 

“You’ll have to let me know when you visit next,” you said. “I’ll make sure to sign you and your friends up for the VIP package, no charge.”

Peter’s face was elated. “Seriously? You’d hook me up like that? Wow, you’re amazing!”

“Absolutely,” you shrugged your shoulders. “A friend of Nat’s…”

“Sorry,” said Steve, cutting in before Peter could continue to gush his thanks, “for those of us who were born before the invention of the television, or on another planet,” he cast a friendly nod to Thor, “what’s a ‘rage room?’

“Only the single greatest invention the Japanese ever came up with,” Nat said, throwing a wink at you. “So, like, imagine you’re angry. Like, fucking pissed. And you need to get all that shit out of your system. You go to a rage room, and you pay them money, and they give you a hammer, or a baseball bat, or whatever you want, and you just go to town smashing the shit out of everything you can get your hands on! It’s so much fun!”

“And you do this often, Natasha?” Thor asked, bemused smile crossing his big face.

“At least once a week,” she said. At her friends’ curious expressions, she raised an eyebrow. “What? You think you lot are all peaches to live with? You’re lucky I go as often as I do, or you’d all probably either be dead or violently maimed.”

“That… actually sounds amazing,” Bucky said, turning to smile at you. “I’d love to check it out sometime.”

You fought to keep the pleased grin from growing too wide across your face, when Lily spoke up. “Ick, but Jamie,” she said, “then we’d have to go all the way to Queens.”

“She’s got a location in Midtown, too,” Nat offered. “That’s the one I go to.”

“I can definitely set you up with a VIP time slot, if you’d want” you said to Bucky. “Just let me know when you’d like to come check it out.”

“That sounds great.” Bucky awkwardly maneuvered himself so he could pull his phone out of his back pocket. “Put in your number, and I can call you when I know when I’m going to be free.”

Oh, smooth, you thought as you took his phone from him. Very smooth, indeed. You couldn’t help but notice his phone wallpaper after you’d entered your contact info– it was a picture of him and Lily, smiling together in front of a giant Christmas tree, his arm around her shoulder, and both of hers wrapped around his waist. If Nat and Wanda hadn’t assured you otherwise, you would have sworn they were a couple just from looking at it.

You handed Bucky back his phone. “Here you go,” you said. “Just call whenever you’d like to set up a time.”

“So, the entire thing is just people coming in and destroying stuff?” Lily asked, confused. “I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t see how something like that can be lucrative enough for you to make a career out of it.”

“We do alright for ourselves,” you said, not feeling comfortable with discussing how much money your business brought in. It wasn’t enough for you to be making the cover of Forbes or anything, but you were far above comfortable now.

“Alright?” Nat asked, laughing. “You’ve got five locations in the tri-state area and are looking into opening a sixth! With at least thirty-five employees under you! I call that a bit more than ‘doing alright!’” You shrugged your shoulders demurely, though secretly basking in your friend’s praise.

“I can’t see how that kind of place could even make a profit,” Lily scoffed, “Let alone afford to pay that many people an actual living wage.”

“Indeed says starting salary there’s $75,000 a year, plus benefits,” Peter said, looking up from his phone. “Is that true, Ms. Major?”

You chuckled at his polite addition of a title to your name. “That’s starting, yeah,” you told him, and by extension, Lily. “But it’s more based on education and experience, plus you get an automatic raise after a 90 day probation period.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “Well, aren’t you just the savvy businesswoman?” he asked with a smile. “Too bad we didn’t have Tony come out with us tonight; you two could have a lot to talk about.”

Holy shit, Tony Stark, you thought. You hadn’t even considered that knowing Nat might put you on the path to meeting someone like him. It was too fanciful to even imagine.

“Well, I don’t see the appeal of it,” Lily interjected, seemingly determined to find some sort of fault with your business. “It just seems so wasteful to me. Not very environmentally friendly at all.”

“You know, that’s actually an interesting point,” you said, leaning around Bucky to look at her. “We have contracts with the boroughs and cities we operate in, taking things that would normally go into landfills, like old tvs, furniture, china and glassware, stuff like that, and have people smash them to smithereens. It ends up taking less space in the dump when our clients are done with it, and we painstakingly go through everything that’s left to make sure whatever can get recycled or reused, does.”

Lily pouted, obviously displeased with your answer. “It just seems so�� violent.” She wracked her body in an overly dramatic shiver.

“I can see why it would appear that way,” you said casually, “if you’re not familiar with them. Though there are studies that suggest it’s a really healthy outlet for expressing anger and getting stress relief."

“I just don’t understand the appeal,” she said finally, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“That’s okay,” you said, nonchalantly shrugging a shoulder. “It’s not for everyone, and that’s fine.” You shifted your focus back to Bucky and gave him a wink. “It’s a hell of a lot of fun, though.”

Bucky smiled and bit his bottom lip. “Sounds like it,” he said, a flirtatious glint in his eye. “Seems like a guy could get quite the workout doing something like that.”

“Oh,” you pressed your thigh firmly against his under the table, “it’s definitely my second favorite way to work up a sweat.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. “That so?” he asked. “Well, then, I guess I have no choice but to see how hot and bothered it gets me.”

“I think you’ll be very satisfied with it, Sergeant,” you said, and both of you knew you were no longer talking about his visit to The WarZone. 

“Oh, I have no doubt it would be a mutually satisfying experience, doll,” he said. You bit your cheek to hide the smile that was threatening to escape your face. 

“Jamie–” Lily began, trying to get Bucky’s attention back on her, but before she could continue speaking, Wanda spoke over her: “So, Major, I didn’t think to ask before, is that a nickname or what?”

You turned to the redhead and nodded. “Yeah,” you told the group. “My real name’s (Y/N), but my employees started calling me ‘Major’ when we first opened and they thought I was being too much of a hard ass,” you said. “It’s just kind of stuck since.”

“Wow,” said Lily, disdainfully. “It’s actually kind of disgusting that you go around calling yourself that.” At all the questioning looks that came her way, she put her hands up defensively. “What? Stolen valor is a real thing, you know. And it’s vile. You’re sitting here with two World War II veterans; you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Lily,” Bucky began chastising, “it’s fine, seriously; Steve and I don’t mind, do we Steve?”

Steve shook his head. “Of course not. It’s just a nickname.”

“It’s actually not,” you spoke up. All eyes turned to you, now. “When I graduated high school, I couldn’t afford to go to college, so I enlisted. I spent eleven years in the army, did three tours in Iraq and Afghanistan during the war,” you said. It wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about, so you always spared the details. “‘Major’s’ not just a nickname; it was my rank at retirement.”

The table was silent for a beat as everyone took in your words.

Until Sam broke it with a raucous laugh. “Holy shit, Cap” he said, slapping his knee. “New Girl out-ranks you!”

The tension that had built around the table at Lily’s accusation of stolen valor broke as almost everyone laughed at Sam’s comment, making jokes about how you would be the only one who could give Captain America orders. Only Lily remained unsmiling, looking down petulantly into her glass. Conversation naturally broke into smaller groups, then, and you were glad to have all the focus off of you. 

“You know,” Bucky murmured, leaning down to talk directly into your ear, “you seem pretty amazing.” The way his lips brushed the shell of your ear sent a pleasing shiver down your spine. 

“I’m just a regular girl,” you responded, feeling incredibly shy all of a sudden. 

Bucky pulled back to take in your face. “Nah, I highly doubt that,” he said. “You strike me as something special.”

“You are quite the charmer, Sergeant Barnes,” you said, playfully pushing at his shoulder.

“It’s working, then?” he asked, smirking. “I’m charming you?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to mull over his words for a moment. “It’s still too early to tell,” you said eventually. “But I’ll let you know.”

Bucky’s grin was boyishly adorable, and you loved the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. You could stare into them forever, you found yourself thinking. Where had that come from? You’d only just met the man!

“Are you always such a flirt, Sergeant?” you asked, trying to keep yourself in check.

“Only when the girl’s exceptionally pretty, Major,” he winked. But then, a bit more seriously: “No– not always, not much at all, actually.”

“That’s a shame,” you told him. “You’re quite good at it. Seems like you’d be doing the ladies of the city a great disservice by not doing it more often.”

“Haven’t much felt the need to,” he said, and you had to hold in a gasp when you felt his hand land on your knee, his thumb tracing small circles into your covered skin. “Is this okay?” He whispered, looking up at you through his lashes. There was something inherently vulnerable in his gaze, as though he was fully expecting, yet terrified, for you to tell him no and to fuck off.

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. There was something so sexy about the fact that he’d even asked, and you truly believed that, if you had told him no, it wasn’t okay, he would have immediately stopped and apologized. 

One by one, the members of your party left the booth and made their way to the bar’s small dance floor. Soon, it was just you and Bucky. And Lily, of course, but you were trying very hard to not notice her and the angry expression she wore. 

“You ever dance, Sergeant?” you asked, as you watched Wanda squeal with delight as Thor picked her up and spun her about.

“Oh, Jamie doesn’t dance,” Lily supplied for him, matter of factly. “He finds it ridiculous.”

You raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Ridiculous? Interesting.”

Bucky shot an annoyed look in Lily’s direction. “I never said it was ridiculous, doll,” he said to you. “Just… You know about me and Steve, right? How we’re…”

“Really old?” you offered with a teasing smile. “Positively geriatric?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “really old. We used to go to dance halls a lot when we were kids, back in the late ‘30s, early ‘40s. It was basically the thing to do. I danced all the time back then.”

You nodded, smiling at the image of a younger Bucky cutting across the floor, twirling a girl in his arms. 

“My point is,” he continued, “the music now? I don’t know how to dance to that.” He jerked his chin toward where Nat and Sam were dancing– or more accurately, grinding– against one another. “It’s practically like speaking a foreign language.”

You considered his words. “I have an idea,” you said, sliding around to the edge of the booth and standing up. Bucky followed you with his eyes, expression curious, as you made your way over to the bar’s digital jukebox. Swiping your debit card, you quickly selected the song you wanted to play–  something contemporary, but that still had a bass line, a vibe, that Bucky could relate to.

Once your selection was confirmed, you made your way back to the booth. You held out your hand to Bucky. “May I have this dance, Sergeant?” you asked.

Lily rolled her eyes. “What part of him not liking to dance don’t you understand?”

“Relax, Lil,” Bucky said, putting down the glass of bourbon he’d been nursing before sliding out of the booth to take your hand. “What kind of soldier would I be if I ignored a request from a superior officer?”

He beamed at you as you led him over to the dance floor, occasionally looking back at him bashfully. 

“Holy shit, New Girl got Tin Man on the floor,” Sam called from where he was dancing with Nat. “Never thought I’d live to see the day!” 

Bucky scowled at his friend before you turned to face him. He took both your hands in his and pulled you closer to him. “I really hope I don’t embarrass myself in front of you, doll,” he said with a smile.

“Just dance the way you like,” you said, enjoying the sensation of holding both his hands in yours, though you barely noticed the left one was gloved, “and I doubt that would even be possible. I’ll just follow your lead.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[dawnwriterimagines]

Missing Pieces : Fontaine x f!Reader

Summary: After supposedly returning from a shooting he can't remember, Fontaine's memory seems to be a little jacked as something doesn't feel right. He sits down with Slick Charles, trying to connect the missing pieces in his daily routine, while everyone tries to explain to him that someone's missing...

Warning(s): Violence, Angst, Amnesia, etc.

It was loud, it was close, almost like it was right in front of him.

BANG!

A gun shot rang out.

Fontaine's eyes burst open, he sits up with a startled breath, almost choking on the first gasp he lets out.

Putting a hand against his chest, feeling for the indent of a bullet hole he was sure had gone through him at some point. But there was none, only the raised scars from a few mishaps or scuffles with any dumb motherfucker that used to try him. The ghost of pain was strange, as he shook himself out of his slumber it quickly settled and numbed to nothing. But it wasn't really even a memory, a nightmare?

He'd gotten shot before, never flat out in the chest like he'd felt when he got up. Somehow, he imagined it would've felt differently. But, then again, it was only a nightmare.

Fontaine ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily. The nightmare faded from his mind, he couldn't even remember what it was about, but it had left him shaken.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he seemed to wait for something, looking beside himself to see if anyone were sleeping at his bedside. It was empty, the other side's cover tucked tight.

Brows furrowing at the weird feeling that the morning had already brought for him, Fontaine huffed out a breath and stood, preparing for his day.

He got dressed, throwing on the white sweatshirt and a pair of worn down jeans, as he pulled them on, he caught sight of a silver chain on his dresser, a threaded cross at the end.

Walking over to it, he took it and looked it over, it was unfamiliar to the eye but he could've sworn at some moment he had probably worn it, or he had seen it on somebody else. He pockets it, leaving the room.

Outside, he meets up with his boys, the gang crowding at the corner, waiting on him. On the front yard, Fontaine lays on the lifting bench, putting an ungodly number of rusted plates on the bar before pressing the weight with no assistance.

The two other swole muhfuckas huddle around him hyping him up, throwing insults to goad him to a few more lifts as he nears his next rep, "One more! Weak ass nigga!" Fontaine huffs a puff of air, muscles flexing as he lifts another. "One more!"

"Hey Fontaine!" Junebug yells as he runs over, a Caprisun in his grasp.

Fontaine racks the weight with no problem, sitting up, he looks to the kid as he stops in front of him with a toothy smile, looking around. "Where she at, man?" Junebug asks, suddenly looking disappointed.

Fontaine raised a brow, before standing taking his jacket off the ground, "What you doin' here, Junebug?"

"(Y/n)," the kid says, "Where she at, huh?"

"I ain't got yo' babysitter, lil man." The name sounds familiar for a split second, until it doesn't.

Junebug frowns. "Did you get in a fight again?"

"What the fuck you talkin' bout, Junebug? I dunno no bitch named..." he pauses a minute, catching sight of a car, a 1975 AMC Pacer, a dark yellow color. It was parked up down the block, just behind his Pontiac.

Ignoring Junebug's nonsensical questions, Fontaine turns to Big Moss, who holds a handheld fan to his face, "Yo' nigga, who car is that?" he points to the Pacer.

Big Moss looks over, squinting a bit, "Ain't that yo' honey's, mane?"

"Ma' honey?" Fontaine made a face, clearly the only person lost here. "The fuck you on?"

The rest of the gang around made sour faces, some clearing their throats and turning at the suddenly uncomfortable conversation, attempting to nosily mind their businesses. "Not no mo', I guess," Big Moss says, awkwardly. Clearing his throat, "It's cool mane."

"The fuck--" Fontaine's interrupted.

"You and (y/n) ain't together no mo'?" Junebug looks disheartened. "What you do?"

"Ya'll niggas crazy, I ain't know no bitch named (y/n)--"

"Fonnie..." a gentle whisper in his ear startles him. A woman leans in close to him, he feels her hands drag up the side of his torso and up his chest from behind, hugging him close for just a second...

He turns quick.

His eyes instinctually cut to the yellow Pacer at the corner of the street as he finds no one to blame behind him. "Crazy..." he repeats, maybe about himself.

Fontaine decides to get in his car, driving to the liquor store. He buys a lotto and a routine bottle of Anaconda Malt Liquor. As he unscrews the cap, taking a swig, he hopes for a buzz or a sense clarity that never hits him, maybe it was time for something a little stronger.

He scratches the lotto, and the same outcome taunts him back with a 'You Lose' in bold. Tossing it to the ground, he walks back towards his car, coming up towards Frog, the homeless old man that always had some riddle to say. And he didn't disappoint. "Lovin' n' holdin an' they just takin' n' stealin', ey youngblood?" Frog says, holding up the styrofoam cup as Fontaine pours a good bit of the liquor to his cup.

"Yeah, Frog," Fontaine sighs, used to the nonsensical jabber. "Yeah."

Leaning up against the side of his car, he takes a drink, before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the chain he'd found in his bedroom earlier. He brings it up to look closely, in some way he recognized it, but not enough to recognize it as something he'd worn in the past few days or even months.

As he holds the chain, he notices a smear of red along his finger, rubbing his thumb at the stain on the silver, rubbing off the red. He stares at it on his fingers, he recognizes it to be lipstick, a soft red shade.

Even more confused, he huffs out a breath, but he holds the chain tight in his grip, trying to think of any moment in time that he could've possibly been given it, or anyone that could've left it. He hadn't let anyone in his house in a while, let alone his bedroom, the last woman he had slept with had been...fuck when was the last time he'd gotten laid?

For some reason, he was convinced it wasn't as long ago as he thought.

He gets in his car, driving back towards home.

That's when he catches sight of someone. At the end of the street, a black man in a white sweatshirt limps down the road, his chest stained with red. He's on his knees, curling his arms around someone, dragging the person onto their feet, but they're limp in his grip, dead. A woman, jeans wet with blood and knit sweater falling off her shoulders torn and smeared with red. She's pretty, gorgeous even, from what he can see from here.

The man struggles to stand to his feet with her again, his shoulders shake from the effort or from the angry sobs that wracked through him. Fontaine can see that every movement is agony, he watches as the man hacks up a mouthful of blood. He'd been shot too.

As he hacks up a lungful, the man's eyes flicker up to see Fontaine driving past. They look at one another.

And for a moment, Fontaine sees himself. Literally. His hair, his eyes, his clothes even which he was wearing at this current moment. He forgets he's still pressing on the gas when he loses sight of him.

Fontaine stomps on the brake, stopping the car, he looks to the rearview mirror, quick. When did he start breathing so heavy? It had to just be a coincidence, just a trick of light or of his mind. That can't be him.

Interrupting his thoughts, a black van drives into the area, nearly clipping the Pontiac as it swerves around the corner and towards the couple.

"NO, NO, Nooo! NO!" the man even sounds like him..."Get the fuck away from us! Get the fuck off--! No!" he's cut off by the slamming of the car doors, muffling his screams and driving off quick.

All that's left of them is the red stain against the cement.

As he makes it home, trying his best to forget about the strange event, Fontaine pockets the chain he forgot he was still clutching.

He makes a sandwich, cutting it in half, he walks to his mother's door and knocks, "Mama, you hungry?"

She answers. "Nah, I'm good, baby. Josephine had a fish fry last night, I'm still full."

He walks away from the door, covering the plate for later and making another sandwich. He must've blanked out because next thing he knows he's making two new peanut butter sandwiches, cutting the crusts off one of them absently. Slowly stopping, he places the knife down, confused with himself.

He takes one of the sandwiches, sits down on the couch and turns on the TV. As a poorly filmed commercial starts, he swipes his malt liquor off the table and takes a swig. "--Gon getcha summa dis here limited-time-only Hotbox Spicy Chicken! Cause remember, who needs all these vices when you've got all these herbs and spices--" the narrator continues as folks dance after every bite.

A commercial he's seem about a hundred times, before another came on about perm cream.

Fontaine zoned out, chewing silently on his sandwich, wondering why everything seemed so off today. Who was (y/n)? Did he just imagine seeing himself today? Who's fucking chain was this?!

He tosses the chain across the table, it hits a box of pizza that halts its slide to the floor.

That's when he noticed the pizza box at the table, eyes narrowing as he quickly thought of someone. Slick Charles. "Motherfucka'..." he stands and takes his keys off the hook.

---

"You saw me, what?"

"Die, muhfucka!" Slick Charles repeats with an agitated yell. "I saw you and yo honey!"

This is the second time someone mentioned his 'honey'.

"I'm clearly not dead, nigga, where's my money?"

"There are more pressing issues to discuss here, nigga!" Slick Charles backs away from Fontaine, looking around his chest for bullet holes, anything to declare the man, undead. "Look if you don't believe me, we'll get, Yo-yo! She'll know, she done lef' around the time you came in, alrigh'?!"

Fontaine glared at the pimp, before rolling his eyes and exiting the hotel to make his way to his car, Slick Charles following. For some reason, his mind drifted to earlier that morning, seeing the couple, covered in blood and dying on the street.

Finding Yo-Yo about to sell some ass for a $50, they interrupt the transaction, getting the sassy prostitute in the car, clad in a fur coat and yellow boots, she sneers at them both. "Ya'll owe me, 50!"

Fontaine gets to the point, hushing the woman. "I need to ask you somethin'," he begins. "You seen me?" he asks, tentatively, almost in a whisper. Asking meant admitting to some degree that he thought he was actually dead and had come back. In some way, that would explain his very realistic nightmare.

"Not like that, nigga..."

"Nah, I mean...you seen me?" he questioned again, quieter this time, serious.

"Yes, nigga, I saw you," Yo-Yo admits, truthfully. "And wasn't (y/n) witchu? I ain't seen her, she ight?"

Slick Charles leaned back in his seat, remembering seeing the young woman in the car before the shoot out started. "Aw no," he whispered.

Fontaine glanced back at the pimp, confused and angry. "Who the fuck ya'll talkin' bout, man? Who's (y/n)?!" he hits the steering wheel, tired of the day, and the dumb shit that's been getting to him lately. "What bitch ya'll think I'm fuckin' with, huh!"

"Well ain't she give you that?" Yo-Yo pointed to the chain on his neck. The cross he had tossed and decided to take with him, he had just absently put it on, almost out of instinct.

"You know who's this is?" Fontaine held the cross up to her face.

"Uh, yeah, nigga, what's wrong wit you?" she gives him a distasteful look.

"Who?!"

"(y/n)!"

"You--"

Slick Charles slaps down a polaroid photo on the console divider, "So you tryna tell me, you don't remember her?"

Fontaine looks down, choosing to ignore the change in tone, Slick Charles has his pointer finger in the middle of an unfamiliar photo, he picks it up. The car is dead silent now as he holds it up to his face, luckily he had parked under a street lamp, providing him a little light to see.

Fontaine's eyes widen as he sees her fully for the first time. (Y/N).

They're frozen in time in the photo, in a paused state of a love he couldn't remember. She presses a smooth kiss to the side of his face, he wraps an around around her waist, pulling her into his lap, his expression was softer than normal despite a lack of a smile. But he wasn't looking at his lips, but the way he'd leaned into her, held her close, he'd never done that before, always keeping his distance from any actual relationship that he recalled in his life.

So this was (y/n)?

He felt he would've remembered someone like her. Why didn't he?

"Remember 'er now?" Slick Charles asked.

"I'm gon' need you to tell me what exactly you saw last night," Fontaine's eyes flickered to Yo-Yo, he's gratefully for how dark it is, he had a feeling now that he had seen her today, drove past her, let someone take her away. What the hell was going on?

---

There was an elevator that led down under the Glen, this tiny town was somehow apart of an entire experiment, for what? He didn't know.

But, it seemed to involve him. Involve you. And involve all the people of The Glen. And if he wanted to know why he seemed to have died late last night, he needed to find out what exactly was going on.

Luckily, he had some help, although he would've preferred a smarter duo, he was stuck with them.

As Slick Charles held his gold gun up to the pale-skinned scientist with a clean shaven afro, giggling and spasming seemingly uncontrollably, Fontaine made his way around the lab.

Yo-Yo began to mess with a few of the strange sets of chemicals within the lab, taking notice of the lack of experimental subjects: like mice or even rabbits, nothing. She tipped a beaker, blew on the white dust, she supposed was cocaine and swirled a bit of a blue liquid in a test tube.

Fontaine found two surgical tables, blue sheets over each figure that seemed to lay atop the metal slabs. Not a single breath moved through the sheets, nothing to signify either one was alive.

He moved one sheet first, it was you. (Y/N)...

And everything suddenly started flooding back in waves.

"Wake up..." she breathes, tapping his cheek as she yawns against his chest.

"I'm awake..." he responds, tiredly.

"No, you're not," she grumbles, before sitting up a little. The movement coaxes him awake, his arm pulling around her shoulders tighter to get her to lay back down.

"Be quiet," he pulls her down on him, she chuckles, conceding.

He scoffs out a humored hum, turning over her, they drift off for another hour or so, awakening to kiss the other. He's leaning over her, the chain she had given him, swinging in front of her face, hanging off his neck.

Fontaine notices it, taking it off in that moment and placing it on the dresser, "No, hey, that keeps you safe," you protest as he moves to shift between your legs. "Don't take it off, Fonnie."

"Yeah, well right now, it's distractin'," he squeezes your thigh, bringing one of your legs over his right shoulder. "I'll put it on later, if you're so worked up bout it."

"Ok, ohh--k, yeah..." he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, letting you take hold of a handful of his locs, your nails running through his scalp in a way that just told him to keep going. "Fon'..." you gasp as he cups the skin of your ass to move down lower, greedily.

After another hour of consuming the presence of one another for the morning, you both move through the day as you usually would. Fontaine would bench press a few reps with guys, you would start making campaign flyers for the protests during the week. He'd leave with Junebug later unbeknownst to you and deal with an amateur dealer that made the dumb decision to sell on his side of the streets. When he comes back, Fontaine and you would head to the store together, he'd get his usual Anaconda Malt Liquor and you'd usually go for a Moscato if not a pack of swedish fish. Pass by Frog for another daily lesson in senile obscurity and pour him a cup.

Heading back home, they'd have breakfast together, sometimes you'd make eggs and bacon, other times Fontaine would make the only thing he really knew how to which were peanut butter sandwiches. You hated the crusts, so he'd always cut them for you. You'd call him soft and he'd sit pause mid-way to let you finish yourself in bitter defiance, to which you'd quickly take back your statement. "Wait, wait, I'm kidding," you laughed. "Come on, finish, you cut them the best! Fonnie!"

"That's all you, baby," he took a bite of his. "All you."

"No, I'm sorry, please, please," you begged, wrapping your arms around him to pull him back to the kitchen. "Come on, Fonnie--"

"How many times I gotta tell you to stop wit' that, Fonnie shi', huh?"

"But I thought you liked it when I called you, Fonnie?" you teased with a smile.

"Fonnie sounds like a bitch, I ain't no bitch."

"You're my bitch though," you cackled.

"Whatchu say?" he turned, surprised at the answer. And you took off running. "Naw, bitch, get your ass back here, whatchu say!"

"Nothing!" You laughed as you ran through the house away from him. "I'm sorry!" you put your hands up as he grabbed at you, the two of you soon enough laughing together.

"Getch your ass back here!"

Later in the day, Fontaine recalls the customer dealings of his business, remembering that Slick Charles still owed him a pay day since last week. Fontaine got to his feet, took his keys, and you accompanied him into the pontiac, tapping the insignia on the hood of your Pacer car parked behind.

Driving off, the two of you enjoyed a moment with each other, you leaned over the console between you both, singing to the song on the radio. "I need a hug...I need a hug..." you nuzzled your face against his shoulder.

"You need to be quiet," he snickered, emphasizing 'Need', glancing over to you as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, and you just kept at it.

He finally parked up by The Royal, a hotel across The Glen, where he knew Slick Charles would be. "Stay here," Fontaine said before leaving the car.

You roll down the window, sticking your head out to wave towards the pimp as your boyfriend forces his way into the hotel room. "Hi, Slick!"

"(Y/n)! Why you ain't tell yo' violent ass nigga to show some goddamn muhfuckin' respect!" he yells mostly towards Fontaine, who glowers at him in return, threatening to punch him right in the grills if he don't keep his mouth shut.

You duck back into the car, choosing to let the two men figure their shit out, instead opening the windscreen, watching as a photo fell out to your lap. A little picture of the two of you, you recalled the day, you'd only been officially together for a few months at the time, but you were happier than ever.

Looking up you take notice of another photo, of Ronnie, you had never met the boy, but you had always wished to, knowing what had happened to the sweet kid, always made your heart clench with tears. You pressed two fingers to your lips and to the still frame of Ronnie, breathing sadly, in some way you felt you knew him, maybe had met him, caught glimpses of him in the street when you were younger.

A beep is heard, startling you to drop the polaroid of you and Fontaine, it slips between the seats and you curse, "Shit, ugh," you glare back at the car that had stopped behind the Pontiac, before driving driving again. "Motherfucker!" You sneered at the driver, who just kept his windows up, music blasting, glass shrouded in smoke.

Fontaine soon returned to the car, pocketing the fraction that Slick Charles had made, not enough to fully pay him back though. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I--" then you saw the same car rolling backwards, coming to a slow park just behind the trunk. But, it was the man walking up to Fontaine's side of the window that really terrified you. "Fon--!"

He turns a little too late, "GET DOWN!" just pulling out his gun when the window shatters, the car being layered with bullets, the young man on the other side frantically emptying the clip. The click of an empty magazine is the only thing left to hear besides the bass drum of the radio of the assaulting vehicle.

The young man stumbles backwards, stuffing the weapon into his shirt and racing into the car for a getaway, as the car speeds off from the scene, Fontaine takes a shuttered breath. Blood spilling from between his lips, his hand achingly coming up to feel the holes that had ripped straight through him.

"(Y/n)..." he heaved out, he turns his head as much as he can, every movement a strain on his failing organs. "(y/n)..." he said again, hoping you'd say anything. "Say somethin'," he huffs out, panicked. Say you're ok. "Say it..." he breathes. "Say it..." he repeats as he struggles to breathe, hoping he'd live a little longer to get some fucking help.

He reaches for you, his fingers inching towards yours, but you were already gone.

And then that's when the van comes around. A few men, white guys in black suits wrapped in plastic, gloved hands and unbothered looks as they swing open the car door. "Woah, he's still alive," Fontaine hears one of them say. "Do we still take him?"

Who the fuck were they?

Obviously they weren't police, or ER, or even some random passerby's.

"Won't last long, so yeah," another says, opening up the opposite door. "Not sure about this one though." He was talking about you, Fontaine was sure.

Fontaine blinked, blacking out a moment before breathing harshly once, as if his heart had stopped in that split second, he was somewhere else now. Suddenly, he had been hauled into the van.

"Guess we'll just have to wipe the next one till we can get a copy going, right?"

"Dunno, we've never had to do that before. Damn, this is going to be a lot of paperwork," the white guy sighs out before turning you in your seat, Fontaine finally gets a good look at you as he lays there trying to keep his eyes open. Your sweater was drenched in your blood, and probably a bit of his, the side of your face wet and broken up from the bullet through your temple. You had died as soon as it happened.

Fontaine felt his heart drop, blood filled his throat and he choked on the feeling, but he wasn't sure if it was from the heartache or the puncture. "...'er go..." he gurgled out, eliciting the attention of the disturbed men around him.

There was a pause. "Was that you or him?"

"Well, it wasn't me..." one of the collectors said.

"Let 'er go, muhfucker," Fontaine managed.

They had begun to drive, going around the corner and away from The Royal motel.

"Shit, he really is still alive," the white man gapped, but he still began to haul you out of the car. "We're not really supposed to talk to y--" then there was a gunshot.

Startling all of them as the man that had begun to unceremoniously strap you down to the metal, fell back and too his knees, silently. A bullet between the eyes. The van swerved in the mens sudden panic.

Fontaine had still had a hand on the handle of his gun all this time, the only issue had been getting the energy to pull the trigger. And he let his hand go around to pull again on the white man that moved to pry the gun from his grip, "No, stop!" the collector had shouted, but the gun went off again, this time right through his hip. "Ahh!"

"Oh, shit! Hey, get up!" picking his co-workers up off the floor, "Get the hell out of here, we'll send another unit!" the only uninjured stranger hauled the others into the van as Fontaine stumbles out of the car taking you with him, trying to get a locked eye on the last of them as they drive off and away from the scene as if they hadn't even been there.

And so, Fontaine sat on the curb for a moment, holding you tight, wondering if anyone else would try to just snatch them off the street again. He watched as the van drove off fast, he wondered why they had bothered to do all of that. To kidnap him off the street, as if they had known exactly who he was, where he would be and that he'd be shot. What did they mean by make a copy later?

Fontaine swayed, wondering how he had even lasted this long. He let his head settle against yours, he wished for the little snore of yours that would usually coax him to sleep. He recalled the first time you had fallen asleep against him, the first time he caught himself falling asleep next to you. Pretty much the first of any time he had let anyone catch him slipping.

And he waited for a single breath to slip from you, to bring him even a sliver of comfort.

But it never came.

Even in the early morning, when he found himself staring into the eyes of...himself? Driving by in the very same car that had been totaled to shit in the parking lot of The Royal motel.

Even when the same black van swept by, turning to haul the two of them up off the street and into the van. They don't let their guard down like the others, and he breathes for the last time in that van, holding tight to your hand, just before they pull you both apart.

- - -

It's not a memory that he can grasp onto, because it's not his to have. Just a copy of moments he's never lived.

And they flood his mind.

Fontaine leans over your dead body that laid on that cold slab of metal, the familiarity becoming knowing, absence of memory becomes an overflow of moments he knew he hadn't lived but he could still hold onto.

As the labs alarms go off, he takes you into his arms, ready to take you out of this horrible place, get you some place warm.

Something the previous version of him, hadn't been able to do. But, he was pulled to do the same as his previous self had tried for you.

"Come on, I got you," he spoke, miserably.

It was like speaking to a lover he had never had. But it was also like losing one he had never said goodbye to.

"Come on, please," Fontaine undid the straps, pulling the plastic sheet laid across your naked flesh. He shivered, you were cold, "I've got you," he stares down at the floor as he holds you in his arms. Memories still flooding his mind, sensations, sounds and feelings only a single version of him had experienced, and it wasn't him.

But he still knew he had loved you.

Slick Charles and Yo-Yo pull him from the lab, the alarm sounding loudly, meaning whoever owned this place would be on their way, forced to leave you on that metal slab, next to the original version of himself.

Fontaine was on that elevator. But, a piece of himself stayed down there, and he'd be back to find it again.

"Believe us now?" Slick Charles spoke the question almost sympathetically.

[the-l00ker]

(to clarify I mean this from a writing perspective. Like I don't think the writers necessarily, originally intended for Stolas to be racist and when you break it down I think they were going for him being more classist but at face value he seems racist.

Put together, and at face value he's racist. Breaking it down and from a narrative point, it seems he was supposed to be classist. WHICH IS STILL A BAD not defending the man in that front

Genuinely don't think they intend for Stolas to be a completely racist person/didn't intend for old (season 1) Stolas to be racist, but when you look at it all put together he's definitely got SOME racist energy.

But they definitely doubled down in season 2 on "old Stolas was racist bc of the people he grew up with"

But I'm just breaking down why I DON'T THINK THEY ORIGINALLY WANTED IT TO BE THAT WAY and it wasn't really an error, it was more of a one-track mind approach)

Someone on twitter said that Stolas is racist

ALSO DON'T GO TRACKING THEM DOWN TF?!+

...

BUT HE'S NOT-

(from a writing perspective/break down perspective)

He has been conditioned into being classist. Stella's the racist one-

✨🧵AhEm🧵✨

When lil Stolas was meeting Blitzo for the first time, and he bows to him, paimon says something along the lines of "don't bow, he bows to us idiot" before smacking him over the head

Paimon implies ( and outright says) that he should bow to him because he's not worth it, because they're better then them. Richer. Power. Just "better"

However Stolas, continues to treat them like equals even when they're playing. He doesn't look down on Blitzo for being an Imp. But Stolas doesn't acknowledge that they have different lives because Stolas is rich.

He just assumes Blitzo could read, has a education and wants to learn but changes his tune when Blitzo awkwardly stares at him and suggest something else.

In the future right after the whole "omg you slept with someone" happens to Stella.

Stella says "You slept with an Imp in our fucking bed!" now today isn't a discussion of how much of a narcissistic bitch Stella is so we'll leave it out there to chill

BUT Stella says you slept with an Imp. Not a person. But an Imp. STELLA IS THE RACIST ONE BECAUSE SHE ONLY SEES HIM AS AN IMP AND NOT AN ACTUALLY PERSON

(and if you don't see it, imagine saying "I can't believe you slept with a person of colour!" that's basically what Stella said)

Stolas doesn't even acknowledge it, saying he didn't have enough time to get a Motel. Stolas doesn't say anything about Blitzo being "just an Imp" he just talks like he's sleeping with anyone.

You could literally change Blitzo name for anyone else and I'd still work.

But here's the thing, Blitzo is one that see Stolas as a bit of a racist because he thinks Stolas was the one who bought him for a day or so.

Like he thinks Stolas bought him. But it wasn't Stolas. It was Paimon, he bought him so that he won't have to deal with Stolas being upset. Stolas didn't even have a choice in the matter so it wasn't his fault.

But here's how he's UNINTENTIONALLY classist.

AhEm

Literally the entire relationship and dynamics-

Stolas technically bought the IMP services TWICE, once in the trailer/pilot and another in the Loo-Loo Land episode.

Stolas rented Blitzo team out for the day, because Stolas was paying him to do so. He practically bought Blitzo's time.

He looked down on Millie and Moxxie because he really only intented to buy out Blitzo time and not there's. He didn't need protection as we can see at the episodes end, he just bought Blitzo's time for entertainment. FOR ENTERTAINMENT

Stolas initially thought that he was entitled to Blitzo's time because he bought out THE WHOLE BUSINESS SERVICE FOR ONE DAY.

And at the beginning of the Stolas literally says "We're rich and we're hot, people want our money and our bodies" HE'S IMPLIES THAT HE'S SUPERIOR TO EVERYONE ELSE NOT BECAUSE THEY'RE IMPS OR HELL-BORN DEMONS

IT'S BECAUSE THEY'RE RICH! AND HE ACKNOWLEDGE THAT!

And then he tells Blitzo that he'll pay him for his time- HE'S LITERALLY THROWING MONEY AT HIS PROBLEMS HOPING IT'LL BE OKAY BECAUSE THAT WHAT HIS DAD DID!

And in the Harvest Moon episode Blitzo defends Stolas because Stolas is literally the secondary breadwinner with in his business. If Stolas dies then Octiva gets the book and then Blitzo doesn't have it, so they can't make money anymore.

Stolas again is in someway shovelling money to stay in someone's life, taking advantage of the fact that Blitzo NEEDS HIM.

But in the episode Truth Speaker, that's when Stolas changes his mindset (all be it, off screen) he realizes when Blitzo is endangered but he can't just throw money at problems and actually has to do something to keep him safe.

This is the first time that he is not thrown money at a problem and it worked.

Moving on in the story Stolas has some on screen and off screen character development, in which the power dynamics and throwing money as every single problem isn't right anymore and it was never right.

Because before then he'd been practically throwing money in the face a not-so-successful-at-the-time Blitzo just for his company.

That was some level of autonomy in that relationship but it was mostly him just throwing money and buying him out and buying his time.

It Highlights the absolute wealth difference between the two characters.

Before the episode Truth Seeker, Stolas was indeed a classist character it may have not been as obvious as some other characters but he was a bit classist at the least.

Before the episode Truth Seekers, Stolas saw Blitzo as somewhat below him, because he could just afford to buy him out. But after realising that he was indeed a person and could be hurt, I believe after that episode is when he actually begun to care.

Ozzie's was the eventual big push for him to get better. It was obvious that Stolas WAS embarrassed to be with Blitzo. And not because he was an Imp like Ozzie implied because Stolas could have just clapped back with "AND TF ABT U BITCH?? HUH?"

No, it's because Ozzie made the Association that since he was with an Imp, then that equals poor, which equals embarrassment, which equates to him asking why did you throw away your marriage for someone who is poor?

Because I don't think Ozzie would have been racist, on stage, infront of other Imps and his Imp boyfriend.

After this episode we can see that he has a change of heart and a change in which he views things. After this episode he realizes that Blitzo's feelings could no longer be bought because he'd made him genuinely upset and there was no amount of money you could throw on that 🔥dumpster fire 🔥to make it okay

By that point the business was already successful so it was no longer a matter of money.

After this Stolas has some off screen development it seems. Better himself as a person and truly beginning to see equals but as a consequence he had to acknowledge over pain and the sheer power he had in the relationship.

That's when in the episode Oops, Stolas decides to get Big Boss Ozzie-mozzie Crystal to try and end this constant power dynamic and classism that was in their relationship.

I'm in the episode we can Stolas helping out his "equal" when it came down to Fizz. He didn't just turn around and go "well he's an Imp, icky not helping him. I'll come back later"

He sat there through the entire thing helping Ozzie out, not out of obligation. He literally could have left but didn't because he didn't see Fizz as Ozzie's problem, he now saw Fizz as a genuine person.

And the set up to this was great because Ozzie would have had to sign away alot of money to get Fizz out of trouble, and its a nod back at when old him would have probably just threw money at this problem but instead of that he advises his "equal" to NOT throw money at the problem and instead read the entire contract to make sure that everything goes well.

LIKE OLD STOLAS WOULD NOT HAVE CARED ENOUGH TO READ THAT ENTIRE THING, AS MUCH AS HE LOVES WORDS

this act alone not only let Fizz and Blitzo work shit out but also showed the viewer that he had changed for the better, and he was going through character development to not be a dick

And now we're at Full Moon and at this rate Stolas has already had all the necessary character development off-screen to no longer be as classist as he was before, and it's a bit disappointed that this was in highlighted a bit before but you gotta read through the line sometimes

Stolas now sees them as equals. But he hadn't shown Blitzo that. Blitzo is still scared of Stolas and his influence and status and money, last Blitzo check he'd had to spend time looking for Stolas daughter so that he won't be as mad and he won't banned him from the book.

An honestly if he had it his way Blitzo probably never would have went to the human realm to help look for his daughter.

But at that rate it was out of sheer obligation-

And as much as the episode tries to play it off as a gag, Blitzo still has to drop everything to help him out, YES because he does care but also out of fear of losing his only source of income.

So for Stolas to rock up in Full Moon and be like, "I see you as an equal and I love you" WOULD HAVE FUCKED BLITZO SHIT UP

Because all Stolas and his family did was, BUY HIM, BUY HIS TIME AND MAKE HIM FEAR FOR LOSING HIS ONLY SOURCE OF INCOME ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS-

He'd only been inadvertently put down by Stolas not because that was Stolas intention but because that's what is actions gave off in terms of vibes.

And that's why in the Helluva universe Stolas is unintentionally a classist character, to which he didn't know about it UNTIL IT WAS TOO FUCKING LATE-

No I will not be taking question. Yes this took me 30 minutes to write because of my inability to spell. Shush!

[rosenallies]

If you wanna write Planymphia being useless lesbians I'd be into it 👀

the way I wanted to jump right in and write the smut scenario we talked about today <3 but I won’t at least for the first prompt to this lil au <3

——

“Fucking dammit,” Jane huffed, stomping her foot petulantly as if acting like a child would unjam the copier.

“Do you need some help?” A voice came from behind her, one she didn’t recognize.

She rolled her eyes and turned to face the voice’s owner, ready to fire off a snotty remark, but the woman standing there momentarily took her breath away. She was absolutely gorgeous dressed professionally in a bright yellow pantsuit, it was nice to see someone else dressed nicely for once, the rest of her coworkers usually opting to look sloppy in jeans or leggings, besides Dawn who looked like she should work at the preschool down the street in her colorful attire she donned every day.

“I-um-it’s jammed,” she stammered, her accent coming out thick like it always did when she was nervous, a reminder of her Russian upbringing despite leaving the country as a young girl.

The woman smiled, opening up one of the drawers and yanking out a crumpled piece of paper. “That should do it,” she said brightly, a smile on her pretty lips, “I’m Nymphia by the way, I’m new.”

She extended her hand for Jane to shake, which she did, though awkwardly, or so she felt it was. “I’m Jane.”

Nymphia smiled. “Plain Jane,” she giggled, making Jane’s cheeks flush even though usually when anyone made that joke anger simmered under her skin, “it’s nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you at happy hour tonight? Everyone’s been so welcoming and I got invited to happy hour already!”

Jane inwardly cringed, annoyance at this beautiful and bubbly woman curling in her stomach. It took Jane at least 6 months of working there to be invited to the coveted happy hour, though people always did tell her she came across rough at times.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there,” she said, pressing her lips together before storming past Nymphia back to her desk.

“Were you a bitch to Amanda again? Did HR finally crack down?” Dawn, nosy as ever, asked after Jane had audibly huffed.

“No,” she rolled her eyes, “the copier was jammed.”

“Was? Why is that a problem if it’s fixed now?”

“Get back to your own work, Dawn,” she snapped only half intentionally.

Dawn only laughed. “Love you too, Janey.”

The rest of the day dragged on, a vision in yellow distracting Jane from her work.

Later that evening, Jane found herself three shots deep and feeling nothing but a buzz, screw her Russian lineage. Though, her new coworker seemed to drink and drink, getting more and more giggly as the night progressed. Everyone took to her like a moth to light. She was effervescent, charismatic and Jane hated that her eyes and attention stayed on her the entire evening. No way Jane could handle a crush like this, crushes led to dating and dating led to other things she didn’t have time for. Or dating led to a broken heart, and no way was she going to do that again. Besides, Nymphia could never like someone like her. Nymphia was everyone’s sunshine and while Jane was confident and loved herself, she simply knew that that just isn’t who she is. Jane was a lot of things, but being someone like Nymphia’s “other half” wasn’t it.

By the time the night ended, Jane found herself alone with Nymphia, the rest of her coworkers calling it a night but Nymphia never seemed to tire, her eyes sparkled as she spoke of her home and her family and friends back in Taiwan. Though, Jane finally had someone else to relate to coming from a different country, she didn’t share the same feelings about her home and her family. That didn’t stop her from listening intently as Nymphia spoke.

“You know, you’re really pretty,” Nymphia said at one point, drunkenly leaning against Jane on the wobbly barstool, making Jane rest her hands on Nymphia’s waist to steady her.

“Thanks, I get that a lot,” she replied dryly, only obviously a joke to her.

“I bet you do,” Nymphia said with a giggle and then sighed, “I suppose I should get home. I’ll see you around Plain Jane.”

Nymphia got up and stumbled a bit, Jane steadying her again. “Are you sure you’re okay? I could walk you home,” Jane offered reluctantly, Nymphia had already mentioned how close to the bar she lived.

“You would? That would be really nice,” Nymphia said with a sweet smile.

They walked in mostly silence, besides Nymphia’s drunk giggles she let out every now and again. She lived only a block away so they got there quickly, Jane couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed.

“Thanks for walking me home, Plain Jane,” she said, winking and blowing a kiss before going inside and leaving Jane to her thoughts, which she pushed away until she was home and in bed, staring at the ceiling and unable to stop replaying every interaction she’d had with Nymphia that day.

She’d known her less than a day and Jane already knew she’d become a huge problem for her.

[unofficial-dawg]

Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader | Bite Me Pt I

A/N: The inspiration came back for a fleeting moment. Let me know if you all want a Pt II. Slightly ooc, probably spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, etc.

Word Count: ~1,099

“Ah the morgue, so many…memories” You say with a sort of bittersweet tone.

“You enjoy them as well Y/N?”

“Only if the doctor is hot.” You wink laying down on one of the cold metal tables.

“When I am eventually and inevitably murdered, you’ll do my autopsy and track down the son of a bitch that does it, right?” You run a hand through your hair making direct eyecontact with her as you prop yourself up on your other elbow.

“Y/n, please, I will be the one to do it” She smirks as she pulls out her tools unwrapping them with care.

“Aw honey, really for lil old me? How sweet of you” you tease her.

“Alright c’mon we need to do this quickly, can you get the body out for me?”

You slip off the table, with something else in mind. Walking around to lean over from behind her, whispering softly, “Come be buried next to me?”

You see her shudder involuntarily. She turns to meet your gaze, and she seems like she’s leaning in, her eyes flickering down to your fanged smile.

“Careful Wednesday, I bite.” gently wrapping your hand around her throat pulling her close. The tension was palpable, you both breathing shallowly but your gazes quite intense seeing who would make the first move. You both breakaway when Thing interrupts with two aggressive snaps. He quickly signs that people are coming.

“Oh shit—“ You begin to pull out the slabs, finding all but one to be unoccupied. Glancing around you try to come up with a plan b, but instead Wednesday pushes you down onto the cold metal and climbs in after to lay on top of you. With a stroke of luck Thing shuts the door for the both of you. And suddenly the room is filled with two loud voices. The coroner and the sheriff.

You could hear Wednesday’s soft breathing right in your ear and suddenly your face to face with her neck. Her legs on either side of one of your thighs. Her chest pressed against yours. The weight of her on top of you, and the overwhelming scent of her filling your head making you dizzy and slightly hungry.

“Move your head—“ you whine softly in her ear

“Well its not like there’s much space y/n”

“Wednesday get off,, I’m—“ she puts her hand over your mouth so as to not make sound and you feel your fangs begin to glisten and your cold dead heart seems to momentarily beat. You both glance up hearing the space above you open as the two men discuss the monster’s latest victim.

The voices echo as the two men leave the room. You figure Thing is following to make sure and or finishing those copies

When she feels you relax, she pulls her hand away. “Your blood” you lean your head down and rest your lips on her soft flesh. Your fangs slightly graze her neck and you feel her arms prickle with goosebumps. “mm sorry” you whisper against her skin

“You can” she says awkwardly. You pull back and look at her eyes. “what? bite you?” you ask almost seeming dazed, your tongue licking across your fangs.

“what else?” she rolls her eyes at your question as if it was obvious.. You lean in close,, gently tugging her head to the side and begin to cover her skin in gentle kisses.

“y/n-“ the anticipation was getting at her

“Shhhh Wednesday let me make it memorable” you lean down brushing your fangs against her bare skin. You feel your fangs sharpen before biting into her skin with precision that leaves two perfect parallel fang marks. Eliciting a soft gasp from Wednesday, was the cherry on top. The satisfactory pop of the flesh followed by the warm gush of blood makes you moan against her skin, but quickly you retract so as to not drain her. You lick her wound before kissing it softly.

“Wednesday” you both lean in but Thing seems to have had enough of waiting as the door opens. You both slide out, you gaze meeting Wednesday’s. You give her a bloody smile and she swears in that moment she’s never seen anyone more beautiful.

————————————————————

You sigh softly enjoying the warmth of Wednesday’s bed sheets. Enid was hanging out with Yoko for the night, which meant you got to spend time with the goth queen herself.

“Wednesday I think you taste and smell so good from all the arsenic you consume” you moan softly in her sheets as her scent continues to fill your head.

“There is no building a tolerance to arsenic y/n, right idea wrong type of poison” she says without looking up from her type writer.

“So for the dance I was thinking-“

“no. I’m already going with xavier. Quite unfortunate really”

You sit up in shock,, examining the girl before you. “Y’know…you…we…Wednesday what are we?” you ask, your voice just slightly above a whisper.

A vampire bite was anything but casual. It was a courting method. And though a part of you knew she probably had wanted the both of you to originally skip out, you couldn’t help but have tears prick your eyes as she says,

“Thats a silly question.” her eyes never moving from the page in front of her despite her hands suddenly becoming still.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You stand up, suddenly becoming angry. “You ask me to bite you, and then you turn around and not only agree to a date with Xavier, but Enid and Thing are telling me you and Tyler are so cute together and clearly have something going on.”

“Y/n if you can’t see its because I am trying to uncover the truth and figure out how I really feel about you then I don’t know what else to say.” She huffs sparing you a pitiful glance.

“Fuck this.” You say picking up your jacket off the ground.

“Y/n, I need you to accompany me to the woods tonight to hunt for the—“

“Not anymore. I’m not a lap dog, Wednesday, I’m not Enid. I’m not Tyler or Xavier, or hell even Eugene.” You glare baring your fangs, “When you get your priorities in order come find me.” You say briskly leaving. “I-“ You glance back ready to apologise for the harsh words but the girl is already clacking away at the keys of her type writer. As you open the door your already dead heart feels a little bit heavier.

“You were a distraction anyways, y/n.”

—————————————————————

[awellboiledicicle]

Timo is fun bc her whole life Demeter's "winter until persephone comes home" rage has been going.

Her family are farmers and shepherds.

So her family had her and kept her bc there was a span where things were warming back up... then it got bad again. But as marrying age crept up, there just wasnt enough of anything to be a good dowry. So she keeps adding weaving work to her dowry, since staying warm is literally a lifeline rn. But it's slow because they still have to sell some stuff to make ends meet. Then wars broke out and it's just her, her mother, and the sheep.

So she hits 17 and is convinced shes never going to marry. Then she hits 19 and the local wars die down. Shes convinced her dowry and marriage chest is largely for her mother's sanity. Then she meets Hypnos and spends two more years Doing Her Best.

Then one of the men returning from war goes to her dad and says he'll take her if he adds some sheep to the dowry.

Cue panic from Timo at her dear friend like "but I dont even know him! My brothers dont even know him! I know I should be happy but I'm not"

Bc like part of why shes been so informal with Lykos (Hypnos) is because 1: dream, and 2: shes under the impression shes already fucked up being a woman, may as well break social rules and be super close with an unrelated guy she thinks she made up.

Which is why she has a hard freak out when he goes "I'm actually Hypnos, surprise"

Meanwhile Hypnos has 0 idea of like.. what's the protocol for mortal polite society. So it didnt occure to him that that's part of the freak out. He also doesn't pay too close attention to stories floating around the mortals so he has no idea she just did the mental math of "almost had a Zeus situation" and is reconciling that with her beloved Lykos.

All this not to even mention that overt informality involved a lot of flirting and like. Hugging when sad/happy. Talking about Women Things like bitching about period cramps that kept her up. Compliments in both directions. Because she thought he was just... a really solid part of her dreams.

Like once she calms down a few notches it's fine, but like. Panic. Which makes Hypnos panic because her response in panic was to start apologizing and falling to her knees to beg forgiveness for being so rude and presuming things about him. And he instantly feels like he fucked up telling the truth, but he as to or Hera wont help him ascend her to divinity enough to live in the House. Or bless their union, which is about the only way he could marry her instead without Hera getting pissed. Which he worries about happening at all because Panic.

So they just. Awkwardly sit there once he gets her to stop calling him Lord etc... and then she has this epiphany. A god is literally saying he wants to marry her. And hes been mostly a gentleman this entire time. Her. And she was literally just saying she loved him too much to be happy marrying a mortal man. This couldnt have worked out better actually.

Which makes the follow up "ok but you need to go tell my father or the wedding planning will still happen. Also I want to see the reaction to me marrying a god" delightful. Because flesh and ichor Hypnos gets to zip over there and shiver at her doorstep like "hi, I'm marrying your daughter. Also can I come in? Its mighty chilly out. What?"

Like it all goes well eventually, but contextually I like the implications. Also bc after Persephone comes back and the winter stops, Timo does a lil happy dance about her family being able to thrive again.

Yes I did too much research about marriage in ancient Greece and the age of usual marriage. And I was not gonna make my oc that young. So implications of being unmarried etc at 21 when most girls get married a whole lot younger.

But anyway. Rotating in my mind

[nancywheelersgirlfriend]

Nancy meets robins parents : things don’t go well and/or the aftermath

i went a lil crazy with this one, i hope this is what you were looking for!! also in this fic nancy and robin are a year apart

tw // use of homophobic slur, mentions of child abuse

savior complex ~ ronance (3312 words)

“-Because I know they’re, like, really really weird, and I don’t want you to think any differently about me, like, after you meet them so please promise me you won’t-”

“Robin,” Nancy said with a little comforting laugh, one that often followed saying her girlfriend’s name aloud. The hand she’d wrapped around Robin’s jacketed arm squeezed. Although often so sensitive to touch even a tap on her palm got her startled, Robin didn’t move. She just kept staring straight ahead, through the windshield, into her half-opened off-white garage door. “Robin.”

“Hm?” Robin blinked, turning to Nancy but her eyes lingered on the small ranch house - as if able to see past the brick and wood to her parents, inevitably waiting inside for a dinner Robin never imagined herself having. “Oh, yeah. Yeah?”

Not only had Robin never imagined herself having this dinner with her parents (which was not just any dinner but a meeting-the-parents dinner the high school girls did with their promise ring partners) but she’d certainly never imagined herself having this dinner with her parents accompanied by Nancy Wheeler. If the summer of 1985 had changed Robin’s life, this past spring break had given her a new one altogether. 

One where the girl she’d so loathed and ranted and raved over in early high school because of her thievery of Barb - that smarmy bitch Wheeler, hands all over The Hair in the hallway and snotty little sniffles over the disappearance of a best friend that hadn’t been hers in the first place. All these disgusting thoughts Robin had mulled over with her popcorn ceiling for hours at a time, pacing back and forth so much so she wore down the carpet in her bedroom over a girl she doubted could even pick out her face in a police line-up. How Robin had ever mistaken this obsession to be fueled by jealousy rather than adoration, she had no idea. But she had a pattern of misidentifying the two - case in point, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington, her best friend and the ex-boyfriend of the newly identified love of her life, Nancy Wheeler. But he wasn’t what she should be focusing on at the moment. No, this moment - this moment was Nancy. All Nancy, so beautiful even in the dim, washed-out porch light of her parents’ house. No - not even. Especially so. Of course she’d be beautiful there, because she was this beautiful in what Robin would come to call Hell, drenched with lake water and blood and demobat mucus. 

The red-faded front door swung open, Robin’s mother blocked from complete view by the holey screendoor. Nancy’s fingers drifted about in the open, chilly air of a Hawkins December to find Robin’s, equally as cold and just as shaky.

“Robin,” Her mother smiled softly. “And - this is the girl, right?”

“Nancy Wheeler,” Nancy said, feeling that old annoyance leftover from the Hawkins Press prick up in the back of her neck at Robin’s mother’s word choice. She stuck out her hand before realizing the screendoor was still shut and retracting it awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Buckley.”

“Yeah,” Robin’s mother replied, but it didn’t sound like she meant it. After a moment of careful consideration, in which Robin’s heart squeezed up into her throat at the thought of the front door simply swinging shut on them again, she pushed open the screendoor. And inside they stepped.

Not for the first time in her house, Robin felt completely out of her element. She pulled the oversized ends of her puffer jacket closer to her chest in an attempt to shrink as she had six years before. 

If she moved just two steps to the right she’d be in the same spot her father had chewed her out after softball practice, where Robin had admitted to him from the backseat of his ‘74 Volkswagon Golf that she’d been paying more attention to Vanessa Westbrook than the ball. His spit caught on his mustache as he’d yelled. She remembered that. 

As Robin’s mother putted off back towards wherever her father was waiting to strike, perhaps in a little cave like a snake or maybe just in the dining room, Nancy’s hand fully found hers. Nancy’s pointer tapped twice on her knuckles. You okay? It meant, a secret code they’d come up with the previous summer before she’d left for Emerson. In case either got stuck anywhere without the other, be that the Upside-Down or in a secret Russian base. Robin tapped back once and squeezed, which basically meant not really.

Nancy opened her mouth to speak something in general English but then Robin’s mother appeared again, having taken off her apron. She stood blocking entrance to the rest of the house with her hands on her hips, that frumpy red sweater Robin recognized from many afternoons pulling at the loose threads on the bottom when she was small enough to just reach up and grab at them. 

“Dinner’s on the table, girls,” Robin’s mother said. She attempted a smile and turned back around. Robin followed with her head bowed and after a moment, Nancy came too - neither head bowed nor smiling, not anymore. 

They entered the dining room table to make peace with the fact that the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees. Robin rubbed her hands together in a poor recreation of Nancy holding hers, taking the seat by her father. Nancy, glancing around for a moment at the arrangement of chairs, took the one across from her. Robin’s mother seemed slightly pleased at Nancy for having figured out where to sit (or maybe surprised?) and took the last seat across from Robin’s father, a dining arrangement that had never been altered in Robin’s eighteen years olf life. 

“So, Nancy,” Robin’s mother began, looking up with an eyebrow raised to make sure she’d gotten the right name. “Robin tells me you’re going to Emerson. That’s a long way from home, hm?”

“Yes, ma’am, but I-” Nancy glanced around as Robin’s father began to eat but neither Robin nor her mother touched their individual plates. Her finger traced the spokes on her fork aimlessly if only to have something to do with her hands. “I’m enjoying the distance, actually. Massachusetts is very beautiful.”

“I never understood going so far away for school,” Robin’s mother shook her head to dismiss the silly notion. Nancy watched her fork with interest. Finally Robin’s mother reached over the plate of chicken, as if something had clicked in her brain to allow her to finally start eating. “I can’t imagine leaving Hawkins. What would be the point?”

Nancy reached over the table for the green beans, catching out of the corner of her eye the fact that Robin’s father was watching her dish it out onto her plate. It looked like a vein was about to pop through his forehead. As she set the green bean dish down she looked up at Robin, hoping to catch her eye or any sort of expression on her girlfriend’s face. But it was nothing. Just blank and dull - she’d never seen Robin like that before.

“I totally understand,” Nancy agreed. She pushed around the green beans on her plate. It had taken enough of her courage just to scoop them out - eating would be another hill to climb entirely. “I mean, it took a lot of thought-”

“You’re Ted Wheeler’s kid, aren’t you?” Robin’s father asked through an open mouthful of dry chicken, practically spitting flakes of the food out across the table onto Nancy. Nancy’s hand tightened just so around the fork. Underneath the table, her foot hit Robin’s. No response, not even a teeny tap back. Robin loved to play footsy with Nancy, especially at big gatherings - it always made Steve hilariously pissed because one of them would end up banging against his calf or ankle and make him groan like an old man.

“Yes, sir,” Nancy said. She swallowed though she hadn’t eaten anything. There was nothing on Robin’s plate - not even water in her glass. It looked as if there was no one in that seat to begin with, an empty placemat at a table meant for two instead of three.

“See, Carol, I told you,” Robin’s father began, and the use of what was presumably Robin’s mother’s name jolted something out of Nancy. Her name was Carol - Carol like Tommy H’s Carol, which made Nancy nearly sick to her stomach that she had to remember a woman through the man she had attached herself to. And all of a sudden she felt she had been transported into the future twenty years, to a dystopian universe where Robin was not across from her but a man - not even Steve, Nancy wasn’t that lucky - a man who wore ties even on Sundays and the two people with them were not her girlfriends’ parents but Carol and Tommy H, married and sick of each other. Everybody was so damn sick of each other all the time. “I told you there was something up with Ted. Ever since Reagan he’s been turning into more and more of a pussy.”

“John!” Robin’s mother admonished, though it was hardly a word to begin with. Clearly, Robin’s father lived on a different plane from the women at this table - he commanded the room and the house with the respect he certainly hadn’t earned through justified means. 

“What do you mean by that?” Nancy asked, unable to stop herself. Not that she and her father had ever been any semblance of close but he was her dad. And whatever Robin’s father was implying got her blood boiling. She had tried to keep her tone down but clearly Robin had picked up on her anger (as she always did, that mind reader) and her head snapped up for the first time since they’d stepped through the front entryway.

“I mean,” Robin’s father continued to chew the lukewarm dinner like a pig, “that if Ted had a bit of a stronger hand, we wouldn’t be sitting at this dinner table right now, having to eat like this.”

“John, please,” Robin’s mother pleaded. It was through her hand, a protective measure that’d come up to press against and shield her face from the criticisms of her daughter and her daughter’s (unfortunately) female lover.

“I tried, Carol,” John said, a little angry this time. Nancy saw flashes of red under his face, sickeningly close to the overclouded sky of the Upside-Down. “But you say give Robin and a chance and the first thing she does is bring home this - this dyke.” Nancy’s fork clattered to her plate, but Robin was the one of the two of them to stand up. 

“You don’t get to call her that,” Robin spit out. Her face was twisted up, something terrible and angry Nancy had never seen before. “You don’t get to - to talk to her like that. I won’t let you.”

“What made you think you had any power over that anyway?” John asked, still shoveling food down as Carol dropped her embarrassed, housewife head into her dry hands. 

“I asked you for one thing, dad, one goddamn thing.” Robin was getting close to shouting now, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. “One goddamn thing in my entire life and you can’t spend five seconds without insulting her? What has she done to you?” Nancy blinked as Robin threw a hand out to gesture to her for emphasis.

“Oh, one goddamn thing?” John laughed callously. His chair scratched against the hardwood floor as he stood up to match his daughter, nearly coming nose-to-nose but he was just a little taller than she. “You think you’ve only asked me for one thing in your entire life?”

“I’m not asking for anything another girl wouldn’t already be getting,” Robin protested, tears beginning to spill out of her eyes and onto her flushed cheeks.

“It took a lot of nerve not only telling your mother and me about who - or what you are,” John wrinkled his nose. “And you know your mother’s fragile. But bringing this - this girl into our house, that’s a death wish.”

“She’s not just a girl, she’s my girlfriend, Dad,” Robin said. She couldn’t help but feel like a child again, stomping her feet on the dining room floor and earning a swipe across the face in return, worrying her bottom lip over whether or not her parents would discover her collection of Farrah Fawcett and Diana Ross cutouts underneath her bed. “And I brought her here because I wanted you to love her - love her as much as I do.”

“I was a fucking idiot to allow you to run as rampant as you have,” John said, face nearly becoming one complete shade of red as he rounded the table and stepped closer to her daughter. Now so close, it was obvious how much smaller she was to him - how much of a child she was compared to him and his large, heavy hands. “It’s your mother’s fault you turned out like this. If she hadn’t babied you so much-”

“Dad-” Robin pleaded. John raised a hand and she practically curled up into a ball, scattering backward. She didn’t notice Nancy had crossed the invisible boundary of the table and had her in her arms now until Nancy was lifting her back up onto her feet and turning her head into the crook of her neck.

“You will never touch her again.” Fire came out of Nancy’s mouth. “I thought you’d be better than this. Both of you.”

“You think you’re better than us?” John asked, fury nearly equal to Nancy’s. But not quite. The fire on Nancy’s tongue erupted as she began to back herself and Robin out of the dining room, Robin curled up onto her chest like a ragdoll. “I knew I was right about Ted. Son of a bitch raising-”

“I think we’ve heard enough,” Nancy said. Her voice was just the right amount of shaky to break through her words. She kept one arm around Robin as she steered them around and back down the corridor they’d only just walked through, practically one four-legged monster as a low-voiced and angry discussion between Robin’s parents began behind them.

As the cold hit their faces again, the first little snow droplets of winter beginning to fall around the lawn, Robin tilted her face upwards. It felt like staring into the roof of the mall. It felt like opening her mouth to take in the hands of God - snowflakes dropping onto her tongue. Nancy had, at first, attempted to wrangle her in the car. But then she let herself and Robin lean up against the side, Robin still tucked into her coat like a well-kept secret. She went to speak. Robin reached up and opened Nancy’s mouth for her instead. She stuck her tongue out in kind, the two watching each other as snowflakes collected on the tips of their tongues and wet the embers left over from the battle.

“That didn’t end as badly as I’d imagined,” Robin said finally when the fire was all out and her red hair was dotted with white. Nancy watched her for a moment before shaking her head and laughing this great Nancy laugh that was a clear release of all the pent-up anger.

“How badly did you imagine it going?” Nancy asked. “Because that was pretty bad.” As if on cue, the porchlight flipped off. Robin and Nancy held their breath but no parent stepped out. The patio and the street stayed as silent and snowy as they had been before. They broke apart, albeit hesitantly, to retreat to the steady warmth of the car. In silent agreement, despite the car being Robin’s, Nancy took the driver’s seat. She turned the ignition and booted up the heater, Robin holding her hands out in front of the dash to gather warmth. Nancy grabbed Robin’s hands in her own and pulled them close to her mouth, pressing small kisses to each of Robin’s fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said. Nancy shook her head and pressed Robin’s hands impossibly closer to her face as if they were on the verge of melting together. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” Nancy spoke softly. She dropped their connected hands to put hers on the wheel, moving the car in reverse and backing out of the driveway. While neither said a word about it, something about the moment felt like it’d be the last time Robin would be in that driveway.

She’d drawn with chalk on that driveway, and when it had rained the paint had collected in the cracks in between. What she had drawn she couldn’t remember anymore. Perhaps a sun. Perhaps a rainbow.

When they reached Nancy’s parents’ house, where Nancy had been staying for winter break, Nancy parked the car and came over to open Robin’s door. For a moment, Robin hesitated to get out. But then Nancy was pulling on her arm and pulling her close to her chest, carrying her back into the silent house as she had carried her out of the previous fire.

Nobody was up in the Wheeler household. Nancy’s father, the name-dropped Ted, wasn’t sleeping in the Laz-E Boy. He and Mrs. Wheeler had taken up the master as they sometimes did, Holly asleep in her room and Mike off in California visiting the Byers. So Robin and Nancy trekked up the stairs to Nancy’s room, still just as frilly and pink as it had been preserved in the Upside-Down.

Robin sat herself down on the comforter, realizing she couldn’t move her fingers with enough strength to take off her shoes. Nancy leaned down and untied her sneakers, sliding them off her feet and then the socks. They came to rest by the closed bedroom door as Nancy’s flats did also, shoes pressed together in the small space. The bed creaked as Nancy plopped down beside Robin. Both pairs of their legs hung off the bed, hovering just a few inches off the ground as if about to take off. Nancy’s fingers went shooting through the empty air, skirting along the comforter to find Robin’s. And she did, their hands interlocking and Nancy rolling over to lie halfway on top of Robin, both still dressed and still cold but so warm together it was nearly unbearable. But a wonderful kind of unbearable - Robin shoved her face into Nancy’s curls and took a deep breath in. She resisted the urge to apologize again.

“What’s gonna happen?” Robin asked the air. Nancy rolled over again to let her head hit the pillow, shrugging off her jean jacket as she did so. Distantly Robin noticed she was still wearing her puffer. She slowly slipped out of it, hanging it over one of Nancy’s bedposts. She watched as it swung in the little wind. Nancy’s hand wrapped around her now bare arm, pulling her back down to the present and back onto the bed. Their heads met at the top of the queen mattress, foreheads knocking together absently. 

“I’m not sure,” Nancy said. Perhaps it was the first time she’d ever said those words before, at least out loud. Robin pressed a soft kiss to her where her chin connected to her neck, and then to her brow bone, and then to the tip of her nose. Nancy looked up at her through her eyelashes, and that - that alone was enough for Robin to give up everything.

Even that house. Even that family. Just Nancy, in this bed, was enough - more than enough to lose everything and then some for her, this beautiful girl. Robin wrapped her arms around Nancy and pulled her close, whispering something unintelligible (maybe not even English but a language understood by the two anyway) into her forehead as they drifted off to snowy sleep. Yes, she was worth it.

[hsakuras]

Armin who has you wear cute dresses all the time but doesn’t let you wear panties whenever you go out with him and his buddy Eren 💕 who wants nothing more than to have you in his bed but Armin got to you first 💕💕 so your boyfriend always makes sure you have to bend over and show his buddy what will never be his 💕💕💕

BITCH okay lil drabble to get myself warmed back up so im sorry if this sucks cw: possessiveness, exhibitionism, voyeurism, praise, fingering, fingers in da mouf, manipulative armin, allusions to a threesome?(idk im a whore)

“Show him” Armin taunts, his fingers are at the hem of your dress and you can’t bare to look at Eren. It’s Armin’s idea, he loves seeing you in the shortest dresses and always makes sure to pocket your panties, especially if you’re going to meet with Eren. He knows how Eren looks at you, he knows that his own best friend wishes that it was him burying his cock inside of your warm pussy over and over again until you’re dumb and babbling for him.

It’s makes Armin want to gouge Eren’s eyes out. He’s so shameless when he looks at you, emerald eyes glued to your legs and the tops of your bare thighs, he even has the audacity to touch you. His large hand squeezing at your thigh in what he would argue was just a “friendly” gesture.

Armin isn’t stupid though. He’ll shrug his best friend off, he’ll even go as far as apologizing for overreacting and pulling you into a kiss where his tongue finds yours and swirls it around his own. He can see Eren looking away awkwardly when he pulls away from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting the both of you and a silent reminder that you belong to Armin.

It doesn’t stop there, not when you’re clinging onto Armin later that evening, your dress hiking up and Eren swears he can see your ass peeking through the bottom of your dress. He curses under his breath when he realizes that you’re not wearing any underwear.

Armin notices, it’s impossible to hide anything from him. He pulls you close to him, whispering filth about how dirty you are for clinging onto him and walking around in front of Eren with no panties on. He slides his fingers to the front of your dress lifting it up so that his hand can find your clit, you whine into his shoulder when he begins to rub circles, pleasure beginning to shoot through your veins and pool between your legs.

“You’re gonna show him, yeah? You’re gonna be my good girl and show him this pretty pussy.” He whispers, his free hand ready to lift the hem of your dress watching as Eren sees you hiding your face in the crook of Armin’s neck.

Eren wishes you would look at him, even when his face is burning and flushed red. He can feel his cock twitching in his pants when he realizes that Armin is fucking you with his fingers beneath your dress. His own breath hitches when Armin pulls your dress up to reveal your sloppy pussy to Eren’s hungry eyes. His mouth water at the sight of your juices covering your thighs and Armin’s hand.

“look at him” armin grits, turning you around so that Eren can see exactly what he’s doing, “you’re gonna cum while you look at him, tell him who’s making you feel good.”

Armin’s precise, he knows your body and knows how to fuck you stupid. You wish he would fuck you with his cock, you can feel how hard he is through his pants. Your tongue feels heavy when the pads of his middle and ring fingers prod at the spongey spot inside of you.

“Armin.” You slur, eyes rolling into the back of your head and brows knitting in pleasure when you feel the familiar heat rise in your belly and the tension awaiting to snap. “Armin, fuck! Right there!” You squeal, rocking your hips in tune with his fingers, your gaze focusing on Eren’s when the palm of Armin’s hand grazes your clit sending you over the edge with a squeal of Armin’s name.

Armin lets you rest against him before leaning you against the wall. He makes his way over to Eren, his fingers still covered in your arousal. He taps them on Eren’s lips, waiting for him to comply and happy when Eren opens his mouth awaiting for Armin to slip his fingers inside.

“Suck” Armin’s voice sounds foreign. Eren groans around his digits, savoring the taste of your orgasm before Armins shoves them further into the back of his mouth, causing him to gag.

“Don’t you wish you could have more?” He coos, pulling his fingers out of Eren’s mouth, “if you’re good, I might let you have a little taste.

[ecliptsukki]

falling for you ❧ kaoru sakurayashiki / cherry blossom

navigation | music

➣ genre: fluff, slight comedy

➣ warnings: cursing

➣ a/n: i’m far too in love with this man. i can’t help myself. also if you have anything you want me to write, send it to my inbox!

- he first met you at "S," seeing you stood by langa and reki

- his silky pink hair flowed behind him in the wind, his bangs lifting to reveal his golden eyes. those golden orbs are locked on you the entire time he skates closer to you

- the lack of bickering that usually arose between cherry and joe had caught joe's attention

- joe notices cherry's gaze on a particular y/h/c. he almost snorts, almost, but, being a teasing lil bitch kidding, he decides to jab at cherry's side

- "hey, do you see that girl over there? she's cute, isn't she?"

- the bubblegum-colored hair male glares holes into his friends head

- "i'm sure she wouldn't be interested in a muscle-brained gorilla like yourself"

- "bOI, DID YOU JUST-"

- skates off into the distance, further closing the gap between the two of you

- girls and guys start cheering for and fawning over cherry, as well as joe. this catches your attention because you're surprised mostly by the fawning of the people. honestly, you wouldn't say that anyone you've seen there is worthy of so much attention, excluding your two best buds: langa and reki.

- you're actually older than reki and langa by 3 years. you met reki on coincidence.

- you had borrowed your friend's skateboard to cruise around the town. you had felt overwhelmed with all that had been going on in your life, and you wanted to find an escape. your friend, wanting to help you with that mission, offered the board, saying "it's really fun and gets your mind off of things whenever you need." obviously, you took up on the offer because it was a nice spring day: the sun out and the bright colors of nature and the city filling your misty eyes.

- you skated by the skate park and saw a particular redhead practicing ollies and other tricks. you were impressed by the skill he had portrayed, yet you were also envious of how light he seemed, how his eyes twinkled with joy. your gaze must've rested too long on the boy because he approached you soon after.

- reki, later on, introduced you to langa, bringing you to where you were today

- you came to "S," though unwillingly, to support langa in his beef against another fellow skater

- honestly, you detested that your younger friends were participating in illegal activities but never brought it up because you saw how happy they looked whenever they spoke about the beefs

- anYWAYS-

- looking into the distance, you see a masked man in a white yukata, hair flowing behind him, and a green haired, shirtless, buff man skating closer

- "who's that?" you ask your friends

- "oh! that's cherry blossom and joe. they are the founding members of "S." cherry has an ai board, and joe has incredible power," reki pips

- you nod, acknowledging the two men as they stepped off of their skateboards

- “well hello there,” the green haired man winks at you

- “hi,” you flush, eyes wandering between his gaze and his bare chest

- “what’s a pretty little lady like yourself doing with these two kids?”

- “uh-”

- reki tries to jump joe but is held back by langa because we know that reki doesn’t stand a chance against big muscle man

- joe gets all up and comfy with you, flexing his muscles and talking about who knows what

- your attention was mostly on the blue-nette friend of yours. you were still very anxious about this entire thing

- “she’s not even paying attention to you anymore, you idiot,” the masked man speaks

- embarrassed that they noticed your rude behavior, you begin to excessively apologize

- “no, please don’t apologize. i should’ve realized you were worried about your friends,” joe says modestly

- “there’s no need to worry about snow. he’s fully capable of staying safe. we’ve seen him skate many times, and he always comes out in one piece. i’m sure you’ll be impressed as well,” cherry says in his monotonous tone

- “snow?” you tilt your head to the side in confusion

- when i tell you cherry MELTED, i mean that he MELTED

- stomach? churning. heart? fluttering. cheeks? flushing. hotel? trivago

- bRO, why are you SO FUCKING ADORABLE

- “snow is langa,” joe explains when he notices cherry’s flustered silence

- “ohhhhhh-”

- “actually, i’ve just realized. we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. call me joe,” he looks expectantly at his friend

- “you may call me cherry,” the man thanked the lords that he wore a mask because if he wasn’t, you’d see the obvious rose tint on his cheeks

- “i’m y/n! i came here with reki and langa.”

- to say cherry’s heart broke in that moment would be an understatement. his heart was more so shattered and pulverized.

- did i just fall for a minor? FU-

- “but i’m older than them, of course.”

- lemme just pick up the shards of my broken heart and re-piece it back together

- you barely talked to cherry that night his fault for acting so cold, but you were intrigued by the man. i mean he skates on a talking skateboard, how can you not?

- cherry leaves “S” that night, regretting all his life decisions because instead of talking to you, he avoided you

- who knows when’s the next time he’d meet you?

- lmao, SiKe

- you walk into sakurayashiki calligraphy, awkwardly waiting to be interviewed

- his pink hair meets your eyes, the long, silky hair framing the man’s pale face. a pair of glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, enhancing his golden eyes. he is clad in a navy blue yukata

- hm, he looks familia-

- you almost gasp aloud, as you realize who he is

- not wanting to jump to conclusions, you ask, “have we met before?”

- kaoru is freaking out, though he hides it well under his professional mask

- what the heck? she’s the one looking for a job here?

- “yes, we have, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about”

- yiKeS, nice first impression on your, hopefully, new boss, y/n

- throughout the entire interview, you impressed him with the slightest of things

- you were beyond professional and exactly what he looked for in employees

- damn it. why is she so perfect?

- you walk out of the building with the brightest smile on your face, ecstatic with the news that you had been hired

- kaoru follows closely behind you, acting gentlemanly as he leads you out

- “thank you so, so much. i promise i will work my hardest to make your business even stronger and better than before”

- “no, the honor’s all mine. i can tell that you’ll become a valuable asset”

- you’re bowing your head and thanking him to a crazy amount that he starts to worry that you’re getting dizzy

- mustering up all the courage he could, he speaks up, “actually, i don’t really like talking about the skating half of my life...”

- you mutter a genuine apology for bringing it up before

- “it’s alright, but i was wondering if you wanted to go to “S” with me next time. i understand if you decline. i won’t fire you for it,” he tries to add a joke to lighten his tense mood

- you giggle at his nervous and awkward behavior, “good to know i won’t get fired if i say no, but sure! i wouldn’t mind going again. it’s a good opportunity to let me watch over reki and langa—”

- “that-that’s great,” he sighs with relief

- “—and i can get to know you better,” you mutter quietly under your breath

- he flushes, hearing what you said perfectly

- “i wouldn’t mind that either”

- you couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about the soft smile on kaoru’s face, whilst kaoru was busy sleeping, lost in his dreams of you and him together

- the both of you couldn’t wait to get to know each other more

[mizunetzu]

can I request bakugou x male reader where femboyreader is smol, pretty quite and nice, and suprisingly are really ruthless on the battlefield and bakugou is just wondering where he got it from. Until next week bakugou meets his father's and brothers and all of them are tall and very manly men. But civil and nice. Hope you have a nice day,😊

LMAO THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE

——————

Bakugou x reader - My Cute Boyfriend and His Tough-Ass Family

⚠️warnings - femboy reader, if that’s a trigger?

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Bakugou didn’t know where it came from.

One minute he was small and weak, wearing a new, girly hair pin everyday and complimenting one of the girls on their newly painted nails. The next thing he knew, he was just as batshit crazy as him during hero practice.

“Eat shit and die!” Bakugou flung across the air, sending a big blast over to (Y/n’s) location. (Y/n) sped away, dodging it with his quirk. He growled.

“Go to fucking hell!”

“Like hell I would, shit-for-brains! Suck my dick!” Bakugou landed on the ground, softening the impact with a blast pointed towards the floor. He stood there, a few good feet away from (Y/n). They were both breathing heavily, glaring down each other like they wanted to absolutely murder the other.

(Y/n) let out a piercing battle cry, before charging head first towards Bakugou and bringing his arms out to tackle him. Bakugou followed suite, charging towards him like a bull with his arm outstretched to deck him in the face.

They got closer and closer, Bakugou’s flashy explosions igniting in the air while (Y/n’s) quirk began to power up. Closer, closer, until-

“Times up!”

All might yelled over the intercom, and both students skidded awkwardly to a stop. Bakugou tumbled over with an angry shout, and (Y/n) sputtered, tripping over Bakugou’s torso making him fall to the ground as well.

“Get offa’ me, crossdresser!”

“I’m not a crossdresser, spiky bitch!”

“Your hero costume is literally a fucking skirt-!”

“Alright alright, young men! The battle is over, no need to keep fighting!” All Might awkwardly chuckled from the intercom. (Y/n) pouted, and swept himself off of Bakugou. Bakugou scoffed aswell, not even looking at (Y/n) as they both walked towards the observation building.

——

“Aaah! Katsuki! I’m sorry for yelling at you during hero training today!”

(Y/n) jogged up to Bakugou, gently clutching his backpack straps and slowing down to a walk. Bakugou huffed. There he went again, that totally insane side of him that came from absolutely nowhere was gone.

“Like I care, shit-for-brains.”

“A-anyways,” (Y/n) cleared his throat. “Do you wanna study at my house today? Or just...y’know, hangout?”

(Y/n) blushed as he ended his question. Bakugou stared down at him. If he told someone this was the same person yelling insults and profanities on the battlefield while fucking shit up, they’d think he was lying.

“(Y/n’s) house?” Bakugou mumbled to himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there before...”

“Sorry, did you say something? You’re not really the type to mumb-“

“I didn’t say shit, shittyass! Go die!” Bakugou yelled. (Y/n) chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t think you’ve ever been to my house either.” (Y/n) sighed. Bakugou scoffed and shoved his hands further down his pockets. “You better make a good impression on my family, or they probably won’t let me hang out with you anymore.”

His family was probably just as fragile and dainty as him, was what Bakugou thought. He already saw the hugs and kisses and the “Hello, Mrs. and Mr. (L/n)” he’d have to choke out. He rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.”

——

“I’m home!”

A woman’s voice echoed through the house as (Y/n) and Bakugou both took off their shoes.

“Welcome back!”

“I brought my boyfriend over mom! Bakugou Katsuki-the one I was telling you about!”

He heard his mom gasp and timper into the entrance of the house, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon. Bakugou was right. Dainty, fragile mother; dainty, fragile (Y/n).

Bakugou cleared his throat, suppressing the gag that was about to come out.

“P-pardon the intrusion.”

“...Ehhhh? (Y/n), don’t tell me you brought one of your little dress-up friends over.” A different voice came from behind both (Y/n) and Bakugou. A young, male voice. Bakugou whipped his head around.

“Haaah?!”

“Ooooh! Feisty!”

The boy, who couldn’t be older than a middle schooler, cracked his knuckles. There was something so familiar about the way he talked.

“What’d you say to me, you extra?!”

“K-katsuki...” (Y/n) whisper-yelled, wrapping his arms around Bakugou in attempts to hold him back. The boy laughed in his face.

Just as the boy was about to say something, an older boy chopped him in the back of the neck, effectively subduing the smaller one.

“Shut up! (Y/n) said he was bringing his boyfriend over! Don’t scare him away like we do all of his other friends.”

Bakugou looked up at the older one. He looked about his age, but damn was he tall. And muscular too. The boy from before may have been at least athletic-looking, but this guy just...

“W-who the hell-?!”

“Now, now boys. Don’t need to get so physical.” A deeper, throaty voice came from down the hallway, it’s heavy footsteps growing louder and louder as it came closer. A tall, well built man came through the hall, crossing his arms. You could clearly see his muscles bulge through his office shirt. “Did you all come back from school? Welcome back.”

All three boys chorused out a string of hellos. Bakugou looked from who he assumed was the dad, then the two boys, than (Y/n).

There was no way in hell they were related.

“Are-“ Bakugou croaked. “Are you adopted or something?!”

“Katsuki!”

His mother laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. (Y/n’s) mother was the only one who Bakugou would assume was, well, his mother. But these...men?

“You’re probably the only person who didn’t go running once they saw these boys in our house, Katsuki. A lot of (Y/n’s) little friends go running because Natsu teases them too much or Kaito and his father scares them off.”

“This one’s different, mom!” (Y/n) intertwined his hands with Bakugou’s. “Sometimes I yell and get all bwaaah during training-but he doesn’t mind!”

“Oh, well that’s good,” (Y/n’s) father ran a hand through his hair. “That explains why he hasn’t ran off the moment we walked in.”

Bakugou blinked. (Y/n) leaned in close. “Trust me, it happened before.”

(Y/n) timpered off to greet his brothers. Bakugou looked between all 3 boys. Despite how built and tall these testosterone-soaked males were, the way they talked and carried themselves gave off the same energy (Y/n) did during hero training. Was that where he got it? From these...men?

(Y/n) was forced into a headlock, his brother laughing scrubbing at his forehead as (Y/n) groaned. He thrashed around, albeit laughing, and tried to pry off his brothers hands.

“Come on-I thought you were training to be a hero! Where’s your muscles, huh?”

“I could easily throw you into the sun, don’t start. You’re just jealous I look better in skirt than you do.”

“Bullshit! I’m sexy as fuck!” His grip was temporarily loosened, giving (Y/n) the opportunity to slip out. “It’s not my fault none of your skirts fit me!”

“...But you know who it would fit?” (Y/n’s) other brother, the middle schooler, turned mischievously towards Bakugou.

“Hell no.”

——

“I’m going to fucking murder you.”

“Hey, now. That’s not very hero-like.”

“Yeah Katsuki! Not very heroic of you.”

“Murder is no good. You’ll get (Y/n)-nii’s dress dirty.”

Bakugou shook with anger as he stood in (Y/n’s) room. He sported a pink, frilly, strawberry-pink dress, that had small strawberries littered around it and stopped below his knees. His muscles peeked through the soft thin material of the dress, and the way he stood with his legs spread apart angrily was hidden under the layers of pink.

“Oh! Oh! Wait!” (Y/n) stepped into his closet with an excited smile. After a few seconds of rustling and shoving away hangers, (Y/n) popped back out with a matching dress on. His dress, however, had a baby blue tint with small blueberries scattered across the fabric.

(Y/n) did a little twirl. “Don’t I look pretty, Katsuki?”

Bakugou, crossed his arms, doing whatever it took to suppress the blush growing on his face. “Sure...whatever.”

(Y/n) happily stood next to Bakugou, smoothing out the crinkles in his blueberry dress and grabbing hold of Bakugou’s hand. “Tada~! We match~”

“You guys look like the strawberry and blueberry milk boxes I buy from vending machines at school.”

“Haah?!” (Y/n) gripped Bakugou’s hand harder. “What’d you say?!”

Bakugou stole a glance at (Y/n’s) angry face. Not gonna lie, he thought it was a bit attractive when he looked like he was gonna beat up his own brother in a frilly blue dress. He pursed his lips.

These guys taught (Y/n) well. If (Y/n) wasn’t as intense as he was during hero work, he didn’t think he’d ever fall in love with him, not the same way he is right now, at least. He felt sorta glad his family wasn’t a soft, fragile family of extras. Bakugou closed his eyes, and smirked.

“Yeah! The fuck’d you say to us, you lil punks?!”

——————

[rat-cigars]

Damn Bitch You live like this?

masterlist

(a/n: oh yeah here we go. It's date night babes. I Hope y'all enjoy this chapter as much as i do. This is gonna be a lot of fun to write, it's mostly fluff but there's still the hints of canon set up and incel shit. But as always be mindful of TWs and take care of yourselves! <3 ) 

(TW: incelish stuff, phone tapping, creepo moments, blood, drinks, blacking out at the club, inferred murder/SW, lil rage moment )

*Reader POV)

**Edward POV)

Wc: 1573

Possible Spoilers in this chapter 

Afab!Reader (she/her) pronouns

Chapter 10: The Date

*Edwards' heart had seemed to beat a million miles per hour after your encounter. He couldn't help but smile until the time neared. He had thankfully gotten a second chance with you, his beautiful angel. The thoughts made him bite the inside of his lip.

 It felt like a dream, a coma that he would be rudely awoken from. The image of you red handed continued to plague his mind as he got ready.

 Ed put on a dressier white button up and paired it with some dark blue jeans. The clothes fell awkwardly on his body and the fabric was terribly wrinkled. God knows when he had last worn it, maybe college? He pushed the question from his mind and tugged his belt tightly around his hips.

 The metal clinked against itself as he adjusted it properly, while walking into the bathroom to freshen up. 

That's when Edward heard the ping of his computer, his focus quickly shifting to the set up in the corner of the room.

 You were probably just texting Ron or calling your friend, Jenna. You didnt call her everyday but you would give each other the occasional check in every few days. Usually you would text her but during big events you'd always phone her up to give her the details, excitedly.

 He walked towards it and squinted his eyes seeing Bruce Wayne had tried to contact you. Ed's heart raced and faster than he could comprehend he grabbed the computer shoving it crudely off the desk, making a loud thud. He stood shocked with himself before leaning down, immediately busting out a string of curses under his breath. 

“You fucking idiot..” he groaned to himself seeing the screen had gone black and even worse the casing of the back had popped off, revealing the insides. 

“Shit.. Il just.” Edward mumbled talking to himself while getting up. “I'll just get it later..” He sighed and rubbed his face for a moment. He had really fucked up now. That had been his singular way for keeping tabs on you and he just destroyed it in a tantrum. Edward finished getting ready, brushing his hair and adding some cheap cologne onto his neck. 

Content with his appearance he grabbed his large gray jacket heading down to the lobby to wait for you. 

*Shortly after he had been waiting, you arrived. Dressed up casually you made eye contact walking in. He stood from the lobby couch that he had been waiting on, holding a small bundle of flowers he had bought minutes before.

“Hey.” Edward smiled and a soft pink coated his face as he walked to meet you in the middle. “Wow.. Edward, you look great.” Your lips spread to a soft smile looking over his outfit and face. “T-Thanks.” He chuckled out and then reached the hand with the roses out towards you. “I um, got these for you.” He looked so bashful with his gaze pointed downwards towards you.

Gently grabbing the plastic that wrapped the bundle, you lifted it to your nose. Taking in the floral scent and hint of cologne from Edwards body. “They're beautiful, I love them.” You leaned up quickly pecking his cheek with your soft lips. He smiled catching your gaze and held out his hand again, you took it feeling the sweat from both of your palms against each other. 

“I'm glad, are you ready to head out?” he asked as you looped your fingers through his. “Yeah, Iceberg lounge?” you smiled and had set down the flowers behind the desk before leaving, not wanting them to be ruined. He nodded letting you lead the way into the night with his eyes on your form, just enjoying your company. 

The music inside was way louder than you had remembered, almost deafening at some points. Still though, Edward tried to talk to you, leaning over and yelling a little in your ear.

 “How do you get in here?” he laughed, shocked the two men had allowed them through. 

“Well, the Redroom Inn has been host to a few of the club's exclusive members. I don't really ask questions, but basically we put them all under the same name whenever anyone comes over for the night.” You replied as you leaned back up hugging his arm lightly to get leverage. 

He furrowed his brows, wondering how or even if, that was legal. But to be fair he did the same thing, or tried to. 

“Ron doesn't even know why we do it. But I've learned it's better to just observe sometimes.” you continued after seeing his face. “Doesn't that scare you?” Edward mused. 

“Of course, but if i asked more, i probably wouldn't even be here.” You chuckled, leading him to the quieter back of the room by the bar stool.

 It did scare you but you figured joking about it was better than stressing over the issue. Besides Ron didn't even know and you knew that for a fact. He wouldn't lie to you, especially not like that. The few times you had questioned the odd service he had continued to not have answers, knowing the same as you. 

Walking up to the stools and sitting beside him, you held up the hotel's company card. “Another perk?” Edward teased.

 “Of course, why else would we go out for drinks.” You laughed, gently pushing his arm. “I'm not Bruce wayne.” You giggled and his face fell a little but then regained his smile just as fast. 

“Thank god for that..” He mumbled and turned to the bartender, ordering your first round of drinks. 

**Edward wasn't much of a drinker, that was obvious. He was barely three shots in when he felt the faint pink start to rush to his face, this time from the drinks. You were smiling and telling him about your childhood home and laughing about your past. He loved to listen to you talk, even if he already knew everything.

 He knew who had broken your arm in 1st grade and how you had broken your mothers favorite pot. It was magic to hear these words drip from your lips though. He was focused so hard on your features he didn't even hear you call his name until you gently slapped his thigh for his attention. 

“Eddy..” you cooed, snapping him to your face.

 “Yeah?” He smiled, “Sorry I didn't catch that.” He stuttered, flustered by the pet name. “I said, '' Do you wanna go dancing?” 

You smirked, the club's lights shining to show the tint that accompanied your face. “I'm not very good..” He looked away, “But I-I can watch you.” He smiled. You rolled your eyes at his reply but slowly stood from the bar. “Well, I'll be waiting for you then prince charming.” 

You teased with a long slur, gently moving your hand off his thigh as you stood. 

Edwards' eyes widened as you had touched him more, “Y-Yeah..” He chuckled breathlessly out. With that you were off, walking to the floor with the crowd you stood on the outside the swarm, starting to dance with a small group of girls that had called you over. 

Edward watched, sipping from his tall glass, seeing you move in the most interesting of ways. This felt different than when he had stood outside your bedroom door, admiring your sleeping features. 

Your body moved with grace and you caught him watching, smiling and turning back to the girls. You spoke and by the girls looking over collectively at Ed, he knew it was related to him.

They seemed pleased though, the group giggling as your face blushed. The girl beside you  leaned up into your ear, but as you pulled back after, there was a look of shock on your face. He furrowed his brows, now more concerned. 

You spoke what looked like a question as the crowd in the background started to move from the floor. 

He blinked his bleary eyes trying to make out the figure moving towards you. You hadn't even noticed still chatting with the girl, oblivious to the crowd moving. Edward did his best but couldn't make out who it was, and he felt a burning in his stomach.

 Damn that shit was really hitting him like a train. Before he could move to get up from his stool he realized how wobbly his body had become, slumping over on the bar's countertop, unable to keep his eyes open. He needed to get out more, maybe then he wouldn't be in this predicament.

Ed unwillingly blacked out on the countertop just as the figure approached you. The girl beside you moving away, only you and the figure were visible as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

But Edward lost in the end, succumbing to the alcohol and passing out. 

[realcube]

secretly dating the haikyuu!! boys 🤫

summary: you’ve been dating your partner in secret up until now, when their team finds out 

characters: hinata, oikawa & bokuto 

thanks to anon for the request 💗

tw// fem! reader, sexual references, swearing

Shōyō Hinata 

he kept the relationship a secret bc of noya IEFBEVAGLEB

ok ok lemme explain

you said jokingly once that you were into shorter guys in response to hinata asking something lovey-dovey along the lines of ‘what did i do to deserve you? 😍’

and hinata has been on edge ever since pfft

i mean, he just thins noya is such a cool guy and an awesome upperclassmen- why wouldn’t you want him?

but he couldn’t afford losing you to this teammate so he did everything in his power to make sure that you never crossed paths with nishinoya- which included not telling his team about you 

it was so hard for him as well bc he wanted to show you off to his teammates so bad especially stinkyshima 🥺

but he couldn’t :((

you never really inquired about it though, even when he’d get all weird when you’d come pick him up from practise

then the faithful day arrived, when kageyama watched you stroll into the class, hand hinata something, place a kind kiss on his cheek before taking your leave

he didn’t question it though- he couldn’t be bothered lol

the only time he ever brought it up was 2 weeks later in the changing room when tsukishima was making fun of him for being unable to ask out a girl for an upcoming dance

so kageyama retorted with ‘it’s not like you get any girls either, shittyshima! even hinata gets more action than you!’

hinata’s blood ran cold and he froze

tsukishima hummed in response, prodding kageyama to elaborate, ‘i saw him kissing a girl in class the other day-- have you ever kissed someone before?’

although that last part was meant to be a dig, it sounded more like a genuine question

yamaguchi peered over his shoulder to join the conversation, ‘is that true, hinata?’

hinata stood frozen for a little while longer before releasing a heavy sigh, ‘yes. but please don’t tell anyone else.’

‘why not?’ tsukishima pried.

‘none of your business, stinkyshima!’

that nickname was what prompted tsukishima to stroll out of the changing the room and disguise ‘hinata has a girlfriend’ behind a cough in front of the whole team

‘you said you weren’t going to tell anyone!’ hinata yelled, slightly red from the fact everyone was now staring at him - including coach ukai, takeda, kiyoko & yachi

‘what? it was just a cough.’ tsukishima snickered but promptly received an elbow to the stomach from yamaguchi

daichi rubbed hinata’s back while reassuring him that he didn’t have to tell them anything he didn’t want to but meanwhile, hinata’s eyes were fixated on nishinoya 

‘i- i do have a girlfriend.’ he stuttered, figuring that he wasn’t going to be able to hide it forever  — plus, he felt foolish for not trusting you to begin with. ‘her name is (l/n).’

yachi choked on her water, ‘she sits next to me in class!’

ngl yachi probably had a lil’ crush on you at some point but these are just headcanons, not a full blown fic so i cba to write a love triangle

‘cool’ hinata murmured in response before continuing, ‘she said that she will come see me after practise today so i guess you’ll see her then.’

by now, most people were shooting hinata comforting smiles and muttering their congratulations but those were all drowned out by nishinoya and tanaka’s loud offers

‘wow, hinata. you really got a chick before your senpais. i’m not sure whether to be proud or jealous!’ tanaka said, wiping an invisible tear from his eye

‘proud, ryū! we clearly did a good job in teaching him how to make advances on the ladies.’ nishinoya cheered before turning to grab hinata’s shoulders and pull him close, ‘now, hinata, if you ever need advice remember that you can come to us! we’re kinda professionals when it comes to relationships and stuff!’

hinata nodded rapidly, his lips slowly curling into a smile as he wondered; what was i so worried about? of course (y/n) would never cheat on me and noya would never make moves on my girlfriend

when you arrived, you were rather confused when hinata greeted you with his usual vigour rather than his hasty, rushed greetings for when you met him after practise

also, you were perplexed as to why many peeping eyes were staring at the pair of you from the gym door as he peppered your face with kisses - and why was one of them Yachi?

‘uuh, shō, are those your teammates?’ you inquired, gesturing to the peepers behind y’all

hinata peered over his shoulder and chuckled at how ‘discreet’ they were being,’uh- yeah.’

suddenly, yachi and sugawara popped out from behind the walls, ‘hello, (l/n)!’ they both yelled in unison

you smiled, looking at them and realising this was probably the first time you’ve ever been acknowledged by his teammates

‘hi, yachi and--’

hinata hastily whispered in your ear, ‘sugawara.’

‘sugawara!’

hinata finally got to introduce you to all his teammates and he was so hyped 

he had a foolishly wide grin on his face the whole time 

he’s just so happy that the person he loves can finally meet the people who help him do what he loves 

Tōru Oikawa

y’all kept the relationship secret bc you didn’t want to get nasty glares from oikawa’s fangirls and he didn’t want to get teased by iwa so it was a win/win

although you had to be cautious when showing PDA, it didn’t mean y’all didn’t do it at all

there was just something about knowing that what you were doing was risky, which made you want to do it even more

so sometimes y’all would do that thing where you arrange certain times to ask for the bathroom during class so you could see each other in the corridor

and since it was during class, there was virtually nobody else in the hallway 

so y’all would literally just go for it

kissing as if you had never experienced human affection before

but since you both were so into it, you’d never notice kyōtani walk by, on his way back from the principal’s office

he’d even let out a low scoff every time

but you were both just so in the moment that you’d never even notice 

word spreads fast in the seijoh boys’ volleyball club, though

but slightly slower when it starts with kyōtani

like what reason does he have to tell anybody about what he saw? he doesn’t want to relive those events

but during a bitching session with yahaba, he spilled about oikawa and you since the captain had been working them extra hard lately, as if he was the coach tsk

so ofc the gossip spread across multiple bitching session from yahaba, to kunimi, to kindaichi, to watari, to hanamaki then finally to matsukawa

(iwaizumi didn’t get to know bc firstly he didn’t join in with bitching sessions and secondly, everyone knew that iwa would just immediately tell oikawa and that would ruin all the fun)

it got to the point where almost everyone on the team knew about you and oikawa so whenever he would walk into practise, a chorus of low giggles and whispers would spread across the gym

this had been going on for about a month now and at first, oikawa was too self-indulged to notice

but after a bit longer, he kinda noticed and brought it up to iwaizumi

‘hey, why does everyone start acting weird whenever i walk into the room?’

iwaizumi rolled his eyes, shoving a ball against oikawa’s chest, ‘what? no, they don’t; stop being so paranoid. now, throw me some sets.’

that was enough reassurance for oikawa to ignore it for a while but then hanamaki accidentally made one of the jokes a bit too loud

oikawa fell face first into the gym floor after tripping over his lace and the whole gym seemed to erupt into laughter

‘hah!’ matsukawa wheezed, ‘stop kissin’ the ground, tōru!’ 

‘mwah, mwah!’ yahaba teased

hanamaki suddenly chimed in, ‘yeah, save that shit for (y/n)!--’

silence spread like a plague across the whole gym room

it was only broken when iwaizumi let out a clueless, ‘huh?’

oikawa quickly scurried onto his feet, ‘how do you know about (y/n)?’

hanamaki chuckled awkwardly as he looked left to right for help but was just met by blank stares, ‘uh- she’s- erm, in my homeroom class.’

obviously, oikawa didn’t buy it

‘who told you about me and (y/n)?’ he inquired in a sinister tone of voice, his glare seeming anything but kind 

‘watari!’ he yelled accusingly, pointing his index finger at the poor libero 

after all eyes shifted onto him, watari wasted no time in redirecting everyone’s attention onto kindaichi, ‘it was turnip-head who told me!’

‘well, it was kunimi that told me!’ kindaichi shouted with no hesitation

kumini crossed his arms over his chest, ‘yahaba told me.’

yahaba’s eyes widened at the sudden accusation before turning to oikawa and defending himself, ‘mad dog was the one that saw you and (y/n) kissing in the hallway!’

mad dog glared at the pinch server, then turned to oikawa and shrugged 

oikawa was livid DIUVBEVILS

‘YOU ALL KNEW ABOUT ME AND (Y/N) BUT DIDN’T TELL ME?! HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS BEEN GOSSIPING ABOUT US FOR?!’

yahaba took it upon himself to reply, ‘mad dog only told me about a month ago-’

‘THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR A WHOLE MONTH?!’

faint hums of ‘yeah’ and ‘uhuh’ were heard across the gym hall

‘wait-’ iwaizumi cocked his head to the side, ‘are you dating (y/n)?’

this inquiry was only met by blank stares as oikawa pinched his temple, wondering what he should do now

‘why did you try to hide your relationship for so long?’ kindaichi asked before kunimi added, ‘yeah, can we finally meet her?’ 

matsukawa rolled his eyes, ‘she literally goes to our school; meet her in the hallway or something.’

oikawa shook his head, quickly shutting down matsukawa’s idea, ‘i’ll ask her to come over after practise today but be on your best behaviour.’ he sung, quickly grabbing a ball and going back to practising receives

everyone was rather shocked at how fast the captains’ demeanour changed

while you were at your own club, you got a message from oikawa asking if you wanted to meet his team

you had already met most of them outside of volleyball but you figured now was perhaps a good time to introduce yourself as oikawa’s gf to rub it in /j

before you arrived, oikawa made it explicitly clear that they weren’t to tell anybody about the relationship or else oikawa’s fangirls would come for you

they all agreed and patiently waited for you to arrive

honestly, iwaizumi was probably the only one with pure intentions when it came to finally meeting you — as he simply wanted to see the girl who has oikawa’s heart

the rest of them of the other hand 🙄

matsukawa and hanamaki planned to have a competition to see who could seduce you first 

watari, kindaichi and kunimi wanted to just tease oikawa in front you 

and yahaba was going to try get you to tell him all the gossip about oikawa 😈

(kyōtani left early)

so needless to say you were hardly charmed when you formally met the bunch of boys oikawa spends his time with 

‘so are you free tonight orrr?’ hanamaki questioned, promptly getting a slap to the back of the head from both oikawa and matsukawa

‘makki, a lady like her shouldn’t be spoken to like that,’  matsukawa pushed his friend aside, ‘watch this: hey, sweetie. what is a gal--’

matsukawa got the same treatment as makki except this time it was kindaichi pushing him away, ‘so how much is oikawa paying you to play his girlfriend?’

you couldn’t help but giggle, especially as you could see oikawa from over his shoulder, shooting him the deadliest glare

kunimi poked his head around kindaichi arm to look at you, ‘i’m guessing ¥3000 an hour.’

‘(y/n) is worth way more than ¥3000 an hour!’ oikawa yelled from behind the crowd of boys surrounding you 

yahaba hurried forward, slipped his arm around your waist and escorting you a few paces away from the others to whisper in your ear, ‘does oikawa have any embarrassing childhood pictures?’

you snickered, leaning in and whispering back, ‘yeah, i’ll send them to you on instagram.’

ok. although they weren’t the most charming- they were definitely a fun bunch lol

Kōtarō Bokuto

a secret relationship w/ bokuto has hardly a secret lol

plus, the ‘secret’ part is only gonna last MAX a month ✋

he tries to ‘act natural’ around his teammates but it’s a bit- too natural 

he’ll come back from a make-out session with you, lipstick smeared across his face and just be like ‘hey y’all! ✌ good vibes today’

or when he’d take off his shirt to reveal the scratch marks on his back, that he wasn’t even aware of 

or the hickeys that he wouldn’t even bother try to hide 

so the whole team were aware that bokuto had a partner- they just weren’t sure who it was

but they didn’t really mention anything to bokuto bc they srsly didn’t care which left bokuto under the impression that he was sneaky as hell

akaashi was kinda upset that bokuto didn’t tell him about you tho but he kept that to himself

everyone was silently curious as to who bokuto was dating but none of them actually spoke up about it

until one day, konoha was chatting to komi, thinking they weren’t being listened to since bokuto seemed preoccupied with practising spikes, ‘psst, komi. i saw bokuto walk home with (y/n) the other day, i think she might be the one he’s da--’

but bokuto develops super-hearing when you’re involved

he was now looming over komi and konoha in what felt like a blink of an eye, ‘what did you say about (y/n)?’ he asked in a rather gruff voice

both boys were taken back by their captain’s sudden change in mood but komi managaed to stutter out, ‘oh- konoha just saw you walking home with her the other day; you both make a very cute couple.’

all sense of menace or threat was washed out of bokuto’s tone as his lips formed a bright smile, ‘awww, thanks! we do-- wait!’ 

bokuto cut himself off and the boys started snickering, ‘so it’s (y/n) that you’re dating.’ komi stated the obvious, this time loud enough for the whole gym to hear.

bokuto couldn’t help but face-palm, his sweaty hands making a loud, wet slapping noise against his skin. ‘ugh! i wasn’t supposed to tell you that.’ he grumbled, eyeing everyone in the gym that was sending him astonished looks

after a while of sulking in his emo-mode..with help from akaashi, bokuto finally tried to see the positives in the situation

‘well, maybe today she can finally meet you all.’ bokuto murmured, eyes full of hope which could hardly be seen passed the strands of his deflated hair that hung in front of his face

‘sure.’ akaashi shrugged, seeing nothing wrong with this idea 

there was a lot of things wrong, though

firstly, you were at your own club which finished ten minutes after practise ended, which means bokuto had to use his puppy-eyes on everyone on the team to convince them into staying for ten minutes extra

secondly, bokuto was so hyped that you were finally meeting his teammates, an introduction for each person took like 5 minutes 

bokuto inhaled sharply to catch his breath from the last introduction he just did, ‘ok next, this is washio, he’s one of our middle blockers bc he is so damn tall - say hi, washio. his eyebrows might make you think that he is a meanie or something  — that’s what i thought at first — but he’s really not. he offered me some of his lunch after i forgot to bring money that day so he’s definitely a good egg. he’s also a really good blocker and he has similar hair to me so i think that’s why he’s so good. also, he’s really good at making tea.’

ok now imagine that but for every. single. member.

he also gives you an extra ass intro too lol

‘(y/n), this is onaga. onaga this is my beautiful, stunning, flawless girlfriend (y/n)  — she’s the sweetest person ever and she give the sweetest kisses on the face of this earth.’

please don’t be embarrassed he just loves you so much 

[scott-major-ammirite]

empires college au??

soo i asked my friend, @cursedwithcontentcreation, to just give me character outlines based on all empires characters + uncorrupted!xornoth even though they don't watch empires but i rant to them about lore a lot,,so with what little they know about the characters, here is what they said:

scott: lil soft gay boy who will be nice to you and lend you his hw but if you change your tone in the slightest he will think you hate him and you will not see him at a lecture in like weeks. you walk into his dorm room and it's just instant noodles and coffee. you ask him why and he says "oh y'know... deadlines and friendships!!" you hug him and suddenly he is the happiest mf alive and all his assignments are completed.

joel: you only know him because occasionally he would walk into the lecture theatre to pass something to the professor. lawful chaotic. his nose is buried in textbooks half the time and he's always experimenting on some sorta chemical shit with fwhip. everyone wonders when his experiments will explode and turn him into a mud monster. he WILL shit on you if it means his grade is bumped up. nice guy if you're polite to him, however.

lizzie: the sweetest bean you'll ever meet, but always confused. TERRIBLE memory she's always texting you for notes and homework. like 100982013810 different alarms just so she doesn't forget smt. literally the only thing she will not forget is to take care of the multiple animals she keeps. it's against dorm rules but hey, what're they gonna do? sometimes you wonder how she even got into this college. then she scores the highest marks. and you're like. "oh".

jimmy: gay gay homosexual gay. he wants to help!! but he doesn't know how so half the time he stands next to you awkwardly and occasionally gives a thumbs up and smile. literally so sweet :( /pos i think he would 100% let you copy his work or just DO your ENTIRE project for you he's just too nice, really. someone shows affection to him ONCE and he's their little doggy. in love with scott and everyone knows but they simply will Not go on a date together and everyone is placing bets on how long it'll take for them to get together

gem: smart as hell bro like why?? give us some of that smarts rn. idk anymore tbh i don't know a lot about gem

fwhip: bitch boy!! he is VERY nice when you're on his good side but the moment you hurt one of his friends? start running. he will also shit on you to get what he wants idk why these guys gotta be so competitive like bro chill!! just learn!!

sausage: fwhip's little bitch [affectionate] i could be confusing sausage for someone else but hell if i know

pearl: hardworking as heck sometimes it's unhealthy. like really unhealthy. girl, you haven't eaten in three days please stop your project for a while. it's giving "damn bitch you live like this??'

pix: little jester, Bastard BoyTM. ENDLESS pranks and endless parties. you are on the verge of tears, he is high on life. somehow so athletic too like wowow look at you, you little shit. lowkey really sweet and nice though. he's still a little bitch

katherine: mom friend 100%. she is doing her assignment, she is also forcing you to do yours, she is also learning how to make a strawberry smoothie the exact same way that one obscure cafe you guys went to one time makes it. overachiever ngl. someone please hug her a lil

joey: good friends with lizzie, occasionally gives advice for the animals. mf is always overhearing and "accidentally" seeing shit. bitch if you a nosy lil hoe just say so. he sleep talks. AND sleep walks. according to his roommates it's terrifying. imagine minding yo business and a grownass man is standing behind you saying "kill them all". yeah.

shelby: so clumsy and for WHAT. istg you have to wrap her in plastic she's always tripping and falling it's not even funny. hehehaha mushrom?? mishrom hngngnng mshronm. she's so quiet /pos. sometimes it's concerning because you're talking and she just stares at you and you can't tell if she's bored or just Like That. 

uncorrupted!xornoth: hardworking but only out of spite i said what i said. maybe won't use you but he will 100% copy people's answers ALL. THE. TIME. lowkey a sweetheart who cares deeply, though.

let me know what y'all think because empires college au is something ive been thinking about A LOT and i need more opinions,, just anything at all, i feed off of little crumbs of content

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (1/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,513

Warnings: fake dating au, mention to past abusive relationship

A/N: im so EXCITED to start posting this series lmk what yall think!!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

He couldn’t quite think of a word to describe the restaurant.

The deep tones of maroon on the walls contrasting against the clean, stark-white tablecloths, tablecloths that have been so deeply washed, soaked in bleach and radiating chemical residue beneath plates of fancy and over-priced dishes for people who have too much money than they know what do with.

Ratatouille is the special for tonight, priced at $32. Side dishes extra, of course.

The overly simple decor on the walls with lighting so dim you’d think they forgot to pay the electric bill, all in the name of minimalism and an art form you just wouldn’t understand.

Bucky has news for them, though. Minimalism won’t get rid of their depression and anxiety, and a $30 plate of vegetables won’t bring you happiness.

His collar feels tight around his neck, even though the first two buttons on his shirt are undone. The longer he stands around waiting for Sam, the more ridiculous he feels. He’s sweating suddenly, and all he wants to do is leave, go back to his apartment, to Alpine, and take off this stupid monkey suit of an outfit.

Where r u?

Should be sitting pretty at a table already. Wearing a cute lil red dress. maybe blue, not sure.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky mumbles under his breath after reading Sam’s text.

It’s Bucky’s fault at this point. Not only is this not the first time Sam has done this to him, set him up on a blind date and tell him it's him he’s meeting and not a girl, but it’s not the second either. Sam has done this three times, and this is going to be the fourth. How do you let this happen to you four times?

It’s not a surprise either when the date goes horribly all three times, either. The girls are always nice and always beautiful, but Bucky’s in such a sour mood by the time he reaches the table that it’s a failure from the start.

That’s a good word to describe the restaurant. Sour.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a table under Sam. Or maybe Bucky.” He approaches the hostess, praying that whoever Sam has set him up with isn’t here and that they stood him up.

“Ah, yes, your date has been waiting.” She tells him, and he tries not to roll his eyes.

The walk through the restaurant to the table makes him feel more ridiculous than when he was waiting. He feels all eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl, even though when he glances around, everyone has their eyes on their own date; their date that probably wasn’t sprung up on them by a man who dresses up like a bird for a living.

Careful not to trip over his own feet in the dark room, the only lights being small bulbs on a thin string from the high ceiling, he sees a table that’s probably for him.

The only table with one person sitting alone, he spots you looking down at your phone with a slight frown on your face. Sam was right on his first guess, you’re wearing a deep red dress, thin straps over your shoulders and he can see through underneath the table that it flows down to your calf. Nude heels adorn your feet as they are crossed at the ankle, and he can’t help but feel a little bad.

Just because he thinks minimalism and expensive meals are stupid doesn’t mean that other people don’t enjoy them.

“Hi, uh, sorry I’m a little late.” He greets as he takes his seat.

You look up from your phone and give him a closed-lip smile, an unspoken way of saying it’s alright, but he’s seen that tight smile on too many girls before to know that, no, it’s not really alright.

“I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” He asks, hoping that the sooner he starts the conversation, the sooner he can get the fuck out of here. Respectfully.

As far as introductions go, this has definitely been the most awkward. Neither of you know what to say. Not that he’s about to go around giving Sam advice about setting him up with people, because he certainly wouldn’t want Sam to take that as him asking him to try again, but he couldn’t have set him up with someone worse.

It’s painfully awkward, and he feels himself sweating again, blushing from slight embarrassment at this disaster of a date.

The waiter hasn’t even brought out the bread yet.

He can’t do this.

“Listen,” He begins after a few minutes of silence and the two of them awkwardly glancing around the room, as though the avant-garde art pieces are the most interesting thing either of them have ever seen.

“I’m sorry if I don’t seem like I want to be here, it’s because I don’t. And it’s got nothing to do with you, it’s just that Sam told me I was meeting him here because he thinks he knows best when it comes to setting me up on dates even though I’ve told him countless times that -”

He stops when he realizes you’re laughing. Giggles escaping from behind your manicured hand that’s attempting to cover your mouth, he can’t believe you’re laughing at him. As if the date couldn’t get worse.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you.” You tell him, the most you’ve spoken the entire night, only really telling him your name and a few one-word answers a while ago.

“It’s just that I don’t want to be here, either. And Sam also told me I was meeting him here, not a date. And I thought that was funny.”

That bastard, Bucky thinks. But he appreciates that it’s the situation you find funny, and not him. He’s never had a date laugh at him before, and as tough as he is, he can’t lie and say it wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

He opens his mouth to say something but another man in an equally ridiculous monkey suit such as his own approaches the table, a basket of bread in hand.

He can’t help but notice how small the breads are and the fact that the butter is individually wrapped in those small tinfoils - not even The Cheesecake Factory does that, they bring butter in a tiny dish - but he doesn’t say anything.

At least now he has something to do with his hands.

The two of you both pick at the bread in your hands, and while the tension is somewhat eased at the table with the confession that neither of you want to be there, it’s still silent and awkward, as neither of you have spoken again.

Bucky doesn’t know what causes him to say it, maybe it's the obligation he feels to keep the conversation going and fill the silence, maybe his mind just insists on making the evening worse, because apparently that’s possible.

“My best friend died. Recently. And Sam’s been setting me up on these dumb dates to take my mind off it.” He says, and he sees out of the corner of his eye your hands pause around the bread and your head lifts slightly to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same.

“Sam was a little better about it at first, using distracting me as a way to distract himself while we both grieve. But he’s got the whole Captain America thing, helping his sister, working with Torres; he got over it a little quicker than I did and… expected me to get over it, too.”

He’s afraid to meet your eyes. He’s not sure why he just told you that, or why he felt like he owed you an explanation in the first place. He doesn’t even know you! What does he care if the date is awkward? He could leave now and never see you again and not feel bad about, and yet he sits here, sacrificing his own comfort in order to attempt to salvage the evening by being honest? Is honesty even what you want?

“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me. If we’re sharing tragic backstories, I mean.” You reply, looking down at your own bread now that Bucky’s head has snapped up to look at you, a humorless smile on your face.

“Had to move states, change my name, the whole nine yards. And while I wasn’t grieving a best friend, I was grieving… myself. My old life. And Sam doesn’t just distract himself by setting you up on dates, he’s been doing that with me, too. And, so, I kind of get what you mean, when you say that other people get over it and expect you to be okay, too.”

Another pause of silence, but the awkwardness is gone now.

“How many times have you heard the phrase, The grieving process is not -”

“Linear? Too many times. If I had a dollar for everytime I heard that, I’d probably have enough money to afford a plate at this place.” You finish for him, a disgusted look on your face. Almost the same look he had on his face when he entered the restaurant.

He laughs, though. The first time he’s laughed tonight.

“Are you two ready to order?” The waiter interrupts again, small booklet in hand, and thick French accent in the air. Of course, the waiters here are French, how is he even surprised?

“Do you mind if we have a few more minutes with the menu?” Bucky replies, not receiving much of an answer as the waiter looks him up and down, gives him a curt nod, and leaves the table once more.

“Listen, I don’t know about you, but this place looks like… I don’t even know, but it just looks sad, and I know a pretty good pizza place a few blocks away. If you don’t mind walking. Or continuing this date as friends?” He squints as he finishes his question, hoping you won’t take it as him playing hard to get, and actually want to be friends and absolutely nothing more.

“You had me at pizza.”

With the bread from the restaurant in hand and his jacket around your shivering shoulders, the two of you make your way down the sidewalk, stomachs rumbling at the thought of cheap, greasy, slices of pizza.

Sitting among people in their pajamas and otherwise casual clothing, it’s safe to say the two of you are the best-dressed people in the joint. Bucky tells you this and you laugh again, agreeing. Slice after slice goes down easily, much easier than any plate at that stupid clownhouse of a restaurant.

The conversation is easier, too. It’s almost like it was so bad before because of the suffocating atmosphere of the restaurant, The Fork, a stupid name for a stupid place.

What was that word he said before? Oh, yeah. The restaurant was sour. The pizza place, though, run by two older, heavier men with ungroomed mustaches and dark pit stains, is much less sour.

“I surprisingly had a good time tonight. I’m really glad we both came to an understanding of not wanting to date due to our individual unresolved trauma and issues, that we should probably be in therapy for.” You tell him, after thanking him for paying the six dollars both your copious amounts of pizza slices cost.

“I did, too. I’m just glad we didn’t have to stay at that dumb restaurant, I mean what was Sam even thinking with that place?” He rubs his fingers over his eyes in lasting disbelief. He’ll never let Sam live that place down.

“Speaking of Sam,” You start, stepping out of the pizza place as Bucky holds the door open for you, “Would you mind telling him that the date went well?”

“I mean, technically it did, didn’t it?”

“It did. But if we tell him that we left with a newfound friendship rather than sore legs and sex hair, he’s just going to keep setting us up on more shitty dates. I mean he’s great, but he does a better job at being Captain America than he does at being Cupid.”

“Agreed. He’ll just keep setting us up with people until we end up dating one of his picks, regardless of friendships made along the way. He’s too competitive, he doesn’t see friendship as a success, only a boyfriend or girlfriend.” Bucky admits.

“So… if he asks, we’ll just say we’re going to go on another date? And then whenever we hang out, we’ll just -”

“Be extremely and explicitly clear about it to him.” Bucky finishes.

They smile at each other satisfied, satisfied knowing they’re finally going to outsmart the bird man, they’re finally going to be done with shitty, last-minute blind dates that they never wanted to go on in the first place.

“Do you need a ride home?”

“Oh, no, my friend’s on her way to get me now.”

“I’ll wait with you then.”

Cheesy flirting ensues as the two of you joke about fake dating, competing to see who can think of the worst pick up line. Bucky feels a bit embarrassed that he probably would’ve used a few of these a few decades ago when he was a fresh, young man, but he doesn’t dare mention that to you. No need to give you more ammunition to use against him, and especially no need to risk you mentioning it to Sam.

Your least favorite, and evidently his favorite, is If happiness starts with “H,” why does mine start with “U”?

He laughs as you dramatically gag on the sidewalk, almost not noticing the car pulling up to the two of you.

“This is me. Oh, here’s your jacket by the way.” You move to take it off from atop your shoulders but he stops you.

“Hold onto it for me. And also, mention to Sam that you’re holding onto it for me.” He winks.

“Will do. Boyfriend.”

“Drive safe. Girlfriend.” He opens the passenger door for you, greeting your friend briefly, and offering a hand out to help you sit inside, closing the door after you’ve clicked your seatbelt.

He watches the rear lights grow smaller and smaller as you disappear down the street, and he begins walking back to where you two came from. His bike is still parked at the restaurant, after all.

That was probably the best date - not a date, friend date - he’s ever been on, and by far Sam’s greatest success yet, even if it’s not the romantic relationship he probably intended.

It was nice to talk to someone without the pressures of impressing them, the intrusive thoughts questioning their deeper motives or what it is exactly they want out of a date with him. He tried engaging in the whole hookup-one-night-stand culture once, and didn’t like it at all.

Not to mention, he’ll never have to go on one of Sam’s set-up dates again! And he didn’t even need to get a girlfriend to do so!

The night couldn’t have ended better, and he can’t wait to tell Sam all about it.