#and some of those small ones. i never got the appeal of them until i saw the deadpool ones lol

[selfcarecap]

I told myself I was only gonna buy 1 deadpool & wolverine funko pop but so far i’ve ordered 3 😕

[sebsbarnes]

too sweet || tangerine

tangerine x reader

summary: tangerine is strong and bitter, much like a neat whiskey but you were sweet, like an aged wine, and he wasn't use to that.

warnings: none

word count: 1.2k+

a/n: requested by @whimsical-roasting inspired by lyrics from hozier's new song too sweet :)

masterlist

tangerine was harsh, uninviting. rigid and stern. he wasn't one to make small talk with the store clerk or mutter a hello to the person walking past him on the street. that was him, and he was unapologetically himself. he didn't care nor did he want to be that person who was over-joyous to strangers, it didn't entice him. what would he gain from exposing pieces of himself? he becomes vulnerable and that wasn't a word tangerine would ever describe himself as.

you were warm, inviting. gentle and kind. you were one to chat with the store clerk and greet the person walking past on the street. that was you, unapologetically yourself. you wanted to be that person who engaged with strangers whenever possible. you would gain so much from sharing and exchanging pieces of yourself with others. you felt secure.

tangerine faults himself for breaking that day he met you. he often wonders why his eyes cast a glance at you, but they did and that simple movement upturned his life.

it was a long day, a day from hell, actually. tangerine was exhausted from work and found himself dragging his feet home. his head screamed in pain, his throat felt tight from dehydration, and his stomach was practically eating itself. the flickering neon light of the convenience store caught his attention and the metal bell announced his arrival in the store. he wandered to the drink cooler and stuffed his arms with anything that sounded appealing. tangerine wanted a real dinner but unfortunately that night the snack aisle would be a five-star meal.

"you can never go wrong with these," a voice spoke and tangerine saw a pointing hand come into his field of vision. he mumbled under his breath some sort of 'thank you' and grabbed the bag of crackers.

that's when he looked over. that's when he saw you. that's when tangerine's normal hard exterior soon chiseled away in your presence. he felt his shoulders relax and he stopped gritting his teeth when you looked back at him and smiled.

"if you want something more hardy they got killer snacks up at the register. i'll admit i'm almost a regular here because of them. it's a bit embarrassing but the workers are really cool," tangerine stood there and listened to you talk. he liked the way your lips pulled up into a smile and how animated your face became. perhaps it was the pure exhaustion from the day that wore him down and made him engage in a conversation with you, or maybe it was just your warm presence.

it wasn't long after that night in the convenience store that tangerine ran into you again. he didn't see you at first but rather heard you. your booming voice and infectious laugh carried its way over to him. he was on a walk, an exercise he enjoyed, when the breeze carried you to him. he paused on the sidewalk and in some measly attempt to stall, tangerine re-stretched his legs until you came closer.

'hey! i remember you, how were those snacks?"

tangerine pretended to be caught off guard at first before responding, "pretty fuckin' good, i can't lie."

"told you!" you laughed with a wave goodbye.

tangerine found himself cemented to the sidewalk watching the back of your head disappear into the day, your arms flailing as you spoke to the friend beside you, and your voice slowly drifting away.

this would keep happening, tangerine running into you in public every few days in different places. it confused him a bit, to the point he almost considered that you were some spy out to get him and his arm would subconsciously drift to the knife in his pocket. each time he would stop himself when you began to talk about the most mundane things and share little anecdotes about yourself with him, like how last night you burnt your dinner and ate a whole bag of wonton strips you found in the back of your pantry from a recipe you cooked a year ago or how earlier that day you stepped in dog poop and didn't realize until you tracked it into the store. tangerine loved hearing you overshare and how kind you treated him even when he was a stranger.

in the months to come you and tangerine turned these random run-ins into deliberate meetings. at the park, at the movies, at a restaurant, at his home. you would notice the glances from people when tangerine stood beside you or the raised brow when tangerine was short with conversation while you talked the person's ear off.

"i know i'm not the friendliest but at least i don't grimace in people's faces," tangerine chided.

you tsked, running a hand up and down his bicep, "oh tang, don't mind them. they just don't know you like i do."

but he did start to mind how others perceived him after the two of you started dating. most people knew how outgoing and sweet you were, but tangerine didn't want to taint the image of you with him by your side. he didn't want people to start believing you were also this cold, stern, person. you couldn't even be if you tried. not only this but he felt guilty hiding his job from you. had you been aware you wouldn't be with him. each day you prioritized the happiness of others and never acted with malice, he was the stark contrast. he hated how he was beginning to love the sweetness.

it was late, 3am to be exact, and the two of you were lying in bed. your legs wrapped around tangerine and his head propped up on the satin. the tv cast a glow onto the bed, the array of colors illuminating your skin. it was an action movie. fast-paced, big cars, bad people, and drugs. your hand was placed on tangerine's cheek, the small digit of your thumb caressing the empty space below his eye. a gun sounded and your body jolted, eyebrows pulled together at the sight of the body falling to the ground.

"that's so scary. i can't believe there are people out there who want to hurt others," you sighed.

tangerine stiffened. he could hear the beat of his heart drumming in his ears and the way his hands became clammy. he watched as the main character aimed his gun at another person and pulled the trigger with no hesitation. that was him. he was watching himself and without you even knowing, you were also watching him. who he really was.

"why's your heart beating so fast. you a lil scaredy cat hm?" you joked rubbing your palm on his chest.

tangerine stifled a fake laugh, "just gettin' nervous for him," he winced at how pitiful his excuse was but you didn't seem to catch on.

he felt sick. you were too sweet for him, like grapes at the bottom of a barrel, aging into a sweet wine. he was foul-mouthed, hot-headed, impolite, and dangerous. he wasn't meant for you, didn't deserve you. he only ever knew the bold and strong taste of a black coffee or a neat whiskey. he wasn't used to the sweet flavor.

[47lake]

i'm sorry

synopsis: billie has always been the type to prioritize your pleasure over your own, but how far will she go to please you?

‼️: dom!bottom!reader, sub!top!billie, strap, mirror, handcuffs, “mommy”, tears, w/c 1.6k

you throw your hair to one side, heels tapping against the concrete, leading you towards the door. today was a long day. you couldn’t wait to see your girlfriend, her smile and essence never failed to make everything seem so minuscule and unimportant. you twist the knob after unlocking the door, being met with the sounds of billie’s video game. she was precious, she would go on and on about her games, trying to explain them to you. you never really understood, too busy focusing on her beautiful face instead. she turned from her spot on the couch to face the door, “baby!” she exclaimed excitedly and threw her controller to the side, you let out a giggle as she stood up, her outfit coming into view. “nice shirt.” you teased her, her shirt read ‘girls love my awkward swag’ she finally got within arms reach of you and grabbed you up, bridal style, “i like this dress,” she eyed you over in her arms. you were wearing a long black dress, black heels with gold accents, and a black chanel handbag, accompanied by gold jewelry; your favorite: a gold chain adorning your ankle with a “b” charm, it was billie’s favorite too. she loved when you dressed formally like this, the vast contrast between your outfits was sweet in its own way.

she carried you to the bedroom and sat you down softly, you rested against your elbows on the bed as she pulled your heels off and put them away for you, “tell me about what you did today baby,” you liked hearing about her days. her current looser schedule with no tour and not very many meetings very appealing compared to your 9-5. “well finneas came over and we worked on a few songs,” she took your handbag and emptied out the every day things, taking it to it’s spot as well. “then we got some lunch and he went back home, i cleaned the house a little, did some laundry and played my game until you got here. what about you pretty girl?” you sighed deeply and fell back dramatically against the bed, “don’t even get me started.” she let out a small laugh as she joined you on the bed, “that bad huh?” you nod and sit up, resting your head against her shoulder, “i missed you, sweet girl.” peppering small kisses across the exposed skin of her neck, she hummed in agreement. “you know what else i missed?” you straddled her lap in one swift motion, twisting her hair between your fingers. she looked at you with those pleading eyes of hers, you leaned down to whisper in her ear, “i missed how good you are for me.” you felt her starting to squirm, you planted a soft kiss on her cheek and got up to walk over to the closet. “i want this off before i come out.” you waved your finger up and down her body, she was too pretty to be all covered up.

you step into your shared walk in closet, sliding the long dress off to reveal the black, lacy, matching set you had on underneath. you were reapplying your lipstick as you heard billie turn on some music, you smile and wipe the corners of your mouth. you reach up to the top of your closet and pulled down the black box that stayed just out of reach, you finally decided on a strap and some handcuffs. you step back out and lean against the doorframe, smiling as billie sat on the bed, naked, just like you asked. “what a pretty girl you are bils,” you walked over to the side of the bed, placing the toys on the nightstand. “come sit.” you stood in front of the large mirror next to the bed, you knew she was going to love this. she obeyed and sat on the edge of the bed, “scoot back a little for me baby, i want to show you something.” she did so, you spread her legs and sat between them. your back was facing billie but because of the mirror you could still see her sweet face. she rested her head against you as you got comfortable in front of her, she kissed your shoulder gently. “you’re so pretty,” the words rolled off her tongue in desperation, billie had always been the type to value your pleasure far above her own. it was like her entire purpose in life was to make you feel good, in fact she got off on it.

you spread your legs in front of the mirror, showcasing the black lingerie and the pool of desire that soaked into the lace. billie gasped and you smirked, “you see how much i missed you sweetheart?” she nodded and ran her hands up and down your thighs. “take this off for me,” you ran your finger under the strap of your bra. billie quickly undid the clasp with one hand and pulled it off your body, you watched as her eyes fell low, a moan escaping her lips at the sight of your tits. she patiently waited for your command, she knew better than to touch without permission. “you can touch my love.” she hurried wrapped her hands around your torso and rolled your nipples between her thumbs and index fingers, pinching just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you. she smiled with each sound you made, proud of herself, she kissed along your shoulder and up your neck. she got to your ear, kissing behind it gently, “can i take these off too?” she ran her finger gently against the elastic of your thong. you hummed and smiled, “what’s my favorite word?” she rested her chin against your shoulder, “please?” she spoke quietly. you smiled and kissed her cheek softly, “my other favorite word.” she bit her lip and now laid her head down against your shoulder instead, “please mommy?” you ran your fingers through her hair and smiled, “there’s my girl, go ahead.”

she eagerly snatched them off and threw them on the floor, desperate to please you. her lips parted at the slick coating your heat, you clung tightly to a handful of her hair and picked your head up to see her reflection. “you see how badly i want you my love?” she nods and bites her lip, “come on bils, make me cum.” without a second of hesitation her fingers land on your glossed over clit, pushing fast circles into you. moans drip from your lips as she toys with you, the words ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ slipping out of you like a broken record. “you look so beautiful,” she spoke just above a whisper, you loved when she got needy like this. she tore her fingers away from your clit, the thought of not pleasuring you for even a second like torture to her. she ran her fingers through the arousal coating your sex, it dripped down her fingers as she slipped them inside. the room quickly filling with sounds of pleasure as she sped up, the walls becoming coated with the slick sounds of her filling you up. tears began to well in her eyes from your tight grip on her hair and the sounds you were making, she blinked away the tears.

“i’m sorry,” she spoke quietly, you continued to moan out, mind too consumed with the pleasure. her fingers slid out of you, her wet hands picking you up as she got off the bed. you opened your eyes as your back fell against the bed, she was standing over you. she pushed your arms over your head and held them down as she fumbled for the handcuffs on the nightstand. she quickly clicked them around your wrists and onto the headboard. you pulled against the cuffs, “bils, what are you-?” she pressed her hand over your mouth as she tightened the last chord down on the strap. “i’m sorry,” her mouth hung open, she was too drunk on the sounds of your moans that she was doing anything to make you feel good, even disobeying. she pulled her hand off your mouth as she ran the tip through your folds, you bit your lip and pushed your hips closer to her, “just fuck me!” you demanded, she immediately obeyed and slid all of her length inside you. a loud moan rolled off your tongue, adjusting to the length. once you fully adjusted she soon built up to a fast rhythm. ‘i'm sorry’ were the only words that she could muster, over and over again as her eyes stayed fixated on watching the way you continuously swallowed her entire length. her eyes began to well once more from the view beneath her, she was mesmerized. her thumb found its way to your clit, matching the pace of her thrusts. your moans were like music to her ears, she smiled as it began to get harder to push inside of you from how hard you were clenching around her, her free hand gripping your hip with enough force to leave bruises. she only fucked into you harder, your legs wrapping around her torso, “i’m so sorry mommy, i just wanted to make you feel good.” she looked up at your face, the tears escaping her eyes as single droplets fell onto your stomach. you smiled between moans, “it’s okay baby, just make mommy cum, yeah?” she nodded fervently and went back to focusing on your pleasure, making quick work of your command. you began to feel that warm sensation tightening up, “bils!- fuck!- i’m gonna!-“ she smiled eagerly as your entire body shook, she continued to hit that sweet spot inside of you as you rode out your high. your chest heaving as your back finally sunk back against the bed. she slipped her strap out with ease, hurriedly taking it off to undo your wrists. “i’m so sorry.” you sat up and rubbed your wrists, you smiled and thumbed over her cheek. “i know sweet girl, you did such a good job.”

hope you guys enjoy! 🖤

let me know if you want more of loser sub top billie i have so many ideas 🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️

send any reqs to my inbox! 📥

💋: @vharperr @brat-at-the-disco @thechipbetweenyourcarseat @dollyvuu @greenbttrflyy @eilishslut @karaeilishh @moralesluvr @anna-geeeezzzz

masterlist taglist

[d1xonss]

The olive theory

If one person in a relationship likes olives, the other shouldn’t, signifying that opposites attract best.

Daryl had never been one to believe fate or anything of that sort when you had first met him. After all, he was very set in his ways. He wasn’t the kind of man to trust in destiny or certain events happening in the right place at the right time. From his stubborn mindset, he believed things just sort of…happened. Not because it was necessarily meant to be, but because of the free will that everyone possessed.

And he had certainly never heard of this so called theory until you had brought it up to him randomly, catching him completely off guard.

“Do you want my tomato?” you asked, holding it out for him to take as you had previously taken it out of your burger.

He paused mid chew, raising an eyebrow at your offer before shrugging his shoulders. “Alright, give it here.”

You smiled as you carefully handed it over, watching for a moment as he ate it effortlessly, knowing that you on the other hand couldn’t eat the fruit without gagging. The thought then caused a lightbulb to appear on top of your head.

“Hey…have you ever heard that theory that if one person likes a food and the other can’t stand it, it means you’re compatible?”

The burley man again stopped eating as he heard your question. Looking at you as if you claimed the sky was purple. “Huh?”

You laughed softly, “You know, like with tomatos,” you used as an example, “I don’t like them, but you do, so you can always have mine so they won’t go to waste.” you spoke with a smile before quickly taking another bite.

Daryl huffed at your statement, “What kinda dumbass theory is that?” he said without thinking, “Ya mean to tell me we’re soulmates or somethin just because we got different opinions on a burger toppin?”

Your face dropped upon hearing his somewhat careless words. You knew it was a dumb theory, one that may not even be true. But still, it meant something to you knowing that the two of you could be connected in more ways than one.

“I don’t know…” you mumbled with a shrug, wishing you hadn’t even brought it up.

Immediately he felt terrible for how he reacted.

Seeing you so hopeful about it, it obviously brought you some kind of joy, one that he instantly seemed to squash. Just because he may not believe in something so small such as that, didn’t mean that you couldn’t. The sight of you just staring at your food a bit sadly tugged at his heartstrings. He racked his brain for a moment as he wanted to make it up to you, wanted you to know that he didn’t mean it like that at all. When suddenly, he had an idea.

You bit the inside of your cheek as the silence grew thicker, unknown to the things going on in his head. That is until you felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder, looking over to see Daryl handing out a pickle that he had picked off his own burger.

Your soft gaze glanced back and forth between his face and his hand, hearing him clear his throat, “…Ya like pickles, right?” he asked, his voice much softer than before.

You nodded slowly, “…Do you?”

He shook his head, “Nah…never really saw the appeal.” he admitted almost sheepishly, hoping you’d see what he was trying to say.

A slow smile was brought to your face when you heard his small confession, gently taking the pickle from him before popping it in your mouth.

His chest filled with a certain warmth upon seeing your smile light up your face, silently knowing he’d do just about anything to see it happen again and again.

“So…that mean we’re compatible?” he asked quietly, tilting his head a bit.

“Mhm…looks like it.” you said with a knowing glance.

AN ~ Hii<3 This is definitely a very random little headcanon, but once I thought of it, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I figured it was very cute and accurate to how Daryl would react to the beloved olive theory.

Also sorry for disappearing for a hot minute, I haven’t had much motivation to write recently, but i’m back:) And for those of you who read my series, the next chapter will be out tomorrow, promise<3 xoxox

[merakiui]

OHSHC AU where reader breaks a precious arrifact from one of the dorms maybe all but instead of repaying the huggeeee debt with hours of labour she has to pay with her body and can’t refuse :)

every kink in the book is used as she’s pleading with the dorm leaders for mercy, crying about forgiveness but all they can hear is that her mouth is very wide open and needs to be replaced with a cock or gag </3 poor reader doesn’t have time to take birth control! and none of the students at nrc know what condoms are oopsies!! imagine savanaclaw in their heat … oh boy rip her pussy! she’ll never know a peaceful day until graduation but even then one of the dorm leaders might take her with them to spend forever with them

Omg yes,,, ohshc au, but it's freaky and full of sex because those scheming boys now have a girl in their debt and that opens so many possibilities. Their methods in dealing with you would all be different, of course, but in the end you're probably getting dicked down either way. <3

I think Riddle's punishments are probably more old-fashioned. If you can't fix whatever it is you broke, then you will write lines stating that you will be more careful, that you won't break anything again, etc. Or he'll make you write an essay detailing why exactly you're sorry, why you ought to be forgiven, etc. T_T really, these are just punishments his own mother gave to him in order to push him to do better in his studies. Riddle doesn't know any better.

He thinks differently when someone like Ace or Cater offhandedly and jokingly remarks how unlucky you must feel. Good thing their Housewarden isn't some pervert, otherwise he could totally force you to give him blowjobs whenever he wanted all under the guise of "repaying your debt." Riddle is appalled. He would never stoop so low! This is Heartslabyul, not Octavinelle. >:( still, the basic concept is just a little appealing. So maybe he's got a small crush on you, and maybe it would be easier to get you to spend time with him if you had no other choice. He makes you join him for tea parties in the gardens, for games of croquet, etc. His hope is that you'll warm up to him and not feel so rigid around him. orz

Leona probably doesn't care as much about the artifact as someone like Riddle might. It has no sentimental value to him personally, so why should he be worried? Besides, it was pretty old anyway. But that doesn't mean you can get off completely innocent. You're the reason he's got more work on his plate now, what with having to deal with the Headmage squawking at him about it. He allows you to choose between two punishments: either you become Savanaclaw's errand girl and do much the same work Ruggie does around the dorm, or you spend every night literally warming his bed (i.e. let him use you as a pillow if you're going to be good and still and quiet). If you want an easy way out, you'll choose the latter. Besides, his bed is comfortable, big enough for two. And as long as you aren't a pain, he doesn't mind. (You are definitely going to be warming his bed in other ways. The innuendo in his words is not lost on Leona.)

Azul...... of course he's slimy and sleazy about it. Oh, you poor soul. How is he ever going to get over this dear, priceless artifact that you have so carelessly broke? Jade is there to oh-so-helpfully inform you of its market price and what it could currently go for if sold. And Floyd's there to poke fun at the unfortunate predicament you've found yourself in. But Azul is a resourceful octopus. He makes a grand show of contemplating what he should do with you just to watch you squirm nervously, as if he hasn't already planned it out from the very beginning. He'll capitalize on your being a girl and have you work the floor in the lounge. There's always an increase in tips and sales when you're serving the customers, and why wouldn't there be? A cute, helpless girl in a school full of boys is an appealing sight.

He's irritating, but he isn't callous! Jade and Floyd are there to look out for you in case any of the patrons get it in their heads that they ought to appreciate you through touch instead of simply staring. Your uniforms change with every new event Mostro Lounge holds. Azul knows his target audience well because he also fits into that same group LOL. So maybe the sight of you in frilly uniforms is appealing. Sue him. >_< he wants you so badly, and luckily (with you being indebted to him) he has you all to himself. :) after hours are a very fun time at the lounge.

Kalim doesn't see what the issue is. He's not mad, so please don't cry!!! �� you'll make him cry if you're not happy... Jamil is just about ready to pass out while he calculates just how bad this is. And here Kalim is, not caring in the slightest! T_T but Kalim is more sympathetic towards you, not the vase you broke. Besides, he can just get another one. :D no harm done at all! There really isn't any punishment to be had. If you insist on repaying your debt, Kalim tells you it's all water under the bridge.

Jamil is the only one who insists this is a good idea, and if Jamil thinks it's fine then Kalim agrees. So now you're sort of,,, there in Scarabia. Jamil puts you to work when Kalim isn't around, but when Kalim is there he spoils you rotten. The complete opposite of a punishment. There's definitely dubious shadows to this, though. For all of the delicious foods and alcohol you consume, you wake with hazy memories, only ever recalling you looked into the eyes of...something before you fell. Was it a snake? Maybe... but Kalim is always there in the morning to smother you in affection, so maybe it's not so bad.

You are Vil's newest pet project. He goes in with metaphorical fork and knife and cuts into you with his criticism, all of which is completely valid. You were clumsy when you broke that artifact. You weren't paying attention to your surroundings. You were completely oblivious, so in your own world. Epel would feel bad for you, but finally he gets to relax just a little bit now that Vil's eyes are mostly off of him and centered on you. Vil is going to put you through a reformation of sorts. You will come out of it your best, most elegant self! A wonderful improvement from your earlier carelessness. Only then will he forgive your previous transgression.

You and Vil get on like oil and water. That is, you don't mix at all. You are subjected to curses left and right because Vil is so strict. Suddenly, you can't eat certain foods and if you try to sneak them you find they've all been cursed (courtesy of Vil). If you try to slack on the work he has you do, even when you know he's not around, somehow word gets back to Vil. That creepy hunter always seems to know everything you do even when you're alone. It's troubling. Vil likes to think his heart is an iron fortress, so it's impossible to fathom when he falls for you first (and so hopelessly, at that)!

Idia doesn't put as much value in that artifact as he does in his own anime collection. If you broke something from his collection that was limited edition, he'd be far more upset (and then proceed to pull out the second one he got as back-up for this very specific moment). But this is an easy fix, really. He has the technology to make it good as new and, if that can't be done, he can always build a new one. Upgrades are important and necessary in some cases, especially when things get too outdated. It's a little awkward having a real 3D girl in his room all the time, though. >_< kick his ass in the twst equivalent of Smash and he's looking at you in a completely different light (hearing you trash talk him is so arousing; he's never been more hard).

Let's say the thing you broke in this case was a gargoyle. You're not sure how it happened, but it's headless now and Malleus is just staring silently at you. You can't read the emotions on his face, but with the way Sebek is shouting at you to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness you think you're about to be burnt to a crisp. It's so uneasy and awkward, and all you can do is apologize profusely, insisting you didn't mean to break it. It's Lilia who comes to your rescue: "Now, now, Malleus. You'll scare the poor child if you keep frowning so. Mistakes happen, do they not?" Silver also comes to your aid, adding that it wasn't your intention to break this gargoyle. It was an accident.

So now here you are, the second member of the Gargoyle Studies Club, accompanying Malleus for club activities while he teaches you all about gargoyles so that you can gain a better appreciation for them. It was Lilia's idea in the first place. He is Malleus's unofficial wingman. One way or another, you're going to find yourself alone in the woods with Malleus while Lilia is in the bushes belting out "romantic" love ballads from the old ages. T_T someone put peepaw to bed... at the very least, it lessens the awkward tension between you and Malleus, and it even gets the both of you laughing.

[wave2tyun]

meddle about | ☆

pairing: idol!yeonjun x idol!reader

genre: idol!au, best friends to lovers, some fluff but also a bit suggestive (?) towards the end

prompts: – “you’re blushing”

– “i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now”

warnings: none!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: the inspiration for this came from a wonho photoshoot behind the scenes clip that i randomly saw on ig reels........😟 i hope there aren't any mistakes left in this because i've been lazy and going only by trust when i repost fics asdbhja

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

you and yeonjun didn’t exactly meet…under the greatest circumstances.

as txt’s fame was continuously on the rise, there was no way you had never heard of yeonjun, or the name tomorrow x together. however, it was only when you had your comeback stage at inkigayo that you finally got to see yeonjun in real life, and not just on a screen.

you expected things to go smoothly. yeonjun was going to just take your interview, and then you were going to simply perform with your group on stage, as usual.  

realistically speaking, that was supposed to be it- nothing more than a polite, professional interaction, he was the mc after all. you didn’t even think you’d cross paths with him throughout the day again. but the lunch break had something -quite staggering- in store for you:

the inkigayo sandwich. those words still make you shudder.

as an idol, you had to have one, at least once. it was the talk of town after all, even though the combination of egg, crab and strawberry jam- all squished together between 3 pieces of white bread- didn’t exactly sound appealing to you.

you gulped as you looked at the piece of food in your hands; the smell wasn’t that appetizing either, and you wondered how it was possible for them to have such high sales for a shitty product.

you didn’t want to do it, but the thought of wasting your money without at least having a bite was haunting you. you closed your eyes, anticipating the worst outcome imaginable as the sandwich came closer and closer towards your mouth.

“hey- at least remove that paper before you start eating” one of your members said, making you frown. paper? what paper? the ingredients of the sandwich were already weird enough, what did they add that paper for?

confused, you opened your eyes again, a small note had been carefully placed somewhere between the plastic wrapper and the bread. grossed out, you removed it, moving towards the trash can to throw it away, only to get a glance of a phone number written on the back of it, making you stop in your tracks.

‘call me ;) - choi yeonjun’

now, you see- you only knew that the inkigayo sandwich was famous, you didn’t know why it was famous. 

you angrily searched for choi yeonjun around the cafeteria, shoving the sandwich towards his chest once you found him “what the fuck is this?” you hissed appaled by his actions. not sparing him a single moment to respond, you instantly got into a rant about how you were ‘put in danger’ by him for placing something (almost) inedible in your lunch.

he stared at you with big eyes and raised eyebrows, panicking that you’d blow this out of proportion even more if he excused himself before you were done blowing off some steam. he knew very well not to argue with a sleep deprived person who was also hungry.

“that actually wasn’t meant for you…” he muttered in the end, biting his cheek.

“oh.”

on the way back to the dorms, you swore you’d never step foot back into inkigayo ever again, or at least not until yeonjun stepped down from his position as an mc.

despite the seemingly traumatic event, you still kept the piece of paper containing his number, jam stain and all. you fiddled it around your fingers as you rolled around in bed, unable to fall asleep. it was way past midnight, and the remorse you felt for not having apologised to yeonjun was keeping you wide awake. you had been too embarrassed to utter any more words after hearing his reply and used the first opportunity -which was a member calling out for you- to leave the room. 

the guilt was eating you up, and, in the end, you decided it was best to at least say sorry to him through text. and so you did- not exactly expecting much besides getting blocked by him. 

turns out yeonjun found the situation more amusing rather than infuriating. he accepted your apology with ease, and you promised that you’d buy him lunch the next time you visit inkigayo, as emotional compensation.

yeonjun, however, lied to you that day. the phone number in the sandwich was, in fact, meant for you. he heard from his seniors that ‘back in the day’, this was a particularly popular method to start dating between idols. when it was announced that you’d perform on the day he was mc-ing, he found his chance, took it, then pretty much failed miserably. his attempt at getting to know you better was somewhat saved by your apology text. after the whole ordeal, he decided that it was better to take it step by step and develop his friendship with you before dipping his toes into the dating scheme once again.

bit by bit- yeonjun began to reveal his flirty nature. first, he started bringing food and drinks to your company whenever you told him you had to stay up late, practicing overnight. then, he made sure to always compliment how you looked in music videos or album teasers, sometimes even sending coffee trucks to the filming sites to support you. finally, he started bringing you flowers whenever you were done with comeback stages. the change in his attitude was making you question the status of your relationship. still, knowing how risky this all was, you decided it was foolish to jump to any conclusions- although a part of your heart did cling tightly onto the hope that he did this because he saw you as something more than a friend.

it was no surprise to the public eye that the two of you were close friends in the industry. so, when elle korea wanted a photoshoot between a pair with good chemistry, yeonjun ran to his managers, begging to convince some of the higher-ups to recommend the two of you. not a single soul in the company was able to resist him, so he successfully scored the spot. however, you were only informed that you received an offer for the photoshoot, not that yeonjun had been involved in this whole ordeal.

the concept was not quite what you were expecting.

when you heard the words “a pair with good chemistry” you were expecting a fun, bubbly photoshoot, something colorful maybe- not a sensual, romantic theme. you choked on your spit when they showed you the outfit you were supposed to wear, then choked again when you saw yeonjun’s outfit: black pants and a blue satin button-up shirt that had more than 3 buttons left open, exposing the skin of his chest. 

and -as if the revealing clothes weren’t enough- there was one more detail left that would supposedly “tie this all together”: a kiss mark. on yeonjun’s neck. 

the staff handed you a tube of red lipstick, shoving you and yeonjun in a private dressing room before you could even process the situation.

you stole a look at yeonjun, who pursed his lips, trying to contain his laugh as he made eye contact with you.

“did you know about this?” you asked him with a serious face, pointing the lipstick towards him. why were you the only one baffled here?

yeonjun couldn’t help but let out tiny squeaks as he struggled calm down, your shocked, accusatory expression all too entertaining for him “no” he snickered “why? are you nervous? think you can’t do it?” he crossed his arms.

the attitude with which he said that only earned him a scoff from you “of course i can do it” you said as you walked towards the mirror. once you were in front of it though, you were suddenly way more aware of how sweaty your palms were getting, hands trembling a bit as you put the lipstick on.

yeonjun was never one to shy away from physical touch. you were used to receiving hugs from him, sometimes even having him hold onto your hand or arm, swinging them playfully whenever you walked together. but this? this felt…different. 

intimate. 

it was like a possible breach within your friendship. and while you weren’t exactly nervous about the situation itself, you were definitely afraid about what was going to happen between the two of you after.

yeonjun was already behind you once you finished putting on the makeup and turned around. the playful smirk he’s had ever since you both entered the room never left his face. he lightly quirked up an eyebrow, provoking you to make the move- curious to see if your earlier statement was the truth or whether they were just empty words. unsure what to do with your hands, your fingers didn’t let go of the lipstick tube, playing with it in a restless manner as you inched closer towards yeonjun’s neck. the citrus fragrance of his perfume still lingered on the skin, and you closed your eyes as you left a quick kiss there, the touch too light to leave a mark visible enough. 

“you’re blushing” yeonjun chuckled, tilting his head as he looked in the mirror behind you, clicking his tongue “that’s not right…” he muttered. his gaze was fixated on your face for a few seconds, admiring the pink dusting your cheeks. then, they trailed off to your hands, snatching the item to cover his own lips in that same crimson color. “this is how you do it” he whispered, dipping his head down, arms sneaking around your waist simultaneously. warm breath on your neck, chest flushed against yours, yeonjun could feel your racing pulse underneath his lips as he pressed a long kiss on the hot skin. the chilling sensation running down your spine had your hands unconsciously reaching out for his forearms, holding onto them to keep yourself steady and not slip away from his grasp. 

“i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now” he breathed out, fingers tracing lines along the small of your back. seeing that you weren’t pushing him away, his face didn’t leave its close spot to your body. instead- his lips travelled along the skin, pressing featherly kisses along the way- nibbling, lightly biting, the red marks blooming being hidden away by the lipstick covering them.

the mirrors, the vanity lights, even the photoshoot itself, they were all turning into a hazy memory as you were becoming more and more enthralled by him. completely absorbed by his touch on your body, you felt like you wouldn’t be able to breathe properly again until he carried on with the next step. “jun-” the sound of the nickname was enough to send an electrifying jolt throughout his heart. his own breathing was irregular as he stopped, distancing himself a bit from your neck to lift his head up, plush lips and smudged lipstick coming into sight. 

“we’re not leaving this room until you kiss me on the lips”

taglist: @huekalover3000

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Yeah, I'd like a date night fic with Xinyan, Ayaka and Furina. Hold the skibidi and let it rizz until it mews please and thank you

(Genshin Impact) Date Night with Xinyan, Ayaka, and Furina

I still don't even understand any of those words.

Xinyan decided to eat at Wanmin Restaurant with S/O for their date.

She doesn't really dress all that different, but she does at least put the effort to make sure her hair is neater, as well as grabbing some perfume!

Though that one was a bit of a moot point, considering they'd both smell like food by the end of the night, but that was beside the point.

Sitting across from them on the table, Xinyan seems more energetic than usual as she bounces in her seat, chatting away with S/O about whatever came to mind.

(S/O) "Hah, you seem really excited tonight, Xinyan."

(Xinyan) "How could I not? We finally get to eat together after like, two weeks! Course I'd get all giddy with ya! Heck, I even did something special for tonight! Did ya notice?"

(S/O) "Your...makeup?"

(Xinyan) "...Hm. Guess I didn't adjust my hair enough. Explains why I still scare the daylights outta people."

S/O reached over the table to grab Xinyan's hand, suddenly turning her attention to her lover.

(S/O) "You're perfect the way you are to me."

Xinyan's mouth drops a little at the compliment before chuckling and squeezing S/O's hand back.

(Xinyan) "Jeez, when did ya become such a smoothtalker, S/O?"

The rest of the night passes far too quickly for XInyan's liking, though that compliment in particular stuck with her for many weeks after, never failing to make her into a blushing mess everytime she thought of it.

Ayaka's desire for date was quite simple: a walk through the streets of Inazuma with her S/O.

But due to her status as a Kamisato, the date would no doubt end up needlessly complicated and busy.

Especially depending on the status of S/O's birthplace and occupation.

Instead, the date ends up becoming far more relaxing, a walk through nature together.

With no one to see them, Ayaka doesn't have to worry about trying to keep prim and proper and simply be a normal girl.

Her thoughts are promptly interrupted when S/O gives her a light peck on the cheek, stunning Ayaka as she turns bright red.

(S/O) "Thinking again, Ayaka?"

Quickly being brought to the present, Ayaka gives them a smile as they continue walking under the moonlight on the trail near the Kamisato Estate.

(Ayaka) "My apologies, I was not ignoring you, was I?"

(S/O) "Nope, you just looked really cute."

Ayaka giggled at their teasing and shifted her arm to hold them closer, her smile growing bigger by the second.

(Ayaka) "T-Thank you, S/O."

Furina's idea for a date night was to:...Honestly, she didn't really know what sounded good.

They could always go out and watch a play together, go to some fancy restaurant, or something along those lines.

But S/O made a suggestion that honestly sounded much more appealing.

(S/O) "We could just have some dessert at home and cuddle!"

And now, Furina got to enjoy some rather delicious cake, with S/O feeding her a bite every now and then as she savored the flavor.

All the while, she sat on the couch enjoying the peace and quiet she had worked hard to earn for herself.

Furina sighed in content as she snuggled closer to S/O, a small but tired smile growing.

(S/O) "Furina? I think you got something on your face."

Furina's eyes widened at that and a hand moved to wipe a smudge of icing off-

Before S/O's hand gently grabbed her chin and faced it toward them, kissing the corner of her lip and then brushing their thumb at the spot.

Leaving her completely stunned for a moment.

(Furina) "I-...T-Thank you for getting that." ahem!

Though she was completely flustered now, she'd be lying if she said that didn't make her heart skip a beat.

...Or several.

[wakeup01]

A Matching Pair

Goddammit. Why does he always have to argue about it. Can’t he ever put himself in my shoes and try and be more understanding.” I mumble to myself as my boyfriend fades out of sight down the empty train car. I sigh and stare out the window of the train, listening to the world outside shudder past.

“This space free?” Comes an excited voice, I look up to see a fit young guy casually drop onto the seat opposite me. He looked no older than 22 and was outfitted for some kind of sports game, with a designer tracksuit sagging off his hips, a red jersey that pressed against his lean stomach and a glossy puffer jacket.

“Uhhh…not really.” I remark, side-eying his trendy permed hair, perfectly styled and faded. I had never really understood the appeal of…‘fuckboys’; rich but devoid of personality - aside from the prepackaged one they adopt. In this case even I had to admit that he was rather attractive, in a blunt, dumb ‘grammer is for losers’ sort of way. There was a casual air of confidence in the way he carried himself, narcissistic? Sure, but maybe a little ego didn’t hurt, especially in the bedroom.

Shame he obviously wouldn’t be a sub - he’d look nice around my cock, although I can picture my boyfriend tripping over himself to placate his every whim. The perks of this ‘open relationship’ we had seemed increasingly one sided. Ugh. I’m quickly reminded of our argument, and my indignation wins out over my misguided lust.

“Mate, you look proper mad.” He chuckles, kicking off his trainers. He stretches out his legs and rests them on the seat next to mine.

“Name’s Dominic and I’m not….mad.” My voice trails off.

“Uh oh. Who is she then blud?” He gestures at me with his hands, rattling the horde of bracelets that buried his wrists.

“He.”

“Pftt. I should ‘av guessed. It’s all the same to me. I’m Trev ‘btw’. You off to the gay convention?” There’s a wry smile that is hard to be angry at, in fact I feel strangely comfortable with him. He seemed like a good listener.

“Funny, but yes. Meeting our friend Nate there.” I cross my arms in a futile attempt to appear more dominant.

“Wait, they have those now?” My eyes squint at him. “Just fucking with you. I got a game the next town over. I’m a player.”

“Wow, you don’t say.”

“Maybe you’ve seen me play on the tele eh?” He puts on a face and flashes his shiny white teeth proudly.

“Sure…” He was in a professional team? Like I’d know.

“So spill, what’s the issue with yuh ‘boy’? His ‘bussy’ too small?” My mouth begins to move before I really get the chance to think about what I’m saying, or why I’m telling him at all.

“Ugh. He just never tries to see things from my perspective, he always expects me to play the ‘top’. About everything. And I don’t share his weird kinks.”

“TMI. Oh. You’re the top? And your name is Dom? ‘Lolz’. Is your boy called SUBastian?” He laughs mischievously. His brazen use of text speech was strangely endearing, something I thought impossible.

“Dominic. And no, his name’s Addy.” I correct, flatly.

“Uh huh. Yeah, and have you tried the same? See things from Addy’s point of view. Find equal ground right. Maybe I can help. It’s like when there’s a disagreement in our footy team.”

“I don’t think it’s quite the same thing…”

“Should give it a try Dom, see how it feels to be the sub. It can be fun to let someone else take charge. Easy too when you don’t overthink it. Go on, just lay back and relax.” Yes, I’m sure this will solve all our problems. I humour him anyway, resting my back against the seat’s cushion. Ten seconds pass in silence, just the hum of the train carriage throbbing rhythmically.

“This is stupid-“

“Shush.” Trev stares at me intently, trapping my eyes into his own. I don’t think to look away, why would I. He continues talking, I hear the words floating past me but don’t register what they are. It feels like minutes until his fingers snap in front of his face, and the spell is broken. He just smiles and waits expectantly for me to reply. His legs move from the seat next to me and I follow their movement.

“I—I guess.” I stutter, unsure of what I’m replying to, feeling slightly dizzy, like waking from a dream. For some reason my eyes seem drawn to his feet, now resting on the edge of my own seat, fidgeting between my thighs. I didn’t notice that they were sockless before… or that they were so big.

“Deeper.” He snaps his fingers again. My eyes are feeling so heavy, it’s becoming harder to keep them open. “Picture your boy sitting in your place. See it in your head.” I think about him, see his dreamy smile, like the one growing on my face. “So easy.” Trev repeats, my head nodding absently to his words. He adjusts and pushes his feet against my groin. Hmmf. I should tell him to stop. To stop…

“Uhh.” The dull sound leaves my lips instead of the words I wanted, the rubbing sensation fraying the edges of my thoughts.

Trev’s fingers fiddle at his pockets. He pulls out a vape stick and blows a huge bubblegum flavoured cloud of smoke into my face. The fumes flow through my open mouth and circle my head. His hands appear to be moving in slow motion, like everything was suddenly at half speed.

“Being in charge is exhausting huh. Much better to just relax and follow along, like your boyfriend would.” Yeah, he would probably do whatever this guy asked him to.

“I bet he’d rub my feet If I told him to.”

“Yeah.” I agree, wrapping my hands around Trev’s chunky feet - he definitely would. I run my fingers up and down his sole, picturing my boyfriend in this situation.

“Eyes up here fam.”

*snap*

I look back up at him, falling into his stare once more, entranced. My hands continue to massage him, passing over the curves and arches of his large feet. The shame of doing this in a public place completely lost on me. “Good foot boy.” I fail to hold back a moan at the validation. Is this what it feels like? It feels…nice, good.

I sense my body start to slowly lean forward of its own volition. Trev loudly exhales, his lips pursing. Another dose of bubblegum mist fogs my view. “What else would your boy do?”

“Don’t know…”

“Bet he’d love to sniff my lush feet hm?”

Probably, I think. He was way more kinky than me about such things. This guy’s feet were quite ripe after all, maybe if I got a bit closer…no—no what am I doing? I begin to pull back when his intense eyes narrow at me.

“It’s okay. I can see you want to take a whiff too. Boy.” His inflection changed on the last word. There was something about the way he said it. Powerful.

“My—my boyfriend will be-“ My voice cracks.

“Put your fucking nose here. And sniff my cheesy feet.” He orders, accentuating each word, dropping all pretence - his finger snapping and pointing down.

It’s like a switch being pressed in my head. The words cut like a knife right through any lingering hesitation. My face lowers and inhales deeply, sucking up his harsh scent.

“Yeah.” I mumble from behind his feet in a daze.

“Yeah what?”

*snap snap*

“Yes sir.” I don’t know why I said it, it just slipped from my lips and then it was too late to take it back. Too late to stop, as my face leans down to his foot like a magnet. Too late to pretend I didn’t want a sniff, my nostrils breathing the thick musky air.

“A good start boy.” I tentatively take a couple more whiffs, a part of me still attempting to hold back, feeling self aware. He rolls his eyes and shoves his feet forcefully into my face, my nose pushed snugly between his big toe. His stench shrouds my head like a cloud. The concept of ‘disgusting’ faded to nothingness.

“Salt and vinegar flavour, your fav.” Trev asserts. It became true the moment the words left his lips. Salty and eye watering. My favourite. My cock liked it too apparently.

“You look so much better under me, worshiping me - where you belong. Keep going.” And I did. Breathing deeply, in and out. In and out. The heat from his foot radiates outwards, travelling down my body, seeping into my skin. “Wouldn’t your boy agree to be at my feet at all times If that’s what I wanted?” He—I would. I want nothing else.

“Of course sir.” I say, unaware that the words would seal my fate.

Something is changing. A shift in weight. My whole body starts to feel lighter, filling with air. My skin itches, a rash forming across it’s surface - bleaching every inch an even, clean white. The rash crawls down my chest, flattening my modest set of abs, leaving everything it touches incredibly soft, absorbent and flexible. Tiny strands of fuzzy cotton fabric poke out from each pore; the changes showed no sign of stopping.

Everything is happening all at once, alarms try and go off in my brain but it’s preoccupied swimming in a musky drunken stupor. My feet seem to leave the floor as my form inexplicably shrinks, the length of my arms folding inwards as my body simplifies.

“Look at you bruv. You were easy as fuck.” I gaze up at him, his smug face towering over me, looking so far away. A puff of vape smoke floats down towards me, particles dissolving on my cushioned skin. The sweet aroma mixes with the smell of his sour feet. “Just one look into my eyes and you were done. Get socked bro.”

Trev started to appear bigger and bigger, his feet dwarfing my new size, now taking up my whole view. It was like my essence was being pulled around his foot. My mouth opens and his toes slip effortlessly inside, stretching me out and making themselves at home. The rest of his foot follows, his ankle resting at my opening. It sets off my gag reflex momentarily, before feeling perfectly natural, like I was tailor made for his foot.

“Sorry bud, they’re a size 13.”

The taste of his potent sole explodes into me. I’m violently shaken out of my trance-like haze, the world around me speeds up. I try and desperately pull away, lucidity returning like a slap to the face. Why am I on the floor? Why is his foot in my mouth?! Oh shit oh shit!

“Get socked!” Trev yells enthusiastically. “Get fucking socked!”

Control is slipping away. My skin pulls taut around his foot, the fabric digging between his toes. It feels as though every part of me is pressed against him, his warmth surrounding me. My new shape settles into place, defined by his smooth curves.

I can’t move my ‘body’ at all, but all my senses still persist…somehow. My blurry vision clears, a sudden shift in view makes me disoriented. It’s as if I have a pov of the room from the bottom of Trev’s foot, he lowers it to the floor and my worldview erratically drops to carpet level before going dark. The material of the carpet brushes against me, the strange sensation is embarrassingly pleasing; bringing attention to the absence of my cock. Relief now seemed impossible.

“Socked. Man, I love that initial freshness. Tbh, it makes the inevitable even more fun.”

He pushes the weight of his foot into me, his sweaty soles sticking to my tight fabric body. It feels humiliating to be literally stuck on the ground. His stench clings to me, soaking me in his foot musk. The imprint of his toes yellowing my surface. It’s like having his foot down my throat, perpetually swallowing his mind numbing sweat.

“Mmm that’s good, you hang so tightly. A perfect fit. Hope you like sucking on my rank fucking toes. Cuz now you’re just my stinky ripe sock. Fucking idiot. Can’t wait to get you worn in.”

That’s not possible, I can’t be a sock…it defies logic. This is a nightmare I’m about to wake up from, any second now…any second…

He pulls at me and stretches my ribbed opening up and over his tracksuit, stuffing the silky material into me.

“So much more… pliable.” Trev wiggles his toes and my body conforms to it’s every movement, lodging in between each one. I try and desperately struggle, do something. I manage to achieve a light wriggle that only helps pull myself tighter against his skin.

Trev lifts his foot and points it towards the window, the dark night air rushing past outside. A clear reflection echoes back. I stare at it in disbelief, wanting to blink the reality from my eyes. A caricature of my shocked face is crudely printed on the underside of the sock - trapped frozen in time, with the word ‘SNIFF’ sewn into the fabric. The material was already beginning to discolour. Logic or not, That’s all I am now - a cheap white sock. His sock. An object.

“Basic as fuck boy makes basic as fuck sock. Lit.” He points out, smirking in the reflection while he checks out his new kit. Trev puts his feet back up on the seat, letting me watch the empty space where I had been sitting - back when I was more than just his property.

“Enjoy the view, while you can cheesy. You’re going to spend most of your time staring at the floor, or the inside of my fumigated sneaker.” What joy. I hadn’t even thought about that, about what comes next. Surely he didn’t plan to keep me like this? “Hmm. I think the name Dominic is a bit too fancy for you now, how about…sock. Simple, to the point.” Trev steps me back against the ground, his heel slightly raised. “Suits you, don’t you think sock?”

Light footsteps thud from down the carriage, getting closer and closer. “Hey babe. I wanted to apologise, Nate thinks—who are you? Umm where’s my boyfriend?” Addy had returned, this was my chance.

I wanted to shout and cry out to him, to get his attention anyway possible. I conjured a barely audible rustle and then nothing. All it did was reinforce how small and subservient I now felt, forced to listen to my owner in silence.

“Oh he’s not gone far, cutie. Sit.”

I hear my boyfriend stammer from above. All it took was one compliment and he turned to putty. In most cases it was endearing, but right now I needed him to be anything but agreeable.

I feel the weight on me shift. I glide through the air again, Addy’s expression coming into view across from me, from us.

���He’s…” Addy looks me over curiously.

“Yep. He got socked.”

“Gosh. That’s…hot.” His cheeks blush.

WHAAT! You’ve got to be kidding me! Damn, why did he have to be so kinky when I need him to rescue me. I can recognise his horny face a mile away.

“Now it’s your turn. Look at my eyes.” Trev’s voice taking on a more serious tone. Addy’s eyes dart up, quickly becoming ensnared by Trev’s hypnotic gaze. No, please snap out of it. “Good, keep looking. Relax. Let me give you the deets. In a few minutes you’re gonna have the privilege of having my foot up your arse, sucking up my sweat as a thin piece of fabric like your bf. You’ll be my sock puppet, controlled completely by my foot. You can already feel my toes pushing at your mind. You want it. Say it.” Trev waves me back and forth, hypnotically.

“But…mmm,”

“Say it.”

*snap*

“I — I want to be your smelly sock puppet. Pleaseee Master.” He moans in a trance.

“Course you do.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Addy’s shorts were noticeably tenting, a wet spot forming at the tip. He was getting off on the idea! “Sock puppet. Look at your boy, read the word sewn into him. You know what to do.”

Addy’s head leans towards me, eclipsing my vision. His huge nose presses up against me, his eyes dilating. I can feel his wavering breath brush at my cotton skin. He did exactly what the sock - me, said to and sniffed. The hesitant whiffs quickly devolve into enthusiastic huffing.

“Babeee. Hmmf. You smell so niceee. Mmmm.”

“That’s an obedient sock sniffing sock puppet.” Trev assured him. ”Now onto the other one.” Addy moves away from my view, I can only see him shuffling at the edge of my narrow locked vision. “Ready to join him?”

“Yes masterrrr.” Addy’s voice slurs monotonously. “Enter me and take control. We’re both yours.” Like hell we are!

“I want you to lick this foot clean like a dirty dog before it becomes your new home.” I hear him start to slobber all over Trev. “Good puppet. Get socked.”

The sound of my boyfriend licking and moaning in heat continued for what felt like an eternity. There was nothing I could do but be suspended in the air like my owner deemed appropriate.

“It’s time to become a puppet. Turn around and spread that cute bubble butt. There we go, feel my foot enter your rear, filling you up, fucking your tiny brain. Ufff. Tight. Fuck. Let’s stretch you out, nice and wide. Ahh that’s better. Your hole clamping around my ankle. Yeah. Becoming soft and flexible. A sock puppet. A sweat guzzling, empty-headed, dirty filthy sock puppet.” I can just about see Addy’s head, craning back in pleasure as he’s foot fucked.

“Butt feels…Hnng my—my body…” Addy pants desperately.

“Now belongs to my fat fucking foot. SOCK. PUPPET.

“Pu—puppet.” Addy’s bobbing head pulls out of sight, compressing around the invader inside him.

“Sock puppet. Surrendered all free will. Sock puppet. Commanded by feet. What are you?”

“I’m a sock… a sock puppet. Mmmmf…I’m a soooommfff.”

His voice goes silent. I can only assume he’s turning into a perfect match for Trev’s other foot. The thought horrifies me, but also gets me a little excited. I glimpse a pristine white shape shudder next to me. Trev sits up and places both feet flat on the ground, in order to admire his new additions to the collection.

“Hell yeah. You two make the cutest pair. Glad I could help bring you ‘together’. And no more worries about disagreements ‘lmao’. Go on, kiss and make up.”

Trev bends his legs and points me at Addy’s new form, his lustful face captured on the socks sole; the word ‘LICK’ was immortalised above. I was for sniffing and he for licking, it made a bizarre kind of sense to my addled brain. He brings his feet together and rubs us both against each other, our ‘faces’ pressed closely. My mind blurs, the friction bringing searing white hot bliss. God it’s amazing. He was so soft! Please more. More! Babe. Don’t stop. Get socked!

Trev eventually pulls us apart, I watch the folds of Addy’s loose fabric pull taut, finalising his transformation. He made a cute sock, just like me. We were now on equal footing. Wait, what am I thinking? This is insane, I don’t want this! Was I stuck like this? Would it be really so bad? No, stop.

I realised that the smell was permeating my thoughts, twisting them. Knowing that didn’t change how good it felt, how good his touch felt, his musk.

“Don’t worry, when I go to replace you I’ll be sure to sell you on as a pair to one of my foot sluts. Let’s be honest, as socks go, you’re kinda ‘mid’ at best.” The comment did nothing to reassure me about turning back to human. “Man you gay nerds are so dumb, none of you can resist my scent. It’s like you want to be part of my fit. Even my sneaks gave more of a struggle than you two lovebirds. All I need now is some new undies to stretch over my ass and hug my fat dong and balls. Know anyone?” Trev pauses and then laughs to himself.

As each minute passed my mind became more subdued, it was relaxing, becoming content. The part that was angry, defiant, was shrinking. A bubbling happiness was slowly expanding within me. I did my best to push it back but with my senses overwhelmed, it was a seemingly losing battle. Addy was probably already loving every second of it.

“Let’s have some fun. Which one of you will make a good cum sock? Who am I kidding, you’ll both be great. But for now…”

He peels me free from his foot, holding me limply in the air. For a moment I feel incredibly empty, already missing his warmth. The disappointment is short lived; I’m quickly filled out as he pulls me over a stiff pole. His cock. His glorious thick shaft. I’m forced to swallow it whole, it’s tip poking at my edges.

With his hand around me he wanks me furiously, using me as sleeve. ‘Don’t enjoy it’, I shout internally. This sucks. This sucks! It’s hard to ignore the pleasure it brings the both of us. Oh god I’m being stretched out by him completely. It sucks. Sucks… this…mmm. Faster. Go faster! Fill me! Cum inside me, mark me as yours!

My sexy owners pumping reaches a crescendo, now with both hands thrusting me up and down. One final tug. A grunt. A twitch. Thick copious splooge unloads right into me, flooding my interior. His fuckboy seed is absorbed into me, my cotton body sucking up every drop. A dark patch spreads across me and crusts over as it dries. The bitter taste lingers, like the cum was sat on my tongue.

“Fuck me, that was sweet. But enough fun.” Trev pulls me off his dick and janks me back over his foot, his toes push against my cum stained dark spot, still damp.

Trev’s phone starts to ring with some loud trap song. “Trev. Yeah. Yeah mate. Course, you fucka. Be arriving soon. Mint, I got me some new gear too. Ace. Uh huh…K, chat tomorrow.”

What would have normally been inane babble to me made a concerning amount of sense, like his identity was somehow rubbing off on me.

He stands up, dragging something over to him with his other foot. I’m lifted high into the air, tauntingly hovering over his beat up shoe. I can’t help but look down at my future smelly prison. I don’t think my mind can take any more…

It didn’t help knowing that the sneaker was once a guy, now heavily used. It was like seeing a glimpse of my own fate. Mmmm.

“Let’s get you acquainted.”

I see the trainer hurtle towards me as I’m lowered to the floor. My edges slide effortlessly into the pungent confines of his sneaker, the thick stale air engulfing me. I’m pressed against the stained sole and squelch against it’s moist surface; the outline of his foot clearly indented into the material. My vision goes pitch black.

The stench is blasted at me from all sides. Fuck me. I don’t stand a chance against it, my mind is drowned beneath its waves. Sinking below as new, more simple desires emerge.

There’s a muffled sound of an announcement playing overhead. “Guess this is where we get off lads. I should probably warn you, me mates and I have a footie match tomorrow. And I don’t plan on removing you, after that I expect you won’t even want to be turned back. Not that I ever planned to. I’m sure you stinkheads don’t object? Sorted.”

I didn’t object, in fact, I— I think I was looking forward to it. My printed face would probably be completely yellow by the end of it, as it should. Mmm.

The weight of his foot lifts as I feel myself rise from the floor and then just as quickly I’m pushed back down to the ground. My boyfriend being subject to the same in tandem. A second later and it happens again and then again, each step the strength of his body squishes me against the shoes insole, which sticks to my surface. And each time, my brain is submerged in a pleasant sweaty haze, scattering whatever dim thoughts I had left. The weight flattening my mind to sodden mush. Rewarding me for fulfilling my role as his smelly, mindless sock, us both huffing at our owners beautiful addictive feet. Together.

“Maybe we should stop off at that gay convention first, see how many noses we can get pressed against you two while you get sucked dry. Plus, we could find that friend of yours to get wrapped around my big sweaty butt.”

Yeahhh…I bet Nate would make a perfect pair of fucking briefs.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part three

authors note: hi! its me again. i had some free time and most of this chapter was completed, sans gaps and editing, so i figured why not?

thank you everyone for all of the kind words, like im still so floored just how many people like the random shit that comes from my head!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angsttttt, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 4.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

You were sixteen years old the first time you drank alcohol. Truly, a result of peer pressure. Alcohol never seemed as amazing as your friends tried to preach it to be, not with the amount of hair you’d held back while your friends retched their entire days consumption in toilet bowls. 

Just didn’t seem all that appealing.

And then it was homecoming, and your school won the game, qualifying them for state. The whole town was in celebration, but no one was as lit as the football team. And, of course, dating the quarterback at the time and as cheer captain, your presence was damn near a requirement. High school politics and all.

So, you, Amir, and your closest friends spent the night house hopping, partying at one place for a little while before moving on to the next. And at some point, at some stop, you’d been convinced to try a beer. Honestly, it was disgusting as fuck, but a small part of you didn’t want to be the one prude of your group, so you downed it. And then another. Followed by another. Which preceded one more. 

And by the end of the night, you truly were white girl wasted.

You thank God that you had good friends at the time who made sure you made it home safely, because you absolutely did black out. Amir did too, hence him not being the one responsible for your care.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was dart to the bathroom where you emptied your guts. The second? Panic. You were terrified of your mother finding out that not only had you engaged in underage drinking, literally violating the damn law, but you’d gotten so wasted that you blacked out. It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous. Your chest tightened and stomach coiled at how she would react if and when she realized what you’d done.

That was the most scared and nervous you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Well, up until now.

Because all you can focus, think, and obsess about is the fact that Joe will be in your state, in your town, in your damn apartment in a matter of hours. He’d text you in the middle of the night a screenshot of his flight information indicating an arrival time much earlier than you were hoping for. 

Dread swept over as you sent him a message asking if he would stay at the same hotel he usually used when visiting, not that it got much use. He typically stayed with you during his visits. But, you offered to meet him there instead, feeling more comfortable if you were out of this setting, not in your apartment that had some type of reminder of Callie in damn near every room.

It took longer than you liked for him to respond, and his answer only served to increase your anxiety and trigger some anger.

No. I’m coming to you.

That was it, no explanation to your follow up texts which you know he read cause bastard had his read receipts on. Just radio silence.

That pissed you off even more, because why the hell was he ignoring you? Wasn’t he about to come talk to you about something anyway?

Oh.

Your stomach tightens. Not knowing what the hell he wants is driving you insane. You know why you reached out to him, but why did he seem so keen on speaking to you? It’d been nearly five years, what could have happened to trigger this sudden desire to reconnect?

And why the hell did he respond so quickly to your initial message? Truthfully, you expected no response whatever, convinced that he’d probably changed numbers after his massive increase in fame. Or, for him to at least hit you with the ‘who is this’? But, he didn’t, he called you and immediately knew who you were.

A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. That must have meant he still had your number saved, the same way you still have his in your contact list.

You….you don’t know what to make of that, don’t know what to make of it at all.

“Mommy, why am I spending the night with Aunt Mariah?”

Callie’s soft voice temporarily eases you from your panic, granted it also makes you aware of how she’s clearly unhappy about this. You know why too. Sundays are always your ‘special days,’ where you spend the entire day together doing the most random of things from baking, to playing game, to random dance parties that sometimes result in neighbors politely asking you to keep the noise down. It’s a tradition, and this is the first time since starting said tradition that it won’t be happening. 

Closing up her drawer where you were just digging for some pajamas for her, you move to sit next to her on her bed. Her head is down as she plays with the stuffed animal in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this is our day, but mommy just has some business she has to take care of.”

She keeps her head down, voice low. “Can’t you do it tomorrow?

Fuck. You hate disappointing her. “I wish, baby, but it can’t wait.” More like he won’t wait. You’re not sure what you would have proposed regarding a time to discuss, well, Callie, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the next damn day. “Hey, how about this? Why don’t you and I stay home tomorrow and have a special special day on Monday?”

At that, her head lifts, eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. “Really?”

“Yup. Mommy can take some time off, and you can miss a day of school. It won’t kill us.” You rarely ever take time off as it is, mostly because a teacher’s salary isn’t anything to write home about. You have to work your ass off to keep a roof over your and Callie’s head. But also….you’re not even sure what frame of mind you’re going to be in following this meeting with Joe, so better safe than sorry. “But only if we can watch The Lion King first.”

Clearly pleased with this compromise, she offers you her pink finger. “Deal!”

You two seal the deal with a pinky swear as you hold her into your side and sigh heavily. You wish that you two could stay like this forever. “I love you, Callie. Okay? Always remember that.”

________

“He’s what?”

You anxiously chew on the nasty ass protein bar Mariah offered you after you realized you’d barely had anything to eat today. It was a part of the latest dietary plan she was following, probably something she found from one of those weird ass dieting groups she was a member of on Facebook.

You loved Mariah, dearly, but as you two grew older, especially after having her baby boy, Micah, she’d become increasingly insecure about her body. Always the smaller, thinner, more athletic of the two, you knew that she struggled with how much weight she’d put on over the years, especially when her plan to drop the baby weight didn’t pan out. You're not sure she’s lost any of it, to be honest. 

It wasn’t even a massive weight gain, and truthfully, you thought curves suited her well. But, it didn’t matter what you thought. What mattered was how she felt, which wasn’t the best, despite your best efforts to build up her confidence.

“He’s coming into town,” you finally answer, debating if you should offer her the rest of this grass in bar form. Why the hell is it so damn grainy?

“Today? He’s coming into town today?” You nod. “I’m sorry, I must have missed a couple chapters.”

“More like volumes,” you murmurs, sourly. It’s a great opportunity for you to set aside the dirt bar and explain to her everything she’d missed, from Callie’s initial inquiry to your calling him, to him sending you an itinerary for a flight arriving in roughly three hours at this point.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, careful of her volume despite Micah and Callie being occupied in the living room watching Bluey. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say to him? This is….this is bad, girl.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You lay your head against her kitchen island and force yourself to take three, big, deep breaths. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

You hear her exhale. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious, Mo. I—” You lift your head and try your best not to cry. Tears won’t do anything to help the situation. “I don’t know what he wants, but it’s obvious he’s angry with me already, and I can’t imagine when I tell him about Callie that he’s gonna feel any better.”

“You think he’ll be upset?”

“Of course, he will.”

“No, not that. I mean, yeah definitely, about that. But, I mean, you know….that you kept her.” It takes a minute for you to process what she’s asking, and it’s a question you hadn’t thought about in some time.

You’d been so consumed about how upset he would probably be that you kept Callie hidden from him that you hadn’t considered the alternative. What if he was more upset she even existed in the first place?

The thought alone takes you to a dark place. Feelings of rejection and abandonment that you yourself experienced and probably haven’t fully processed. Feelings you swore with your life you’d always protect Callie from. 

And always will.

“Then he’ll continue to not be a part of her life.” Your voice is sound and resolute. Mariah also recognizes that all too familiar look of determination that fills your face. 

“But what will you tell her then?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” A motto, a mantra, an oath. You’ve hit hard times before and always pulled through. This will be no different. Whatever's needed to keep your daughter from the trauma you experienced, you’ll do. No matter what.

Mariah knows better than to try to reason with you right now, not that there’s a ton of that needed. As a mother herself, she fully understands the intrinsic desire and borderline need to protect your child. She just also knows that you can be stubborn, and when you put your mind to something, nothing and no one can change it.

She just wonders how that’s going to bode over with whatever is about to go down.

You finish off the conversation with thanking her again for her last minute availability. You know you could have asked your mom as well, but she would have had questions, questions you don’t have the answers for nor the desire to explain just what’s happening.

Hell, you don’t even fully know what’s happening. 

As the time gets closer, you realize you need to get home and straighten up. Maybe vacuum or some shit. 

“Will you call me before I go to bed?”

“Of course, I will, mama.” You push back some of her hair, hating to see her sad again. She’s wearing that pout that you just realized is similar to Joe when he scowls. Shoving that from your head, you add, “and don’t forget about our big day tomorrow.”

That seems to win you a small smile, enough to make you feel less shitty about ditching her, even if it’s completely beyond your control. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“You bet your butt it is, kiddo!” You bring her in for another hug, holding her close and tight. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

“I love you too, mama.” 

Callie expressing her love for you is the soundtrack in your head as you drive home and even as you move around your apartment, dusting and vacuuming. You even clean the baseboard, something you’re sure you haven’t done since you first moved in when you were 22. 

You even make the controversial decision to leave up the photos of Callie or both you and Callie together in the living room and don’t really do much to move aside the indicators that a child lives here. Like her toy bucket near the TV or pink kiddy cups lined up near the kitchen sink. 

It doesn’t make much sense to you to hide these things when the sole reason you even reached out is to make him aware of why those things are there and who they belong to. You’ve stopped letting yourself try to figure out why he wants to speak to you or why he’s upset, realizing it was only making your anxiety ten times worse to the point where you felt like you were going to vomit.

Recognizing you have some time before he arrives, you decide to take a shower that’s much longer than necessary and will probably have you upset at yourself when you get your next water bill. 

But, it’s a nice distraction. Being fresh, clean, and moisturized is always a nice pick me up. Granted, you find it almost silly as you struggle to figure out what to wear. It’s Joe. Not Beyonce. Also, your outfit should be the last thing on your mind, as you eventually settle on a graphic shirt and some shorts. 

And realizing you have nothing else to do, you plop down on the sofa and wait. Wait for whatever the hell is about to happen once you open that door. Strangely enough, your anxiety seems to be settling. Granted, you wonder if that’s being replaced with denial, because you’re also starting to tell yourself that it won’t be that bad.

It may not be, but that’s not a good hill to die on. Preferred but not reliable. 

Needing another distraction, you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, liking a few posts of friends, family, and former classmates from both high school and college. It’s interesting seeing how everyone ventured down different paths, some homemakers, some business execs, and of course the aspiring musicians aka unemployed. 

And then there was you, the small town teacher raising her secret love child of a WWE superstar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. 

Your stomach twisting and turning tells you the anxiety is returning, but it doesn’t have as much time to heighten because the doorbell rings.

He’s here.

There’s this irritating yet quiet ringing in your ears and anchor on your chest, both of which make it harder to untangle your limbs and move off the sofa. It’s like watching yourself slowly make your way to the door, the tremble in your hand noticeable as you undo the lock and start to turn the knob. 

I love you too, mama.

Callie’s sweet, reassuring voice floods into your head providing the sweet relief needed to return from dissociation and snap back to reality. Eyes shutting, you take another deep breath and carefully swing the door open.

Truth be told, you weren’t quite sure what you expected to feel upon seeing Joe again, not sure what you should feel. This was a reunion, but only in name. Nothing about him being at your doorstep was warm and inviting. That much is obvious by his stoic, unreadable facial expression, which isn’t entirely out of character. Contrary and both similar to his current heel portrayal, Joe has always been more on the quiet side, not as easy to read. More open and warm once you get to know him.

You’d found that out firsthand.

Taking in his countenance, you can’t avoid observing the rest of him. He’s somehow even bigger than the last time you saw him in person, almost taking up your doorway, rippling muscles on full display in the plain, black fitted shirt he wears. His hair is pulled back as usual, clean line up, and beard fuller than you remembered him liking it. He’s aged, obviously, but well. Very well.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you step to the side, allowing him inside. You hate how you close your eyes as you inhale his scent.

He always did smell so damn good.

The physical distractions dissipate when he’s inside, the door locked, and it’s just the two of you. 

You notice almost immediately how he seems to be intent on keeping his back toward you, playing it off by taking in your apartment. Not that much, if anything, has changed. He can’t be that damn interested. 

It was painfully clear that Joe was already frustrated with you just by his texts, but his anger is even more palpable in person, borderline suffocating. 

Just what the hell did you do to upset him so much?

Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over, you decide that someone needs to say something because this silent shit is not working for you.

But then Joe angles his body, still not looking toward you but something else. And that’s when your anxiety starts up all over again.

You watch him, intently, as he walks over to the side table near the sofa, the one that has pictures on it. 

Pictures of Callie. 

He picks one up, and you’ve never been so still in your life. It’s torture, not seeing how he’s looking, unable to read his facials, clueless to what he must be thinking. He’s quiet for too long, so you decide to bite the bullet and say something. 

“I—”

“Is she mine?”

Waves. Heavy, plunging waves of emotions splash at you with a ferocity that nearly floors you. His question, so simple, isn’t what you expected to leave his mouth. It’s posed so quietly, lowly, emotion evident but not enough for you to know which one. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

It stumps you, and for a second, you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t mean what you deep down know what he means. 

“What–what are you talking about?”

He curses quietly, and you hear him say your name before he asks again in a dangerously calm voice, “is she mine?”

You recognize this tone, the tone he takes when he’s trying his best to tame his temper, but there’s no guarantee that he can. And that in and of itself is not a good sign, Joe rarely ever gets mad. He’s irritatingly adept at maintaining his composure in all situations. 

Except this one.

You just want to take a nap, take a break from all of this. Everything seems to be happening so fast, too fast. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Callie first asked about her father, and now the man is standing in front of you asking you to confirm she is his daughter. You’re so confused about everything. How could he tell so easily? You always said and thought she favored him, but did she favor him enough for him to take one look at her and know she’s his daughter?

That doesn’t even seem possible nor plausible. 

You have so many questions, but there’s no need in delaying the inevitable.

Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Yes.” 

It’s at that moment he finally decides to turn around, and you can see the moment it happens, the moment the floodgate of emotions rush through him like a tsunami. He’s shocked. He’s confused. He’s angry.

“How did you find out?” Putting the pieces together is a slow progress, but one that’s progressing nonetheless. He clearly came here with that question prepared and ready to launch. He knew about Callie, knew when you texted him, knew when he decided to call. Knew before he even walked in and saw a picture of her.

He just needed you to confirm as such. 

That seems to be the wrong question, because anger is suddenly more prominent, both vocally and physically. “You’re seriously asking me how the fuck I found out I have a daughter?” Any attempt to control his anger is out the door, replaced with visceral emotions. “No, the real question is why the fuck you didn’t tell me I have a child?”

You’re not sure what it is, the emotionality of it all, the fact that you’re face to face with the man you’ve worked so hard over the years to get over, or even just the fact that he’s speaking to you this way. Maybe all of it. Regardless, you’re not about to just take it lying down. “First of all, watch your tone. You’re not going to talk to me any kind of way. Second of all, you are married, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Send you and your wife copies of the sonogram?”

“Don't put this on that,” he dismisses, swiftly and curtly. “Jadah has nothing to do with you telling me I'm a father. Don't you think I had a fucking right to know?”

“Of course you had a right.” He did. He does. You won’t deny him that, but it’s also not as cut and dry as he’s making it out to be. “But—”

“There’s no but, Y/N!” He cuts you off, and you have to take another deep breath. This time though, it’s not to lessen anxiety. It’s to calm your own anger that’s rising. Who the hell does he think he is to speak to you this way? Like you’re some damn child. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you going to actually listen to me, or are you just going to keep yelling? Cause I don’t respond to disrespect, Joe. You know this.”

He actually smiles, smiles at your words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m disrespecting you? You keep my child from me, and I’m disrespecting you?” He scoffs and looks up at the ceiling, probably to settle himself. “Did you know when you ended things between us?"

The surprising questions just keep on rolling. “What?”

“I swear to God.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you told me to leave? Is that why you did it? So I wouldn’t find out?”

This time, you’re the one scoffing, trying to rationalize how he could even think to ask you this. “Seriously, Joe? I told you why I ended things.”

“Yeah, well, you’re clearly not the most honest fucking person, so I don’t even know what to believe anymore.” 

You hate the fact that his words don’t further anger you but instead sadden you. You see how he’s looking at you, with a level of disdain and disgust. It’s such an unfamiliar experience, an unwanted one. “So, I’m a liar now?” It should have come out much stronger, firmer, showing him that you’re not putting up with his bullshit. Instead, it’s a damn near whisper.

He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, like he doesn’t get what you’re not getting about this. “What do you call what you did?”

Your head is starting to hurt. This is going exactly how you feared it would go. 

Bad.

It’s all becoming too much, your voice weighed down with the emotions of it all. You feel like you’re on the verge of tears, and you hate that. You won’t let him see you cry. “We’re not….we’re not getting anywhere here, Joe. I think—”

“You should get a lawyer.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

He runs both hands over his face, the heaviness of this conversation clearly weighing on him as well. “We need to figure out some type of custody arrangement, and I don’t think us handling it with each other is a good idea—”

“Custody?” The room is starting to blur again, items moving wayward and sideways. The ringing in your ears is also returning. “What—you—you want to take her from me?” You need to sit down, your legs feeling like they’re ready to give out at any moment. Take her. He wants to take her from you. Unable to control yourself, you snap, “she doesn’t even know you!”

He matches your tone and volume precisely, clearly unwilling to back down. “Exactly, I’m her father, and she doesn’t know me because of you!”

You can barely believe the words coming out his mouth, incapable of processing that he’s actually standing here threatening to take your child from you. This has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. “So, you think taking her away from me is the way to get to know her?”

His volume levels down a bit, and you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of sympathy. “I don’t want to take her away from you, Y/N. I just can’t trust you to not keep her away from me.”

This is disastrous. You never could you have envisioned this conversation playing out the way it is. Desperate, you move over to him, needing him to see you, to hear you, really hear you. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough?” 

His answer surprises you with its austerity. He’s so angry. “No, because it took almost five fucking years for you to call me in the first damn place.”

He moves away from you, obviously headed for the door. He has nothing else to say. Your head is throbbing, vision still murky, but you manage to rush past him, obstructing his leave. “Joe….wait.”

You’ve never felt so small, so desperate, so helpless in your life. It’s reminiscent of the last conversation you had with him five years prior, that same boulder on your chest, bigger now. Much bigger. 

“Please.” You’re not even trying to hold in the tears anymore. That’s not even important. Not in the slightest. This is your child.  “Please don’t take her away from me. She’s my baby, Joe. She—she’s never even been without me before.”

He looks at you, and you can see it now. Finally see it. Finally see past all of the hurtful threats, the dismissiveness, the refusal to hear you out. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. “And she’s never been with me.” He moves past you, but not before one last statement. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel.”

________

just curious, ya'll think joe trippin? personally, i'm team callie cause both reader and joe are wrong in one way or another but im also biased so ignore me.

[exhausted-exho]

Thinking About Biker Pezzy

Like yes he actually owns and rides a bike. He literally just got a new one. BUT hear me out...

Imagine like stunt rider Pezzy. Like you're an acrobat in a circus and he's one of the daredevils. One of the guys who does the ramp jumps, stands on his bike as it moves around (in that move mimicking trick riders), rides around in the sphere.

Ugh like I know he said the other day he's never gonna be one to be going 100+ miles an hour because he values his life but just imagine you two being kids who grew up in the circus together. Close in age but from two different groups of practice so you never crossed all that much.

You remember first noticing him when you were 6. A few years older, already beginning to train in taking care of the bikes and learning the most basic moves. Meanwhile you were with the aerial team, beginning to learn different ground tricks.

The first time you guys interacted wasn't for years yet. You were 13 then, taking part in your first show. He'd already been in for a year or so and saw how nervous you were, wringing your hands in the wings as you waited for your cue to run on and climb the silks up to the trapeze swings.

"Hey, you'll do fine." Your eyes widened at the fact he was even talking to you. It didn't help that you'd been admiring him from afar for a while, beginning to harbor a little crush. "I was nervous my first show but it all comes down to muscle memory. Focus on that, not the crowd."

"I have to appeal to them, though." Your voice was small. Meek and anxious. "I don't have a helmet to hide behind like you do."

"True. But you've been helping with the kids parties and you do well with them. Just think of the crowd as a bunch of kids you need to entertain for a few minutes." You nodded, thanking him before hearing your cue and darting out onto the floor to begin your routine.

His advice had been helpful.

It was a few more months until you got a chance to cross paths again and it was due to being teamed up during a load out, moving crates together and packing the trucks.

It was during those long hours that you guys clicked. The two of you hanging out became commonplace after that. Every spare moment one of you had was spent around the other, even if the other was in rehearsals.

Which meant it only made sense.

The ringmaster wanted something new. Something fresh. Something that no one had ever seen before to generate larger audiences again. The circus had been dying in popularity the past few years. To keep everyone fed and on the team, he needed a new angle.

So you and Pezzy were the two he chose. The ones whose skills were to be combined for the new ending segment. The grand finale to top all else.

Who would've thought to put acrobatics on stunt riding?

Despite how insane it was, it worked out for the two of you. You got to spend most of your time together, now, and it just meant you got even closer.

He was used to the danger of stunt riding. You were used to the danger of heights and acrobatics. Combine the two and you're clinging to him for safety and he's keeping you grounded.

The most terrifying one wasn't even the dancing on the back of his bike while he rode the rings. Nor was it joining him for stunt jumps and doing your own tricks midair.

It was the sphere.

You stood planted in the center as he rode circles around you, one hand out to trace your waist as he spun, to keep track of you. A hand holding yours as you spun with him in a way reminiscent of figure skating.

It was the accident that had him making the first move. One day the ringmaster wanted you to change it up. To have a set of aerial silks halfway through a jump to grab onto. But even with all the rehearsals and successful shows, there was one day you missed the silks.

Your hands were sweaty, your arm was tired, the timing a bit off, the jump a bit too far to the side. It all combined in some cursed formation, causing you to fall twenty feet.

There were pads, but you landed just wrong, destroying your ankle.

You'd never seen Max so scared. So angry before. He just about tore the ringmaster apart for having the idea that got you hurt.

When you were finally able to get back into shows, he was anxious. Terrified it would happen again. Now that you'd gotten hurt, he had it in his mind constantly, always worried about the possibility that you could get hurt again from any little thing.

It lead to him pulling you aside before your first show back in and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, muttering into your hair as he gave you the tightest hug.

"Be careful. Promise me you'll be safe."

"I'm with you. Of course I'll be safe."

"But last time-"

"Last time was an off day for everyone." You pulled back, cupping his jaw with both hands while his landed on your hips. "I trust you. Now let's go kick ass. Together."

He nodded. "Together."

You kissed his cheek and slipped away. He followed, grabbing your wrist.

"You're not leaving my side again. Last time you did you got hurt."

"What are you, my guardian?"

"Your boyfriend." He grinned nervously at your stunned expression. "If you'll let me."

You paused for a moment before smiling as wide as possible.

"We said together, didn't we?"

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (01)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: Teen (series will be explicit) Words: 1500 Summary: The Ghoul takes a bounty and you might be lost

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Wanted: Alive and Unharmed

The Ghoul runs his thumb over the picture - a woman, pretty enough but who knew what liberties the artist might have taken. It wasn’t uncommon to find people had some glaringly obvious deformity that no one had seen fit to mention to him before setting him on his tasks. Hunchbacks, missing limbs, hell he’d had a job once for a man whose only resemblance to the reward poster was that they were missing an eye. 

They’d been missing two by the time he’d drug them back to town.

In this case, he wouldn’t be surprised if the woman in question here turned out to be a damn sight less appealing than the picture made her out to be. But he was less intrigued by her hypothetical beauty than he was by the number beneath the image.

Reward: 5000 caps 

It was an absurd amount of money, enough to keep him in chem for years. Not that that mattered - chem was simple enough to come by if you knew where to look for it and procuring caps had never been an issue for him. No, the lure lay in the sheer amount - and that caution… alive and unharmed.

“What the hell did this one do?” he asks the woman putting the poster up with a frown.

“Ran away,” she replies with a shrug. “Boss wants her back.”

One of those then.

“This for real?” he taps at the number.

“Boss wants her back bad.”

He nods, pulling the poster off the wall and gesturing to the woman. “You can leave off, I’ll get her.”

“You?” she blinks at him then glances at the wall of bounties. “You sure this is the one you want?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just… boss is real picky - not a scratch on her.”

“Then not a scratch will be.”

The woman shrugs and moves along, tucking the papers under her arm. He doesn’t think she’ll listen to him, but if it keeps her from putting up more signs today it’ll give him a head start.

Tearing the reward amount off he stares at the picture with a frown, studying the woman’s face. She reminds him of someone, not that he could quite put his finger on it. Something in the eyes though…

He grunts, folding the poster and tucking it into his saddlebag. He’ll figure it out when he finds her, and he will find her. He always does. Practically wasn’t fun anymore.

The bounty itself was being offered by someone he didn’t recognize, a warlord calling himself Nero down at what used to be the Stateline - when there were still states to have lines. Probably got himself holed up in a casino like those assholes out in New Vegas.

Sliding his palm down the hilt of his pistol he glances up at the sun. Plenty of daylight left, enough time to ask a few questions, see if anyone had seen her.

“Move it.”

Someone shoves into his shoulder but the Ghoul barely spares the man a glance, turning on his heel and striding across the creaking boardwalk and down into the street. He might oughta consider supplies too, he doesn’t need much to survive on but he does need a bit.

“Someone should take care of those fucking vermin.”

Pausing in the street, he turns to look back, eyeing the man from under the brim of his hat. “What was that?”

“You heard me, asshole,” the idiot continues, oblivious to the idea that these could be his last words.

The Ghoul considers his options. He could shoot the man, easy enough. Wouldn’t take but a second and then another minute to roll the body and see what he had. Would cause a bit of a ruckus though, and he wasn’t inclined to spend his time in what might pass for a lockup round here if the locals took offense to it.

That did leave the more amusing option.

He turns slowly, one hand pushing back the corner of his coat to rest on his hip, the other arm hanging loose at his side. “Seems to me you might be having a bit of trouble with what we used to call ‘courtesy,’” He moves in the man’s direction, slowly rising up the small set of stairs until they’re eye to eye. The other man flinches and the Ghoul suppresses a smile. “Now, would you like to try that again?”

“I s-said-”

The Ghoul doesn’t give him a chance to finish, striking as quick as a cobra with thumb and forefinger. The man chokes but the Ghoul doesn’t let go, pulling on the tongue until the man’s knees buckle.

“Now I think you were properly warned about the consequences,” with his free hand he pulls his knife, rusty and with a patina of grime from Lord only knew where. “So I can’t help but wonder if you might enjoy this.”

“Thowwy!” the man’s neck arches back, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “M’thowwy!”

The Ghoul hums to himself, hovering the blade over the man’s tongue. “We’ll see. Tell me, you seen this girl?” He digs the poster out, knife flashing dangerously close to the man’s eyes.

“Oh.”

“No?” He cocks his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Then I reckon you ain’t of much use to me are you?”

“Oth.”

“What was that?”

“Oth! Oth!” The man points and the Ghoul glances that way. South, fair enough.

“When?”

“Unnu.”

“Unnu?”

“Unno. Unno.”

“You don’t know,” the Ghoul finishes for him, still not letting his tongue go. “Then how, pray tell, do you know where she’s going?”

The man fumbles in his pocket, yanking a poster out that matches the one the Ghoul has in his hand. He takes it with a thoughtful frown, noting the scrawled words on it.

“South to Mexico, eh?” he asks, making a point of enunciating the soft ‘x’. “You going after her?”

The man nods and the Ghoul squeezes tighter until the man squeals, a mumbled series of what could pass for no’s grunting out of him.

“Good.” With a final nod the Ghoul lets the man’s tongue go. But there’s no chance for a sigh of relief before he turns his knife and slices the top of the man’s ear off.

“What the fuck?”

Grinning, the Ghoul slips the bloody cartilage between his lips, savoring the taste of fresh blood. “Something to remember your manners by, boy.”

☢ ☢ ☢

“Man, it’s hot,” you pant softly, resting both hands on your knees as you squint off into the distance. The short sage brush offers little protection from the late afternoon sun, and the trees with their spiky little leaves weren’t much help either. They had a dumb name - like Steven bushes. Something like that.

“I tell you Steven,” you huff conversationally, “days like today make a girl think leaving home wasn’t the best idea.”

The tree didn’t respond, which was probably for the best.

There are hills in the distance, maybe mountains? It’s really hard to tell how far away they are. You had been hoping to get to them before the sun went down but that was beginning to look less and less likely.

And that horned skull you’d seen a while back was starting to feel more and more ominous.

Letting out a sigh you set off again, doing your best to conserve energy. You try to keep to the hard packed earth, avoiding the sandy spots and looking for stones where you can find them. Anything that would make you more difficult to track. 

And someone was tracking you, you were certain of it. The Emperor wasn’t going to let you go just because you’d run off. With any luck he’d search down closer to Baja, you’d laid enough trail that direction even a blind man could find it. But there was no harm in being careful.

A hop takes you from one stone to another, your boots slipping slightly on the nearly smooth rock. Something skitters and you freeze, glancing around to find the source. It takes a moment for your eyes to pick it out - a lizard, maybe a foot long, the same sandy brown color as the rocks. It puffs its neck out and tilts its head at you curiously. 

“Nice lizard?” you ask cautiously. Keeping your eyes on it you move sideways, waiting to see if it’s going to spit poison or open its mouth to reveal inch long fangs. It puffs its neck out once more, mouth opening and a soft chirp comes forth.

Breathing a sigh of relief you watch it skitter a few feet away from you, turning sideways and cocking its head once more. Only this time, when it puffs its neck and opens its mouth a deafening roar sounds instead.

That did not come from that lizard.

Nor, in fact, do you want to know where it came from. It’s enough to know that whatever made that noise exists. Deciding speed is more important than caution, you take off running, aiming for the only thing in the distance that gives any semblance of hope.

It’s only as you’re climbing, heart beating in your throat, that it occurs to you that things that roar might also be able to climb.

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[etherealphosphor]

Wilting Rose Petals

⟡ Contains: Dottore x Gn!Reader, Sfw, Angst, Dottore has Hanahaki Disease, Mentions of coughing up blood, Mentions of painkillers, Good ending

BIG TW: Dottore is su!c!dal, please refrain from reading this if the content triggers you.

Being the Second of the Fatui Harbingers, Dottore had naturally been a cold and reserved man for most of his working life. Even before joining the Harbingers, he was more or less the same, only interested in his research. To him, conversation was a bore, and small talk was practically torture. Getting his business done while interacting with the least amount of people possible was an ideal day at work for him. In the past, the only people he really talked to were his segments.

However, oddly enough, his entire demeanor shifted when you—his part-time assistant—was around. He would go out of his way to talk to you, completely ignoring his responsibilities for however long he could manage to keep you. Dottore’s affection for you was painfully obvious to everyone who worked in the headquarters, as his mood greatly increased when you walked through the door.

His attitude altered so much when he was in your presence, to the point that if one needed to ask Dottore for a favor, they would wait until after you swung by his office. That was quite a wide-spread tactic in the Fatui Headquarters, and for good reason. Dottore would genuinely consider doing a favor for someone due to the cheery mood you put him in, as long as it was easy enough. However, if they interrupted his time with you, they'd be met with only unreasonableness and an incredibly short fuse.

To Dottore, you were the one thing he treasured in life. In recent years, his research lost its appeal and became awfully boring to him. Day after day, year after year, it was all the same. And for what? Why did any of it matter? What was he even living for anymore? Thoughts like those were normal for him. However, you kept him sane. You were like a helping hand in his time of need. You were the one thing that kept him alive each day.

Dottore’s heart and body yearned for you in ways he couldn’t describe. You were the singular light in his dark and lonely life. Even so, he didn’t want to tell you how he felt, for fear of losing you. Archons, what would he do if you never wanted to talk to him again? If he lost his beacon of hope, he wouldn’t know how to live on. So, instead of pursuing you, Dottore decided it was best to leave you as a fantasy that helped him keep his head above water.

As Dottore was daydreaming of you to distract himself from his mind, one of his segments—Theta—walked into his office.

"Hey Boss, is [Name] going to be here today? I know how much you enjoy their company. You get so gloomy when they aren’t around." Theta said in a playful tone as he leaned on the desk, smirking at Dottore.

Dottore felt a pang of sadness at being reminded of your absence. "[Name] is busy today and likely won’t be present."

"Oh, that’s a shame. You’re all smiles when [Name] walks through the door." Theta laughed.

"I am simply happy to be handing off some tasks to someone else. That’s all." Dottore lied, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Aw, come on. Don’t lie to me! I know you like them." Theta teased.

"I do not." Dottore replied, wearing that same grin that told Theta everything he needed to know.

"So, what is it about them, huh? What is it that’s got the Second Harbinger himself all lovesick?"

Dottore sighed. "..everything."

Theta’s eyes lit up. "Woah, you actually have human emotion? I was starting to doubt it. Man, I gotta tell the others!"

Before Dottore could call him back, Theta had run off to gossip with the other segments. He had always been the same. After Theta left, that happy expression on Dottore’s face faded quickly. He was good at covering up how he felt around other people, putting on a show of confidence for everyone around him. However, his personality completely shifted when he was left alone with only his thoughts to accompany him.

Putting his head in his hands, Dottore tried to calm his mind. Archons, he missed you. It had only been a day since he last saw you, and yet it was still agony to him. He was addicted to every aspect of you; you were his person. His only source of true joy.

How was he supposed to focus on his work if any hope of you coming to visit him was extinguished? If only—against all odds—you'd just walk into his office and give him the energy he needed to keep going.

And, as if his prayers were answered by Celestia itself, you appeared at the door, which was left ajar when Theta had run off.

"Good morning, Dottore!" You greeted him. "I’m sorry for not coming in sooner; as you know, I was busy."

Dottore’s heart fluttered in response. Oh, how happy he was to see you. "No, don’t apologize to me. You’re perfectly fine; everyone is busy on occasion. I assumed you were going to spend the whole day with Pulcinella."

"Well, I expected to originally, but I managed to complete all the tasks assigned to me in quick time. After all, I despise doing work for Pulcinella; I just wanted it to be over." You said.

"Oh? Really? What’s the problem with working for him?" Dottore asked, curious.

"He’s just so set in his ways. If I don’t do what he wants me to do in the exact way he does it, he’ll make me redo the entire thing. Even if it’ll all come out to the same solution! I very much prefer being your assistant, Dottore."

Dottore blushed at the compliment, but since his face was hidden behind his mask, you never noticed. "You do? What’s so much better about the tasks I assign?"

"Well, it’s more about the fact that I actually like you. You don’t criticize my every action, and you’re nice to me." You grinned at him.

"I like you too, [Name]." Dottore replied, before quickly clarifying, "You’re a lovely assistant. Maybe you should ask to work for me full-time."

"Unfortunately, Pulcinella would lose it. He already complains about me spending too much time running errands for you, as opposed to helping out the other harbingers."

"Why should you care what he thinks? If he asks for your assistance and then complains about the way you complete said task, then you are perhaps not the kind of person he is looking for. He should let that go and find someone else instead of berating you."

You considered that for a moment. "You’re right, Dottore. Maybe I should–"

Suddenly, you were cut off by a yell from outside. "[NAME], YOU FORGOT TO FILE THESE PAPERS IN OPPOSITE-ALPHABETICAL ORDER! I ASKED YOU TO FILE THEM FROM Z TO A, NOT A TO Z!"

"Better get back to work, then. We can talk about this later." You sighed before sprinting out of the room. "Coming! I apologize for my error, Pulcinella!"

The moment you left, Dottore was overcome with a strong urge to slam his head into his desk. He felt like a fool; it was so clear that he was begging for you to spend every day with him. He just hoped you hadn’t picked up on his subtle flirting throughout the conversation. After all, he wasn’t exactly good at keeping a straight face when you complimented him—something that could definitely give away how he felt.

'I like you too, [Name].' What was I even thinking when I said that!? Of course, they don’t feel the same things I feel about them. They just enjoy working for me; that’s all they meant by that. But, Archons, it felt good to hear them say that they liked me.

As he inwardly cursed himself, his thoughts began to wander to even more self-deprecating ones. How could someone like you ever harbor the same care that he did for you? What did he even do to deserve your attention? Someday, would you consider him more than just someone you worked for? Was he even worth it? Would you hate him if he confessed?

Now Dottore was stuck between two equally unpleasant options. Either continue his dull and monotonous work or let his brain fill the silence by telling him how unworthy he was. Neither choice was something he particularly wanted, but he knew that his research must be completed for the day.

And so, day after day, he spent most of his time in his office, doing research just to fit the requirements of what was expected of him. Archons, he was so tired of it all. Nothing mattered to him anymore—except for you, maybe.

Each time you walked into his office, his day got significantly better. Unbeknownst to you, Dottore set aside all his work just to talk to you. You had simply assumed he was just so on top of everything that he could spare the time. Dottore had occasionally considered asking you out to a nearby cafe—just as work friends—but he was too worried that you’d take the invite the wrong way.

And so, he held his tongue. Of course, his heart begged for him to just make a move on you, but his brain prevented him from doing so. He knew that if his last reason to live was to be scared away, he’d surely fail to go on. Months went by like this; Dottore desperately longing for your affection.

One day, as Dottore sat at his desk, he suddenly felt the urge to clear his throat—almost like something was blocking his airway. Coughing a couple times, Dottore felt the strange object become dislodged and fall gently into the hand he was using to cover his mouth. Looking down, Dottore spotted a small petal; the shade was barely even pink; one could argue that it was closer to white than anything else.

Met with this odd occurrence, Dottore couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong with him. After all, one doesn’t just start coughing up flowers for no reason. But after taking a minute to think, Dottore couldn’t recall the last time he was around a flower. After all, flowers in Snezhnaya die unless kept inside, and Dottore had none in his office.

Despite his suspicions, Dottore decided to chalk it up to a peculiar circumstance with no further investigation required. However, when he coughed up another petal, he knew that this situation was much more serious. Dottore was very knowledgeable about all of Teyvat’s various illnesses, so it didn’t take much more pondering for him to connect the dots.

Coughing up petals.. no… no. It can’t be. I can’t possibly have contracted Hanahaki Disease. There’s absolutely no way.

Dottore immediately began pulling books on various types of illnesses off of the shelves in his office, flipping through them, hoping to find something—anything—on the specific ailment.

After about a minute, he found exactly the page he was looking for in one of the books. Quickly, he read through the section on possible cures. There was no chance he was going to tell you of the affection he secretly held for you. And even less likely, have you reciprocate his feelings? Impossible. Simply impossible.

Confessing… confessing… That won’t do—not at all. Even if I did decide to—which I heavily doubt—the likelihood of [Name] sharing my affection.. I don’t want to think about it. It’s impossible. Dottore thought, skimming through the text.

As Dottore continued to read, he came to a realization. His options were either to somehow woo you into loving him or to hold his tongue and die in the process.

When he realized these were his two options, Dottore wasn’t exactly sure how to feel. Any normal person wouldn’t wait for the disease to end them and would instead confess to their person, no? However, Dottore wasn’t the average man. He was tired of work—or, to be more precise, he was tired of living. When he really thought about it, what he wanted most was for it all to end. To eternally sleep in silence and in peace. No more responsibilities, and no more pain. This disease was his way out.

And so, he decided to accept his fate. He would leave the world behind due to his disease, and he wouldn’t look back. Not for anyone; not even you.

More time passed, and each day, Dottore coughed up flower petals more frequently. He observed that the color of the petals was gradually getting darker each time they appeared. However, he wasn’t that concerned. After all, he would finally have a chance to escape the constant cycle of his meaningless life. He was tired of holding on by a thread and a hopeless fantasy; all he really wanted now was to rest.

Even if Dottore wasn’t worried about himself, you certainly were. Even with Pulcinella constantly requesting your help, you still interacted with Dottore on occasion. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly much, but it was still enough to get a good sense of where Dottore was in terms of health. You had noticed his posture had gotten worse, and so had his general demeanor. Before, he used to straighten up when you walked into his office and would greet you with a smile. However, nowadays, he always seemed exhausted and burnt out.

What especially worried you was the strange coughing you occasionally heard from him, which sounded as if he was quite ill. You wished to get to the bottom of what was going on with him, but you didn’t want to inquire about things that weren’t your business.

You knew that if Dottore was suffering from an ailment, he would simply take the measures needed to cure himself. So why exactly did he still seem so sick? Was the treatment not working? Or was it just not taking effect yet? The only other possibility you could think of was that his sickness could not be easily treated. You weren’t sure what it could be, so you tried to calm your mind by assuring yourself that you were likely overthinking. Dottore would get over it in a couple weeks, right?

However, little did you know, that cough of his could very well be the end of him.

One day, as Dottore was strolling through the headquarters’ hallways, he stopped by a window to look out at the falling snow. He never really noticed the beauty of it until now—not until there was a chance he’d never get to see it again. Due to his focus being elsewhere, he didn’t notice Delta—another one of his segments—behind him until he spoke up.

"Something is wrong with you, Boss." Delta said evenly; it wasn’t a question.

Not bothering to turn around, Dottore replied calmly, "Nothing is wrong with me. Why would you think that, Delta?"

"Do you really think you can assure me just by denying my suspicions? First of all, you’ve been coughing for months; something is clearly up with your health, both physical and mental. Secondly, I saw the pages you marked in that book you left on your desk. Hanahaki, was it? Am I correct in thinking that this matter has something to do with [Name]? You’re quite fond of them, after all."

"You shouldn’t be getting involved in other people’s problems, Delta. You should know better than that." Dottore spoke in a cold tone.

"No, you should know better! You’ve always been like this—awfully stubborn. You’re mistreating yourself, Boss! I can’t just stand by and watch it happen. I’m getting involved in your problems because you won’t help yourself!" Delta raised his voice.

"When have you ever had control over my actions? You’re merely my segment; I am the one with power over you, not the other way around. I’d advise you to get your nose out of my business. It is my choice and mine alone whether or not I get help." Dottore walked away from Delta without another word.

Along with Dottore’s fading footsteps, Delta could hear him coughing as he left. He was so frustrated; why couldn’t Dottore just accept his aid? Why did he have to be so stubborn as to refuse to confess to you, even if it meant the death of him? Dottore of all people should have known that there was no alternative cure for Hanahaki Disease. So what in the world were his motives?

Delta was thoroughly confused by the man’s behavior. However, Dottore had his eyes on one goal and one goal alone: ending his miserable life. Absolutely nothing could get in his way. Archons, how he wished for an opportunity like this. All he had to do was wait until his body finally gave out, and then all would be still.

As more weeks passed, Dottore’s Hanahaki Disease steadily got worse. His throat had begun to feel sore, and it was quite painful to speak. However, through the pain, his hope was restored. His disease had gotten to the later stages; his life was coming to an end at last.

One evening, as Dottore was working on his soulless research, Delta came in to check on his condition.

"Boss? Is everything going okay?"

Dottore beckoned for him to come closer, not saying a word. The only noise that could be heard was his slight coughing as some rouge-colored petals fell from his mouth. Once Delta was close enough, Dottore wrote the names of some painkillers on a slip of paper and handed it to him.

Taking the paper, Delta stared down at the man before him. "What do you want me to do with this? Do you need me to get you these pills from your lab?"

Dottore simply nodded.

"Boss, painkillers won’t make your Hanahaki Disease go away. You can’t just keep ignoring it! You are hurting for a reason; your body needs help. The other segments and I are all worried for you; even [Name] is uneasy. You know, they miss you a lot, Dottore. We all do."

At the mention of your name, Dottore covered his ears, refusing to listen any further. He was determined to calm the beating in his heart that was triggered by Delta mentioning your concern for him. He couldn’t let his feelings for you interfere with his plans.

Eventually, Delta gave up trying to reason with him and went off to retrieve the medicine. After all, he wasn’t going to make Dottore suffer more than the man always was. However, there and then, Delta decided that he needed to tell you what was going on. He had wanted to inform you for a while, but felt guilty about breaking Dottore’s trust. But now, in his heart, he knew it was more important to save him.

Once Delta had acquired the medicine, he came back to find Dottore coughing up more petals than normal. He set down a couple pill bottles on Dottore’s desk, as well as a glass of water for him to swallow them with.

Archons, he just gets worse and worse every day. Delta thought, before bidding him farewell and closing the door to his office.

Just before Dottore was about to take his medication, he had another bout of coughing. The glass of water fell to the floor and shattered as Dottore doubled over in pain. This time, it felt absolutely excruciating, and the magenta-colored petals that fell to his desk were stained with his blood.

Dottore felt that crimson liquid spill from his mouth and drip onto the desk. He knew at this point that he was really, truly dying. However, even so, he felt oddly at peace. His years of labor would finally come to an end. His life would come to an end.

He had to pinch himself just to get the pills down, as the pain of swallowing was making his eyes sting. His own blood was enough for him to take the medication with, as the glass of water was no longer an option. All he had to do was endure half an hour of this torture before his throat would go numb.

Just as Dottore was heading to his private chambers to relax a bit as he waited for the pain to cease, he overheard Delta speaking to someone.

Delta was frantically trying to tell you something. "[Name], I have some extremely important information that you need to know about. It’s concerning Dottore and why he hasn’t been his usual self. He has—"

Just as Delta was about to reveal his secret, Dottore grabbed his neck, pulling him away from you.

Through the pain, Dottore managed to say, "That information isn’t for you to share as you please, Delta."

Feeling a hand on his neck, Delta went silent. Dottore wasn’t choking him, but this action was enough to stop him from telling you about the man’s disease.

Dottore dragged Delta away, leaving you alone to ponder what in the world was so important that Dottore had to threaten Delta just so he wouldn’t say it? Meanwhile, Dottore spoke quietly to Delta in an empty hallway.

"Delta. I don’t want to have to do this, as you’re the segment I trust the most. Zeta is too mysterious, Epsilon is too naive, Theta doesn’t take anything seriously, and Psi is never here. That is why I am reluctant to make a decision about your future; you are making things hard for me." Dottore spoke, enduring the pain speaking caused to his throat that had yet to fade.

"What are you talking about, Boss? What decision?" Delta nervously asked him.

"If this continues, I may have to send you away to a different nation, somewhere far away, where you cannot tamper with my plans."

"Oh really? You want to send me away? And what plans? What plans have you ever had!? Do you really intend to pass away just because you don’t want to tell [Name] that you love them!?" Delta yelled at Dottore.

"This is exactly what I mean. You get too involved with other people’s worries." Dottore spoke coldly.

"I’m loyal to you! That’s what this is, Boss! Loyalty! I want to save your life above all else, don’t you see!?"

Dottore sighed. "Yes, I see that, Delta. However, my orders are for you to stand back."

Now, Delta was extremely frustrated with him. "I care about you! I can’t just watch you perish! Boss, it’s almost as if you want to die!"

"MAYBE I DO!" Dottore snapped. "EVER THOUGHT ABOUT THAT, DELTA!? HAS ANYONE EVER CONSIDERED THAT!?"

Time seemed to stop.

"I—Boss? What?"

Regretting his words, Dottore quickly walked away from him, heading to his private chambers. "Forget it, Delta. It doesn’t matter."

"No—wait—this is serious. Boss? Boss, are you—" Delta tried to go after Dottore, but the man had already locked himself in his room.

"Please, leave me alone." Dottore said from behind the locked door.

Dottore fell onto his bed, exhausted. Archons, it hurt for him to speak. And yelling on top of that? He was surprised that it only hurt a medium amount, and didn't feel like his throat was being ripped open. He could feel blood dripping onto his bedsheets; he’d have to clean it up later. Now all he could do was ignore Delta’s desperate pleas for him to come out as he waited for the painkillers to kick in.

Meanwhile, you were absolutely shocked. Curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you had eavesdropped on their argument. All this new information had hit you like a truck. You had no clue that Dottore felt the way he did.

Dottore is dying from.. Hanahaki Disease? What is that? He wants to die? He.. loves me..? Archons, I’m so confused.. You thought, before running off to the library stationed in the Fatui Headquarters.

You were certain to find something on diseases in there, as it contained shelf after shelf of informational books on every topic under the sun.

As you rushed through the doors, the librarian slowly looked up at you. "Need something, honey? You look like you’re in a hurry."

"Yes, I do need help." You said, out of breath. "D-do you have anything on Hanahaki Disease?"

"Aw, someone’s lovesick, huh? What a shame; all you can do is hope they like you back." The woman said lazily, typing something up on her computer. "Well, we do have a couple books containing some information on that illness. Follow me, honey."

"I–the book is for.. a friend." You clarified.

"Mhm, that’s what they all say. Just make sure you return the book before you die; it’s such a hassle to go looking for them." The librarian replied as she led you over to a shelf.

"I’m not dying, ma’am."

"Sure you’re not, honey. Denial is all you have left, I suppose."

The woman began to pull a couple heavy books off the shelf, handing them to you. You nearly fell over due to the weight in your arms.

"Ma’am, I think I’ll be okay with these for now. Thank you." You said, nearly about to tip over.

"Good for you; have fun. Or don’t. I don’t really care. I’ll be at my desk if you need anything." The librarian walked away, leaving you to do your research.

You skimmed through the first one of the thick books, looking for a section on Hanahaki Disease. Once you found it, you thoroughly read through the entire text.

Unrequited love.. You could feel your heart beating quicker. Of course, you held very tender emotions towards Dottore, but you were too afraid to say anything before. Now was not the time to be getting butterflies over him—he was in serious danger.

You now knew you were the key to saving him. However, you were lost on what to do. Dottore had himself locked in his room and wouldn’t even listen to his most trustworthy segment, Delta. If you pushed him, Dottore would only hide away further. And then you’d truly never get the chance to save him.

You’d need to lure him out somehow, wouldn’t you? But how would you accomplish that? You were still pondering that as you walked out of the library, awkwardly carrying one of the giant books. As you headed towards your room to give yourself time to ponder, you overheard Delta pleading with Dottore.

"Boss, we can talk about this, okay? It doesn’t have to be this way. If you just let me help, things can get better. Please don’t give up like this."

Still hiding behind that locked door, Dottore responded, "I don’t need your help, Delta. Just leave. I want to sleep."

"No, Boss. I’m not leaving. You need help; you just don’t know how to accept it. I’m staying out here until you’re ready."

Your heart lurched painfully at that. What in the world would you do? You weren’t sure exactly how far along the disease had gotten, but he was still talking in clear sentences, which was a good sign that he wasn’t on his death bed yet. Still, when you thought back, his cough had started quite a long time ago, so he was likely in the latest stages. At best, he had maybe a week left. You didn’t want to assume he’d hold on for much longer, so you knew that you needed to act fast. You’d try to save him in the morning if he came out of his room.

Meanwhile, Dottore was just trying to fall asleep. Archons, his body was so exhausted. Delta hadn’t stopped begging him to come out and likely wouldn’t for a while. Dottore’s eyelids began to feel heavy, and he could sense himself drifting off. He wasn’t even quite sure if he’d see the next day; he really hoped he wouldn’t. Then his pathetic and miserable life would finally come to an end.

However, to Dottore’s great disappointment, he did wake up the next day. His body felt weak and oddly warm, and he longed to go outside in the snow to cool off. When he opened his door, he found that Delta had spent the night curled up outside of it.

Dottore carefully stepped over his sleeping body and began heading towards a door to the outside. That particular exit to the Fatui Headquarters wasn’t well known and therefore didn’t warrant being guarded. It was almost too good to be true, as the last thing Dottore wanted was for his plans to be discovered by anyone else. He didn’t want anyone’s help.

Once Dottore reached the exit, he stumbled outside, slowly making his way out into the snow. He wasn’t wearing the proper layers, just a collared shirt and pants, but he still felt too warm. The falling snowflakes melted on his skin, cooling him down just a bit. It still wasn’t enough for him.

When he was about ten yards into the snow, he began to have another coughing fit. He was in pure agony this time, as he had forgotten to take his pain medication that morning. He fell to his knees as blood poured from his mouth, leaving a stark contrast in the snow. Along with his blood, tears flowed down his face. Archons, the pain was unbearable. Pure red petals were scattered all around him, a sign that his disease had gotten to its worst stage.

Dottore didn’t even have the energy to stay balanced, and he fell to his side. Blood still dripped from his mouth as he lay in the snow and let the cold embrace his feverish body. All he could think of was that he could finally rest—forever this time. Just before his eyes began to shut, he caught sight of a figure running towards him, yelling his name.

Oh. It’s [Name]. At least they’ll be the last thing I see before I die.

When you reached him, you dropped to your knees beside him and removed the mask from his face.

"Oh no.. no.. please be okay.. please be alive.." You said frantically.

Dottore looked up at you as you did so, those crimson eyes of his matching the blood that was still dripping from his mouth. Those eyes that were wet with tears that had yet to fall. Likewise, you could feel your own tears dripping down your face.

"Dottore.. please don’t leave me. I love you; I always have. Just hang on for me, okay?" You spoke softly to him, gently stroking his cheek as you wiped away his tears.

Because of your heartfelt words, Dottore’s wretched curse was broken. However, at that point, Dottore was too weak to care that his attempt had failed. All that he cared about was the fact that you shared his feelings. His aching heart had seemingly been revived. You held Dottore closer, embracing him as you cried into his shoulder.

"Please, Dottore. Don’t try anything like this ever again. I’m going to get you the help you need; please just keep holding on."

Dottore had felt as though his existence was worthless, but now he was comforted knowing that it meant something to you. You loved him. That alone gave it purpose. Archons, it felt like a dream. His one reason to keep going had saved his life yet again.

Slowly, Dottore began to speak, "[Name].. I—I love you too.."

You smiled at him, tears still streaming down your face. Gently, you pressed your lips to his, your kiss as soft as a feather. It was at that moment that Dottore truly realized that he would no longer have to struggle alone. You’d be there for him every step of the way to recovery.

His life was finally worth something again.

[flyingwargle]

flufftober day 7: hoodie jacket weather

hinata strolls into the locker room with his bag over his shoulder, whistling as he approaches his designated locker and spins the combination to release the lock. he hangs his bag on the hook, rummages through the gear organized haphazardly on the shelves, until a voice makes him pause. “woah, there. i didn’t know the adlers had another chibi on their team.”

“i’m not a chibi!” hinata straightens and spins around to glare at atsumu. “and i’m not on their team!”

“not accordin’ ta yer jacket,” atsumu drawls.

he’s currently wearing the schweiden alders’ white team jacket, KAGEYAMA spelled across the back. bokuto chirps a greeting when he enters, turning when he notices the unfamiliar white. “ah, hinata! you almost scared me with your jacket!”

“you’ve seen it before,” hinata points out. “we’ve all seen them before!”

“yeah, but not inside the jackals’ locker room.” atsumu says. “why d’ya have it, anyway?”

“i borrowed it from ‘yama! he has my jacket, instead.”

his teammates exchange looks. “why?” bokuto asks.

“because we thought it’d be fun! plus, partners share clothes with each other, right? we can’t really do that since ‘yama is taller, but jackets work! his is kind of too big, though.” hinata lowers his arms, and the sleeves fall down over his fingers. “it’s so much warmer than the jackals’ jacket, even though they’re both made from the same material.”

“maybe ‘cause it’s made with boyfriend material,” atsumu snickers. bokuto guffaws, holding his hand out for atsumu to slap in a noisy high-five.

sakusa winces, slouching his way past to make it to his locker, scowl hidden behind his mask. he doesn’t comment, simply opens it and places his bag on the bench to get his gear ready. “no comment from ya, omi?” atsumu turns to him.

“no.”

“you don’t even know what it’s for,” bokuto pouts.

“i don’t, and i don’t want to know.”

“we got an intruder here!” atsumu points at hinata. “look at ‘im! he doesn’t belong with us an’ our jackets!”

sakusa looks up, gives him a once over, and looks down. “you better wash that jacket before you give it back to kageyama next week.”

“it’s a jacket,” hinata points out. “it’s supposed to get dirty.”

“i’m going to spray you with disinfectant.”

“just don’t spray my eyes this time!”

the locker room is noisy as the rest of their teammates join them, all of them making comments on hinata’s jacket. he waits until the last possible moment to take it off, hanging it inside his locker, already changed into his training gear. he places the lock back in place, grabbing his towel, kneepads, and water bottle to follow the others into the gym.

--

kageyama knew it was a mistake to wear hinata’s jacket, but his partner seemed so happy at the prospect of swapping that he went along with it.

he never understood the appeal of sharing clothes. their bodies are wildly different, height difference notwithstanding, and they have their own preferences. hinata likes bold and bright designs; kageyama prefers dark and muted colors. hinata wears jeans and joggers outside of practice; kageyama goes with slacks and sweats. they’ve shared sweaters before, usually tight on him but loose on hinata, as well as hats and toques, since those are often one-size.

team jackets were never an item they’d swap, but hinata got the idea when he visited a few weeks ago, wearing his msby jacket, and kageyama's with his own. he saw the gleam in hinata's eye, noticed how it didn’t fade until after dinner, when he brought it up. kageyama was reluctant but gave in, never able to resist his partner’s charm, so here he is, on the way to practice, in a jacket that’s small on him, but somehow keeps him warm during the commute.

a few of his teammates are already present when he arrives, and he bows his head politely in greeting. some turn to greet him, their voices trailing off at the bold msby logo on his back. he reaches his designated locker and opens it, about to reach for his training gear when a voice stops him.

“kageyama.” ushijima is behind him, tall and imposing, as always.

“hello, ushijima-san.” he nods back.

“did you lose your jacket?”

“ah, no. shou and i swapped, so he has mine.”

the confusion on ushijima’s brow clears, and he nods. “i see. it is a show of partnership, isn’t it?”

“i…guess?” they don’t really show off their partnership, aside from having matching vabo-chan keychains on their bags, shared selfies on social media, and of course, occasional visits and dates. this is the first time that they’ve done something like this.

“KAGEYAMA!” the loudest voice belongs to their smallest member. hoshiumi bounces toward them, demanding, “are you transferring to the jackals? is hinata coming instead? are you cleaning up your locker and–“

“no, i’m not transferring,” kageyama says quickly. “we swapped jackets, so he has mine.”

hoshiumi cuts himself off to blink at him. “why?”

“because…because he wanted to?”

“but why? it’s so random.”

ushijima has a finger wrapped around his chin. “couples do many different things to show their relationship. perhaps this is one of them. i’ve read that couples share clothes to feel close to each other when there is physical distance between them.”

“oh.” kageyama takes it off, holds it in his hands. the material is the same as his adlers’ jacket, and there’s no customization; all jackals’ jackets just have the team logo on the back. every time he sees hinata, he’s wearing it, the same as him with his own jacket. maybe this is a way for them to feel close to each other despite their distance, a reminder that even if they aren’t here, they have each other. “he asked, and i said yes.”

hoshiumi snorts. “whipped.” he turns and gets ready. ushijima also leaves to change out of his sweater.

kageyama puts his jacket on the hook, then changes into his training gear. as he’s about to head out, he takes one more look at the jacket, remembers that they have a practice match against the jackals next week. that’s when they’ll have to give the jackets back, or else their respective pr teams will throw a fit. but the season hasn’t started yet, so…maybe it won’t hurt to keep it for another week or so?

he’ll have to ask, but he’s sure that hinata is on board. smiling to himself, he closes his locker, and heads for the gym.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Lambert/Aiden (slightly angsty) reunion snuggles!

Smut under the cut.

For all Geralt was absolute crap at reading the room when it came to his own relationships, he was an expert when it came to those of his family. Something Lambert had never been more thankful for when the White Wolf made some absolute bullshit excuse and left Lambert and Aiden alone at the inn in their shared room after a shared dinner to "Talk or whatever. I'll be back in the morning."

He owed the older Wolf big time. First helping in tracking down Jad and then Aiden after they heard mention in a tiny village of a green eyed Witcher passing through some months ago. They'd worn no medallion and armour seemingly cobbled together from scraps, but Lambert had been adamant it couldn't possibly be anybody else.

He had absolutely no idea how he was even going to begin paying brother back, but that was a worry for when he wasn't sat in the middle of the narrow bed, stark naked and knuckles deep in his lover.

Aiden keened from where he was straddling the others hips as Lambert's need to take this slow warred with just pure need. The new scars criss crossing the Cats body - more sinewy than the last time they'd seen each other but no less appealing - were covered in red and purple love marks, the pupil of his remaining eye blown wide as damp strands of hair clung to his forehead and neck. The other had given as good as he'd got and had left Lambert's nipples deliciously tender from where he'd played with them until they were raw and he was pretty sure his back was absolutely covered in scratches by this point in the proceedings.

"Shit, Lambert please. I'm ready."

"You sure?" He asked, giving a shit eating grin as he twisted his fingers and caused the other to bite out one of the Elder curses Lambert remembered teaching him.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure. It's been almost two years. I'm not waiting a minute longer to have you in me."

Despite his insistence, Aiden's face still pinched in discomfort, followed by a brief bitter-sharp undercurrent of pain to his scent as he was breached.

"Woah, woah. You sure you're ok?" Lambert asked, stopping the others descent with a firm grip on his hips.

"I'm fine. Like I said, it's been almost two years."

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed until Lambert finally bottomed out, Aiden arching his back with a moan and a satisfied smile, "I missed you."

It was then it slammed into him like one of the mountain avalanches: This was Aiden! Aiden whimpering and writhing in his lap, Aiden tight and warm around him and so, so alive. Aiden was alive, and he was here!

"Lam?" A hand cupping his jaw brought him back. Concerned, green eye searching his face, "Where did you go just now?"

"Sorry, I -" Lambert faltered, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"Do you need to stop?"

"No! I mean." He buried his face in Aiden's shoulder, "I don't want to stop but can we....just stay like this for a bit?"

"Oh, Lam. Come here." Aiden said, changing his bruising grip on the other to a gentle hug whilst Lambert pressed his nose hard against Aiden's neck, feeling the other press kisses to the top of his head.

"Pup, you're shaking."

"I'm fine, I'm fine. S'just you being here. Doesn't feel real."

"... Lambert, I need you to listen for a minute. Alright?"

Lambert nodded before he felt Aiden gently guide his head until one ear was pressed over his Witcher slow heart.

"Hear that? I'm real, this is real. I'm here."

Lambert gave a small whimper in response, still trembling with the sudden emotional upheaval as his hands wandered over every part of the other he could reach, the Cat only pausing in his litany of reassurances to give a small gasp when Lambert's fingers brushed over where they were joined, "That's it. You feel that? Me and you together again. Just as it should be, and that's how it's going to stay now."

"You promise?"

Aiden tilted the Wolf's head up, amber eyes full of emotions usually banked deep, deep down as he brushed their noses together.

"I promise."

[yanderelmk]

Question for redson, nezha, azure, wukong and peng and macaque if youd like

1. If we wanted to have children, how would you react?

2. How would you help your darling with period stuff?

3 . If I asked you to make me immortal so we could love each other forever would you?

🏮💜❤️‍🩹

🔥RED SON🔥: Red Son's face went red and his jaw dropped open. "Ch-children?? You want children?! Do you know how difficult those are to raise? But..." He fidgets, pressing the tips of his index fingers together. "Just how many would you wish to have?" "As for the menstrual predicament, I do not fear the monthly blood ritual. It is just simple biology, only smooth-brained peasants fear the shedding of the uterus." "I have already begun thinking of ways to gift it to you. I presume our marriage would not be enough on its own, though it would grant you demonic nobility status...either I will have to break into Heaven or I will have to find one of the ancient Sages to force the secret from them." 🪷NEZHA🪷:

"I would love children, but I would not be able to care for them as much as I would be able to. I am the protective deity of all children, I would rather not run the risk of favoritism towards my own. But...I do admit the idea appeals to me of having children with the one I love."

"Ah, yes, the process in which a mortal reaches developmental maturity. Fear not, I am experienced in dealing with this sort of thing. In advance I prepared many snacks, especially chocolates, and heating devices. All you need to do is rest up." "Immortality is only gained by Heaven's permission. To do otherwise...well...those who become immortal without Heaven's consent face miserable lives as punishment. Chang'e is the kindest example of what happens when greed for immortality overtakes reason. I will do my best to beg for your appointment as an immortal by my side, but it might take some time. I only ask for your patience." ☀️WUKONG☀️:

"Kids? Like...more than one? Look, I'm gonna be honest with you, I take care of my Flower-Fruit Mountain children okay, but I don't know how good I'd do with a one-on-one infant. I'm willing to try, but I think we should prooobably wait until I've taken some parenting classes first." "Oh! Periods! That's the monthly feminine thing, right? Uhh..." Wukong digs around a bit and tosses a blanket on you. "There you go!" Wukong sighs. "Look, I know I might have become immortal a good few times over, but it's really not that easy. Heaven's not gonna let you become an immortal that easily. I'll do what I can, all you have to do is eat the food of Heaven to become immortal, but it's going to be a really rough process. I'll only do it if you're absolutely certain." 🦅PENG🦅:

"I would be overjoyed to raise fledglings with you! How many are you thinking? I believe six is an appropriate number." "Ah, the matters of the femmes. I remember when I had to deal with that...tell you what, you sit here, I will go and procure the necessary supplies. Then I'll snuggle up with you until you fall asleep." "Immortality? That is easily done! Once we achieve our ambition to overtake Heaven, I will make you my Immortal Consort. No weapon, Celestial, Infernal, or Mortal, will be able to strike you down."

🌑MACAQUE🌑:

"Why would you want kids? Don't those make a lot of noise and stuff? I'll compromise: How about we get a puppy or something, start off small?"

"Periods? Um...I don't really know how those...work. What do you need for that, a bandage? I got plenty of those." He sighs. "Look Y/N, I'll be honest with you, immortality's not all it's cracked up to be. Forever is a long time. If you're adamant and absolutely 100% certain, I'll try to do what I can, but you're gonna have to accept that being immortal means living for a really long time. You'll lose your friends and family, everything will change while you never do. It can be a painful existence."

[marithlizard]

First impressions: Helluva Boss s2e11, "Mastermind":

Okay, I'm ready. (I'm not ready.) Oooh here we go. The show told us over and over again that Stolas was not supposed to be letting Blitz use the book, right from episode 1. This was always going to be bad.

Are they sleeping together? Does Andrealphus just ogle his sister? Does he find her a useful pawn due to her attractiveness? They don't act like lovers at all, and I don't pick up any abuse vibes either.

How often do the staff at Andrealphus's palace get frozen solid, I wonder?

Is Andrealphus significantly less wealthy than his ex-BIL? Or is this much less impressive-looking palace in a remote location his secret lair? It's got to be mostly underground.

I have to give Stella points for not being even the tiniest bit intimidated. She has no magic, just perfect confidence that her brother would never harm her and an unshakeable, impenetrable armor of selfish obliviousness. (Will I enjoy seeing it crack someday? Oh yes.)

I want Loona to film Blitz making the Moxxie squeak toy and turn it into one of those craft videos on tiktok.

Interns. Are these agents hired by Andrealphus? Are they cleverly appealing to Blitz's personal style with that note? Are they-

-Oh. Never mind.

Poor Blitz looks really out of it in that mugshot! Either concussive or drugged or both. And from the numbers, he was the prisoner brought in right before Moxxie. A small coincidence that changed so many lives.

"Quick! Hide everything!" An understandable impulse, but IMP hasn't been secretive at all. There's tons of evidence of them using the grimoire even if the commercial from the pilot isn't canon. They've only survived so long because Goetia don't pay attention to imp activity. (Or does Blitz just want to hide his porn collection and horse art? )

Aww is Loona playing online poker with her new hound friends?

"Deleting search history" Was I right about the porn?

AWWW Loona does care! Which we knew, but it's nice to see.

The terrible Earth disguises from S1E4! So they got the tail-sock back, or maybe Blitz made another one.

You can see the moment when it sinks in that it's no use, they are going to have to leave everything and jump ship, I.M.P is done.

Every time I see Blitz's reflexes and protectiveness save the day, I say a quiet fuck-you to Cash Buckzo for not appreciating his son. Also, nice grenade design.

Misdirect successful, I completely forgot about the interns. And I didn't pick up at all that each of them matches the size and body type of an IMP member.

Did Loona freeze up with fear? Not that any of the rest of them get full marks either, they completely forgot they could've used the crystal to leave right from the office. (I forgot too, until they were in the van.) That could be considered a plot hole but honestly it's hard to think clearly in that kind of crisis.

oh SHIT SATAN?!

Oh shit oh shit oh shit. And that's Mammon, Ozzie, Bee, and someone I don't recognize (Belphegor?) behind him.

We have finally met the being Blitz doesn't dare mouth off to.

That is Belphegor, she's snoozing. And is that Leviathan next to Mammon? She has two heads! She's like Glitz&Glam conjoined!

And we finally see some other Goetia. As promised, they are not all bird-types. And some sweet designs there. I like Count von Deermeister with his military decorations and gilded horns. And Marquise Emo Gothpony next to him. I shall dub the one on the far left Duke Skeksis Turkeyvulture.

And Vassago! Beak scrunched up, already not happy. Sensing a trap ahead?

"Oh, this is about the book?" It's usually obvious when Blitz is putting on an act, but I can't quite tell here. If not, what on earth else did he think this could be about?

(Bee: Did I just hear what I thought I heard? Ozzie: Oh yeah. Those aren't ice crystals, they're Folger's crystals.)

EW you bastard, Andrealphus. What an effective catch-22 you've designed. Stolas either defends Blitz and destroys himself, or allows the entire nobility of Hell to believe he's so pathetic that an imp could control him, that's clear enough. But did you have to throw a rape accusation into it for extra humiliation?

(ETA: Which I notice nobody particularly reacted to, or stopped to consider the complete absurdity of. Most likely they don't care. Grimoire misuse is the charge that counts.)

Hey, I thought Mammon was ace? Maybe that was just a rumor, and he's aro but not ace.

Moxxie is the only one who didn't know Blitz would pull the "let my team go" card. Loona and Millie had faith in him.

So Satan created the imp species, and explicitly created them to be minions. Interesting. Did Asmodeus create the succubi, etc? (ETA: Or is Satan lying about that, too?)

Blitz doesn't mention Stolas at all in his final words, or try to explain the situation. That isn't as cold as it seems. Anything he said would do more damage to Stolas and Blitz knows that. (Also his focus has narrowed to his family, as it does in one's last moments.)

Verosika was NOT watching with enjoyment. When it came down to it, she did not want to see Blitz die at all. Certainly not for something he didn't do.

"Through SONG!" I love this bird-dork.

(Bring on the Vassago+Moxxie friendship fics! They are clearly kindred souls.)

(Blitz, on the other hand, puts his head right back down on the chopping block.)

ooh. OOOH. I was expecting a heartfelt outpouring like the one at Verosika's party, but the opening lines of Stolas's song make it clear he is approaching this with strategy. Does he see the trap laid for him?

(oh shit, is Blitz is going to believe what he's singing? oh no)

..where are you going with this, Stolas

Bee and Ozzie, completely unimpressed

what is Mammon doing with the blocks, you know what, I don't care

what? Stolas, what?

This IS a self-sacrifice ploy, just with extra bonus melodrama. And Blitz knows it, thank fuck, I couldn't take another round of misunderstandings. Very clever on Stolas's part, now that I think about it. Especially since he had zero time to prepare. Get attention off of Blitz and onto him, reinforce the court's low opinion of imps so that even if Blitz says something disastrous they won't take it seriously.

oh hello, lore in the middle of this Broadway emostravaganza? Hell was around before Lucifer fell? And Satan ruled it? (ETA: Nope, Viv said Satan was lying. )

"BRB 5 min" with a duck is very Lucifer-like. Ozzie and Bee glancing at it in annoyance. If Lucifer were here doing his fucking job, he might be moved by the Hell-crossed lovers. And also Satan wouldn't be the de facto ruler with no one able to call him on his bullshit.

(forgets to comment for several minutes, and also to close mouth)

Well. That was a thing. Let me see if I understand right.

Stolas is reduced to the status of ordinary demon for the next hundred years, making him and Blitz equals for the rest of Blitz's life.

Octavia is now completely her mother's pawn. This is the real downside and I have a feeling it will not be fixed next episode.

Stolas coming home with Blitz to be fussed over? Loona expressing her love for Blitz, balm to one dad's soul and salt in the wounds of the other? Blitz taking care of Stolas in the bathtub? This is primo fic content brought to life. Stolas even saw the wall of pictures! Unlikely that he noticed or understood the scribbled-out parts yet, but give him time.

Annnd IMP gets to go back to business, with a massive publicity boost. The crystal never got mentioned and Asmodeus isn't in trouble for sponsoring a criminal. At least, not yet.

A happy ending all around. Stolas may not know that Blitz loves him yet, he's still in shock, but they've got time now. And Blitz did offer to hire him all those years ago. :happy sigh: This episode is a Stolitz ficwriter's dream.

(Hey, Kesha voiced Bee again!)