#and if I don't manage that or I end up seeing more triggering stuff then I'm fucked and there goes possibly the entire rest of the night

[thethingything]

trying to work out if I'm shaky from medication side effects, random symptom flares, seeing extremely triggering content completely untagged, or some other unknown reason

[medicinemane]

I still argue that bleeping someone like Gorden Ramsey is bullshit so that people who love and find swearing fun can pretend that they didn't just hear him call someone a fucking donkey, because there was a bleep... like they don't know the exact word he used, like they didn't think it, and like they didn't have fun with it

Cause I bet you... any amount of money you want honestly, that if you asked Gorden Ramsey not to swear he just wouldn't... I don't think they ever bleep anything in shows where he's helping kids cook

No, people find swearing fun, it's entertaining... they just don't want to admit they like it because it's naughty

And to be clear I'm directly pointing to this and pointing to 'unalive' and drawing a line between them for how we got here

[scurvyboy]

Not to beat a dead horse or whatever, but you don’t see fiddlestan being healthy at any point? I feel like your version of them would have most of their issues figured out by the time they’re old and stuff. Can you talk about their dynamic a bit more pretty please? (I know you just had an ask about this so sorry to keep bringing it up aha 🤪. I’m obsessed with them, and I love your art/au and want to understand them.)

the basis of why i like the fiddlestan ship is strictly because it doesn't work and is doomed to fail. it's a relationship between two extremely damaged people that are only together for transactional reasons.

the way i see it starting: fiddleford comes back to gravity falls after being kicked out by emma may in hopes that he can patch things up with ford. he finds stan there instead and decides to help him fix the portal despite his crushing anxiety about it because he has nowhere else to go. they're both stuck alone in this situation and urges become apparent. things are awkward for a while before they start banging fuck nasty brokeback mountain style.

fiddleford wants stan because he's delusional and still in love with ford. sure he grows to appreciate differences between them and has a separate chemistry with stan, but he is also completely out of touch with reality and rebounding off of his failed marriage with a man who looks just like the one he cheated on his wife with. working on the portal triggers intense panic attacks, which makes him use the memory gun more, which makes him less and less stable.

stan is working himself to death trying to get ford back and just needs affection. the sexual aspect of their relationship helps him blow off steam, but fiddleford also treats him like a person with a brain and allows him to be emotionally vulnerable for the first time in a long while. having someone finally break down his walls is equal parts frightening and addictive for him; he wants to be loved so badly but knows deep down that fiddleford doesn't actually love him, just the person he represents. he's just second best again.

things start to fall apart when it becomes clear that fixing the portal will be impossible without the other journals. fiddleford basically gives up trying to do the work in earnest and just lives in a domestic fantasy world. stan starts to get more and more impatient about the lack of work getting done and the stress makes him a lot more irritated and volatile. the two enter a vicious cycle of violent fights and honeymoon phases until things boil over: stan confronts fiddleford about the memory gun and kicks him out after he tries to use it on him.

post break up fiddleford, now with his cult and savior complex, murder suicides the portal and their affair from both of their memories. however, stan gets his portal memories back being at the shack and goes on to do what he does in canon.

the whole relationship takes place over the course of a few weeks and is as canon compliant as i could manage. i think it's a really fun concept and i think about it all the time.

to be real, i really dislike the idea that all relationships in media have to be healthy and resolved in order to be compelling. the idea that characters NEED to end the story happy and together is just plain unrealistic. i prefer when stories go outside of the limits of "and then they got together and everything was great after that", especially if being in a relationship isn't necessary to a characters arc.

i do think that them getting together when they're older could work and be very nice. however, i also don't think it's entirely necessary, especially since i did make their relationship rotted gutted awful bad. it is cute though, they can kiss and watch tv and marry for taxt purposes i guess.

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Never Alone

paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )

wordcount: ca. 3700 (only because this will be a multi-part thing XD)

synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.

note: I initially intended to post the whole thing (currently at almost 12000 words 🤯 ), but I really wanted to post a new piece and since I started a lot of new WIP instead of finishing something I thought this would be a good idea. Also, my Rooster debut so to speak (you can thank @mynameismckenziemae for this one. The fact that Rooster is the hero in this one is kind of on her 😅 . Thanks for helping me decide and for listening to my rambles on the regular. I am really thankful for the support) and I hope you all like it. And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual. The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot. Don't like that, please skip this one. And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off 😘

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), allusion to trauma/dissociative episode, written by a non-native speaker

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics gif by @jensens-ackles

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser on his arm he knows how this is gonna end. Take her home, have some fun and then kick her out. He wasn't one to indulge often, but considering how Maverick had been on his ass during training all week, he really needed to let off some steam. His arms were wrapped around her waist, lips wandering over her neck as he manoeuvred her back towards his Bronco until he stopped in his tracks.

There it was again. He had almost missed it with the busty brunette giggling into his ear, but he was sure that he heard right. "Hey Casanova, I am down here", she puts a hand on his cheek to pull his focus back to her," You wanted to show me a good time, remember?" But Rooster couldn't focus on the way her hands were roaming his body or the way she began to kiss his jaw, leaving a trace of lipgloss in her wake. "Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying" "That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.

Untangling himself from her limbs he walked over to the dark place next to a huge palm tree. The curled-up figure was barely visible in the shadows, but the sniffling was getting louder the closer he walked. "Hey what about me?", the woman whines, stomping her high heel sandal-clad foot on the ground. "Go in and find yourself another set of tags", he growls back annoyed, regretting the tone of his voice and the volume the moment he sees the figure flinch.

This was bad.

For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance. He knows that ring. The silver laurel branches that are winding around a delicate finger. He has seen it more than once.

"Nike?", he freezes for a moment unable to compute the situation. He had been at the Hard Deck all night and was sure he would have spotted you in the crowd. Not to mention that you weren't one for bars. You said as much yourself whenever one of the others had invited you for an evening out. "Hey Nike, it's me. Rooster", he tries to make himself small as he approaches, not wanting to intimidate you, voice soft and gentle. "Are you...", he begins before he stops himself. Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok? It's so goddamn fucking obvious that you are not, so he settles for something else. "What happened, Nike?" You were still sitting there, legs pulled close to your body, head resting on your knees as you cried. He moved another step closer when you suddenly looked up at him as if only now you realised that someone was there. "Rooster?"

Your chest was heaving, your fingers nervously drumming on your kneecaps while you tried to focus on him, clearly struggling with the situation "Yeah. It's me. Shall I call someone?", he asked and as soon as he mentioned the call you began frantically shaking your head, reaching a trembling hand out to him to grab the wrist of the hand that was about to reach into his pocket. "No, please don't" He pulls his hand back out of his pocket and lifts it up in the air to signal surrender. "Ok, I'm not"

Bradley only knows you as IC. The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it. They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason. Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement. They trusted you.

Hell, you were probably the only person on planet Earth to tell Admiral Simpson no if you thought something was a shitty idea and lived to tell the tale.

"Then say what you need Nike. Please?", he pleads feeling completely helpless. He has never seen you so utterly terrified and there is a feeling rising in his chest that makes him want to knock on the door of whoever left you so scared and very impolitely beat the shit out of them. You loosen the grip on his wrist and let your hand glide down his arm until yours is in his and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Even with his fingers wrapped around yours, he can feel the trembling. When you finally answer him your voice is barely above a whisper. "A place to stay"

He didn't need to hear anything else. He just nodded and pulled you up by the hand that was still clinging to his own. Your feet were wobbly and the heels didn't make it any better. His eyes wandered over you, assessing whether there was any injury that he had to be mindful of before he let go of your hand for a second, the terror lighting back up in your eyes immediately. "It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style. He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair. "Let's get you home"

At a red light on the drive to his place he looks down where your hand is still holding his, his thumb gently petting the back of your hand while your head rested on his shoulder. In all the years of knowing you, he's never seen you so close to someone else. You usually prefer to keep people out of your personal space. It was something everyone on base respected and that makes him wonder.

You were so strong, so resourceful and intelligent. You had seen so much shit in your life and 9 times out of ten they called you in when it already hit the fan, so you were no stranger to working under immense pressure, the lives of people depending on the shots you were calling. How could someone bring you into a position where you would be so utterly terrified that it'd push you into a state that looked like a full-blown anxiety attack?

Considering the pretty dress, the heels and your by now smudged make-up it was likely you'd been out today and since bars and clubs are not your scene, he figures it must have been a restaurant. The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.

It's not much later when he puts the Bronco in park in front of his house, feeling the way you instantly stiffen next to him. "I'll go ahead and open the door", your grip around his hand tightens even more. You are holding on to him for dear life. Bradley Bradshaw was your lifeline right now and to be someone you trusted so much filled his heart with pride. He only wished he would have found out under different circumstances.

"I'll be right back, Nike", he hears you stifle a sob while you tremble. Whether it's the chill night air or your fear, he is not quite sure and so he leans to the side to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You tell me when you are ready", he adds, pulling you into an embrace as the two of you sit here in his car. He'd stay here with you for hours if you needed it. "Promise you'll come back" "I promise", he looks down at you and you nod. Letting go of his hand so he can get out of the car. Brad cannot remember any other time when he ran up the steps to his house this fast, unlocking the door and grabbing the quilt from his couch before he gets right back to you.

Seeing the way your eyes light up when you see him as he opens the car door makes his heart soar and ache at the same time. "Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace. "I'll always come for you"

He tried to kick his front door closed as quietly as he could to not spook you even more and kept the lights off too as he made his way to his bedroom. From there he goes into the en-suite and sits you down on the counter. "Blanket on or off?" "Off" He nods, taking the colourful patchwork off of your shoulders and throwing it in the corner where he usually stores his dirty laundry. He could deal with that some other time. "I'll turn on my bedside lamp in the other room. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you when to look”, he was looking for any sign that you needed another moment but you nodded.

So he turns around and walks into his bedroom, turning on the lamp and throwing the next best piece of fabric over it to dim the light. It was enough to see something but not too much on your eyes that had probably gotten used to the darkness outside. "You can open your eyes", he says, turning back to look at you, eyes wandering over you for a moment to see if there was any injury that he had missed in the darkness outside the Hard Deck but he couldn't find anything. On his way back to you he rummaged around in his drawer, finding a Phillies jersey that could fit you if the dress wasn't comfortable enough for you to sleep in.

"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring. "I'm gonna take your shoes off first" He throws the jersey over his shoulder before he goes down on his knees, unlacing your oxford heels, every move slow and deliberate, before he places them down on the floor under the cabinet, to get them out of the way. He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.

"Do you want to keep your dress on or change into a shirt?", he asks, taking the jersey from his shoulder and showing it to you. He sees the way you are contemplating for a long while, brow furrowed and teeth sinking into your lower lip before you reach out for the worn-out material. It's soft and you are digging your fingers into the material and holding onto it the way you'd been holding onto his hand. Holding on for dear life.

"Want me to stay or wait outside?", he asks, not wanting to put you into a worse situation than you are already in. Damn, he wished you would have allowed him to get Phoenix or Penny, then this would have been not as bad by a long shot. You are quiet for a while and he wonders if you've drifted off again the way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, but then your gaze finds his and you take a deep breath. "Can you help with the zipper?" "Of course"

He gets up and watches you jump off the counter, your stance much more stable now that the heels are off. It's more the look he's used of you and it gives him the feeling that he's at least doing something right here. You turn around, his jersey still pressed to your chest, looking down at the washed-out red and white fabric as if it gave you some form of solace. Bradley takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the mirror to make sure you know what would come next and when you give him a nod he reaches out his hand, gently pulling down the zipper. Underneath the fabric is some sort of underdress all laced up with a pretty bow. Fuck. He would have never taken you for the corset-wearing type of gal.

You let the dress slide down to the floor before you pull his jersey over your head. He wants to help you to smooth it down your body but you shake your head and his hands are off immediately. "Sorry" "No...Can you untie...?" This time he's the one nodding, letting his hands glide under the fabric, pulling at the laces to undo the bow and then loosening them enough so you could let it glide down your body too and step out. The pile of fabric, tulle and boning is on the floor and he sees that you attempt to lean down, your hand on the counter for balance in order to pick your clothes up but he's faster. "Thank you" “I can put this on a hanger for you”, he nods over to where he usually stores his drying shirts. “There are loops...”, you start and he easily finds them, placing them on the hanger's hooks before he puts them on the clothes rail. As his eyes wander over the dress, he's wondering for a moment who you had met to doll up like this. "Anything else?"

He sees the way you are thinking, fighting with yourself "Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will" "Can you help with the stockings?" You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.

So for the second time tonight, Bradley Bradshaw lets himself fall onto his knees, feeling your hand on his shoulder for support while both hands are smoothing up your calf to your knee and under the jersey, feeling where the nylon ended so he could pull it down for you. His eyes are glued to the ground to make this at least a little less awkward for you. Once the fabric is gone, he switches to the other side and repeats the same movement before he looks up at you, the bunched-up material ending up under the sink next to your shoes.

"You good, Nike?", he asks, eyes searching your face for any sign that he's overstepped but all he finds is that gentle expression of fondness on your face, not quite a smile but considering the circumstances, Bradley would settle for this. You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace. Not for you and not for him. "Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers. "For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.

When you finally pull back your hand he slowly moves up to stand before you, towering over you but you don't flinch. Bradley Bradshaw doesn't make you feel you need to and he cannot help but feel a pride rising in his chest that of all people, you chose him to put your trust in. "Now let's get you into bed", he steps to the side, letting you walk past him with his hand hovering over the small of your back. His hand wants to touch, but he doesn't want to push. Not after the night you had. That is until he realises that you are walking towards the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" "Couch" Fuck no. He would not make you sleep on that thing that was short and so worn out that it'd surely break your back. But what was even worse than the idea of you on his couch was the fact you believed that he would allow, let alone want that. Getting his hands back on you he picks you up bridal style and carries you back over to the bed. "You take the bed" "Rooster..." "No" There is a small smile playing on his lips. It reminds him of the first time he met you way back when.

You had just finished the mission briefing when Hangman suggested a change to the plans and your only reply was: "No" "What no?" "No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily. "No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.

Rooster was a navy guy and could sleep wherever, even on the hardwood floor if he had to, but you needed some proper rest. He lays you down on the bed as gently as possible and when he straightens his back he sees the expression on your face. It's such a wild swirl of emotions that are washing over your features, ever-changing like the ocean, that he doesn't know what to expect next, but it sure as hell wasn't this. "I'm scared of being alone"

He knows that this is far more than a simple statement. It is your way to ask for him to stay, to have him around for your comfort. It's not like he doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that wonders if this would be something you'd come to regret the next morning. He had always known you as someone who loved her personal space, avoiding even handshakes whenever you could. He had his hands all over you tonight and he didn't want to push his luck, but then he saw your pleading eyes and he smiled down at you. "I'll just get into some comfortable clothes and then I'm right back", he leans down and presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments. "Thank you, Bradley"

He has to stop himself for a moment, eyes wide with surprise as he looks at you. Never before have you used his first name. It was always Lieutenant, Bradshaw, Rooster or a combination of those three, usually depending on how pissed you were at him for fucking around with your meticulous mission plans. There was a flicker of fear that washed over your face as the realisation hit you what you just said but he reached out his hand, gently resting on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. "No need to thank me, Nike. I am glad if I can help"

He allows himself another moment to enjoy the feeling of your soft skin against his before he pulls back and turns to grab some fresh clothes to sleep in and heads to the bathroom. His movements are hurried, almost frantic while he gets out of his clothes and ready for bed. All the while feeling a fear creeping up on him. He closed the door, to make sure to respect your boundaries but now he regretted it. It meant he couldn't check in on you, couldn't make sure that you were ok and not spiralling. Throwing his worn clothes over to the hamper without caring if he actually hit or not he just pulls on his sweat pants and opens the door, muscle shirt still in hand as he walks into the bedroom and pulls it over his head.

When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you. “Tell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache. "Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it" "Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him. "I just really don't want to be alone"

You feel the way the mattress is dipping under his weight but you cannot bring yourself to turn around and look him in the eye. "You are not alone Nike", his voice is close to your ear and you can feel the way his breath is fanning out over your cheek and neck. And then you surprise him when you reach behind him and take his hand to place it over your waist, your fingers interlaced with his as your thumb drummed a nervous rhythm into the palm of his hand. "You are never alone"

Part 2

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist HERE

[iid-smile]

Hiii, I know this is probably a weird request and if it's triggering or just something you'd not want to write I totally understand!!! Just was thinking if you could write Nanami or Toji with a s/o who's always had their family manage their eating in an obsessive way so they sometimes have trouble with it and their weight. And they'd help them through it???

If not it's totally okayy, I also love your work a lot hust wanted to swoop that in here🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Lots of lovee

perfect portion , fushiguro toji

x gn!reader , toji swearing, cw: mentions of scales, weight, not eating enough, body image, and food.

author's note: i decided to go with toji (which was very much a struggle) since i thought i had enough of nanami on my page (its a love hate relationship at this point) but if you want him instead, or don't like this one (i dont like it either because i clearly gave up at the end) slide in again and i'll deliver just for you!!!! 🫵😤 also i didn't proofread because i pushed through my writers block for this

thank you for your love anon! 🫶 i hope you enjoy!

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the jingling of keys in the distance was a sign that toji finally came home. you could hear his heavy footsteps walking around the house, before coming towards the bedroom where you lay on the bed.

after opening the door, he lets out a sigh. "stay awake for me, sugar. 'm gonna order us pizza." his voice is barely comprehensible from his mumbles, but since it's such a common phrase, you understand what he says.

"oh..." your voice lightens and a short, near sheepish chuckle comes from you. "no, no thanks. i think ive had enough meals today."

he so obviously screws his face from what you said, not that you're looking, and he drops off a few belongings that were in his pockets onto the dresser before glancing over his shoulder. "what?"

in surprise, you look up from your phone. yes, sometimes toji could be a bit pushy with what he wants, but you're sure that the way you said no was obvious that you did not want to be convinced about it. did he not hear you right? "i said i ate enough today."

he scoffs, turning around to face you. "uh...no the fuck you didn't?"

"i did...? i'm sure i did. i told you."

"oh, come on. do you think i'm stupid now? is that it?"

"what?"

"i called you at three in the afternoon, and only then were you telling me you were having breaktast. you woke up way before me." he gestures over to the clock on the wall. "and look at the time. it's nine, and i only saw one dish in the sink."

"yeah. i ate."

"okay. fine, fine. i'll assume the best." he sighs in resignation, turning around and eyeing a piece of paper that he just now noticed was on the dresser. "and what the hell is this? what d'ya need these numbers for, huh?"

that was not supposed to be there for him to see. your eyebrows furrow, but you try to play off your tone as natural. "y'know... from the scale 'n stuff..."

"scale? what scale—? you bought a scale without telling me?"

mistake. well, your first mistake was not asking what he was actually referring to. he didn't notice that anyways, but your second was accidentally telling him that you bought a scale. "well, every house has one, don't they?"

toji was genuinely so flabbergasted to the point where he had to shake his head in disbelief. "not this one, no. because nobody needs one." his steps are obnoxiously loud as he approaches your side."hell, this isn't even about money anymore. why would you need a scale of all things?"

"..." his responses were fast. too fast, and faster than usual. it would've been easier if this was over text, but in person? it's ten times more difficult to think of an excuse. "because i need one." was the first one you thought of.

"who's been telling you to use a scale?"

"nobody..."

"nobody?"

"nobody."

"somebody, clearly. you think you just wake up one day, start writin' down your weight like it's important." he scrunches up the paper, tossing it off somewhere out of your sight. "it's fine, you look fine, and 'm ordering pizza because i want you to eat it."

"and i shouldn't—" you look down at your phone that you put down next to you at some point in the conversation, a notification flashing on the screen, but you weren't paying attention to that. you were looking at the time. around about now would you be getting a weight check...

"who the fuck's sayin' that? sayin' for you not to eat like that? 'cause it's not me." and he leans in closer to you. "so, who's tellin' you to use a scale?"

silence. long and loud. this was one of the last things you'd ever want to admit to him. he's a guy that's extremely proud of his strength, stays in great shape, unreal body proportions, and you're just... you. there's nothing special about you, about your appearance, about your body.

"listen, i won't do anything you don't want me to..." his face suddenly grows to look conflicted, and though the times he does are rare, he makes an effort to soften his voice. "tell me one thing. are you hungry?"

as much as you want to hesitate, as much as you want to put your foot down and say no, your stomach is telling you something different. you're more surprised that the entire time toji has been in a relationship with you, he hasn't heard how ungodly audible your stomach growls can really get. the urge is unstoppable; you just had to nod.

"then what are you waiting for? i'll order whatever you're craving." and out the bedroom he goes, making his way over to the house phone in the hallway. "if it would make you feel better, i'll eat the same amount as you do, so i can show you that it's okay. no more small portions for you."

"and if it makes me unhealthy? if i get sick?" you sound a little amused.

the tapping noises on the phone stops. toji didn't think about that part. "...i'll take you to the hospital. tell me what you want to eat 'n give me the takeout number."

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[intheorangebedroom]

The corner deli, part 2

Summary: Frankie takes you on a second date. Somehow, firearms are still involved...

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N:  Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡 Thank you so much for your kind response to part 1! I hope you like this part too (pun intended). And please, see the end notes 🧡

Word count: 4.1k (I managed to cram in nearly all my kinks, can I get a woot woot?)

[part 1] [blog masterlist]

Part 2: Crimson and Clover

“Isn’t it cheating, though?”

The carnival rifle looks comically small between his hands. He presses the trigger, and a fourth balloon explodes with a loud popping sound, amplified by the wooden box. You jump. He doesn’t even blink.  

“How is it cheating?” he asks, looking down at you with a cocked eyebrow as he casually reloads a tiny lead bullet into the rifle’s barrel. Wow. Competency, much?

“Well, you were in the Army. Don’t they train you to shoot at stuff?” you ask, eyes trained on the little target inked on his left hand.

He shrugs. 

“You want that teddy bear, or not?”

“I do. I do want the teddy bear. It’s– it’s a plush Grogu, but yes, I do want it.”

“The plush green alien, yea.”

You make a face, taking mock offense.

The date —he said it was a date, so you guess you can call it that, right?— has been going extremely well, so far. Conversation flowing easy, stolen glances that don't make you wanna crawl out of your skin; he’s asked you a lot of questions, but it didn’t feel forced. You’re not sure if your brain is not gonna ask for payback at 3am on a Sunday, but you're feeling relaxed and at ease. He’s paid for everything, the diner, the rides, even the cotton candy, but he didn’t make a show of it. You could get used to this. The hanging out, that is, not necessarily the paying for everything part. 

“I’m teasin’ you. I love Star Wars too.”

“You do? Wait, are you one of those fans who’s gonna tell me I am not a real fan because I haven’t read all the books and comics and I can’t speak Jawa, but really it’s because I got a vagina?”

“Do I look like the kind of man who feels threatened by a vagina?” 

Oh. Oh shit. Ok.  

“Guess not,” you whisper, ducking your head so he can’t see your cheeks, that are fucking burning up. 

“Star Wars is actually the reason I became a pilot.”

He brings the butt stock of the rifle to his shoulder, adjusting his aim, and oh boy, he’s a sight to behold. That poor t-shirt of his is pulled taut across the breadth of his shoulders, seams ready to burst. You admire the way his thick finger slides around the trigger guard, and in, before another balloon goes BOOM. 

The young man keeping the stand lets out an ostentatious sigh. He grabs a long pole with a hook at the end to get you the toy, but really, it looks more like it’s a pitchfork he’s gonna chase you away with.  

“How’s that?” you manage to articulate. 

“Han Solo is the coolest, and I wanted to be as cool as Han Solo.” 

He gives you a shy grin, setting the rifle down on the counter. 

“Shut up! I wanted to be Leia!”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“Is that so?” he asks, taking a step closer to you.

Oh. Oh. 

Oh, that’s close. He’s crowding you against the counter, towering over you, his heady scent wrapping around you and he gives you that cocky look that turns your legs into Jell-o.

“Yeah,” you whisper, trying your hardest not to stare at the dip between his collarbone, and the little freckles on the tanned skin of his neck. 

The stand employee shoves the ginormous Grogu into your back, propelling you into Frankie’s chest. The man is HOT. Like, really hot. His skin is on fire, you can feel the heat through his threadbare t-shirt.

“Can I take you and Grogu home now, or is it too fast?” he says, his breath fanning your lips. “I don’t know how these things are supposed to work.”

Oh god, his hips are pressing into yours.

“I’ve no idea either, but I think you’re doing fine.”

“Yea?”

“Mmh mmh,” is the only sound you manage to produce.

“Good. Let’s go. Gonna make you see stars,” he adds, pushing away from you, and he immediately winces at the lame joke.

“Wow. Really?” you laugh. 

He flinches, hiding his pretty face under the brim of his hat.

“Fuck…”

—

Well, he wasn’t lying. You saw stars. And then you saw stars again. And again. And then you saw some more.

But the first thing you see when you get to his place is how clean it is. Tidy, but in a lived-in way.  

It’s a one-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of a brick building. The kitchen sink is empty, a single plate and set of cutlery drying on the metal rack next to it. Some magnets adorn the fridge, among which you recognize a picture by Manuel Álvarez Bravo, and another by Berenice Abbott, and you try to police your expression because these are your two favorite photographers and that’s a pretty freaky coincidence, right? 

You step into the living-room while he washes his hands. It’s cozy. A soft amber glow pours in from the streetlights through the three narrow windows, behind a big slouchy leather couch. There’s a plant that looks alive and well on the console next to it, and an entire wall of seemingly handmade shelves, lined with books. The TV is old, downright ancient, and there’s a turntable propped onto a vintage stereo. An opened book lies face down on the coffee table. 

You crane your neck to read the title. Engineering Circuit Analysis. Okay, so that won’t be a conversation starter. 

You don’t know if the place always looks this tidy or if he cleaned it because he thought you might be coming over, and you’re not sure if the sheer assumption shouldn’t be a red flag, given it’s only the second time you’re seeing the guy, but you find that you don’t care. You really don’t. Not in the least. 

He joins you in the living-room, but he doesn’t turn the lights on. He’s taken his hat off and he’s combing his fingers through his thick mane of curls, and that sight alone was worth driving all the way here in his truck. 

“Want something to drink?” he asks, and that’s a very good question, do you want something to drink? 

You should, probably, because your mouth is so dry you can’t even gulp, and your nerves could use some alcohol, but you just stand here, like an idiot, watching him walk slowly toward you, wondering how close he’s gonna get before he stops walking.

Very close, apparently.

He looks so fucking tall and broad, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it, but then again, it’s only the second time you see him. He leans over you, you have to twist your neck up to keep your eyes on his, but really, what you want to do is chew on his lips. Or his neck. You’re not picky.

He hooks his index fingers into the belt loops of your jeans to draw you in. Fuck, now your panties are ruined.

Time goes in slow motion as he licks his lips, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Is it ok?”

“Yes, please.”

Yes, please, Jesus fucking Christ, can you get any more cringe?

“There’s a lot of things I’m wanna do to you, if I gotta be honest,” he adds.

Oh, there, you can gulp. You think people might have heard you swallow from the other side of town.

“Okay. You can… do your worst, Morales.”

“You sure? Because my worst is… You need to tell me if–”

“Yes. I’m sure. You got my consent. All of it. Please.”

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not today.

“You’re fucking adorable, you know that? I am going to ruin you.”

You hate meeting new people. Meeting guys. You hate that whole dance, when you have to pretend you don’t really wanna fuck each other, oh but really you do, you hate getting undressed in front of a literal stranger, the awkwardness of it, new skin, new touch, everything grosses you out and you feel like curling into a ball inside your own skin, waiting for it to be fucking over. 

But this, this is different. Of course, it’s different, everything has been since you’ve laid eyes on him across that aisle in the corner deli.

You want him. God, you’re practically vibrating with it. And you want him to want you, too. 

He presses his lips to yours, and it’s subtle, the delicate, albeit insistent press of it, testing but also very much signifying you he’s gonna do everything he said he would, pulling you closer with your belt loops. 

Fuck it, you think. Fuck it. You want this. All of it. The taste of him and the weight of him and his touch and his skin. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean into the kiss with a quiet little moan, your hands traveling up his large back, balling his t-shirt in your fists. He doesn’t miss a beat, his hand comes up to cup your face, fingers carding through your hair and you feel the wet glide of his tongue, prompting you to open. 

You do. Oh god, you do, and you taste the cotton candy as he licks into you. There’s the little tickle from his mustache, the pressure on your waist, the sparkling tingle along your spine and everything is delicious. His other hand is kneading at the curve of your hip, sliding down to your ass and he grabs you there, strong fingers splayed right between your cheeks, it’s firm and hungry and commanding.

He pulls you flush into him, and with a gently swaying motion against your belly, he lets you feel it. Feel what you do to him. Feel how much he wants you.  

Your body goes slack and tense at the same time, loose limbs, loose chest, clenching cunt and hardening nipples. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling away just a bit, “fuck, you’re sweet.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer, not that you’d know what to say, his mouth is on yours again, his plush lips a perfect fit against yours, his tongue swirling inside you. And the kiss lingers, languid, unhurried, his hands roaming your figure, strong and slow, kneading your curves and using the grip to press you closer and closer into him.

When your fingers thread through his hair, you give his locks a little tug that has him grunting into your mouth. He breaks the kiss, but his mouth remains on you, lips sucking along the edge of your jaw, teeth scraping down your throat, slick pooling sticky and wet between your hips. 

There’s the ghost of a bite over your pulse point; you moan into it and suddenly, time accelerates. His kisses get frantic, he’s devouring you, only lifting his lips off your skin to tug off your t-shirt, deft fingers unclasping your bra. You pull so hard on his shirt you might as well rip it, but he only bites you harder, pushing into you stronger. The back of your knees hit the coffee table, you fall onto the couch. 

And that’s when everything slows again.

His gaze, raking over your naked breasts as he stands before you. His tongue darting between his parted lips. His movements, as he unbuckles his belt. 

You get lost in the sight of his chest, bare, broad, golden in the orange semi-darkness. 

“Take off the rest of your clothes, baby,” he says, and the endearment shoots right through you. 

You’re never recovering from this night, this much you can tell. You’ll want this man forever, you are so fucked. 

You manage to get rid of your shoes and your jeans, but it’s a damn miracle with how much your hands are shaking. He’s toed off his boots and unbuttoned his pants without taking his eyes off you even for a split second. 

There’s something carnivorous in the half-smile dancing on his lips. He’s palming the bulge tenting his black boxer briefs, and you’re about to slide off your panties without a second thought when he stops you. 

“Wait. Bedroom. C’mere.”

Yes, sir. 

You stand up on wobbly legs and his hand skims around the curve of your hip, down the swell of your ass. He takes your arm, lifts it up to wrap around his neck, and you follow, diligently, circling your other arm around his broad shoulders. 

He picks you up like you fucking weigh nothing, how strong is this guy? What do they feed them in the Army? 

He keeps you there for a moment, your legs wrapped around his tapered waist, skin on skin, his head slightly tilted up and his eyes boring into yours. His hands grasping your ass cheeks, a bruising grip, the tip of his fingers reaching into that hollow curve at the top of your thighs, under the line of your panties, where you’re soaked with want for him. 

Your heart is beating so fast, pounding so hard, it’s going to tear out of your chest. Land right into his. 

The crease in his brow deepens, his gaze on you intensifies, thoughts clouding his rich brown eyes. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but closes it again.   

“Frankie—” you start, but he cuts you in. 

“Wait. I need to know this is not a one-time thing. I’m gonna see you again, right?”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

There are people laughing outside in the street. The sound of a police siren in the distance. A dog barking. You commit everything to memory. The amber darkness, the city noises, the hope in his eyes. The sensation of his strong hold, and that of your hardened nipples grazing his chest. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you whisper, and he smiles, that wide dimpled smile you’d do everything for, his fingers burrowing a little deeper into your flesh. 

He carries you into the bedroom, bathed in the same orange semi-darkness, and lays you onto his bed. You sink into the fluffy cottony material of the comforter that smells like him. Leather and musk and safety. He hovers over you, eyes locked on yours. 

He rocks gently into you, just a faint press, his waist spreading your hips open, his hands roaming along the expanse of your naked skin, palming your breasts. The fabric of his tight boxers catches at your soaked panties, the button of his jeans biting into your belly. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks, his voice a low husk, and for a second, you think he’s asking if he can kiss you again, but you quickly register, and your eyes grow wide. 

You nod, unable to articulate around the anticipation swelling in your throat. 

He makes a start at moving over you, but stops, and instead leans in to kiss you again. A wide, hungry kiss, licking into you avidly, pressing into you greedily, swallowing your moans as your fingernails run through his nape and into his hairline. 

He pulls away, and you all but whine, chasing his lips, rising to your elbows. Unwavering, he moves down on the bed, and there’s another flash of that carnivorous smile as he takes off his jeans, as he kneels between your legs. 

You watch, wide-eyed and ragged breath, as he brushes his knuckles along that curve at the top of your thigh, thick fingers hooking under the elastic band of your panties, pulling it to the side. He smiles at you again, before his head dips. 

His tongue parts your fold, and your head lolls back between your shoulders with a strangled cry. His hand pushing up the back of your knee, spreading you wider than you ever thought your body capable of, he licks into you with a rumbling groan. 

The curled tip of his tongue dives deep into your cunt, tasting you with thorough strokes, but he lifts his head with a pained grunt and a sliver of self-consciousness rips through your chest. 

“Fuck, baby, I think you’re going to ruin me.”

Your arms buckle, your back hitting the mattress, and he slides your panties down, twisting them around his wrist, before hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, and he buries his face into your cunt again. 

The wet glide of this tongue is hot and heavy, licking in broad stripes, sucking on your clit, thrusting into you. Arousal pools in, sticky and rich, at the base of your spine, streaming down your walls. You moan and wither against his mouth, and he chases your movements, cueing his ministrations to your reactions. 

Wet, explicit sounds fill the bedroom. He plays you like an instrument, your hips bucking against his face, wanton whimpers spilling out of you like music, fingers threading through his curls, and he brings you close, so close to your release, without ever letting you tip over the edge.

He’s taking his sweet time about it, true to his word, and you're begging now, sweet little moans you didn’t know your voice could carry, Frankie, Frankie please.

Gently, he eases your legs down, sitting back on his haunches on the bed. It’s a hitched breath, a broken little cry as cold air hits your soaked cunt but he runs a soothing hand along your inner thigh. 

“Shh, I got you, baby. I got you.”

Empty. The word flashes through your dazed brain, and you turn your head to the side to hide your face in the comforter. 

You’re empty, and you want him to fill you up. And you don’t know what you’re hiding from, if it’s from him or the embarrassment of being so fucking needy or the magnitude of your desire, but there’s this abyss inside you only him can fill and fuck, you’ve never felt this vulnerable before. Why now? Why him?

His finger presses at your entrance and you let out a quivering breath. A shallow thrust, an easy glide, and he adds another. Your back arches with relief. A flex of his digits, and he’s stroking a soft spot inside your cunt you didn’t know existed. 

With your last shred of strength, you lift your head up. He’s watching you, his boxers pulled down, practiced fingers circling his cock, dragging slowly up and down along the length of it. The orange glow from the streetlights ripples over his skin in amber shades and dark shadows. Your eyes trace the broad span of his chest, his strong, corded neck, the dark crown of his curls. 

The man looks like a fucking god.  

“Jesus,” you whimper, and he chuckles, that wolfish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The bottom half of his face glints in the semi-darkness, shiny with your slick. Precome dribbling over his knuckles. This is fucking filthy. You revel in it.

Your head drops with a soundless laugh, hips swaying along with his stroking fingers. 

You’re going to lose your mind with how good it feels, you think, but then it gets even worse, or better, when he lowers his thumb to your clit, rubbing smooth circles over it and your chest heaves with a silent plea. 

Soon, a tremor sizzles along your thighs, your release coiling brisk and strong at the center of you. It builds up like electricity, like liquid fire, potent and fast and white-hot.

Your entire body is alight with it, it travels down every nerve-ending and you come undone, you fucking unravel, his name dragging out on your lips. 

He lowers himself to slant his mouth over your cunt and you recoil, but he’s careful, his tongue darting swiftly into you, drinking your release with greedy groans. 

When he’s sure to have it all, he moves back over you, his face out of focus through your glazed eyes, the bulk of him engulfing you, his heady scent filling your lungs. 

“Wanna taste how sweet you are?” he asks, and you nod, sprawled out, boneless, pliant. 

His hand hinges your jaw open, thumb on your bottom lip. His spit rolls down his tongue into your open mouth and his hooded eyes, black with want, flicker down to your throat as you swallow it all. 

“Oh, you’re a good girl,” he marvels, and the praise is like a shockwave, like a second high, it coats your palate and sticks to your skin. You could swear it’s fucking tangible. 

You need more, more of him, more of that, but you’re not sure what’s next. This is uncharted territory. No man has ever prioritized your pleasure over his, before. 

You lift your hips off the mattress, bucking into him, but he frowns.

“If you need time—”

“I need you inside me,” you plead. 

“It’s a lot more than two fingers, baby,” he warns and yes, you can tell, with the heavy weight of his cock thrumming hot and angry against your belly. 

“I can take it.”

He huffs a smile, but it quickly falls when you tip your chin, wrapping his thumb between your lips. Your tongue curls around the pad of it as you suck on it, and you hear him gulp. One all. 

Oh, but he was right, it’s more, much more than two fingers, and his first thrust, however gentle, however shallow, has you squirming around the stretch of him. Your fingernails digging into his arms, he grunts with the effort, pushing in slowly, pulling out, and in again, sweat beading along his spine, restraint tensing his jaw. 

You lift your head, scraping your teeth over that bare patch in his scruffy jaw. 

“I can take it,” you repeat, and he growls, head dropping into the curve of your neck, sinking his sharp teeth into the soft skin at the base of your throat. 

He shoves himself in down to the base, and you cry out, but he doesn’t stop. He moves into you. With deep thorough thrusts, fast-paced and rough, he fills you up, just like you wanted, just like you asked, skin catching around his girth at your entrance. Sucking hard on the tender skin of your neck, sharp little bruises blooming in purple flecks along the column of your throat. 

Knees hitched up high along his sides, you feel sweat breaking on your forehead as you ease into his relentless rhythm, into the impossible size of him, into the pleasure-pain, because this is what you wished for. To feel him tonight. To feel him still tomorrow. And perhaps the day that follows. 

His grunts fan the shell of your ear, sending more slick rushing down your walls. His hand squeezes your breast, his trigger finger and thumb pinching your nipple, merciless, and your cunt starts to flutter along his length, a frantic collapsing of your walls, eyes clenched shut under your pinched brow. 

“Oh god, I’m so close,” you whine, and he straightens up without breaking his rhythm. 

“I wanna see your face when you come on my cock”, he growls, hooking his elbow under your knee, using it for leverage to bear you down on his cock as he picks up the fucking pace. 

His broad hand splayed reverently over your belly, the heel of it is a steady pressure over your clit, and when you come, your whole body quaking with the force of your second relief, he quickly follows, pulling out just in time to spurt thick pearly ropes over your quivering skin. 

“Oh shit, look at you,” he pants, before he collapses on the bed next to you, chest heaving. 

You lie there side by side for a beat, the room around you slowly coming back into focus. That damn dog is still barking, the night traffic a low and distant hum. 

Would it… would it be okay, acceptable, if you gathered his come with your fingers and licked them clean? Could you ask him to fuck your mouth, next? Or should you scamper off the bed to gather your clothes and leave? What’s the common protocol here? No one has ever turned you into this feral, greedy little monster before.  

He clears his throat. Oh fuck, that’s it. He’s gonna politely hint that you should now be leaving the premises. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Your eyes flutter shut. A hindered little sob rattles inside your chest. You address a heartfelt thank you to your lucky star for the midnight cravings that placed you in that corner deli the same night as him. Fuck, you’ll throw one in for that armed robber too.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask.

He turns to his side to face you, folding his arm and propping his chin in his hand. His soft brown eyes meet yours. And there’s that gentle smile that swells up your heart three sizes.

“Yes, please.”

****

End note: the opening scene is very much inspired by one of the fair scenes in Anchor Stitch, on Ao3. Not for every one, but one of my all-time favourites. Also, this is fanfiction, so I wasn't going to bother with a fucking condom, but I know you're smarter than that.

Part 1

[itpemod]

SIGN UP POST

It's late September and that means #ITPE sign-ups are OPEN 🎉🎉🎉 Links will be at the end, so please read through the post as we have a lot of new information/procedures this year!

This is the FOURTEENTH year of the exchange, but the FIRST year we will be hosting it on Tumblr, which was far and away the winner in our platform move survey. Happily, this means we get to keep our acronym and branding!

What is #ITPE?

#ITPE is a low-pressure, no-minimums podfic exchange that originated on Twitter. We are now on Tumblr because of Twitter’s…everything, since it was bought by the Muskrat. Everything–sign-ups, communication, assignment/gift distribution–used to be run entirely on Twitter, but as the exchange has grown, we’ve incorporated other platforms to help make our lives as mods easier. Consequently, sign-ups will be on AO3 and submissions of your finished gifts (when it comes time for them) will be via Google form. Otherwise all communication, including announcements, questions, assignment and gift delivery, will be conducted over Tumblr and instant messaging. 

Who are the mods?

Our mod line-up is @blackestglass (blackglass) & @knight-tracer, with flowersforgraves assisting on the backend with data management. 

What is the schedule?

The dates for #ITPE 2024 are:

Sign-ups: SEPTEMBER 21 - SEPTEMBER 29

Assignments go out: No later than OCTOBER 8

Projects due: DECEMBER 17

Distribution: DECEMBER 24

So long as it's still September 29 somewhere in the world, you can still sign-up.

How do I sign up?

We are continuing to run sign-ups through AO3 (without a nominations process, so just write in your fandoms). We are asking for a minimum of 3 unique fandoms and if you want to sign-up to give or receive more than 20 fandoms, pick your TOP 20 for the AO3 and put the rest in your Dear Podficcer Letter. If you have less than 20 fandoms, we encourage you to list all of your primary and secondary fandoms in the sign up form so we have options for matching!

Note: We consider certain RPF fandoms as “umbrella” fandoms. We know we have K-Pop podficcers and sports RPF podficcers who often sign up for our exchange. Individual K-Pop bands and individual sports/sports teams do not count as “unique” fandoms (so for instance, only listing SHINee, BTS, and A-Teez would not count as having 3 unique fandoms for sign-up purposes; for our purposes, they would all fall under the K-Pop umbrella). In addition to listing your favorite bands/sports/teams in the fandom field, we do ask you to help us out for matching by thinking of at least 2 other fandoms which you might be happy to give and receive in. The RPF podficcing pool is small and we try not to repeat matches within a 5-year period, so giving us more fandom options will help us find you a match. 

What is a Dear Podficcer letter?

Your Dear Podficcer letter should include stuff like squicks, triggers, ship and trope preferences, and anything else you think we & your gift giver should know regarding your fandom tastes. Letters are mandatory. They don't have to be long! But if you have extremely specific tastes, it’s better that you let us know upfront in your letter so that we can ensure that you receive a gift you’re happy with. Please don’t worry about seeming “difficult”! We want you to love the gift you receive! Also, do feel free to request your small, obscure fandoms! Just help us out by also including some more popular or “mainstream” fandoms among your options. 

If you’re still uncertain what a letter should look like, here are some examples from 2020: blackglass’s 2020 letter & knight_tracer’s 2020 letter. You can also check out linked letters in the “Requests Summary” on AO3 to see what other people’s letters look like!  

Letters should be hosted on a publicly viewable platform, such as on Dreamwidth, tumblr, carrd, GDrive, Dropbox, etc. 

Please put your Tumblr and AO3 handles (if they don’t already match) in your Dear Podficcer letter. For our sake, ideally somewhere in the title field. Toss a coin to your mod team. 

Also please be kind to your mods & avoid using smushnames or cute fandom ship names in your letter. We're not always in your fandom & sometimes people will use different names to refer to the same pairing & we mistakenly believe you're requesting different pairings (see: the Zimbits/JackBitty/etc. debacle of 2020). Using Char A/Char B(/Char C) would help us out a lot! You don't have to use AO3 levels of disambiguation – just provide us with enough information to figure out who the characters involved in the ship are. 

If you have specific tastes in what you want to RECEIVE in a fandom, but you’re willing to CREATE outside of those preferences (for instance, wanting to receive podfic about a specific pairing, but willing to podfic for other pairings in a fandom), please indicate that in your letter! If you want to offer or receive fandoms that aren’t currently on the AO3, or you’re one of those gutsy people that is willing to offer and create in “any fandom”, message this account and we’ll make sure it’s all recorded. 

In addition, if you’re an adventurous listener who is open to RECEIVING podfic for “any fandom” please ALSO message us so that we’re aware! We still need a minimum of 3 fandoms for your sign up so that it can go through.

If you have any DNWs (“do not wants”)  that you don’t want to post publicly in a letter, concerns about matching, or anything else you’d like to privately let the mods know, there’s a section in the sign up this year that you can fill out. Or you can send us a message!

How should we be communicating with you over Tumblr? We will primarily be using the instant messaging function. Therefore you will need a Tumblr account to sign up, because that’s where all communication and assignment/gift delivery will take place. It’s totally fine to use a placeholder account you only use for this exchange. (We do recommend adding a userpic, filling out your bio, and maybe reblogging a few posts so that you don’t seem like a bot.) All participants should be following the mod account, especially if you have restricted settings so that only people you follow can message you. The instant messaging system, unlike the ask system, allows us to maintain a record of our communications, and is the best way to share information you want to keep private between us or have extended conversations. You may use asks if you have a one-off question or questions you don’t mind getting public answers to. 

(Notifications for new Tumblr messages can be finicky so try to check out the messaging tab semi-regularly throughout the duration of the exchange instead of relying on the blue dot to let you know there’s a new message.) 

In an attempt to avoid tripping spam filters and hitting the Tumblr limit on sending messages to new people, we are asking you to help us out by sending us an instant message to let us know you’ve signed up, rather than us trying to reach out to dozens upon dozens of people (prime spambot behavior)! 

What happens if you get marked as spam?

If we get shadowbanned/tossed in potential spambot purgatory, the mods will reach out to you from our personal accounts/mod sideblogs or via email. During the sign up period, we will reach out to you via messaging to ask you for a reliable email address to reach you at in case all of our attempts to not get flagged as spam fail.

If we are marked as spam, we’ll still be able to post on our own blog and we should still appear on your dash, but we won’t be appearing in the tags most likely, which is another reason why it’s important for you to be following us!

How does matching work? How will I get my assignment?

The mods do hand-matching, meaning rather than just letting the AO3 algorithm run and make arbitrary matches based on fandom, we read all your letters and try to match you with someone with similar tastes and interests. We’ll only be relying on the AO3 algorithm to help us spot tricky matches. 

Another of the ways Tumblr combats spam is to shadowban anyone sending multiple similarly worded messages. We’re going to make an attempt to deliver extremely pared down assignment messages so that we’re mostly sending unique information. If we do get marked as spam, as mentioned earlier, we may reach out to you on sideblogs or via email. 

What kind and how many gifts should I make? Do you really mean “no minimums”? 

Yes, ITPE gifts have NO LENGTH MINIMUMS. Make something as big or as small as you want to commit to! We truly do mean it. This is meant to be a low pressure exchange! Accordingly, please set your expectations that you may receive a short gift. In the past, we have had participants who’ve been extremely generous and made a prolific amount of gifts for their giftee, but they are outliers and there is certainly no expectation that anyone else should strive to those heights. 

I have more questions about making gifts!

We’re sure you do, but we’re not there yet! We will update this FAQ with more information about submitting gifts and treats once assignments go out, so check back!

I’m ready to sign up! What are the next steps? 1. Fill out the sign up form on AO3 here.

2. Follow us @itpemod if you haven’t yet!

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[smolcinnamonchipmunk]

Mid-Fight Snack

(Elloooo. Been another while since I've been able to get around to posting actual stuff. I'd love to post or make more, but I have two animations I'm trying to work on and an entire cosplay that's taken up all my freebie because I don't know anything about sewing, lol. Obviously hasn't stopped me from thinking about Honkai a lot. Anyways, here's the Boothill vore writing finally! Hope it's not too bad, I'm a bit sleep deprived.)

Word count: 6233

TW/CW: Soft, safe m/nb G/t vore aaaaaand, I think that's literally it.

____________________________

“Behind ya, small-fry!” was about the only warning I had before being shouldered aside by a wall of metal, blinking in surprise as I spun around to see who just ran past me. I saw the retreating form of a very gray-toned humanoid with a red sash over their shoulder and white and black hair flaring out behind them as they ran, looking vaguely familiar. I squinted when I noticed the hat on their head. Was that the cowboy Dan Heng told us about that we met briefly in the Dreamscape?

I’d feel bad for not remembering his name if we hadn’t just barely met.

“Get back here!” was the only warning I had as I looked back at where the cowboy came from and saw a bunch of IPC personnel and robots charge around the corner towards him. And, in turn, me.

Having spent more time on the run than not in my time after joining the Express I ended up yelping and bolting down the hall after the cowboy. My footsteps were drowned out by the stampede of footsteps behind me and the sound of crashing and screaming ahead as the cowboy flung a few tables behind him as he passed, disturbing several guests and staff as he rushed past.

It wasn't until I rounded the corner after he turned down a hall that I realized that I probably should have just jumped out of the way because me running after the cowboy away from the IPC definitely made me look like an accomplice.

“Fucking damn it,” I hissed under my breath at the thought, jumping over the legs of another knocked over table. I realized too late that there was a couple still standing way too close on the other side but managed to avoid slamming into them. My shoe landed on a grape strewn on the carpet and I yelped as I almost slipped.

Narrowly avoiding faceplanting on the ground, I ended up straightening and locking eyes with the cowboy as he turned to look over his shoulder, seeing it widen slightly at seeing me. To be fair, I was only maybe twenty feet behind him compared to the IPC crowd that were chasing behind me still struggling with strewn furniture and passerbys.

My eyes widened as I saw something glint other than his exterior in his right hand, holding my hands slightly in front of me in a mock surrender to show that I was unarmed, quickly shouting, “I'm not IPC!”

“What the fudge are ya doing tailin’ me then?” the cowboy barked back at me, finger looking a bit too close to the trigger for my liking.

“I panicked when I saw the IPC guys running around the corner and it wasn't until I already started following that I realized I probably looked like-.”

“Criminal and accomplice west-bound towards main lobby elevators!” a robotic voice shouted behind us, one of the large, round robots that was way too quick for its size.

“Yeah, that,” I sighed, rolling my eyes and lowering my arms. It was weird holding my arms still while running.

All of IPC in the hotel probably knew about this chase. I only hoped that the Aventurine guy that almost cornered me in my room wouldn't show up. If fighting him in the dreamscape reflected anything about reality, I didn't want to be part of accidentally tearing the hotel apart fighting him to get away.

The cowboy stared intently at me for a second before growling low in his throat and holstering his gun with a flourishing twirl of his hand. I fully expected him to turn back forward and ignore me now that he determined I wasn't a threat, but instead he suddenly dropped pace to match me. He definitely was faster than me normally, but he’d been throwing so much stuff behind him and swerving through people that it slowed him a little whereas I was given almost clear passage in his wake.

“If you ain't IPC, why the fudge was your first thought at seeing these muddle-fudgers chasin’ after me to tag along,” he asked, voice sounding like he didn't fully believe I wasn't IPC.

“Well,” I replied, very glad that I had enough stamina to run and answer at the same time. I yelped when the cowboy suddenly twisted beside me, throwing down a tall potted plant as we ran around another corner, narrowly missing crashing into an elderly lady. “I haven't been around much, but everytime the Express has stopped somewhere there's been at least a couple times where we end up running from someone or something.

“Usually I'm with a group, so when you started running, my instinct was to follow like with them,” I finished sheepishly, looking to the side at him and almost startling. I'd been too focused on running to realize how fucking tall he was, needing to crane my neck a bit to look up at him.

“Well, fork me sideways and call me a son of a nice lady!” The cowboy exclaimed and laughed, showing off shark-like teeth. The eye not obscured by his hair glanced down and met my gaze for a moment, giving me a solid glimpse of dark gray iris with a red pupil and… was that a white crosshair in his eye? “You're one of them Astral folks with the Xianzhou fella!”

“And you must be the cowboy guy that broke onto the Express that Dan Heng told us about,” I blinked a bit at the realization, and a little at his odd speech patterns. One of the first things after waking up from the dreamscape being a check in with the other Astral Express crew with one of the weirdest things being Dan Heng messaging about how a cowboy got onto the Express. He had glossed over the fact that said cowboy showed up armed, but Pom Pom had been more than willing to share that fact in the chat. Looking back at the herd of IPC behind us, I asked, “Did you greet people at gunpoint again?”

“Where I come from, that’s just one of the many ways to say hello,” he chuckled. His face fell with mine as more IPC turned the corner at the end of the hall ahead while shouting, his expression turning into a scowl. Guests and staff alike glanced between the two walls of IPC personnel converging with us in the middle, most wisely making the decision to try and press against the walls or retreat back into their rooms to stay out of the way.

“Shit,” I started looking for other ways to turn, suddenly very much disliking the lengthy straight hallways. My eyes noticed a set of double doors to the right just as the cowboy shouted, “On the right!”.

I prepped myself to manifest my baseball bat to slam through the doors but the cowboy reached them first, sprinting ahead and spinning around to slam the back of his boot spur-first against the weak point of the handle. I’m not even sure if the doors had been locked, but I was glad we were both on the same page of better safe than sorry.

“After you, darlin’,” the cowboy paused just long enough to let me through first and I heard the rattling click of loading ammo as I passed, presumably taking out his gun again, the sound of his heels trailing behind on the carpet behind me.

“’Ppreciated, cowboy!”

I slowed slightly as the hallway ended up being incredibly short, leading to an expansive open area with tiled floor that we definitely only had a few seconds to take stock of before the IPC after us would start trickling in. Several types of gambling tables and a bar were in here, with a few scattered sitting areas with tables and luxurious plush chairs, and at least one pool table with the only thing breaking up the entire space being supporting pillars and various lamps or potted plants decorating the place.

At least a dozen eyes looked towards us as we ran in and I booked it towards what looked like the clearest path through the lounge, shouting, “Don’t mind us, just passing through!”

A crash behind me made me jolt and look behind myself, seeing the cowboy flip over a table as we ran by, scattering gambling chips, cards, and glasses of alcohol all over the ground as the people around the table scattered. Patrons started getting up and moving as far from us as possible, some making their way to the exits. Which, from the other sounds behind us, the exit where we came in was starting to be blocked by incoming IPC.

“Do you have to keep knocking shit over,” I asked, trying to temper some giddiness as I glanced back, the cowboy looking behind him with a smirk towards the exit. I saw a few of the smaller IPC run in from the short hall. “I like destruction too, but that wasn’t even in the way.”

The cowboy looked undeterred by my comment, seeming to be having fun with this chase. “Helps slow ‘em down.”

I scoffed in amusement as I turned my attention back forward, eyes widening at the sight of more IPC starting to pour in at the other end of the lounge. Glancing around for another exit that the two obvious ones I commented, “I don’t think slowing them down’ll help any when we’re blocked in!”

My shoes slid on the tile beneath me as I skid to a halt, the cowboy stopping only a second after me and overshooting me by a couple feet. His gun was already in hand, head turning as he also seemed to take stock of the room to see if there was a way to wriggle out of the situation. Unfortunately, it looked like the two exits the IPC came in from were the only ones to the lounge, leaving us cornered as the space filled with IPC personnel and robots.

“Hands in the air,” one of the larger bots demanded, probably carrying a high rank among the group. A bunch of them lifted rifles and guns to aim at us, the rest held large staffs with a glowing orange end for electrocuting. The other larger bots in the group lifted the yellow shields they had on their left arms while the one that spoke to us added, “And drop your weapons! You’re both going into IPC custody.

“You.” - the robot pointed to the cowboy, who raised his hands up without dropping his gun - “For a list of crimes that would have us here all day if I listed them all. And you-.”

I raised my arms slowly with the cowboy and narrowed my eyes at the robot as it gestured to me. I felt tense, internally coiled up like a snake ready to strike. I had a feeling that Criminal Cowboy wouldn’t be going without a fight, and neither was I. Question was just when to start and he seemed experienced enough with this that I was going to let him make the first move to avoid fucking it up for him.

“-for aiding and abetting a wanted criminal,” the robot concluded. Lowering its arm from pointing at us it gestured to one of the grunts, who produced a pair of glowing handcuffs and presumably had more. “Now, drop your weapon! I won’t be asking nicely a third time.”

“Heh,” the cowboy let out an amused exhale. “This ain’t my first showdown. But I’ll play your little game.”

I watched the cowboy intently as he loosened the grip on his gun until it started sliding out of his grip, dropping towards the tiled ground. My breath hitched in my throat in anticipation, seeing a few of the IPC around us relax slightly.

With a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fluidity, the cowboy raised his left hand as his fingers contorted, shooting at the chest of the leader bot and striking true through its carapace. In almost the same moment his right leg shifted, the toe of his boot catching the dropped pistol and flicking his ankle up to throw it back into the air where he caught it in a twirl with his right hand.

“Get somewhere safe,” the cowboy said as the leader bot sparked and began to fall. He fired off another shot before the first even hit the ground, taking out two grunts that had been standing in an unfortunate overlap. Looking down at me, he had a wild grin on his face while the red in his eyes glowed. “I’ll handle these muddle-fudgers and find ya when the dust settles. Now, bring it on, baby!”

Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and popped off a couple more shots as the crowd of IPC jostled out of their shock. A couple peeled off and retreated from the room in a flight response but most immediately trained their attention on the cowboy as he charged towards the nearest cluster, giving another grunt an introduction to the back of his heel with a spur to the face.

“Oh, hell no,” I said to myself, focusing on the energy inside myself and felt my hands tingle as a black baseball bat manifested within my grasp, arcs of energy crackling off of it and my hands before dissipating. With almost everyone focusing on the cowboy bobbing around and firing shots, it was almost too easy for me to rush up behind about four people and wack them over the head before I also started getting some attention from the closest IPC personnel.

I had to roll out of the way of a grunt swinging a staff at my face, twisting to the side and tumbling before popping back up to my feet, darting around a pillar to hit someone else while shouting, “Staffs are a bit better when you’re not THAT close!”

With a bunch of IPC also now firing their guns, I didn’t notice the pause in the particular metal twangs from the cowboy’s pistol until I heard, “Son of a-, I told you to get somewhere safe!”

Looking over to where he dodged a few IPC bullets I saw him quick reload while glancing me up and down like he was reassessing me. I felt a surge of satisfaction and spite, running towards a few more IPC members and charging my bat up before swinging it in a sideways arc to hit three of them with a crackling smack that bowled over all three to the ground. Dodging a couple rounds myself, I kicked over one of the gambling tables and crouched behind it as I retorted, “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy! I can handle a knock around or two!”

“Fork, color me surprised, small-fry,” the cowboy chuckled, doing an impressive twirl to shoot one of the grunts with a rifle. Two grunts with staffs rushed forward to try and do some sort of pincer move on him but he jumped into the air and backflipped onto a pool table. He tilted his head in my direction and tipped his hat with his left hand. “I feel like a right ash-vole underestimatin’ ya.”

I opened my mouth to reply even as he turned his attention to some more ground grunts running at him with staffs, noticing movement behind him. A couple riflemen were peeking up from behind the counter of the bar, both shifting like they were talking amongst themselves. One rifleman jerked their head towards the standing cowboy and the other looked like they hesitated before slowly raising the barrel to aim at the cowboy’s torso while the other rifleman watched with their own rifle slightly over the counter.

“Hold still, you,” an angry robotic voice sounded on my right, one of the standing large bots about twenty feet away. Its entire body shook as compartments in its shoulders opened and it released a couple rounds in my direction.

Yelping at the sight, I hopped over the table I was crouched behind and weaved towards the cowboy as I warned, “Rifle behind you! I got the staff guys!”

Explosives went off where I had just been, no doubt destroying the unfortunate table. The cowboy looked towards me at my outburst then scowled and spun around, firing off a shot at the rifleman aiming at him. The first hit the counter but a quick second shot knocked the rifleman out of the game, the other ducking back beneath the bar counter.

Running up to the grunts trying to charge the pool table I conducted energy into my bat again, swinging another arc to get a cluster of them before singling out the last couple. Huffing, I straightened just in time to see the cowboy shoot off again towards the bar, the bullet ricocheting off the shelves behind the counter just right to hit the hiding rifleman that you could see in the behind the bar mirror.

“Nice shot,” I said, extremely impressed at his marksmanship. I tried shooting a rifle after a fight on Belebog once and was immediately berated by Dan Heng when the shot went wild due to inexperience.

“Plenty more where that came from,” the cowboy smirked, tumbling off the pool table and firing off another shot from his left hand, hearing the creaking and fall of another large bot. “We'll have the rest of these muddle-fudgers cleaned up in no ti-.”

"In here!"

Both of us turned our attention towards the loud shout, noticing the sound of more footsteps from both exits to the lounge. I didn't realize that some of the remaining IPC personnel had run off, probably one of them or the ones that retreated at the start of the fight calling for back up. And it looked like it unfortunately arrived.

The grunts still in the lounge looked at each other before switching from a more disheartened and intimidated demeanor to a rejuvenated stance at hearing the fresh onslaught of IPC coming to help.

"I think we might want to reassess that statement there, cowboy," I tossed my head to the side with a groan. I rotated my shoulders to try and loosen them a bit before rushing forward toward the grunts still in the lounge. I noticed one of them raise their rifle towards me and prepared to dodge, but a few shots from behind me went off and both the rifleman and a couple other grunts were thrown back to the ground.

Charging between a couple of the other personnel, I grunted as a staff clocked me in the back after taking out one, two, three IPC with my baseball bat, a jolt running up my spine from the active orange staff-end striking against me. It made my tumble out of the way a bit janky, rolling to a crouch right as a bullet struck the tile a bit too close to me and I looked up to see more IPC pouring in from the lounge exits.

“Put your hands in the air!” multiple IPC shouted, barely coherent over the chatter of their fellows who barked out commands and orders.

"Fucking- this place is supposed to be relaxing!" I rolled and sprinted between tables and pillars as a barrage of bullets came towards both the cowboy and I. Running behind a pillar I did a hard pivot to run back out on the same side to catch the IPC off guard, able to weave through and hit a few. "I don't think I've relaxed the entire fucking time I've been at this stupid hotel!

“In the month or so I’ve been cognizant,” a wall of yellow almost slammed into me, yelping as I barely managed to jump up in time to tumble over one of the large bot shields instead of being slammed by it and chucked across the room as it swung at me. I tried to distance myself from it for now, wacking a rifleman on the head as I ran by. “-we’ve gotten two days without fighting or dealing with stupid diplomacy! MAYBE!”

Tumbling beneath another swinging staff, I bounced back to my feet and spun around to conduct an arc of crackling energy behind me to throw back the nearest IPC, three dropping to the ground and one flinching as a residual spark lashed out at them. I almost slammed into a wall of metal as I spun around to keep running, about to raise my bat to swing at them before realizing it was the cowboy I'd stumbled into, firing off an entire round of bullets at the crowd with audible success.

"Quit yappin'!" the cowboy growled, flicking his pistol to the side to empty the chamber of empty shells that clattered on the tile. His tone was gruff but he was looking way too pleased about the fight prolonging. "Or you'll find yerself diggin' your own grave!"

"I'll bitch in the middle of a fight if I want," I retorted, gaze flicking from looking up at the cowboy towards more movement. A grunt rushed forward to try and take advantage of the cowboy quick reloading, and I saw him shift to probably give another kick to the IPCs skull but I darted around him and swung upwards to clock them in the jaw. “It’s cathartic! Heads up!”

The IPC fell back to the ground and I used the cowboy as a bit of a pillar to move around, backpedaling to avoid another staff swing from a grunt that was promptly shot.

“Nice shot,” I complimented the cowboy before running out from his reach again. I started getting into a good flow of rushing off, smacking a few IPC and then either finding my next target or kiting someone around for the cowboy to take out. Anyone who tried to bumrush me or run away had to deal with a bullet, and anyone who tried to get too close to the cowboy earned a fast pass for a bat to the face.

Something felt off the longer the fight went on, but I ignored it in favor of surviving. I was definitely kind of tired and I’d be sore after this, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t dealt with.

One of the larger bots lumbered towards the cowboy with its shield raised, blocking the bullets that were fired off in its direction. Narrowing my focus onto it, I hit a couple grunts on the way as I dashed towards it, jumping on a nearby pool table to jump high enough to jump over the robots shield. I focused on my bat and channeled as much energy as I could into it, swinging it down on top of its head as I landed on its back.

The entire thing spasmed beneath me as its carapace dented from the impact and energy crackled through it, overloading its system. My eyes widened a little as I realized what the off feeling that was growing was, thinking that I was incredibly lucky to have lasted this long but also thinking that now was the WORST time for this to happen any minute.

“Uh, hey, cowboy!” I shouted down, hopping off the robot as it fell forward. A grunt tried to intercept me but I beat them off with a “Fuck off, dude, I’m busy!” as I trotted up to another group near the cowboy and started wacking them. “Uh, cowboy?”

“Kind of busy shootin’ sons of nice ladies, small-fry!” the cowboy replied, firing off a couple more shots before looking towards me. “Whaddya need?”

“So, I kind of have this… condition,” I hesitantly answered, grabbing a pool ball and smacking it with my baseball bat into the mask of an IPC grunt.

“Wha- are you forkin’ kiddin’ me?!” he snapped with an anger that caught me entirely off guard and would have led to me getting bodied if he didn’t shoot at the IPC nearest to me. “You wanna talk about some kind of forking terms and conditions while we’re in the middle of a muddle-fudging battle with IPC shirt-for-brains?!”

“What? No- No, what the fuck are you talking about? I’m talking about, like, medical conditions.”

“Aw shucks, ma bad.” The cowboy went from angry to apologetic fairly fast, though his voice was still tense as he continued firing. “Could yer condition wait until after we handle these forkers?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied, wacking another grunt. I felt mildly useless trying to stay relatively close to the cowboy because IPC was thinning around him, but I also didn’t want to charge out and get stepped on. I could feel my chest strain more as the Stellaron struggled to maintain my current size.“Unless you happen to have some Antimatter on you, which I highly doubt-.”

“Antimatter?” the cowboy asked in surprise.

“-then I’m just gonna need you to catch me before I hit the ground any minute now,” I finished, distracted trying to gauge the cowboy’s reaction. I didn’t notice the sound of footsteps that were closer than any of the other footsteps in the room, yelping when a sudden massive surge of electricity jolted through my side. With a fair amount of difficulty, I swung out at the grunt who hit me with a staff with an explosive charge of energy through the conduit of my bat.

It knocked them away successfully and allowed me a couple seconds for my body to handle the electrical charge going through it, but I both felt and saw that the Stellaron had reached its limit of maintaining my form, a couple of stray arcs of energy dissipating from my fingertips and bat glitching before disappearing from my grasp.

“Wuh oh.”

Like a star collapsing on itself, I yelped as one last burst of energy flared out from my body like a flashbang, finding myself only a couple inches tall a few feet in the air as my form collapsed and shrunk into my centerpoint.

“Shit,” I exclaimed, bracing myself to impact the tile floor below. It was a survivable fall due to my durability, but it definitely wouldn’t be a pleasant one, knowing from personal experience with a lot of soreness and bruising. However I found myself stopping short of the ground, hitting an arguably harder surface as I was scooped from the air in a metal hand. I was a bit dazed from the impact, not very helped by the cowboy being naturally loud.

“Well, holy forkeroni,” the cowboy said, grey and red eye zeroed in on me in his palm as I sat up. His attention was briefly pulled away and I was jostled as he spun and fired off a couple rounds while dodging a few IPC bullets. “That all ya got, you shirt-for-brains?! Yer ‘bout knee-high to a grasshopper, small-fry!”

“I- sure? I guess? Is there anywhere around where you could either put me down or maybe just get out of here,” I asked, trying to shake off the vertigo and look around to find a safe spot or clear route for him but he was moving too much for me to see well.

“Not with all these forkers ‘round, and I need both my darn hands to fudging deal with ‘em. Tch, hang on.”

“Al-right!” The last half of the word was a yelp as his hand lifted suddenly, making my stomach drop and causing a wave of dizziness as the force messed with the blood flow to my head. Blinking it away, my vision was once more shifted as I was tossed a brief moment into something. The sudden sequence of motion and change in scenery had me instinctively manifesting my baseball bat again, stopping the area around me from closing.

Gravity shifted around me again as I barely managed to hold onto my bat with one hand, my left shoulder straining as all my weight came down on it, falling from whatever small, dark area I'd nearly been tossed into. It wasn't until I noticed the two rows of massive, sharp teeth on either side of my bat and heard the surprised noise from the cowboy that I realized he'd just tried to toss me in his mouth.

“Aeon ‘arn it, ‘all-’ry! Ah-n ‘ryna ‘elp ya,” the cowboy mumbled loudly around the baseball bat currently locking his jaws open. His left hand was cupped beneath me, poised to catch me if I fell, and I saw fingers twitch like he was debating how to go about this.

Well, if I'd been given any sort of heads up, I wouldn't have ended up panicking as much as I had. There'd been an odd abundance of me being put in mouths, but this was probably the most chaotic and fast-paced to date.

“Nngh, hold on,” I said, trying to pull myself up enough to grab the bat with my right hand. Extremely difficult with him still running. A noise escaped my throat as his hand surged upwards, uncertain to what he was doing as I felt the tips of his index, middle, and thumb fingers press against my back.

My world blurred as the cowboy suddenly halted on his heel and spun to avoid what I could only guess was a swing from a staff from the streak of grey and orange that streaked by. In the simultaneous moment that a gunshot went off so close that it could only be from the cowboy I found my grip forced from the baseball bat as the fingertips against my back pinched the back of my hoodie and yanked me from the two walls of teeth that were now below as I was lifted from the cowboy’s face.

With the most still thing in comparison to everything else being the cowboy, it was incredibly easy for me to focus on his jaws as they snapped shut around my tiny baseball bat, the manifestation shattering between the shark teeth and dissipating into cosmic sparks.

I caught a brief glimpse of the cowboy smiling before he opened wide again and I found myself popped inside before I could really process anything past the daze of being jostled around so much. In fact, it was almost a relief when the pseudo-bone clicked close behind me, allowing me a reprieve from the chaos of being dangled around and shot at.

It was warm and humid with the tongue beneath me surprisingly soft considering the mechanical nature of its host. It wasn't offensively pungent but the space smelt of oil, grease, and other more chemical scents that brought to mind repairing robots in Belebog.

Something clung to me like saliva, likely some kind of lubricant.

I was expecting some amount of tasting or slickening up considering that was necessary - to a point - so that whoever was eating me wouldn’t end up choking on me. But, I guess it wasn’t needed for the cyborg because I instantly found the space around me tilting.

“A-Ack, give me a mom-ent,” I yelped out as the tongue flexed beneath me in preparation for the imminent swallow, squashing me flat against the roof of his mouth. I was barely given a split second as the tongue pushed me back and I felt the throat entrance seize around my ankles in a gulp.

I'm not even sure if his throat actually made the sound of the swallow around me or if it was just a habitual noise from his voice box, carrying a slightly robotic undertone like when he spoke.

As I was pulled into the embrace of his gullet, it felt bizarrely close to being eaten by, for lack of a better term, an organic person. Whatever material that lined his throat was just as claustrophobic as a normal esophagus and almost as pliable as actual flesh. From what little I could gather from the small amount of exposed skin I had, it felt like some sort of rubber.

The cowboy didn't reply to me and I was barely out of his mouth when he exhaled around me with a gruff growl, my surroundings rumbling as he shouted, “‘lright, you muddle-fudgers! Let's forkin’ finish this!”

He was, understandably, far more concerned with fighting the remaining IPC. However, I feel like my ears would have burst if I had been a normal human.

“Which one of you shirt-bags wants to be first in line for a bullet?!”

I felt his body shift and twist chaotically as I slipped past what constituted his collarbone, everything muffling a bit from layers of metal and whatever a mechanical creature would count as internal organs. It was definitely surreal.

It got warmer the deeper I was pulled down like the insides of someone organic, but less slimy or stuffy. Instead of slipping past a beating heart and the breathing of lungs, the somewhat muffled chaos outside overplayed with the sound of whirring fans and mechanical parts shifting against each other as the cowboy moved erratically.

It wasn't long before I was ejected from the relative sturdiness of his esophagus. I didn't realize how much the cowboy was running and dodging until I slipped into a small chamber and immediately started being bounced around the space like a ping pong ball.

Fortunately, it seemed like the walls were made of the same flexible material at his throat. Unfortunately, the space wasn't completely empty. I felt other… bits bounce around with me, unable to make heads or tails of any of it while essentially inside the living bouncy house.

I'm not sure how long I spent tumbling around as the cowboy shouted mother-sanctioned insults at the IPC and fired shot after shot while I can only assume backflipping the entire time based on how much I was being shaken. Eventually, everything stopped and I was flopped onto the floor of the chamber. I felt like I was going to get bruises in places where I didn't even think bruises were possible.

“Ah, hell. You aight in there, small-fry?” I was pulled from my dazed stupor by one side of the chamber being pushed in slightly and the cowboys voice above. For someone who, in the minutes I'd known him, seemed reckless and unabashedly brazen he actually sounded a bit sheepish. “Reck’n I prolly shook you up more than the tail end of a rattler.”

“You’re fine,” I replied, slowly pushing myself off the floor of the chamber. Something gritty clung to my hands with the help of lubricant and whatever other small puddle of liquid that shared the space with me. I flicked my hands in instinctive disgust to try and get rid of the feeling.

“You're takin’ this pretty well.”

“This ain't the first time I've been eaten,” I sighed as I mustered the energy to summon a spark to take stock of my surroundings now that I wasn't tumbling around everywhere. “Definitely the most chaotic though.”

“What the fridge? I woulda thought that your biggest concern woulda been finding yerself under some ash-voles boot,” I felt the space begin to shift and sway as I looked around, probably from him starting to walk or something. The walls were dark gray and seemed to be made of the same rubbery material as his throat, and around me was a thin coating of some kind of thick, grainy, gray substance that had the glint of metal scattered around.

That explained the shallow cuts I could see on my hands now.

“I can't say that being stepped on hasn't been a concern,” I replied, frowning in confusion at the gritty stuff around me. Spurred on by curiosity I ran my finger through the substance and gave it a cautious sniff. I'd noticed the somewhat pungent scent permeating the space but wasn't able to recognize what it was until I got a closer smell. Dulled by the potent sting of what smelled like malt juice diluted by lubricant, the grains smelt of something that reminded me of explosives, I scrunched my face in confused surprise. “Is this fucking GUNPOWDER?!”

“Mmmhm,” the cowboy let out a pleased hum like remembering a particularly delicious snack. “Nine millimeter, baby. Had a couple earlier. Might sorry ‘bout the clutter, but didn't exactly have time to clean house before fighting the muddle-fudgin’ IPC.”

“I… I don't know what I was expecting a cyborg to eat, but it wasn't bullets,” I sighed, cleaning my hand off on my jacket. “Eh, whatever. Can you let me out and help me get to the Astral Express please?”

“Ehhh,” the space tilted and squished a little, only able to assume that he crouched down. Guessing the guys habits, I wouldn't be surprised if he was seeing if any of the IPC had anything worthwhile on them. “I can take you to your train, but ya might need a mechanic.”

“Wait, what? Why?” I asked, frowning in confusion.

“‘Cause I can't just make myself vomit on command,” the cowboy replied, able to feel him stand up. “So unless your folks have a mechanic or something to make me spit ya out, we might be stuck up a shirt creek without a paddle until I come across another mechanic.”

I blinked in the dark space, part of me appalled at the news. However, this was weirdly enough also not my first time stuck inside someone who couldn't just cough me up considering Sampo.

“Please, for the love of the Aeons, just get to the train and find Dan Heng.”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - The unexpected rise of cooking crush & seme bjs

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Jan 2024 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 9 of 12 - I love this show so damn much. This may be my KinnPorsche. It’s just so endlessly entertaining in a perfectly unhinged way. I love that they looped Tharn’s dad back into the murder investigations.

You know kinksters have invented necklaces that can’t come off… right? Just saying.

Meanwhile, would it still be BL if our seme didn’t wake up from drowning and instantly go chase snake?

No. No it would not. 

Remember the one hard and fast rule of BL? When a seme gives a BJ it’s penance. Phaya is apologizing to Tharn for leaving him behind.

Heh. Hard and fast. I kill me. 

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 10 of 14 - How is this absurd creature managing to rise in the ranks? Pavel turned in some stellar grief and ALANJEFF have my whole heart. I make Ikea puns in the... Trash watch happening here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 7 of 12 - The make-out montage was absolutely charming and very much American rom com style - interesting (and rare) to see in a BL (not to mention from OffGun. How far we have come since Puppy Honey?)

Meanwhile, another wonderful grandma in a BL!

Next week we do an actual harken back to Puppy Honey, so obviously I’m now enjoying this whole show way more than before. I think it helped that I watched it earlier in the week, when it wasn’t competing with any other BLs. 

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 11 of 12 - Not gonna lie, I knew from you all that this was gonna be a rough ep. But I very clearly remember the penultimate Bad Buddy ep so I now have slightly more trust than others in GMMTV on this matter. 

That said, this was a crap episode.

You can’t set Mork’s truth and character motivation reveal up like that and then have his lover choose to dismiss him in a way that diminishes not just both character's growth AND all of Mork's actions towards Day, but also our faith in every other character. It was a shitty narrative thing to do to us, and it was a shitty thing to do to Mork. And that doesn’t even take into account the forgiveness allotted by the story to Day’s unrepentant excuse for a mother.  The doom should have been handled differently. The mom shoudl have leaned in even more evil and actively lied to split them apart.

I don't know if they can redeem this misstep in the final episode. But I'm interested to see them try. That said, this plot seem to be true to the book. 

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - A major trigger has landed. But also it’s clear who’s fault that incident was... and it’s not Him’s. So Blue's so-called-friend really is unhinged. This episode was a little bit more engaging than last week, but it’s only because stuff actually happened. I’m still not sure I enjoyed it. 

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 12fin - Despite the fact that I’ve been annoyed by the show the last couple of episodes, I’m still sad for it to end. It was a good reveal and First had the right response. Also a very sports way to end it. Sprite is a v clingy bf. 

In brief?

A messy very Thai pulp sports romance that actually managed to involve sports in an identical twins trading-places plot. Basically Not Me meets HIStory 2 Crossing the Line (although vastly inferior to either) with an endearing main character and a good lead pair (poor things), both soapy and earnest without too much camp. It tried so hard but the plot, side couples, and extraneous characters let us down. Passable if not great. 7/10 

Time the series (Thai Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - Eh. Whatever. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 22 of 24 - skipped this installment

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - Funny how quickly he retracted that confession and everyone called him out for doing it too soon (including me from a narrative beats perspective). It was a cute screw up - I see what your meta-arse is doing there, Japan. Also our Tokyo-boy’s serious reserved earnestness is extra adorable in the surrounded by Osaka enthusiasm context. His accidental flirting is that much more heart wrenching for our poor baby seme.  And they ended this ep with honorific negotiations!! Be still my heart. I’m really adoring this show.

Your hyung romance super fan is back in the game! 

Meanwhile the Osaka accent is beyond adorable. 

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 6 of 8 - Japan what are you doing? I do love the not-sorta-ex from the past. 

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 10fin - I loved all the young people in the hawker center supporting the campaign against the terrible mother. They make a good domestically sappy couple. But that is Taiwan's specialty.

In brief?

A sweet if aimless story about a writer and a chef finding love via noodles, fake dating, and family challenges. If it had a tighter script and a shorter run, more like a KBL this might’ve been quite special. But it didn’t and it lost me too many times. 6/10

I don’t like to be disappointed by Taiwan. 

It's done: I Need to Catch up

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam so I assume it's on YouTube. I never even noticed. Anyone?

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - Is TRUST Entertainment bringing us the first ever Burmeses BL? I don't know if it's really the first, but @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch through.

It's Airing But...

[INTERNATIONAL] Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - yeah Japan put the smack down on our boys. Sadness. You can use a VPN if you like. Read all about it here.

Beside You (Thai YouTube) - a 3 sp short that's supposed to have started but I can't find it.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Ends next week. Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if safe.

Dead Friend Forever (Thai Sat iQIYI) - horror, meh, tell me if it's worth my time?

In Case You Missed it

All my year-end round ups:

TOP 10 BL Trends of 2023

Top 10 BL Secondary Pairs of 2023

2023 BLs Best Trope Execution Awards! TOP 10

All the BLs Announced for 2023 that didn't happen

BL 2023's Best:

Back Hugs Thailand & Elsewhere

Cute Bits of Domesticity

Boys Feeding Boys

BOOP!

Best Cuddles

Heads in Laps

Touching Head Touches

Thailand Put His Head on Your Shoulder

Put Your Head on My Shoulder (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES FROM THAILAND

Next Week Looks Like This

1/23 Happy Ending is a new high school set Strongberry 20 min short staring the actor who played Milk on Choco Milk Shake, so... YES PLEASE. I'm not sure where it will air but we all have our fingers crossed for Gaga or YT. Or both.

1/24 Love For Love's Sake (Korea Gaga & iQIYI)- based on the Manhwa ‘Love Supremacy Zone’ by Hwacha. A young man is dropped into a game based off a novel he loves. His mission is to make another player, YeoWoon happy. But then the game starts unfolding completely different from the novel.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Viva la BL grandma superiority! (Cooking Crush)

Cooking Crush casually givign us some lovely lesbians (as indeed did The Sign). GL makes for a lovely acessory BL, carry on.

Now GMMTV, give us the REVERSE.

I love this dork SO MUCH. (Pit Babe)

I love that Cherry Magic is doing this scene over. One of my favs from the original.

Yai is BEST BOY. MVP and most likely the winner for 2024's Namgoong award.

(Last week)

[itsvenera]

Can you do headconon of naruto boys how they would react if their s/o is an unintentional flirt. So if someone comes up and starts flirting but they just think they are being nice and accidentally starts flirting back. I'm talking rock lee level ignorance.

If you don't want to don't worry about it.

author's note: oh, I love this idea! The request didn't specify which Naruto boys should I so, so I decided to do it for Naruto, Kiba and Shikamaru (since they are the first ones I got the inspiration for). Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

➤ Naruto

I love Naruto, he is one of my fav boys, but the truth is he can be quite ignorant at times too (especially when it comes to flirting).

It would take him quite a long time to realise someone is flirting with his s/o, he would probably think they are just being nice too.

Same goes for his partner - if they flirt back, he would not pay too much attention to it at first, assuming that they are just being nice and keeping up the conversation going.

It would take the other person touching his s/o or getting too close to them for his liking, for him to realise that maybe their intentions are not as innocent as he initially thought.

He is totally the type of guy to butt in the conversation while embracing his s/o from behind and glaring at the person who is trying to get their attention.

I don't think he would say anything at first but given his puffed chest and the slight growl coming out of his chest, it would be so obvious he is jealous.

Naruto would NEVER blame his s/o - he is the type of partner who no matter what his loved one does, he would always justify it and excuse it.

If the other person doesn't get the hint they need to back off, he would just end the conversation with an abrupt "goodbye", before picking his s/o and leaving.

Would totally seek validation and comfort from his s/o through the remainder of the day, as well as clinging to their side and pampering them with kisses and attention.

➤ Kiba

I feel like Kiba is already quite a jealous man, so seeing someone flirt with his s/o is enough to trigger him.

Before his partner can even reply or flirt back, he would be already next to them, giving the person who dared to so openly compliment them a piece of his mind.

He doesn't hold back - he would be quite aggressive, poking his finger in their chest and baring his fangs.

Now, if his s/o actually flirt back, he would be quite upset (even tho it was unintentional).

I feel like he would definitely know his partner can be quite playful with others (this is how they managed to win his heart, after all), but he is so influenced by his emotions, that he would totally start a fight afterward.

Like how can his s/o not know this guy was flirting with them?

And they replied back? They should've just walked away!

I love Kiba, but I imagine he can be quite childish about relationship stuff, so he is totally the one to pout for a few days and maybe even give his s/o the silent treatment.

Luckily, his jealousy and anger pass pretty quickly, so he will be at his s/o doorstep muttering awkward apologies pretty soon after.

➤ Shikamaru

He is not the type to openly show his feelings, so I really doubt he would say anything if he saw such a situation unfolding before him.

Shikamaru is both annoyed and disappointed - more by his s/o than the other person.

I would imagine he knows his s/o can be an unintentional flirt and he already had a few talks with them before about it, so why do they keep doing it?

I feel like even though his partner genuinely thought they were just being nice, Shikamaru would more or less see this as some form of betrayal.

He wouldn't care about the other person as much as Naruto and Kiba, nor he would cause a scene - at the end of the day, he was in a relationship with his s/o, so they were the ones owing him loyalty, and the respect of not flirting with others.

Would TOTALLY glare holes at them tho!

He wouldn't confront his lover straight away, instead he would probably distance himself for a while, so he could cool off and think the situation over.

His s/o better let him be - I feel like he is the type of person that he would come when he is ready. If he feels pressured before that, there is a high chance he will lash out and say stuff that he doesn't really mean.

It would probably take a week or two for him to feel comfortable talking about it and when he does he would make sure to carefully explain to his s/o how to recognize signs of when someone is just being nice and when someone is trying to actually get with them.

cc artwork: Jocelin Carmes

[whimsiandwild]

Pairing: Astarion x Female!reader; Former Gortash x Female!reader

Word Count: 1400

Triggers [PLEASE READ]: Mentions of past abuse, panic attacks, PTSD, verbal abuse, implied non-consensual, hurt/comfort, some fluff at the end.

A/N [PLEASE READ]: So, this is coming from a very personal place upon some revelations I've had today. It's heavy so please don't feel obligated to read it. And please, please don't read it if you are triggered by any of the above; I know how hard it is to deal with this stuff on a daily basis and never want to be the cause for anyone. To anyone who does read it, thank you <3

“Tav, are you alrighht? What’s wrong?”

Icy fingers on your shoulder made you jump, grabbing the offending limb and shoving it off. Spinning around, Astarion grabbed the top of your arms to still you. The concern on his face had never been more genuine.

“Darling, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes and he frowned, taking your hand in his and linking your fingers as he led the party into Wrym’s Rock. He knew something was wrong, and that it had something to do with the man you’d all been summoned by, he just didn’t know why. Gods, you’d always hoped you’d never have to tell him.

There had been telltale signs that he’d recognised as the two of you grew closer, similar things that occurred in him when a particularly awful memory of Cazador resurfaced. He’d asked about it, but you’d always told him it was nothing. Just a bad memory you didn’t need to dwell on. And you hadn’t, not really. Sure, the trauma attached was still there but you could handle it, you had for years. But then you’d seen him before the fight with Ketheric Thorm. A man you’d hoped to never see again, now being ordained archduke of Baldur’s Gate.

The guards showed you into the ceremony hall, your hand sweating in Astarion’s grip as you began the long walk down the aisle; it felt like a lifetime, a force beyond your control forcing your legs to move. You couldn’t look up, feeling bile rise in your throat as you stared at the carpet. Everything you’d worked so hard to forget was coming back to hit you full force. You wanted to hurl, and cry, and scream, and run away. Mostly, you wanted to hurt him. Hurt him the way he’d constantly hurt you, but you knew that was a line you’d never be able to cross.

“Well, well, well. Look what’s been dragged back into my home.”

Your legs almost gave out beneath you, his voice still as charming and alluring as ever, your free hand clinging to your vampire’s shirt sleeve. Astarion had become more than a little concerned by this point, Lae’zel and Gale flanking the two of you.

“Still as ignorant and disobedient as ever,” he scoffed, and you felt Astarion tense beside you, your grip only tightening in an attempt to keep him by your side. “Look at me when I’m speaking!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, your head snapped up and you were staring into the all too familiar eyes of Enver Gortash. Still handsome as ever, and with that vicious glint in his eyes that always occurred when he looked at you, at his property.

He’d been Enver Flymm when you’d first met him. He hadn’t been the most loving of partner’s, but he showed it… in his own way. Soon, however, he got lost. Then Enver Gortash was born. An abusive tyrant who had put you through hell until you’d finally managed to escape. You could still remember that nigt. The way your wrists had bled as you’d tried desperately to break free of your restraints, the painful swelling around your eye and the deep gashes along your legs. The scars seemed to flame against your skin at the memory.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t breathe. Why was breathing so hard? How was everyone so seemingly fine? Astarion was staring at you in bewilderment, worry etched into his furrowed brow. You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t think of the words to convey the fear that was threatening to bubble over any minute and make you run screaming.

“Your manners clearly need improvement,” Gortash sneered, his hard, cold gaze never leaving your cowering figure. “Now, it seems we all have some things to discuss, regarding all this ridiculous Absolute business. However, I have a ceremony to begin. You will stay and watch, won’t you, kitten?”

The use of the old pet name he’d used to degrade you was enough to finally break your resolve. Bursting into tears, the last thing you saw as your companions dragged you away was his smug, arrogant smile.

His hands were everywhere. You tugged at your hands but, as always, the bonds were tight and unbreakable. Panic began to flood your veins as he grabbed at you too tightly, bit too harshly, moved your body too roughly. And there was nothing you could do but lay there and let it happen.

“I don’t see why you’re being so difficult, kitten. You’re normally much more compliant.”

Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes and wet your hair, shaking your head in denial. He was lying, you knew he was, but it still caused the same guilt and shame to flare up it always did. He was always so good at making you believe you were the problem, the one who’d done wrong. He’d done it so many time you almost believed him.

With a sharp tug at both your knees, he spread your legs as wide as he could, the sudden jolt of pain shooting up your thighs making you cry out in agony. One hand freed a leg but you weren’t brave enough to move it back. He used his now free hand to run against your core, smirking as he glanced in satisfaction at the slick on his fingers.

“You filthy little bitch. All this protesting and you’re already dying to have me.”

“Enver,” you begged, your lip trembling as he towered over you suddenly. “Please don’t.”

“Shut up!” he shouted, making you flinch and look away. He gripped your chin and forced your tearful eyes to stare at him. “You’ll take it, and you’ll enjoy it.”

You struggled against him as he lined himself up, screaming as he entered you with no care in the world for your wellbeing…

The screaming got louder and louder to your ears until you realised you’d screamed yourself awake, along with your poor partner. Astarion was bewildered as his hands cupped your wet face in an attempt to calm you. You were panting by the time you’d realised you’d been dreaming, your heart close to breaking out of your chest.

“Darling, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Oh gods… he…. he-!”

You sobbed into your hands, unable to finish your sentence as he cradled you, embracing you for however long you needed him to. Eventually your tears stopped falling, though the ache in your chest wouldn’t fade, no matter how hard you tried to rid yourself of it.

Astarion was more quiet and patient than you’d ever remembered seeing him. He was clearly deep in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb him. Instead, you wrapped yourself around him and enveloped yourself in every aspect that was him. He was your safe space, and you needed to relish in that right now.

“I have to ask, darling,” he said quietly after a long while. “This Gortash,” He all but spat the word. “Did he… did he treat you as Cazador treated me?”

Nodding, you buried your face into his chest as his grip on you tightened. You were relieved he hadn’t asked you to elaborate; you didn’t think you’d ever be able to speak out loud the horrendous things that man had done.

“Tav, please know this, and know it to be true,” His fingers tilted your chin so you were gazing into his liquid crimson eyes. “If he comes near you again, if he merely looks at you, I will rip him to pieces, revive him, and do it all over again. You never need to tell me details; I’m sure I can understand well enough; but know I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you like that ever again. I… I love you, darling.”

Breaking down, you let him hold you for the rest of the night, your head on his chest as he comforted you with words of love and soft touches. Sniffing, you dried your face, and sat up on your elbows, staring down at him.

“I… thank you, Astarion,” you whispered, pressing a hard kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

He said nothing, just flashing you that charming smile of his before he pulled you back to him, holding onto you like his livelihood may depend on it. You stayed like this for as long as time would allow, and you’d never felt safer.

[cemeteryspider]

Ballet on the Bayou Pt. 4

Alastor x Ballerina! Reader

Summary: Who lives, who dies, who tells your story ig...

Trigger Warnings: Violence, grief, mourning, death, and drug use

Word Count: 1156

Previous | Next

Ballet on the Bayou Masterlist

"Blah, blah, blah, blah. This is boring stuff. I thought you would have done something interesting by now" Angel practically yelled at the pair.

"I am getting there, Angel Dust, context is important" Alastor said to get Angel to stop talking.

"Yes, Angel the good part is coming, I promise dear" Your finger brushed up against Angel Dust's cheek to get him to look at Alastor again.

"Fine but this better be worth it toots" Alastor's eye twitched and his smile lessened just a little, but the little laugh you let out was enough to make him calm down again.

"Now where was I? Yes!"

~~~

You had recently gotten the plaster off of your foot and you were on a long road to recovery. Your dream had not fully died yet, and you thought of other ways you could reenter the dance world. You could be a choreographer, direct a ballet, or be a stage manager. None of these options felt right for you, so you kept looking.

You often walked with Alastor to his job and went to some stores. Then you would go home to be with his mother for the day. Cook, clean, listen to music, whatever she wanted to do. Then you would go meet Alastor outside the radio station, and walk home together.

Somedays this was just too much to bear, and you would end up in bed with as many pillows stacked under your foot as you could have. Those days Alastor worried, but as time wore on those days were few and far between.

As a few months passed since your injury you thought more about getting a job. Even just a couple days of the week out of the house would do you good. Talking to other people and making friends was something you longed for since you left home.

So you spoke to Alastor about getting a job.

"Why, Cher, I make enough money to support us. Stay home be comfortable"

"Al, I want to dance again, maybe not like I was, but I think I want to teach" Your eyes softened as you looked at him. This was not a spur of the moment decision. When he looked into your eyes, he knew you had been thinking about this for a while.

"Do not push yourself too hard, Cher, I couldn't bear to see you get hurt again" He pulled you close and rested his chin on your head.

The next day you went to the nearest dance studio and asked if they would let you teach a class.

~~~

Soon enough you were teaching children how to dance. It gave you hope for the future, however, after one long day at the studio you came into an empty house. No smell of dinner, and Alastor on the couch with his head in his hands.

As you got closer you could hear the silent sobs coming from him.

"She's gone, mon cherie, she's gone"

He never gave you the full details but you knew for the past few weeks she had been extremely ill. Everyday you left for work, you would ask her if she needed you to stay. She always smiled and told you to go.

The next few months were ones of extreme mourning. Alastor dragged himself out of bed for work, used all his energy there, and then came home to collapse in bed.

Although you might say that you weren't helpful, Alastor called you the light in his darkest days.That the one good thing that happened in his life, saved him. You saved him.

Unfortunately, the killing that had miraculously stopped a year prior had mysteriously started again. This put you on edge, but as more time went on and more people went missing, Alastor got better. Although to you it was coincidence it was in fact correlation.

~~~

"Wait, how did you not know he was a murderer?" Angel Dust interrupted Alastor once more, and Alastors antlers grew longer for a moment then retracted when he looked at your patient face.

"I only saw what I wanted to see, Angel, to me he was perfect in every way. He still is despite, you know, everything"

"I still don't understand why you're here though? I mean you taught kids to dance, here that makes you practically a saint" Again a small laugh emanated for your lips.

"That's coming, Angel, just listen"

~~~

One day Alastor was waiting for you to come home. He was going to surprise you by going to the new upscale fancy restaurant in town. However, just before he went out to look for you, a police-man knocked on the door.

On your way home a car had struck you. Either you hadn't seen it or you froze, but the car had hit you and you died on impact. Alastor didn't quite believe what he was hearing and collapsed.

~~~

However, you were greeted at the pearly gates. That's where you waited for your love to come and find you. When you looked in the mirror you saw your Odette costume. A beautiful tutu and white pointe shoes. Not only that but a gorgeous pair of white wings had sprouted from your back. Once this would have made your heart swell with happiness. However, you couldn’t enjoy it without Alastor by your side. 

After many years you were finally informed of his whereabouts.

He went a little crazy after you died. He killed more and more. He made more mistakes and got even sloppier. Until the fateful day of his death. He died a couple of years after you. Bullet to the head from a hunter that mistook him for a deer.

The day of his death, he was put in Hell. No second thoughts about it. He had killed many, and would kill many more to gain power in Hell. Somehow when he arrived he could feel you weren't there. He knew deep down you didn't deserve to be there rotting in Hell with him.

You argued with the angel council.

"It must be a mistake. He had only ever been good to me, and to his mother. Please, why is he down there"

They had told me what he'd done. What he'd done before he met you, while he knew you, after you had died, and how he had died. In that moment, you forgave him. Not a moment of doubt crossed your mind.

The council was horrified. You were put on trial. They even waited. Try to see if you would change your mind. Come to your senses. See the light again.

You were cast out. You were no longer naive. You were no longer innocent. You were fully aware the man you loved was a monster. Yet you wanted to be with him anyway.

Casting you out was a curse, the worst form of punishment.

To you, it was a miracle. You would get to see him again. 

[golbrocklovely]

mr. fantastic // sam golbach

A/N: first off, sorry this is getting posted so late. had to make some last minute revisions. so, for this one and colby's fic later on, i need to give some slight context. basically in both of these, they are AUs were snc are corrupt ppl, or have a bit of a corruption aspect to their personalities. some of these fics are/can be seen as dark, so i totally get if you don't feel comfortable reading it. just give a good look over of the trigger warnings and see how you feel. if you do enjoy it, please lmk what you think. also this fic is very vaguely based off the boys, the tv show/comic book series. sam is a smidge (and i mean a very tiny amount) reminiscent of homelander. do with that information as you will. happy haunting!

prompt: everyone around you loves sam, or as he's commonly known as - mr. fantastic. but you can see right through his facade. but when he starts winning over your friends, you know something is going on, and it's not good. || AU!superhero!sam x fem!reader

trigger warning: SMUT, enemies-to-lovers, you used to have a crush on sam in high school and now he's a superhero, superhero!sam, corrupt!sam, twist ending, i would say a hint of dubcon (but y/n never says no or stop, but just to be on the safe side i'm letting yall know), manipulation via powers and magical handcuffs (it will make sense in the story lol), hate fucking/rough sex, unprotective sex, cursing, mentions of: babygirl, slut, good girl, my girl, baby, degrading language

word count: 6769

I couldn't stand him, or anyone else like him. Everyone praised the ground he walked on, but me? Every time I saw him, he made me sick to my stomach.

Well, maybe not sick. But I did hate seeing his dumb, stupid face.

You would think with superheroes becoming known to the public, life would get easier. Crime would go down, more criminals would be off the streets, and the overall quality of life would skyrocket. But that just wasn't factually accurate. Did you know in my city alone, the crime rate has gone up 25% since last year? And what exactly are the superheroes doing about it? Causing more destruction and chaos. I swear, bad things only truly started happening once they came out to the public all those years ago.

The only saving grace I had in my life was that I wasn't alone in my feelings towards superheroes. I had my two best friends, Macie and Rachel, and they both felt the same way I did. Especially towards the best-known superhero in our city, Mr. Fantastic. His real name was Sam Golbach, and I hated him deeply.

He and I had history, you could say. We both went to the same high school. We were both nerdy, and just overall losers. We graduated and moved away to the same city, and then a couple years ago, all of a sudden, he is shown on the news as the newest superhero to save us. It made no sense to me because I remember him from high school. He never had powers. And there's no way that he, the guy that got shoved into lockers and made fun of for being a band nerd, would have tolerated being bullied like that if his powers were super strength and flight. And not only that, but the way the news describes his upbringing: it's all a lie! They paint him to be this all-American boy. They say he was a jock and just a bit shy for most of his life until finally growing into his powers at 19. Most superheroes get their powers by 16, so that alone should be telling that something is off with him. But no. Everyone just believes the lies he tells them. And that is why I hate him.

I may also hate him because I had a huge crush on him in high school and he never gave me the time of day. But I mostly hate him for all of the superhero stuff, not the high school bullshit.

Mostly.

It was like any other normal Tuesday in our office. Our manager, Sally, would bring in donuts, George would make some comment about the week moving too slowly, and around ten o'clock we would all have to stop working to watch the daily superhero news. It was mandatory in our office, as our jobs revolved around fixing superheroes’ fuck ups.

It was almost ten, and we all sat around the flatscreen hanging in the middle of one of our bigger conference rooms, waiting for the news to begin. I glanced around, noticing that Rachel wasn't in. I furrowed my brow, leaning towards Macie.

"Have you seen Rach?" I asked.

She shrugged, "No but I talked to her last night and she seemed fine. Maybe she's just running late or is taking a half day."

I hummed, "Maybe..."

The news turned on loudly, quieting everyone in the office. I leaned back in my chair, sighing deeply. God, please let today be a normal, boring news day.

"Hello everyone, thank you all for coming out this morning," the police commissioner nodded his head, looking at the audience that had formed outside of the precinct. "As always, we like to start with the positives and then move onto the, uh, wreckage. Please hold all questions until the end of the press conference. And now, I pass the stand to Mr. Fantastic."

A bunch of people clapped in the office, some wooing lowly. I grimaced, rolling my eyes the moment he popped on screen.

"Good morning, hello. Oh no need for cheering, thank you. You're too kind," He smiled brightly, shushing the crowd politely. "First, like I always say during these press conferences, thank you for letting me protect this city. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I couldn't protect the lovely citizens of this place."

"You'd probably be working at a Burger King by now." I mumbled, getting close to Macie. She snickered, gazing back at the screen.

"So last night was eventful, like most nights here. I was able to stop two car jackings, and finally put an end to the mask thief that's been vandalizing all of the inner city's school buses. You can all be glad that today, your kids are riding on safe, clean transit." Sam pointed, giving his trademark wink and smile.

I groaned, lulling my head back in the chair. Could this day get any more boring?

"I also have some fantastic news to share with you all," He chuckled, the crowd following suit. "I saved a special young woman from a purse nabbing and possible assault last night around 2:30. Now as you all know, I know many of the people I save like to remain anonymous, but this one really wanted to let you all know how she felt. And of course, I just can't say no to any of you. So please, allow me to give her the floor." He let out another laugh, backing away from the mic. I glanced at the clock, realizing only five minutes had passed. God must have been punishing me, specifically.

Suddenly, everyone in the room gasped, Macie being the loudest. She slapped my leg, pointing at the tv. I turned and my eyes widened at the sight. Rachel, with tears welling up in her eyes, stood at the podium, smiling brightly. "Thank you all. I just wanted to say that Mr. Fantastic," she turned to him giving him a sensual gaze, "Sam, is one of the best superheroes around. This man saved my life, and I couldn't be more grateful for him. He is amazing and so handsome, and this city should be thankful to have a man like him. I love you, Sam. Thank you so much."

She reached over, giving him a huge hug. He accepted her embrace, allowing her to run her hands almost up and down his body too many times.

My mouth dropped open, unable to comprehend what I was watching. Rachel hated Sam just as much as I did. Literally last week she wished a car would fall out of the sky and squish him because he held up her commute stopping a supervillain from breaking out of the state prison. And now she was on tv, basically ready to suck his dick, because he saved her!

Macie and I looked at each other, knowing we needed to talk to Rach as soon as possible. I sent Rach a quick text, telling her to meet us at our usual lunch spot.

~~~~

My eyes narrowed at Rachel, her smile irritating me. "Please, repeat the story one more time for me."

"Okay, if I must," she giggled. "Last night I went to the corner store because I was craving some ice cream. As I was walking home, a man rushed me and stole my purse. I tried to chase after him but couldn't catch him. He ran across the street, and out of the shadows... there was Sam. He swooped in, grabbed the man, roughed him up, and got my purse back to me. God, it was seriously so hot to see him in action like that."

Rach lightly fanned herself, and I had to hold back my vomit.

"So, he saved you, gave you your purse back. And then what?" Macie questioned.

She continued, "He walked me home and... I woke up this morning knowing I had to thank him for saving my life. So on my way to work, I stopped by the police station, saw him and begged him to let me speak at the conference."

I blinked hard, "He didn't save your life. You weren't threatened. Some random dude just stole your purse."

She pouted, "Yeah, but he saved me so much hassle of having to call my credit card companies and tell them to shut everything off and having to get a new I.D.-"

I jumped in, "I get that, and I'm not trying to downplay it, but like.... last week you wanted a car to fall out of the sky on top of him."

"And the week before that we betted on the subway crushing him between the tracks during that pipe burst. What's changed?" Macie argued, taking a sip of her coffee.

"He saved me," she stated plainly, with a soft smile. "You know, I think we've been so focused on this idea of him that I think if we got to really know him, we would know he's a great guy."

"Have you forgotten that he is lying to the public about his upbringing and reputation? Or the fact any time he saves someone, there is destruction in his wake that our company has to clean up, causing our jobs to be more difficult?" I scowled at her, unable to hold back.

She rolled her eyes hard, "Oh, come off it, Y/N. The only reason you care about that is because he rejected you in high school and you're too hung up on it."

"Excuse me?" I deadpanned.

Rach crossed her arms defiantly. "You heard me. I will no longer be a part of your rain-on-Sam parade. He is an amazing man. And a great superhero."

"Even if any of that were true, you gotta admit that this 180 you're doing is weird. You fucking hated him last night." Macie argued.

"And now I want to marry him." Rach smirked.

My eyes widened, "What the fuck did you just say?"

"If you want me to be honest, I'll say it. I think he is the man of my dreams and everything I could hope for in a partner. I want him, and I hope he'll have me." She turned to Macie, almost giggling, "I slipped him my number at the conference."

"You can't be fucking serious, Rach." I groaned.

"I just know he’s great in the bedroom..." Rach thought out loud.

"Oh... so you've completely lost it. Good to know." I remarked, taking a quick sip of my coffee.

"Don't be jealous of our love. Maybe one day he'll save you too." She quipped.

I laughed sarcastically, "I would rather get crushed by a car, thanks."

~~~~

Two weeks had passed since Rach's incident with Sam. We hadn't been talking to one another all that much, just casual conversation in passing. Maybe she was right to some extent. Maybe I was holding onto this hatred for Sam just because he didn't care about my existence back when we were kids. I should let it go, and stop being such a hater.

At least, I thought that way, until this morning.

I had tunnel vision as I glared at the tv, unable to peel my eyes away as I watched the news. Another press conference. Another day of kissing Sam's ass. But this time, he again introduced another woman that wanted to thank him publicly. And this time... it was Macie.

Her spiel was the same, her mannerisms almost identical to Rach's speech. I watched, my mouth a gaped, as she thanked Sam profusely for saving her from the purse nabber. She leaned up and kissed his cheek multiple times, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt desperately.

You've got to be fucking kidding me. There's no way that this was actually happening. Something fishy was going on, and it had everything to do with Sam. I fucking knew he was trouble. I just needed to get proof.

I met with Macie alone at our usual spot. I begged her to tell me everything in detail, and her story was eerily similar to Rachel's.

"So a guy stole your purse as you left some club, Sam got it back to you, walked you home, and then you woke up today knowing you had to tell the world how great he is." I reiterated her story, annoyed.

"Exactly. He really is truly a fantastic guy." She snorted, rolling her eyes, "Oh my God, sorry. Such a bad pun."

"Yeah... that." I blinked, holding in my rage. "So, you don't happen to feel the same way as Rach, tho, right? Like... you're not in love with him?"

She thought about it for a moment, "I do think he's amazing, and I would love to be married to him... So I guess you could say yeah. I am in love. Am I blushing?"

I sighed deeply, "What exactly changed? I know he saved you, or your purse, and that's great. I'm so happy he did that. But what exactly made you wake up today and feel this need to wish to have his children?"

"I don't know. It's like... this light just switched off in my head. I just feel that deep down in my soul, I want to be his. And I really hope he'll have me." She smiled dreamily.

Hearing her say almost the exact same thing as Rach made my composure crack. "Do you hear yourself? You want to be his?! He is a douchey superhero who makes our jobs harder, and not to mention barely does anything to actually help the crime rate in this city! He got you your purse back, and all of sudden you want to... be his? You can't be serious."

She shook her head, glaring. "You know, I think Rach was right. You are jealous of the love he and I share, all because he rejected you."

"He didn't even reject me! He didn't know I existed! There's a difference," I took a breath, trying to calm down. "You don't think it's odd that all of sudden you want to have his children? You don't even want to have kids."

Macie ignored me, continuing her argument. "Either way, you come across really bitter and I hope if he comes to save you, you change your attitude. To be held in his arms would be a dream come true."

She stood up dramatically, leaving the restaurant in a huff.

~~~~

After the shitty month I had, I needed to buy some alcohol to drink my troubles away. Rach and Macie hadn't talked to me since their "savings", so work had become even more tedious and annoying. And now, it seemed like I was the only one in the office that didn't like Sam. Morale had really gone up once he saved two of our coworkers, and I had to quietly sit there, pretending I did despise the man or the situation as a whole.

As I walked home from the liquor store, I noticed how quiet the streets had become as I got closer to my apartment. It was like anyone that was out on the street moments ago disappeared. There were sirens off in the distance and the light rumble of the subway underneath the streets. The low buzz of the street light above me caught my eye, and as I looked up, the light flickered. A chill ran up my spine suddenly.

Okay, maybe I was just freaking myself out for no reason.

A body slammed into mine from behind, almost knocking me flat on the ground. A man wrestled my bag out of my hand, sprinting off down the street.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" I screamed. I began to chase after him, my speed not even remotely catching up to him.

My thoughts swirled of all the things I had in that bag. My wallet, my phone, and my key to get into my apartment. I groaned loudly, annoyed.

Where the fuck were any of the superheroes when you needed them?

The man ducked into an alleyway, a loud crash coming from there. I ran to where he was, finding him passed out in the street. His nose had blood running down it, like someone punched him. My purse was nowhere in sight.

"Are you looking for this?" A voice said from behind me.

I spun on my heels, coming face-to-face with Mr. Fantastic himself, Sam.

I opened my mouth to speak but was unable to say anything. I had so much I wanted to say, but couldn't decide on what.

"No need to be shocked, miss. I know, superheroes are a lot to take in." He smiled softly.

Hearing his voice brought me out of my stupor. "That's not why I'm shocked. You kinda just... came out of nowhere."

His face dropped, surprised by my tone. "Oh..."

We stood there awkwardly for a moment, both unsure what to say next.

He reached out, my purse in his hand. "Um, here you go, Miss...?"

"Y/N. My name is Y/N." I stated.

"What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He complimented me.

"Thanks, I guess," I mumbled. "And thank you for getting my purse back. It means a lot."

"It's all in a day's work. Or night's technically." His well-known laugh escaped his lips.

I blinked, slowly walking away from him, "Yeah.... Anyway, I gotta get back home. It's late, and I wanna get drunk."

"Oh, well, why don't I walk you home?" He asked, keeping in step with me.

"I don't think there's any need to." I argued politely.

"No, let me. It's clearly unsafe on these streets." Sam responded.

"Well, you just stopped the purse nabber... again. For the third time. Maybe this time he can finally get arrested." I smiled bitterly, trying not to sound it.

"The police have already been called and they are on their way. So, why don't I walk you home?" He stopped in front of me, looking me in the eyes genuinely. "I will be worried if I don't make sure you get there safely."

I exhaled, "...Okay, fine."

I walked home silently, not wanting to speak to Sam. He stepped in time with me, never speaking. I almost forgot he was with me, until he cleared his throat once or twice.

I pointed up at my building, pulling my keys out to go inside, "Well, we're here. Thanks for walking me home, I gotta get upstairs and get to drinking. So, goodbye."

"Wait, before you go up, can I ask you something?" He queried.

I squeezed my eyes shut, opening them again and turning back to him. "Sure, I guess."

He crossed his arms, cocking his head. "How did you know I stopped the purse nabber before? Those were such minor crimes I solved; I'm surprised anyone would remember them."

"Well, you didn't really solve the crime since clearly the man never got put away." I retorted; my voice sickeningly sweet.

Sam raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to answer his previous question.

"My friends were the two you saved." I deadpanned.

"Oh really, what a small world." He pursed his lips in thought, "Their names were... Rachel and Macie, correct?"

"Yep, them exactly." I nodded.

"They were kinda like you, in a way." He mentioned.

I furrowed my brow, "What do you mean by that?"

His tone shifted. It was no longer the public persona one he used on the news. Now, it was more... casual. Equally as snarky as mine. "They too didn't like me. Or were a little... snippy with me."

Oh, well if you wanna play like that... "Yeah, and weirdly now, they want your babies."

He faux-gasped. "What a strange turn of events."

"I guess you changed their minds. How exactly did you do that?" I glared at him, accusatory.

"My charming personality." He smirked.

"Right." I jeered.

"I mean, if you really want to know the answer, let me into your apartment," his voice was almost sultry, his eyes mischievous. "Let me have one drink with you."

I narrowed my gaze at him, blinking slowly. "You're serious."

"100%. But I mean, if you don't want to know, then I can just leave." He pointed to the street, backing away.

"No, you can come up." I felt this overwhelming sensation that I had made a grave mistake, but I continued. "But if for even a second you make me uncomfortable, I have every right to resend your invitation."

"You know I'm not a vampire, right?" Sam snickered. "I'll respect your wishes regardless, but you can't just kick me out that easily."

"Okay fine, if you don't get out of my house when I say so, I'll stab you. Got it?" I grinned crazily.

He raised an eyebrow playfully, "Feisty... Sure, I hear you loud and clear."

We walked up to my place, my eyes catching his form out of the corner of my eye. What the hell was I even doing? Why was I inviting this asshole to my apartment?

I mean, I know why. But God, I just hope this ends quickly.

I cleared my throat as we both stepped in. Sam glanced around my apartment, giving a soft whistle. "Fan-cy."

I rolled my eyes, knowing he was joking. "Well, some of us aren't government paid employees with apartments in skyrises."

"You are a very defensive person. Do you always feel like you're being attacked, or is that just your general tone with me?" He shot back.

"I guess you just bring it out of me." I popped the bottle of whiskey open, the sound reverberating as I smiled bitterly. I poured two cups, dropping a cube into both.

"You're into whiskey, huh?" He gave me a quick once over, "That's kinda sexy."

"No one asked." I raised my glass, "Cheers."

"To new beginnings." He toasted.

"Sure..." I took a long sip, the whiskey burning a little extra hard.

He let out a light cough. "Hooo, that's has a kick."

"So, are you gonna tell me how or why my friends all of sudden started liking you or not?" I asked coldly.

"You don't mess around." He chuckled.

"I only invited you up here for that reason." I replied honestly.

"It wasn't to sleep with me?" He hummed, "I'm surprised."

"I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on Earth." I spat.

"Well, thank God I'm not." He quipped.

I placed my hands on my hips, annoyed. "So... the reason?"

Sam walked over to my living room, taking in everything. His eyes scanned my bookshelves, stopping suddenly. "Hey, how do you have this?"

I glanced up at the ceiling, hoping God could feel my glare from down here. "Have what?"

He pulled a book out, its green and white cover I knew all too well. "This yearbook. This is the school I went to, the year I graduated."

My heart dropped and I raced over to him, "Hey that's mine!"

He flew across the room easily, flipping through the book. "God, I haven't seen this in so long. But again, how did you get this?"

"Give it back to me." I demanded, stomping up to him.

"Wait a second. Is this you?" He opened up to a page with my high school portrait, little writings around it from friends of mine from back then.

I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks, making me speechless. I yanked the book out of his hands, going back to the bookshelf.

"You went to my high school. Wait, Y/N...." He gasped suddenly, "I remember you! Wow, you got a lot hotter."

"Thanks. Can't say the same for you." I grunted, hating how warm my face felt.

He spun me around, his eyes staring into mine. "Now, there's no need to lie to me."

"You don't understand personal space, do you?" I bitched, trying to push him back.

He barely moved; his eyes unchanging. "Am I not allowed to be close to you? Do I make you nervous or something?"

"No, I just hate your presence." I did my best to hide the shakiness in my voice, my body hitting the edge of my window and radiator.

"Strangely, you are the only woman that's like that." He jested, "Is it because you're hiding a crush or some-"

"No!" I cleared my throat, huffing. "No. I don't have a crush on you."

For a second it looked like he moved, his face holding back a smile. "Can you say that again for me?"

"I definitely have a crush on you." I breathed, my brain feeling like it buffered for a second. Why the fuck did I just say that?

He backed away, cocking his head. "Oh you do? Glad you could admit it."

"I wasn't admitting anything. I was just joking, and the joke is that I've had feelings for you since high school." I gasped, "What the fuck?!"

He teased, "I'm so happy you feel comfortable telling me the truth."

"Why am I saying this?" I whispered to myself.

He pointed down to my hand, "It probably has something to do with the handcuffs I put on you."

"Wha-?" I glanced down, and sure enough one of my wrists was handcuffed to the radiator by my window.

"You gotta be a bit more observant than that." He laughed sincerely, lounging on my couch.

I let out a ragged breath, pissed. "How the fuck did you-"

"Those handcuffs are really only meant to be used by me on criminals, that way they confess. But sometimes I like to use it for more..." He gazed at me longingly, "spicier reasons."

"You're a fucking creep." I hissed.

"And you're into it." He snapped.

"Yes I am." Oh my God...

He bit his lip, pleased at my answer. "So, your friends actually told me, without needing the handcuffs B-T-W, that you had a crush on me since high school. And now seeing you, I remember who you are. You were just as nerdy as me."

"Oh, at least you're admitting that now. Why, because there's no cameras around to lie to?" I sassed, pulling at the handcuffs.

"Hey, it's not a lie that I tell. I just... fib a bit." He settled into my couch, fluffing up one of the pillows, "I did play sports, so that would qualify me as a jock."

I scoffed, "Ping-pong is barely a sport."

"Says you," he grumbled. "But that can't be the only reason you hate me slash love me."

"I don't love you." I stated honestly.

"Oh, but you will," Sam uttered lowly. “You still didn't answer my question though. So, is it really just the crush bullshit?"

"No. It's not just that," I started. "You lied, not only about your upbringing. But your powers. You didn't have them in high school. You got bullied just as much as me, if not more so. If you had super strength, you would have kicked Joe's shins in."

He chuckled mockingly. "God, are you, like, obsessed with me? How do you know so much?"

"Joe bullied me too, dumbass. I'm not obsessed with you, I just don't understand you at all. And I know you're a liar. And I try to use those reasons to hide the feelings I still have," I groaned, pulling at the handcuffs more. "Jesus Christ get these handcuffs off!"

"Not yet," Sam commented. "So... you are right. I do lie, in a lot of ways, to the general public. Sometimes I throw in extra crimes I 'solved' during the night, when usually I'm just chilling at the 24-hour Taco Bell."

I gaped, "I fucking knew it!"

He sat up, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Jokes on you, it's actually the 24-hour Wendys."

"Why do you lie? People love you. There's no need to pretend." I argued.

"Ahh, but there is. I have a lot riding on me to be one of the best superheroes around." He remarked.

I hid my eye roll. "Like what?”

"You're right about one thing. I didn't have superpowers in high school. I wasn't born a superhero. When we graduated, an up-and-coming bio-tech company, Malusvir, reached out to random people asking if they wanted to be part of a study for $50k. I thought, I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, might as well go see what's up. Go be a guinea pig for some money." Sam shook his head, his anger brewing, "Come to find out, they were testing out if they could grow superheroes."

"What the fuck?" I squeaked.

"I was injected a whole lot of times with... something. And while I was basically comatose for months, all of a sudden, superheroes started bursting on the scene. The government was finally letting them out of the bag, and they were allowing all heroes to sign up to become part of the Superheroes Task Force." Sam stood up, starting to pace. "When I awoke, I was one of the only ones that survived the trial run. This company ended up getting bought out by the government, and they covered it up by going bankrupt and saying they were making chemical weapons, which isn't technically wrong."

"Does the government know about you being... home grown?" I inquired.

"No. The bio-tech company used an alias for all of us, so no one found out. And the secrets disappeared with the CEO when he flew out of the country back to his home country and mysteriously died. I'm pretty sure he's just hiding. Or was killed for what he knew." He informed, his eyes almost glazing over.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I questioned, confused.

"Because no one will believe you." He replied softly, his voice taking me back. Then, he switched back into his cocky self. "So... that's my story. But back to you, how long were you into me?"

"Since junior year." I confessed.

"You liked 17-year-old me?" He winced, "Oof, now that's a choice."

"So was that haircut." I quipped lightheartedly.

He leaned towards me, whispering. "And those cargo shorts."

I snickered, and he smiled genuinely for the first time.

A silence fell over us for a moment, then he looked up at me and asked nonchalantly. "So... do you wanna fuck?"

I choked, "What?"

"Is it really that surprising of a question? You're into me, and I find you hot," his eyes snaked down my body. "Especially handcuffed."

I stammered, "I-I don't-"

"Look, if you don't want to, understandable. I am a bit of a dick. But let me put it to you this way, have sex with me and get all that anger out that you feel towards me." He stepped closer to me, teasingly. "A good hate fucking helps out everyone involved, really."

I breathed, "You're insane."

"Or, if you have sex with me, and I'm bad... you can brag to your friends that I suck." He offered.

I sucked in a deep breath, already knowing my answer. "You raise a good point there."

"So, will you let me make you feel good or no?" He wrapped an arm around me tightly, bringing his face close. Our bodies were pressed together, my heart speeding up. "Do you wanna fuck me or not?"

"Yes I do." I admitted.

"See, and I didn't have to keep the handcuffs on you for you to tell the truth." He raised up his hand showing the cuffs, smirking.

I scoffed, shoving him back. "You are such a dick."

"And you love every second of it." He taunted, back up to the couch.

"I do, I can't lie." I bit my lip, staring at his mouth.

He sat down, pulling me towards him. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Fuck me like you hate me."

I straddled his lap, grinding down on him as our mouths connected. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, a moan falling from my lips. He gripped my ass, pushing me down more onto his lap. I yanked on his hair, digging my nails into his scalp and chest.

He winced, chuckling darkly as he pulled away from our kiss. "Oh you like it rough, baby?"

"Yeah." I smirked.

"Well good," he bunched up my shirt, tearing it away from my body suddenly. The ripping fabric fell apart in his hands and he chuckled darkly. I gasped loudly, a pleasurable chill running down my spine. "Me too."

I whined, "I liked that shirt."

"I don't care." He slammed his lips back onto mine quickly, taking my breath away. He nibbled on my lip, our teeth clashing together from the intensity of the kiss. I grinded myself against his growing bulge, my wet panties pressing into my sex achingly. I hadn't even realized how hot and bothered he had made me, but I wasn't complaining. I needed this, and clearly so did he.

We removed our clothes desperately, needing each other. He sat back against my couch, gazing up at me hungrily.

"God, your body is killing me." He grunted, "Give it to me."

I settled back down onto his lap, my sex grazing his leaking cock. Our breaths stifled, hitching at the feeling of our bodies being so close and so bare. I lined up my hips, slowly taking in every inch of his dick.

Breathy moans fell from my lips, his groans almost covering up my sounds. Once he was completely inside of me, we stared into each other's eyes intensely.

He began moving his hips, his eyes never leaving mine. "How's it feel, baby? Riding the dick of someone you hate."

"I love it." I whimpered.

"Of course you do. You take me so well, babygirl." He grinned.

I grimaced, "Ew, don't call me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want to, and you'll enjoy every second of it." He slapped my ass hard, pushing into me harder, "Won't you?"

"Yeah, I will." I laughed, moving up and down on his cock, "Fuck, you are so annoying."

His voice was raspy as he glared at me, "Oh, I am? Well, you ain't any better."

I snickered, "Nice comeback, nerd."

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. He pounded into me faster, "Nice cunt, slut. Take this dick."

"Oh my God, fuck yes Sam!" I whined.

I bounced up and down on his cock, his hips meeting with mine, making him go deeper and deeper each time. Sweat slid down our bodies, the room rising in temperature from our movements.

His lips brushed against my ear, nibbling along my neck. "Baby, baby, do you wanna know something? I forgot to tell you something."

I groaned, displeased. "Do you know how to not fucking talk?"

"But babygirl, I think this is really important. You'll want to hear it." He hummed, his thrusts stopping.

"What? What is it?" I slowed my hips, my pussy quivering around him, needing more.

He let out a breathy laugh, pushing my hair out of my face. "So, I forgot one major detail when I told you about the bio-tech company that made me the way I am."

I rolled my eyes, not interested in this conversation at all, "What did you forget to tell me?"

"Malusvir..." The lights behind Sam's eyes dimmed, his face dropping. "They weren't making superheroes."

My heart skipped a beat, my eyes fluttering, "What do you me-"

His hand wrapped around my throat quickly, squeezing tightly. My breath hitched, and Sam began to pound into me again, his hips picking back up the pace they were at once before.

"You are such a silly, dumb girl. Your friends were just as dumb as you. Maybe even dumber." His almost sinister gaze sent shivers of pleasure down my spine as his grip tightened.

I held onto his shoulders, my heart rate picking up as he made it harder to breathe. "S-Sam, fuck."

"You wanna know how I got your friends to fall in love with me?" He pressed his mouth against my ear, whispering harshly. "I fucked them. Just like I'm fucking you. All three of you were so desperate and needy for this dick. But you? God, you're so much sexier."

I shook my head, "You're fucking joking..."

"No, I'm not. And yet, even as I tell you this, you're still riding me." Sam smirked, growling, "God, aren't you pathetic? Your crush runs real deep. Just like my cock."

"Fuck you." I spat.

"Fuck you right back." He leaned in again, biting my earlobe and neck. "I could literally feel you squeeze around me when I called you pathetic. Don't pretend you don't like this."

I tried ignoring him, but he was right. My body reacted to him saying it again, throbbing around him. "How did you make them-"

"Love me? Pheromones, mostly. Thanks to all of those..." His eyes closed tightly as he got lost in thought. "Injections. Fuuuck. God, you make it hard to think sweetheart."

He had to be lying. He had to be fucking with me. "So they fucked you, and that made them fall in love with you? But Rach said-"

“I fucked them but made it so they can't tell anyone. They remember it, but will never say a word. No one would believe them anyway." He winked, releasing his hand from my neck and sliding it down my body to my clit. "Oh baby, you are in for a world of change once you come. Or once I come inside of you."

"S-Shut up Sam. Shit, fuck yeah..." I let out a breathy moan, my hips stuttering. His cock was hitting the right spot repeatedly, his thumb rubbing my clit gently, making it hard to do anything but whine. "You're just fucking with me."

"Believe what you want to, Y/N. In the end, you're gonna be mine." His lustful blue eyes bore into mine, his voice husky as he continued fucking me. "My girl to use whenever I want to. My girl that gets love drunk on my cock. Aren't you excited for that? Don't you want that? To be my little plaything forever?"

"Yeaahhh," I mewled. My eyes widened, realizing what I said. "Fuck, h-how did you-"

"It's already happening. You can't stop it now. But you don't want to, either. Take this dick more and more, slut." He gripped my hips, slamming me down onto him over and over again. My brain grew quiet, mindless. All I could think of was his leaking cock deep within me and needing him to come inside of me. I needed his come. I needed him.

"Aww, baby. You're in love, aren't you? You love me, don't you?" He mocked, a feign innocent smile on his face.

I tried shaking my head. I was not in love with him. But my body didn't listen to me anymore.

I nodded my head, unable to stop myself. My heart surged, a wave of adoration washing over me as I took in Sam's face. God, he was so handsome, even more so when he was fucking me. I cried out in pleasure, my hips bucking hastily.

He bit his lip, his head falling back against the couch. "Good girl. You're my good girl. Forever."

"Forever." I repeated, my heart soaring.

"Who's are you? Tell me." He ordered, his eyes staring into mine.

"Yours." I whined wantonly.

He sped up his actions, fucking me faster and deeper. "Say it again."

Borderline sobbing, I stuttered out, "I'mmmm youuurss."

"Again!" He yelled, rubbing my clit harder.

"I'm yours, Sam!" I panted, bouncing on his dick as fast as I could.

"That's it, baby. You're so close. Get close for me!" He shouted darkly.

I begged desperately, my body overwhelmed, "Fuck Sam, please! Let me come! I fucking need it! I need you."

"That's right babygirl." He grabbed my neck again, growling, "Fucking come! Come for me!"

I exploded in ecstasy, my brain turning off as I came the hardest I ever had before. My body took over, my hips rutting against Sam's. My nails dug into his arm and shoulder, holding onto him for dear life as I rode him through my orgasm. Suddenly, he came inside of me, his groans thundering off the walls of my apartment. His hips bucked into me with abandon, pounding me once more before dropping back down onto the couch. I felt his cum leak out of my cunt, sliding down my inner thigh. Our bodies collapsed against one another, completely spent.

As I passed out, the last thing I heard was a small whisper that escaped his lips. "Mine."

[hollow-lime-green]

hi!! just wondering if you have any stsg fic recs you’d be willing to share? i’m currently gobbling up 2sorcs like a gremlin and looking for something else to read between updates but i only really trust your opinions and characterizations which 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 anyways love ur work and hope you’re doing well!!

Ah! First of all, thank you <3 I do have some fics I really like! I shall rec them and give a little anxiety disclaimer at the end.

Fic Recs - Shorties

it would make a whole - by @diggingupgrave 8.8k, T, First Year, Pre-Relationship, Emotional H/C oh i love this fic so very much. this may have been one of the fics that really got me thinking about their characterization in the first place, tbh.

As You Wish - by @haha-funny-valentine 2.5k, T, Post-Star Plasma Arc, Emotional H/C wonderful characterization here and I am just such a sucker for H/C.

The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom - by @zombieheroine 16.3k, T, Prison Realm Gojo Character Study I took my skin off to check and I am shocked that this fic is not like, Doing Numbers. this fic is SO fucking creative and unique and I just. love. it. Definitely a big inspiration for FIYM. It's like Harrow the Ninth but for Gojo in the Prison Realm and like, oh my god so well done imo.

Longfic Recs with Caveats

and if you take my hand (series) - by @detta-pica 40k (Ongoing), T, Witch AU, Slow Burn Caveat: this is a WIP, and we're in the early part so very much Unresolved Romantic Tension. But I really like the worldbuilding in this and I'm excited to follow it as it keeps going, so big rec here if you like Plot and are down to follow some more ongoing fics. :)

coanda effect - by @bunniehoneys 250k, M, F1 AU, Slow Burn, Eating Disorders, Drugs, Bad Choices I am probably the last person in the world to read this fic so it feels silly to rec, but I'm doing it anyway because I'm a little obsessed. Caveat 1: also technically a WIP for another week or two

Caveat 2: TAGS check the tags. If you are at all sensitive to discussion of EDs, skip this fic, but I think it's done well and adds a lot to the characterization

Caveat 3: I am not caught up on this fic. it's one that I didn't let myself read for a while (see below) but F1 has a special place in my heart (my dad is into it, I used to live in a Gran Prix city, and I have watched WAY too much F1 Lets Play content).

I've been working really shitty hours for the past 48 hours (almost done) due to research that requires specific spans of real earth time. Because I don't have the focus to write right now, I've had the chance to read a little, and I've read about 75% of this gargantuan fic in windowless rooms on my phone, which has to say something about how much I love it lmao.

Disclaimer: I am a bad source of stsg fics because I actually don't read very many. If I read amazing fic then it tends to trigger the "you will never be as good as the old masters" part of the brain, although instead of real art like in the meme, my fic is putting gojo in a minecraft hoodie and making him do the gangnam style dance. Still.

I also get very unhealthy about metrics/numbers, which I mostly manage by using AO3 skins to block stats, but I still have some moments of weakness. So I try to avoid looking at stuff that I know might make me anxious/insecure about my own works and be unable to finish them (this has unfortunately happened to me before in the FE3H fandom, and that continues to weigh on me).

All that to say, there are some really big, nice, and well-loved fics by wonderful authors currently being updated, and I have read almost none of them. So this is absolutely not me saying I don't like their characterizations, I'm just kind of a hermit.

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 11

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav is having a hard time adjusting to freedom. Her mind is haunted with a certain devil, and she remembers a situation with him that happened before she was released from her imprisonment.

AN: This is not the final chapter. I know what I said, but I wanted to torture Tav some more. After thinking about it, I'm not sure how many chapters are left at this point, but I'll try to give an estimate as I come closer. After getting more time on my hands, I thought a bit more about this fic and got a bit more inspired again. I think I was getting a too stressed out with real life stuff and became too eager to end it due to that. I just know that I don't want to stress or rush it, because I have grown stupid attached to these two. On the other hand, I also don't want to draw it out for too long either (I'm thinking 15 chapters would be my limit). What can I say? My creative process is a mess lol.

TRIGGER WARNING: Gore and Blood

Tav isolated herself for days after she had been freed. She did not feel like talking to anyone. All she felt like was being alone, and gods, did she feel alone. It did not matter how many days went past, she still expected to wake up in Raphael’s bed and that it had all been a dream. She was waiting for the hammer to fall.

Though, the hammer had already fallen, so to speak. She was free. There were no longer infernal chains around her wrists, so why did she still feel so trapped then? She was trapped in her head, replaying every interaction again and again.

One in particular took up a lot of space in her mind. It was two nights before she had been freed.

When she went to bed that night, Raphael was still not home. She began to worry. Not for him, of course, Tav had told herself. It was more the fact that if something had happened to him, then what would happen to her and Hope?

She managed to fall asleep but about an hour later she was woken by the sounds of things crashing to the ground. She flicked her wrist and lit some of the candles in the boudoir to figure out what was going on.

She saw the silhouette of a winged and horned person. Someone who she hoped was Raphael, though he had never arrived home in that manner. Her heart started racing.

“Raphael?” she asked quietly.

She saw the head of the silhouette turn towards her and two orange eyes looked at her, though they quickly squeezed shut and she heard what sounded like a groan of pain. She recognized the groan, and it was Raphael.

“Go to sleep,” he ordered through gritted teeth and grabbed something from a drawer.

She squinted at him. It was difficult to see what was going on in the darkness. She did not like that harsh tone of his or the fact that he sounded like he was in pain.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

She heard more sounds of stumbling about, which prompted her to get out of bed and investigate. She casted Dancing Lights and walked closer to him. His back was turned to her, and she saw blood on the floor.

“Did I not tell you to go to sleep?” he hissed. “Leave me.”

“What happened to you?” Tav asked confused and stared at the blood on the floor.

Raphael started walking out of the boudoir and away from her. She noticed that he was slightly limping.

“Where are you going? You’re injured. Get in the pool!” Tav said and followed him.

“Tav, I will not tell you agai—” he interrupted himself with a yelp of pain and dragged himself to the nearest chair and sat down.

Tav finally got a look of what was wrong with him. The whole left side of his body was wet with dark blood, and he was holding a hand over the left side of his face. There were green shards of what looked like shattered glass, impaling the whole left side of his body. Some of the shards were tiny, while others were the length of her forearm. He was breathing hard.

It suddenly made sense why the restoration pool would not do. The shards would need to be pulled out before anything could heal.

“Go…” he said, this time sounding more defeated than angry, avoiding her eyes with the one that wasn’t covered by his hand.

He was not playing with her for once. She could hear it in his voice. He sounded like he was in genuine pain. It tugged at her heartstrings despite herself, and she cursed the feeling internally. How could she feel sympathy for a monster like him?

“Fuck…” she cursed under her breath and the façade she had so carefully held up the last few days fell, as she saw Raphael’s do the same.

She saw how tense he looked and the way he was hiding his face from her. He reminded her of a wounded animal that was protecting itself in a moment of weakness.

“Let me help,” she said.

“I do not need or want your help,” he growled stubbornly. “Go to bed.”

“I don’t care, you’ll get it regardless,” she said quietly. “Sit still.”

She heard a groan of annoyance, but he did not move. His one exposed eye followed her around as she gathered supplies around the house. Raphael had already brought a pair of tongs from the drawer in the boudoir, so she went to get a rag, a plate for the shards, and two bowls of water: one with normal water, the other with water from the restoration pool.

She returned to him with the supplies and put them on the small table beside the chair he was sitting in. He watched her every move.

She grabbed the wrist that he was holding over the left part of his face and tried to pull it away. She did not manage to move it as much as an inch as he held it there.

“Raphael,” she said sternly. “I need to see your face. You have blood dripping down your neck. Let me see.”

“I will do it myself,” he said stubbornly, though it was clear that he was in a lot of pain.

Tav became frustrated with him.

“If it’s vanity, I really could not care less,” she said and pointed to the burn scars on her own face. “I cleaned and took care of my own scars when I got these and trust me it was not a pretty sight either. Move your hand.”

He was scowling at her, but he slowly removed his hand. Tav winced and inhaled sharply when she saw his injuries, which made him quickly move his hand back over his face and roll his eyes.

“I told you,” he said. “I’m aware it’s a grim sight and I will take care of it myself.”

“To the Hells with how it looks,” Tav said frustratedly. “It looks painful. It was a reaction out of sympathy, not disgust. Move your hand.”

Raphael’s eye twitched in annoyance, but he moved his hand away so she could get a proper look. One of the shards had almost sliced a piece of his cheek off, and the piece of skin was loosely dangling. Another larger piece had just missed his eye and was lodged into his cheek right below it, which had made the area around his eye bruise and swell up.

She moved her hand to his face and gently turned it. Her hand hovered above the shard that was under his eye. She looked into his eyes before doing anything.

“Do you need anything to bite down on?” she asked. “This is going to hurt.”

“Please,” he said and brushed the idea away with a hand gesture as if she was ridiculous for asking.

“Now is not the time to play brave,” she said frustratedly. “If you move while I do this, you might lose an eye. I can knock you out with a spell if you want. It will make it easier for me.”

“No,” he said. “Proceed.”

She sighed.

“You need to be completely still,” she said. “I’m not strong enough to keep your head from moving.”

She put her hand on his opposite cheek to hold his head steady as she could. She carefully tightened her grip around the shard and started slowly pulling it out. Raphael winced and groaned in pain.

She hated hearing those sounds of genuine pain from him, and it stressed her out.

“Shhh. It’s almost out, it’s almost out, it’s almost out,” she said and pulled.

They were both breathing faster before she finally got it out. Her reaction to his pain annoyed her to no end. She tried to crush those feelings of sympathy in her mind. He was not worth her pity, she reminded herself.

She looked at the shard once it was out and then at Raphael’s face.

“That was the worst of it…” she said. “Now it’s just the smaller bits and then I can clean it.”

Raphael closed his eyes for a moment.

“Your commentary is highly unnecessary,” Raphael said. “You are not a healer, so I would rather not know. Just get it over with.”

“I’ll have you know I studied medicine during my apprenticeship as a wizard,” Tav said quietly, and plucked another smaller shard out of his face.

He winced slightly.

“Did you now? Why would an evocation wizard be taught medicine?” Raphael asked skeptically.

“Alright, ‘studied’ might be an overstatement,” Tav admitted. “The medicine books were the only ones I had not read in my teacher’s library, and when I got bored of my own studies, I sort of sifted through them.”

“How reassuring…” Raphael drawled.

Tav let another shard drop onto the plate with the others.

“What is this stuff anyway?” she asked. “Is it just glass?”

“It is a type of glass, yes,” Raphael said. “It was either enchanted or laced with some kind of poison. Hence the p—” Raphael groaned as a shard that had dug deeper was pulled out of him. “Pain…”

Though Tav took no pleasure in seeing his pain, it was nice to hear him talk without all the theatrics and mind-games for once. It was all just him. They both had an unspoken truce from the game they usually played.

“Can I ask what happened?” Tav asked.

Raphael sighed tiredly at the question.

“You make a lot of enemies in my line of work and especially with my status in the Hells…let’s keep it at that.”

“Do you mean people who are jealous or…?” Tav asked.

A smile tugged on his lips.

“In a way, but not quite,” Raphael said. “Though I have to admit it is somewhat flattering that you would think that is the case…”

“It wasn’t really my intention to stroke your ego,” she said. “It’s just an observation that you seem pretty well off. What is it then?”

Raphael opened his eyes and looked up at her while she cleaned his face.

“You know what I am…” he said.

“You’re a devil…” she answered while dabbing his wounds with a wet cloth. “And, well…if you want to be technical about it, you’re a cambion. Though I always thought you would incinerate me if I pointed that out, so I never did.”

“Clever girl,” he purred. “Why do you think that is?”

She did have her theories. She clearly remembered his little fit back when they met him at Sharess’s Caress about him ‘not being a mortal’.

She wrung the bloody cloth into the bowl of normal water before dipping it into the water from the restoration pool.

“Do you want an honest answer to that?” she asked before dabbing the water unto his face. His wounds quickly healed.

“I only ever want honest answers, mouse,” he said.

Tav paused her movements for a second and looked him in the eye. She wondered just how honest he actually wanted her to be. Then again, she had avoided his wrath for this long, so what the hell? She was not going to pass up the opportunity to give him a piece of her mind.

“I think you like to posture as more than you are,” she said. “You create your own little world where you are the highest and most important person, and you pull other people in, such as myself, to fulfill that perfect image in your head…Do you want me to continue or is that growing expression on your face my cue to shut up?”

Raphael looked slightly offended at her bluntness but gestured for her to continue.

“I think that we mortals buy into it, but I am not so sure about the other devils of the Hells,” she said. “I would also add something about your seeming issues with your father, but I am not quite feeling suicidal yet, so I won’t. Was that honest enough for you?”

Raphael still looked somewhat miffed, but he could not help but smile at her candidness.

“There is some truth to it, of course…” he said. “Mortals hate me because they fear me, and devils hate me because they foolishly see me as below them. It was a devil who did this to me. Someone who saw me as an easy target for their anger. They were wrong.”

It was sad, in a way. He was unwanted everywhere he went. Though with all the things he had done, it was still hard to truly feel bad for him.

“Hm,” Tav hummed. “And yet you cling to the devil part, don’t you? I know I’m pushing my luck with how much it takes for you to finally snap at me, but have you considered that you might have more luck with at least the mortals if you weren’t such a cruel asshole?”

Raphael chuckled.

“There is nothing for cambions on the Material Plane,” he explained. “Nothing but a life in hiding from the world, if they are lucky enough to even survive, that is. In both places, one thing is true for those like myself: you either make others fear you or you will have to live a life of fear yourself, always looking over your shoulder.”

“What a depressing way to see things…” she mumbled as she worked on removing the shards from his shoulder and upper torso.

“Perhaps,” Raphael said with a shrug, looking down at her hands as she worked. “But I would not have lived for as long as I have, did I not see my circumstances for what they were.”

She looked up and met his eyes briefly before she went back to working on his shoulder.

Cruel circumstances did not excuse cruel actions. Tav knew this, and yet she found herself once again annoyingly sympathetic to what he was saying. Had it not been the exact same thing that drove her to kill her father when she was younger? She was done being afraid and it drove her to kill him and unfortunately her mother too.

It was not the same as torturing souls or keeping an innocent cleric locked in one’s basement, obviously. And yet. Perhaps she really was no better than him, when it came down to it. She had done awful things. She killed her parents, ignored Hope’s pleas to be released…Hells, had it not been because of her companions’ opinions on the matter, she had almost sided with the Absolute and killed the entirety of the Druids Grove back then.

She was not a good person. She never had been. She had seen it as practicality. She had to kill her father, or it would never stop. She had to leave Hope behind, because it was not worth the possible risks that she had so carefully calculated in her mind. She was not practical, she was cold, and it was a survival mechanism, much like Raphael’s, that she learned the day she burned her childhood home down: Fear or be feared.

She finished pulling shards from his upper body and sat on the floor to start on his leg. Raphael noticed her quietness as she was deep in her self-loathing thoughts.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Hm?” she looked up at him briefly. “Nothing. Just concentrating.”

“You are being awfully quiet.”

“Mm. You should try it sometime,” she said and immediately bit her lip. It just flew out of her mouth, and she realized that she was getting way too comfortable and uncensored with him.

He simply laughed.

“I have told you before, but I will gladly tell you again…I much prefer you like this,” Raphael noted. “When you are not pretending to be something that you are not.”

She looked up at him with a tired look. He seemed genuine.

“Then stop forcing me to pretend,” she said and went back to pulling pieces out of his leg.

“I’ve never forced you,” Raphael said. “And yet you insist to play a game that you cannot hope to win. I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed it…However, if you keep at it, you will one day find it difficult to find where the pretending ends and where you start, little mouse.”

“So, I’m just supposed to roll over and take it?” she asked with a huff.

“If you knew what was good for you, yes,” Raphael said smoothly and looked down at her. “Though I’m rather enjoying seeing you cling to the idea that you could win.”

She rolled her eyes and continued to work in silence. He was infuriating, but at least he was being honest. She could see out of the corner of her eye that he was studying her face while she worked.

“I want to ask you something, if you would indulge me,” Raphael drawled. “Despite all your resistance, did you ever find yourself falling for it?”

Her brow furrowed and she glanced up at him for a short moment.

“Did I ever fall for you, you mean?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I hate your guts, if you should ever be confused about that,” she said coldly.

She heard a short chuckle from him.

“Hate does not necessarily exclude love and you avoided answering my question,” Raphael pointed out. “Which is an answer in itself, is it not?”

“I would be more careful with what I say if I was in your position right now,” she said through gritted teeth while trying to pry a large piece of glass out of his leg. “My hand might just slip with the with the next piece I’m pulling out.”

Raphael winced slightly as the piece was pulled out.

“And you?”

“What about me?” he asked.

“Did you ever fall for me?” she asked, still focused on his leg.

He was quiet for just a short moment too long.

“I have told you before,” he purred. “Love is no more than a pointless distraction, and one that I cannot afford with who I am.”

She looked up at him while dabbing water on his leg.

“I can’t help but notice you didn’t say yes or no,” she said and then mimicked his voice and repeated his words: “’Which is an answer in itself, is it not?’”

“Careful, Tav,” Raphael warned with a smile. “You would be wise not to mistake my leniency with you for weakness.”

She had mostly just said it to be annoying, so she was surprised when he did not argue with her point. It was a part of his game, she had concluded, nothing more.

Once she was done with his leg, she poured the remainder of the water from the restoration pool over it, and it healed quickly. She got to her feet and used her hand to gently feel up and down his side.

“Any pain?” she asked. “Did I miss any pieces?”

Raphael shook his head.

“You can stop fussing, dear,” he said with a smile.

“I’m not fussing,” she said stubbornly. “I’m just not sure anyone would know how to get me out of this hellhole if you should suddenly decide to die.”

“If you say so,” Raphael said.

Tav recalled that they had almost the exact same conversation back when he almost killed her in his sleep, and he took care of her to make sure she survived.

“Well…” she said with a sigh. “If that’s all, I’ll go back to bed.”

Raphael got up slowly from the chair. It was clear that he was still slightly dizzy from the blood-loss, but other than that, he looked a lot better than when he arrived home.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek to signal that the truce was over. He wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Goodnight,” she said, looking up at him with one of her fake smiles.

“Goodnight, dearest,” he said quietly with an amused smile that showed he knew what she was doing. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

She was laying on her sofa, slightly drunk on wine, as the same pieces of conversation kept playing in her mind. She felt so trapped. She missed him, but if she admitted that to herself, all she would feel was self-loathing.

He had kidnapped her, trapped her in the Hells, fucked with her mind at every given opportunity. He still was, even now that she was free. It was easier to hate him, as she should, and she truly did, despite all her confusing feelings. She heard his voice in her head:

‘Hate does not necessarily exclude love…’

“Shut up…” she mumbled to herself and closed her eyes.

‘Love is no more than a pointless distraction, and one that I cannot afford with who I am.’

‘I do not wish for you to be under my roof anymore. You have been a distraction for too long.’

“Shut up, shut up,” she mumbled, and she felt tears starting to form in her eyes again. “Shut up.”

Her brain sent her back to the conversation the two of them had one evening about love. It was when Raphael revealed that he had once made the ‘mistake’ of falling in love.

‘I thought devils didn’t—' she had said.

‘They don’t,’ he had interrupted her and smiled. ‘Not in any way you would understand at least. Our definition of love is quite different from what you mortals would find ideal or even healthy.’

“I don’t care,” she mumbled tearfully to her own brain who was torturing her.

‘She was a mortal woman. A human…like yourself.’

She mournfully remembered how the wording of that statement had given her butterflies in her stomach, and then emptied her glass of wine with shaking hands.

[yanderes-galore]

Eee, prompt number 5, 8, 15 for Cassidy

p.s I'm so normal about that cowboy

🍀 anon

Of course! I hope you like this :) Sorry it took so long! I managed to get plot help from ♠️ Anon, so I hope you like what we both came up with.

Yandere! Cole Cassidy Prompts 5, 8, 15

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!"

"I could look into those eyes forever...."

"Please smile for me... don't make me force you...."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Isolation, Kidnapping (Technically), Possessive behavior, Toxic relationship, Consensual turned Forced relationship.

"Come on, darlin'... you look like you could need a few days to rest."

That's how this started, isn't it? Cole Cassidy, your charming cowboy boyfriend, had offered to take you on an isolated vacation to his cabin. The offer was thoughtful enough... The cowboy had seen how hard you've been working since Overwatch began its recall.

Not liking the idea of his dearest overworking themselves he wanted to make sure you could relax and smile for once. Seeing the offer as nothing sinister... you accepted. Completely unaware of any ulterior motives your boyfriend could've had.

Honestly, at first your vacation is wonderful. You promised your boyfriend you'd take a few days off from work and enjoy nature instead of the bustling city. Cole loved to see the smile on your face as he took you on walks and sat beside you at the lake.

The cowboy couldn't imagine a better date... watching in awe as your eye sprung to life and glittered in joy.

The vacation contained flirting, relaxing nights, and just the two of you. However, the looming thought of work always managed to creep into your mind. Something that annoyed your boyfriend to no end.

Cole never liked the idea of you going back to Overwatch. Perhaps it's because he's had... bad experiences... but he just wished you'd sit back and let him care for you. That was one of the reasons for the vacation.

To convince you to get away from it all... you rely on him from now on....

But you never listened to his thoughts on the matter.

No matter how much Cole showered you in gifts and attention, you always said you needed to work. As the vacation time trickled down... Cole was determined to change your mind. Can't you see working for Overwatch makes you unhappy?

"Why not stay a bit longer, darlin'? The city's just so... loud, isn't it? Do you really have to go back?" Cole continues, stepping closer to your packing form.

"Working for Overwatch pays well, Cole. The vacation was lovely though...." You sigh, the cowboy staring for a moment as he clenches his fist in silence.

"Baby... you're miserable there. Just call in sick..." Cole hums, strolling closer to hold your waist and put his head on your shoulder. "Or even better, quit and stay here with me... I can provide for you and you can be happy."

Cole's words drip with saccharine, a sweet and honeyed feeling bubbles within you but you know better. He wants to trap you with him using his words. Treating you as if you're a fly stuck in a sweet but sticky trap....

"Don't try to bribe and manipulate me, Cole." You hiss, prying his arms off you the best you can. "You know I have to work, like it or not."

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!" Cole hums, turning you so he can cup your face gently. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't want to see you happy...?"

You stare at Cole for a moment, his eyes are sharp and dark. He waits for you to object and you sigh. For now... you'll play along.

"Fine... one more night, okay?" You admit, causing Cole to smile.

"Of course, darlin'." Cole whispers, kissing your lips softly.

"Just one more night."

----

One more night was long enough for him to make sure things were perfect. By the time you woke up in the morning, Cole had prepared breakfast. It was only after that when you realized something was... wrong.

When you went to put your stuff in the truck, you noticed the door was locked. Not just that but the windows were too. Upon further inspection through said windows, the truck was gone... and Cole acted as though this was fine.

Everything was locked tight... the truck Cole had was gone... and you were stuck. Cole eventually forced a grin as he stalked closer. To him... your vacation was still going smoothly.

"You care about that job more than me, honey... I had to do something, didn't I?" Cole hums, eyes never leaving yours as he leans in front of you. He sighs in a happy tone as he reaches out to touch your face. "I could look into those eyes forever... y'know that?"

You respond by smacking his hand away, breathing picking up as though you were a cornered rabbit. Cole looks annoyed, but doesn't make any sudden movements as of yet. Why won't you just enjoy yourself?

"You locked me in here!?" You panic, the cowboy frowning as you glare at him. You're pressed against the locked door as Cole traps you in place. He gave up on hiding his true nature.

"It's for your own good, can't you see that?" Cole hisses, keeping you in place. "With me, you're happy. With me, you're safe. Out in Overwatch you have to deal with Talon. Look...I want my domestic little darlin' to listen to me and let me provide for you. Let us enjoy a vacation where there's no one else!"

"That isn't for you to decide!" You shout back, only for Cole to cover your mouth with his bionic hand.

"Yet I did it anyway, hm~?" Cole purrs, moving his hand to tilt your chin up. "Look at us... bickering like we're married."

You merely glare at him as Cole plays with your lips. His gaze holds a possessive kind of adoration... grinning to himself as if he's won a petty argument. This was when you learned your boyfriend was sick.

"Now... let's not let out little argument ruin our vacation." Cole whispers, a subtle hint of a threat in his tone. "Won't you please smile for me... don't make me force you...."

You feel his grip tighten on your chin and decide it's best to play his game until an opportunity presents itself. Reluctantly, you smile for your twisted boyfriend. The cowboy smiles back happily... leaning and kissing your lips quickly.

"My little darlin' deserves to be spoiled, don't you~?" Cole hums, holding your hands

You nod once again...

Internally plotting how to escape this wooden prison.