#welcome to hell ya fucker

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Plushies : Bonus

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Plushies Series Masterlist

Lactation, Bump

Can be read as standalone

Notes: Starting to think Plushie!Joel and Belly bump/lactation!Joel are in fact, the same Joel x reader couple but at different points in their lives. Plushies takes place when they're young and dating and breeding kink happens after they've been married or at least moved in and long term committed. So here's a fic that joins the two!

Warnings: assisted masturbation, stuffed animal masturbation, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pet names, language

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You hadn't exactly planned on getting pregnant. You wanted to switch birth control plans to another dosage to help alleviate some of the hormonal side effects of your current brand. Joel did not take the news of having to practice safe sex for at LEAST 6 MONTHS too kindly.

Anyway, that was 4 days ago when you had officially switched over your pills. You now find yourself pinned in full mating press with Joel over top you, your ankles locked around his ass as he's already dumping an extra big load of his seed deep inside you after YOU had ripped the condom off his dick in a desperate haste to have him inside you 10 minutes ago.

And when you had to bare the news to Joel, oh my FUCK was he elated. He fucked you every way till the cows came home. He kept insisting the plushies stay ON the bed each time you made love so the baby (which you had to remind him was no bigger than a seed at this point) had a soft and loveable daddy that liked soft and loveable things.

Once the initial wave of morning sickness and irritability passed, you were just as much of a horndog. He'd come home and find you sitting on your giant Costco teddy bear, humping its legs while hugging it. He could see the small but new little bump in your lower tummy clearly pressed against Teddy's large cotton stuffed one. Joel made you ride so many plushies, asking you how each one felt as you gushed on them, all the while gently planting his palm at your tiny swell.

Sometimes you wondered if he was actually asking you or if he was asking the baby which one felt right.

He'd fuck you with you you on top, pushing two plushies against your tits to "practice feedings", loving the way your sensitive nipples rubbed against the beaded noses. Or planting you on your back with a soft flat plush under your back so you were comfortable as you spread your legs wide and welcomed his fat cock into you again.

Joel would find excuses to massage you as often as possible, making you sit in his lap, back pressed to his chest as he rubbed your shoulders, your aching and swollen tits, and of course your little pulsing pussy, who was just dripping of her own accord whenever. It'd be the perfect opportunity for him to peer over your shoulder and rub a stuffed animal between your legs, loving how each week, he could see less and less of the plush and his hand, slowly becoming obscured by the growing baby on the way.

Joel's naughty appraisal was off the roof. Only difference was now babygirl, kitten, whore, slut, were replaced with baby momma, little momma, momma hen, or just straight up Mommy (THAT one surprised you the most).

And oh HELL did he eat up his Daddy appraisal, constantly reminding you "fuck yeah, Daddy fucked ya up so good, put a baby in ya" or "Papi's gonna keep you round all fuckin year, pump ya full of baby batter" with "Love breedin ya, gonna make me the happiest fucker in the world" and "Daddy's gonna give you a whole fuckin kintergarden".

At night, when he thought you were asleep, he'd brush your hair lovingly, hand caressing your naked round belly, surrounding you in plushies and whispering to the baby, asking which one they like best, gauging based on how much the little feet kicked up inside you to feel the stuffed animal through your skin. He'd kiss your tummy, and barely above a whisper, tell his baby how excited he is to meet them soon.

Least to say, as unexpected as it was, Joel was thrilled to be a dad.

-

"No peeking."

"Joel I can't even see, please move your hands, I can just close my own eyes."

"No no, I got you OH NOT RIGHT THERE ok right—ok perfect. Aaaaaand—" he removes his palm from your eyes.

Your eyelids flutter open, adjusting to the bright light. Joel had just finished building the baby room, complete with custom shaved and engraved wooden crib he spent all week making.

You instinctually caress your growing belly, smiling in awe. "Oh Joel, it's so—" your eyes scan the room, lost for words at his beautiful work.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your middle securely over yours. "Ya like it?"

You loved it. Soft and sweet, touches of little details in the woodwork, spoiled with bunnies and floppy ears, a smoothly sanded rocking chair in the corner, cloud brushed skys painted on the walls. You glaze over the crib before something catches your eye, doubling back. You seeing the contents inside more clearly, a cotton pink blanket, some onesies, and--

Your infamous Kitty plushie.

You smile drops as you rush and bend over haphazardly with your swollen belly in the way, snatching the plush out of the crib like it was diseased. You hold your arm out and stick it right in front of his face. "Joel what the FUCK is THIS doing in here??"

"What? It's your kitty! For the baby!"

"Not THIS kitty! This one's— its— filthy!"

"I washed it. Like in the actual machine. Not the tub. It's clean."

"She will never be clean of her sins, Joel Miller."

"Oh now its a she?"

"Burn. This." You growled, the animal helplessly jiggling with each word.

"Being so harsh to Kitty, she don't deserve that," he said, taking it from your hands and cradling it gently, kissing its squishy head.

"Burn it or I'm buying that pregnancy pillow and kicking you on the couch where you can share with Kitty for the rest of the year."

"I'll go get the wood for that fire."

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

REWATCHING GO S1, LIVE PLAY-BY-PLAY OF DOOMSDAY WAHOO

HELLO MAGGOTS REWATCHING SEASON 1 BECAUSE THE FIRST TIME WAS A KIDNAPPING CHAOTIC MESS. EPISODE ONE HERE GOES. I DON'T REMEMBER A LOT OF DETAILS BUT YES.

Opening scene and Earth's got vibe-checked by God and I've been gaslit about the dinosaurs

GARDEN OF EDEEEEEN wow his first appearance and Aziraphale's already so prissy and flustered might fuck around and fall in love with him idk

I finally understand who these mf's are hi Hastur and Ligur you're not zombies after all

FOR FUCK'S SAKE SECOND SCENE CROWLEY'S BEEN IN AND SHE WALKED IN, SERVED HIPS HAIR AND CUNT, AND THEN MANAGED TO TALK HER AWAY INTO A PROBLEM

LIKE GENUINELY SHE COMES AND SASHAYS WITH HER HAIR AND SAYS TIMES ARE CHANGING AND HEAD OFFICE LOVES ME AND JUST INSTANTLY HASTUR AND LIGUR USE HER WORDS AGAINST HER

idk sister mary loquacious is kinda doing it for me rn with that satanic nun's habit and losergirl energy

third crowley scene and he's misplaced THE LITERALLY GODDAMNED ANTICHRIST because he made small talk with a bloke outside without checking for details

mmmmhm yes sister mary wink again your bitchless decisions are sexy y'know what i mean

Gabriel feels like his brain was eviscerated and replaced with one of those youtuber's paid course promos at the end of their how to change your life in 45 days: three simple mindset shifts video

so THIS IS WHY EVERYONE KEEPS SAYING PAVLOVIAN IN THIS FANDOM IT'S BECAUSE OF DUCKS of course it's because of ducks

mmmhm yes sure crepes French revolu--Crowley stop eye-fucking Aziraphale you're making everyone at the Ritz horny

Aziraphale don't moan into your food man you can't take these two anywhere

Crowley thanking the driver for slowing down is everything to me

And they're drunk hu-fucking-zzah good thing we'll have 11 year olds saving the world coz these fuckers sure ain't doing shit

OH MY GOD HE WAS TRYING TO SAY BOUILLABAISSE I JUST REALISED. I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST MAKING KISSY FACES AT AZIRAPHALE I'M NOT OK-

What Aziraphale was doing back was definitely kissy faces though that mfer wasn't even trying to say bouillabaisse when Crowley said what sounded suspiciously like baby

kissy kissy from lil miss prissy [i would have made such a great high school bully shame i had no inclinations that way]

SORRY WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK WAS THAT SOBERING UP EXCUSE ME THE FANFICS MADE IT SOUND LIKE IT WAS A CLICK AND THEY'RE SUDDENLY NORMAL WHY IS THE ALCOHOL REFILLING

oop nun down nun down

i want ya see a wile ya thwart amirite on a t-shirt

"actually i encourage humans to-" just say you're a lazy bitch azi we love you

love crowley fake-manipulating azi into helping like azi wants to be manipulated y'know so it's not technically his fault he was wiled over or whatever and they're both just such ENABLERS

not azi going SOFT at being godfathers with crowley

NOT BROTHER FRANCIS PLEASE NO FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SACRED AZI WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS PLEASE

WARLOCKKKKK I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

HNNNG MICHAEL SHEEN HAD TOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS

why is nanny ashtoreth so seductive with that of course dear is it just crowley's inherent disastergirl sex appeal

HALF PONYTAIL CROWLEY I AM A FUCKING SLUT FOR HALF PONYTAIL

GASLIGHTING HEAVEN AND HELL THAT'S MY BABYGIRLS

erIC THE DISPOSABLE DEMON I DIDN'T KNOW THEY COME IN S1 well not come i hope unless being eaten by a hellho--nope

ANGEL CROWLEY SAID ANGEL ANGEL ANGEL

CROWLEY TRYING TO BE SUBTLE ABOUT KILLING BEFORE GETTING ANNOYED

waiter crOWLEY OUTFIT I CANNOT BE NORMAL AFTER THE WEDDING DRESS DESIGNING ABOUT THIS COSTUME

FOOLS WRONG BOY YOU FOOLS IM DEAD

DOG IS UNIRONICALLY SO CUTE EVEN BEFORE IT GOES SMOL

gonna give my roxie a kissy brb she's my angel and all this dog talk makes me miss her (she's a few feet away under the bed)

i asked her for a kissy and she crawled out and gave me a kiss i love her

DOGGGGG ADAMMM

...roxie's crying to be taken downstairs it's nearly 2 am this is on me for waking her up i crowley'd myself fml

EYYYYY WELCOME TO THE END TIMES don't mind me I'll have to take roxie down yes I know maggots I'm crowley-coded I KNOW THAT I'M A BLOODY DISASTER BYEEEEEEEE

[into-the-hellaverse]

Mammon's Bad Day

The next installment of The Bad Day series! This one focuses on Mammon and Adam's relationship and why he started dragging Adam to the meetings.

TW for abuse. Read with caution.

Sorry for a late post! Work has been taking a lot out of me cuz I have to get up super early 😔😔 also pls commission me I need moneys @asmerlotus for my comm details

------------------------

Mammon really hated being here. His ring was ridden with loan sharks, muggers, crime lords, and gullible fucks he could wring every dollar out of. You know, the cool people. Lucifer's ring just had these stupid sinners. At least there was supposed to be a cool music gig at this shady back alley bar.

He sat down in a rickety chair at a half broken table, watching some rando coked out of their mind just lazily banging a tambourine. "The guy better come up soon or I'm gonna burn this shithole to the ground."

The owner of the bar pulled the Sinner off stage and took their tambourine. "Thanks. Thank you for...whatever the fuck that was. Please welcome to the stage... I don't fucking care. I'm gonna take a nap in the back. Don't ruin my bar." The owner walked away and a man walked on stage while a few people cheered. For the now-free beer or the guy, Mammon didn't know.

The guy on stage wasn't that bad. He kept a good beat and had an amazing singing voice. And he was hot. That was always a good plus.

"So if Hell is forever, then maybe I'll just die

It can't be as bad as anything else in my life

Just torture, hate, and pain

Throughout every single day

Suffer more and more 'til I finally catch a break."

His song ended and a few people clapped, but most were trying to drain the liquor from the bar. Mammon kept his eyes on him, watching him down the rest of his drink at his table before making a beeline for the door.

"Oi, pudgy!" Mammon called out. Everyone turned to look at him, some attracted by the noise, some recognizing his voice and looking fearful, but the man with the guitar... He just looked annoyed.

"The fuck you want?" He called out from across the little bar. "I got another gig to get to."

Mammon got out of his seat and strode over to him. "Screw the gig, mate. I need tuh have a chat with you." He slung his arm around him and led him out of the bar. "I'm feeling kinda hungry. Whaddya say we talk over some barbecue, yeah?"

"If you pay for it, I'll eat anything."

"HA! I think I'm liking you already!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man's name was Adam, he quickly learned. And he wasn't just any Adam. He was The Adam™. Ya know, first man created by God, Adam. Heaven's trophy, the golden child, right in his grasp...

He was extraordinary. He had the right vibes, amazing energy, passionate about his music and he was probably the only person other than Bee who could beat him in an eating contest. Adam was a lot smaller than him but he could give him a run for his money. It had only been about a month since they met and the guy already agreed to date him. "You're already a lot better than my last partner," Adam said when he had agreed.

"So, why are you running around from bar to bar every night?" Mammon asked as he stuffed his face full.

"It's a long story," Adam said. "I doubt you wanna hear it."

"I got all the time in the world, Addy..." Mammon said with a smile.

Adam smiled at him and continued to eat. "Ok, well, I was at the Hazbin Hotel that Morningstar has, and-"

"Charlie still tryna run that thing?" Mammon cut in.

"Wait, you know them?" Adam asked, looking oddly confused.

"Well, yeah. I fell with that little white twink," Mammon said nonchalantly. "All of us Sins were pretty close for a while, but Luce just started drifting away and none of us have seen him in years."

"Well don't bother," Adam growled. "He turned into a little fucking prick. His daughter too." Adam started stabbing his food and chewing angrily as he spoke. "I gave my heart and soul to that fucker! Back in Eden and back in the hotel! And he crushed it twice! He didn't even have the decency to listen to my side of the story! And then he just wants to apologize and thinks everything is ok?!"

"Addy, sweetie," Mammon started. "I love you, but please don't spit food on me while you're talking."

"Sorry." He swallowed and wiped his mouth. "But still! You'd think after thousands of years he'd learn some basic decency!"

"I know. That fucker wouldn't know decency if it came up behind him and fucked him in the ass."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam started to laugh and choke on his food. "Jesus fucking Christ..." he mumbled after he was finally able to breath.

Mammon stopped laughing and smiled at him. "So what now? You ain't gonna stay with him forever, are ya?"

"Nah. That's why I've been doing those gigs. To save up cash and move out."

Mammon smiled, trying to look genuine. He had this guy right where he wanted him. He reached out and gently took his hand. "Ya know... It gets a little lonely in my mansion..."

Adam smiled softly. "Mamm, you know I'd love to. But I can't leave the Pride Ring. No Sinner can."

"I'll get that taken care of, love. Would ya wanna keep me company?"

"....Yeah...."

A month or so passed and Adam was adjusting really well. He seemed so much happier out of the hotel. His music was taking off and everyone was forking over so much cash to pre-order concert tickets. Mammon was estatic... For the most part.

"C'mon, it's just one meeting!"

"And you'll only be away from me for an hour! You can handle it, ya big baby." Sometimes Adam really got on his nerves.

"But every second it torture," Mammon whined.

"Then you're gonna get tortured for an hour."

"Why do you not want to go?"

Adam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jesus fucking Christ. Because Lucifer is gonna be there."

Mammon just shrugged. "And?"

"And I want to keep things cordial between us. The best revenge is having a better life without him. So I'm going to stay away as long as I can." Adam turned away and went back to him music.

Mammon pouted and looked away. He desperately wanted to flaunt his new treasure in front of Lucifer, but if he wouldn't come then what's the point of even going? "It's been a month, Addy," he finally said after a minute. "Lucifer probably calmed down by now."

Adam looked up, not really believing him. "You seriously expect me to buy that?"

"Adam, you may have known him first, but I've known him longer. He probably doesn't even remember you!" Mammon lied.

Adam groaned and rolled his eyes. "Fine! I'll go. But you better think of a good lie as to why I'm there!" He yelled as he went upstairs.

"Two steps ahead of ya, Royal Advisor."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't think I'm gonna go anymore..."

"What? Why?"

It had been a few months of the meetings and every week, Lucifer looked worse. He looked tired, upset, and starved. It was so hard for Mammon to keep a straight face. He loved seeing that fucker in pain. It was kinda odd, though, that he recently started doing better. A whole lot better. Like, way too happy, "he couldn't have gotten over it that fast" kind of better.

"I just...can't stand to see Lucifer like that. And the fact that you keep telling me to be rude to him? I just... I don't want to do this anymore..."

"Fine. If you're gonna be a child about this, then you don't have to go." Mammon rolled his eyes and started to go upstairs.

"No, I'm talking about us... You're like a completely different person now. I... I want to break up."

Mammon turned, looking shocked before he started laughing. "Oh, Addy, sweetie, it's hilarious you think you have say in this."

Adam just looked up with that stupid look on his face. "Wh-What?"

Mammon gave him a sinister smile and got close. Way too close. "You're mine now, love."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Adam said as he tried to back up.

Mammon gripped his shirt and pulled him back, tearing off his necklace. "This crystal is you only way out of here, Addy. Without it, you stuck with me until you stop making me money. And you never gonna fucking stop, are ya?"

"Give that back," Adam said firmly, starting to tremble with fear.

"Never."

"I said give it BACK!" Adam jumped up and smacked his face, trying and failing to grab the necklace. He fell back to the floor, looking up at Mammon.

"...Mamm, I'm-"

"You just made a big fucking mistake..." Mammon dropped the necklace, crushing the crystal under his foot as he slowly walked towards him.

"Mammon, really, I'm sorry please-"

Adam didn't get a chance to finish. Mammon pulled him up and started hitting him, punching and kicking whatever he came into contact with. It was pretty easy with four arms, and went you had a lot of expensive breakable shit that could cause a lot of pain (mainly plates. Those shards gwt stuck everywhere.) He heard Adam screaming, begging to stop, begging for forgiveness, but Mammon didn't listen.

He hit him for hours. When Adam tried to fight back, he hit him harder. When Adam gave up, he hit him harder. It wasn't until he was covered in cuts and bruises with two black eyes, a broken nose, and a busted lip that finally stopped.

Mammon got close, pulling him up by the shirt and growling. "Never speak to me like that again, you understand?"

Adam just nodded weakly.

"Good... Clean yourself up. And the god damn mess you made." Mammon left him on the floor and went upstairs.

[wannab-urs]

Congrats on 1.5k! So deserved!! 🖤

To celebrate, I'd love a drabble. Any Pedro boy will do!

Keep rocking & being awesome, gorgeous! 🖤😘

Thank you so so so much <3 I hope you like this ahhhh

Save a Horse... Or Whatever

Pairing: Jack "Agent Whiskey" Daniels x Reader

Summary: Whiskey got hurt on a mission and he comes into your lab to get patched up.

Warnings: Jack Daniels being allowed to speak, medical shit that is completely bullshitted, one mention of blood, some talk of like digging around in a wound, etc, Whiskey calls you Soda pop and Sugar. Technically you're Agent Soda. Brief descriptions of oral m!receiving. No use of y/n, reader isn't gendered (I don't think?) WC: 900

A/N: I kind of think I'll turn this into a full one shot at some point? This is unbeta'd sorry!

Jack Daniels Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You really did not expect to end up with Agent Whiskey’s cock in your mouth today. Maybe you’d thought about it before, maybe hoped the opportunity would present itself at some point, but certainly not today. 

–-

He left your field office this morning for what was supposed to be a simple mission. Go in, shoot the fuckers, take the briefcase, call in the clean up crew. Simple, easy, something he’d done a hundred times. But somehow it got fucked up six ways from Sunday and he ended up limping his sorry ass into your lab, carrying the brief case but also dragging his left leg. 

“Howdy, Soda Pop. Reckon you could fix up my leg?” He flashes you his trademark sideways smile and a wink, before his face crumples and his legs nearly give out from under him. 

“Fuck, Whiskey! What in the hell happened to you?” You run over to help him, grabbing his thick arm and heaving him onto your examination table. 

“Let’s just say I did not receive a Kentucky welcome.” 

“Clearly. Can you take your jeans off, or am I gonna have to cut you out?” Whiskey smirks at you again and you brace yourself for whatever is about to come out of his mouth. 

“Well now, Soda Pop, thought you’d at least take me out to dinner before you tried to get in my pants. Think I can manage to get naked for ya though, sugar.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Whiskey you’re literally bleeding out,” you chastise him as he pulls off his belt. He winces as he shucks his blood stained jeans down his thighs, panting a little with the effort.

You try desperately not to show how much it turns you on. The guy you’ve harbored a bit of a crush on for years stripping down right in front of you… Who could blame you, honestly?

“Fuck! Soda, I’m too weak to whip a gnat. You’re gonna have to pull ‘em the rest of the way.” He collapses back on the table, jeans sitting not even half way down his thighs. 

You huff an annoyed breath and roll your eyes. “Shoulda just let me cut them off, idiot.” You pull off his ridiculous designer cowboy boots and yank his jeans the rest of the way down. You head over to your storage cabinet and grab some alcohol wipes, a pair of forceps, and a Beta Gel shot. 

Stepping between his parted legs, you clean his wound with the wipes as carefully as you can. His breath hitches in what you assume is pain and he digs his nails into his palms. “Alright, Whiskey, I gotta dig the bullet fragments out now. I can give you a pain shot, but your leg will be numb for the rest of the day. Up to you.” 

He props himself up on his elbows and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Don’t need a shot, sugar. I can handle it.” 

You raise a very skeptical eyebrow, but grab the forceps anyway. As you start the process of removing metal fragments from his leg, Whiskey sucks in a breath and his head falls back between his shoulder blades. You initially think it’s from pain. “Sure you can handle it, cowboy?” 

“Oh yeah, baby doll. I can handle it.” You eye him suspiciously, before trailing your eyes back down to where you’re working on his leg. Something catches your attention though. 

“Jack Daniels,” you say sternly. “Are you fucking getting off on this?” His cock is half hard in his boxer briefs. 

“And what if I was? Pretty girl, fixin’ me up, touchin’ me all over…” He trails off. 

“That why you became an Agent, Whiskey? You got a pain kink?” You resume pulling the pieces of the bullet out of his leg, nearly done now anyway. 

“Just ignore it, sugar. It’ll go away,” his voice is raspy, rough as if he’d been yelling and so low you feel it in your gut. You pull the last bit of the bullet out, grab the beta gel shot, and stab it into his thigh. 

His cock jumps in his underwear and he falls flat back on the table, letting out a slight whimper. 

“And what if I don’t want it to go away, Whiskey?” You don’t move from between his thighs. In fact, you step in closer, trail your hands up the outsides of his thighs and press your thumbs in. 

His head perks up at that and he meets your eyes, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Well then, Soda pop… How’d you like to ride home on a real cowboy?” 

“That’s a terrible line, Whiskey. I really hope you don’t use that often.” 

“Only once or twice, sugar.” You roll your eyes, but hook your fingers into the waistband of his briefs anyway. You pull them down and his cock springs out, hitting his belly with a thwack. “Jesus, Jack, how do you walk around with that thing?” 

“Bowlegged,” he deadpans. You snort a laugh and take him in your hand, wrapping your fingers around his obscene girth. You dip your head and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip and sliding down as far as you can in one smooth motion. 

–-

And that is how you ended up with Whiskey’s cock in your mouth today.  Next time you’re aiming to end up in his bed. 

[bitchfitch]

Waking up after dying should've felt different from rolling out of bed after a rough night, but it didn't. There was the same bleery grogginess, and the same soreness in Heisenberg's neck from too many hours spent hunched over his work bench. His back creaked as he sat up off the compacted dirt of the lot behind his dearly departed factory. He still remembered it getting blown to hell, the fury of that poor idiot Papa raining on him, then him dying.

He wanted to be angry. Furious. Spitting livid that he failed and that pathetic little man clearly failed too. Heisenberg was alive again, so Miranda must be too. Her use for him clearly being renewed after facing down poor papa and finding him just as worthless as he thought he was.

But none of his rage came. He could feel nothing but the utter calm that usually only existed in surgical wards while a date and time of death were being announced.

He was already dressed again, his clothes having apparently reformed with his body. He stood, straightened out his coat, found where his hat had blown off too in the minutes or hours between it and him rising from the dirt and him waking up, and stalked off to go see what the actual fuck was up.

-

The lycans were up again too. Shambling around with vacant eyes like proper undead cretins should. None of them reacted much when he called out. The one he shoved didn't so much as flinch when it hit the ground, just got back up and continued its slow trek to wherever the ugly fuckers were walking.

"Karl!" a familiarly grating voice called.

The flash of irritation over hearing Moreau use his given name was almost welcome after so many minutes of blank nothing.

"What're you shouting about?!" Heisenberg called back, turning just enough to catch sight of the bastard.

"Did you die too?!" Moreau hobbled along the iced over stone path with his cloak pulled tight around himself. Heisenberg let his lip curl in a sneer as he approached. Cold blooded or not, he was just as native to this shit hole as Heisenberg was. Fucker should be able to handle the cold.

"What's it to ya?" he spits turning back to continue his investigations.

"I died, and now I'm not dead. You might have suffered the same? Has Mother told you why she brought us back yet?" Moreau followed him one step too close.

"Haven't heard a word from the bitch," Heisenberg kicks the body of a villager that was frozen to the ground. He didn't have a scrap of hope that his sisters would stay dead, but at least it seamed the peasantry would be staying down.

"Oh... She's going to be so cross with us for failing... Oh no," Moreau mumbles, "She's bringing the lycans too her- should we go too?"

"What?"

"You didn't notice?" he sounds too fuckin pleased with himself for Heisenberg's liking, "They're going to the altar. All of them, like they were called."

He hadn't noticed, the beasts were moving like they had an end destination, but they weren't all taking the same path or walking in their packs.

"Boys!" Dimitrescu called. Her mannerly tone was strained by the shout. She was wrapped up in one of her furs, her wretched little daughters following her with the same vacant eyes the lycans had.

"Morning sleeping beauty. Bout time you joined the party." Heisenberg rolled his eyes behind his shades.

"I will have you know I've been up for ages. My daughters just needed tending too. They-" She's interrupted by one of them shouldering past her, the other sisters following the first like Dimitrescu wasn't even there, "They are acting like that! They don't seem to hear a word I say!" she grimaces.

"Enviable," Heisenberg steps to the side to let them pass him, only to collide with the mess of fabric that was Beneviento. He jolts away from her and the doll clutched in her arms like she was a child with a simple toy.

"Mother is not who calls them." Angie prattles for her.

"Of course it's Mother!" Moreau says. "It's Mother because Mother killed that bastard and brought us all back to help with our new little sister!"

"She did not."

"She did! She still loves us!"

"She's dead, Salvatore."

"Stop," Heisenberg interrupts, putting himself between them before they could start bickering "How do you know that?"

"I can hear them- The person who woke us. They're not Mother, but they sound like her."

"What do they want with us?" Dimitrescu called over her shoulder, tailing behind her daughters after another fruitless attempt to stop their trek.

"I don't know yet. They're still sleeping. Dreaming of that little baby and her birth mother." Beneviento follows her, leaving the brothers to either join them in this march or be left out of the discussion.

"Oh! It must be Eva then. She will soon wake mother too." Moreau opted to follow.

Heisenberg bit his tongue as he strides to be in line with Beneviento. One jailor traded for another was not the freedom he had fought for, but there was still a chance he could recycle his plans-

"It's not her either, I think."

-

The Ceremony Site sat whole despite all that had happened in the last... day? Heisenberg still hadn't been able to piece out how long they were all down for, but it felt like things should have the decency to be more destroyed than the were. The village as a whole should be a lot worse off after the ugly mess that's gone down, and yet, it was only his factory that still laid in ruin. Like it all still stood as a personal insult to him. He grit his teeth and waited to feel the anger he was still clawing for as they approached.

The centeral altar was obscured by the dozens of lycan who had already shambled their way here, Dimitrescu's daughters joining their number in blankly staring at whatever was in the middle of their huddle.

Heisenberg didn't wait around, he shoved past the ugly beasts to see what was at the heart of this.

It laid at the foot of the alter, half wrapped around it. An inky black mess of a thing that twitched like fetus pulled from its mother too early. Dark roots leaked from it, plunging through the stonework as though it had bored perfect holes for itself through the rock. They had all seen the Black God in the moments before that witch knocked them out and implanted the cadous in their chests, but this... It was made of the same rot, but it's surface was smooth and calm. The twitching came from deep within it instead of being innate to every roiling inch of its surface.

"What Is that?" Dimitrescu wrenched him back by his shoulder so she could take her turn gawking.

"Fuck if I know," Heisenberg jerked free of her grip, shoving a lycan out of the way so he could stay near enough.

"It's Mother, Right? It's not the Black God itself. I can tell," Moreau kept his distance still.

"It's not her. It's not the god either but it's what woke us."

"Not Eva, Not Miranda- Rose then?" Heisenberg crouched down near what he thought was the head end of the shape. It was almost person shaped, a tad shorter than Beneviento was tall, but where it was it's widest it was nearly his own size.

"Perhaps? I think it's still forming, everything is all muddled and confused in its mind."

Dimitrescu sighed as she straightened up, "It's what's making the lycans and my daughters behave as such?" she crossed her arms tightly, "Or is it another symptom of what dragged us all back?"

Beneviento hummed. Turning from their group to carefully grab hold of one of the daughters' hands.

"Oh, poor thing... It wants it's young, I think,"

The ugly thing spasmed as Heisenberg tuned them out.

What 'it' wanted didn't fucking matter.

He stood from where he had knelt, rocked his weight onto his back foot and took a brief second to calculate for himself how bad of an idea this was, before saying 'fuck it' and bringing the whole of his force down on the things head.

It crunched under his boot's heel like a fragile skull should. Then, Heisenberg felt himself be engulfed by the grip of death once more.

(chapter 2 here)

[radama-zard]

Dungeons & Drabbles 2023

Day 2 - Step

----------------

FCG & Ashton - ModernHuman AU

Steps.

Why did it always have to be steps?

What was wrong with a nice, accessible ramp? They were easier for everyone, nobody had to fear tripping down or up them, parents with strollers could get inside, injured folk didn't have to struggle… and Fresh Cut Grass could have a little of his independence back, being able to wheel themself in with their wheelchair.

But of course life was hardly ever that kind.

A tired sigh slipped past their lips as he stared up at the flight of stairs, blocking them from the sweet little cafe they’d been oh so excited to try out. A customer, Jester, they thought, had been raving about the cupcakes here, and knowing the woman to be a real pastry connoisseur, Fresh Cut Grass had near instantly wanted to get a few themself.

But that dream seemed so cruelly out of reach now.

“Man, you’d think fucker’s would have caught on by now. Shit like this doesn't fly these days! Fancy new chairs and tables, but the owner can't be assed to make their business accessible. Bastard!”

Oh how they startled, jolting in such a way that almost had Fresh Cut Grass and their chair veering dangerously close to toppling. A solid, scarred hand steadied them, letting his frantically beating heart finally come to a rest.

“Fuck! Didn't mean to scare ya like that. My bad. You alright?”

“Y-Yeah! You just gave me a right startling, is all. I'm a-okay!”

“That's a relief. I’d feel like crap if I’d sent your heart packin’ or something…”

Did… Did the stranger look guilty? Well, that just wouldn't do at all! After all, a stranger was just a friend you hadn't met, and the last thing Fresh Cut Grass ever wished to see was a friend all sad and down in the dumps!

“It's fine, really! I spook real easy, my friend Imogen says I’d jump at my own shadow if I ever forgot it was there! But you're not scary yourself. I like your purple hair, and the eyeliner! Oh, and your cane too! Did you decorate it yourself? It looks fun-spooky!”

The stranger stared down at them, slowly blinking as their one good eye focused down on Fresh Cut Grass, taking in everything from their chunky cerulean blue box braids and round, thick glasses, to their bright yellow sweater and mismatched fingerless gloves. In contrast to their own ragged leather vest, covered in hand stitched patches and badges, deep red plaid pants and spiked belts, topped off with boots so hefty they looked able to smash someone’s head in… Well, they couldn't look more different.

Yet Fresh Cut Grass still smiled up at them, all warm and welcoming and so completely genuine that it seemed to catch them off guard.

“Most people would just flip me off and tell me to get fucked,” they muttered, leaning heavily upon their cane before shrugging and sticking a hand in their pocket, seemingly relaxing. “I didn't decorate this shit myself. A friend did. She’s one hell of a spooky ass bitch. Real arts and crafty. But anyway. I’m Ashton. Ashton Greymoore. You?"

“Oh, right! Introductions! Smiley Day to ya, Ashton, I’m Fresh Cut Grass!”

There was a beat of silence, more than a tad awkward, as Fresh Cut Grass awaited their response. Likely a laugh or a roll of the eyes or maybe even a sneer! Most people were funny about names when they weren't the most normal.

Not Ashton though.

No. He grinned, wide and bright and just shimmering with absolute delight.

“That's one hell of a name. You picked it yourself?”

“I did! It's my favorite smell. Ya don't think it's… weird?”

“Oh no, it's weird. But, I mean, fuck, have you looked at me? I like weird,” Ashton grinned wider, throwing one last glance at the inaccessible cafe as something shifted once more in his demeanor. “I know a place a few blocks from here. Unlike these fuckers, they actually give a fuck about people like us. Wanna join me there, Grass?”

“... Do they do cupcakes?” Fresh Cut Grass asked, their mind already made up before Ashton even had a chance to answer.

“Freshly baked in house. So… You coming?”

“I’d love t’ join ya! Thank ya kindly, Ashton!”

Their laughter in turn was rough and harsh, yet the warmth it held settled deep within Fresh Cut Grass’ tired bones… and within moments, he couldn't even quite remember why they’d been upset at all.

[ghostykai]

Overlord!Kaire: Fortuna

In this version, Kaire arrived in the middle of Alastor's absence and did not know about the Hotel.

Check out other works about Kaire: Kaire info, Kaire pt. 2, oneshot 1

(My Ask Box is open! So if you want to ask anything, ask away!)

When Kaire arrives in Hell, they immediately know they are fucked if they don't find a way to get above the rest

Stealing a tarot deck from the old demon that runs the antique store was easier than they liked to admit, their giant hands coming in clutch

"Readings! Find out your Fortune for just Five bucks! Best tarot readings in all of pentagram city!"

Thus, Fortuna was born

A few months in they found that setting up near casinos was where real money was made, filled with people willing to give anything to know the winning numbers or when to bet

Soon they made a reputation and they started asking for more: "I take 5% of all your earnings" "One favour for a reading"

From a little stand to a proper store, from 5% of earning to 10%, 15%, 20%, they grew and grew until one day:

"Welcome, what can I do for you," Fortuna asked when their heard the bell at the door ring. The small room was dimly lit and filled with the smell of ash and something woody. Fortuna leaned back in their plush seat, yellow eyes seemingly glowing, rifling and shuffling through their cards.

The demon that had just walked in sat down opposite to them, eyeing Fortuna wearily, "Yer the demon that can tell the future are ya not? Ya can tell folks' secrets and shit, right?"

Fortuna smiled, leaning closer to the table, interested, "For the right price, yes," they chuckled, it weirdly echoed in the room, "I can tell you anything you want: past, present or future, known and unknown."

"Whatever ya say," the demon replied gruffly, "I got someone I gotta get rid of, competition ya might call it. Tell me how to get ahead, take em out of the game."

"Oooh I see, rivalry," Fortuna's smile spread wider, "And what are you willing to give up for this knowledge, sir?"

"Anthin ya want"

The room was now clearer, illuminated by the yellow glow of Fortuna's eyes, not only the ones on their face, other nine had appeared like a crown, floating around their head. The demon gulped at the sight, the eyes seemingly all laughing down at him.

"Anything?" Fortuna asked in a sing song voice.

"Yes, anythin, I want that fucker gone!"

"What about..." In the blink of an eye (or 9) Fortuna was gone. The demon all but shrieked when he felt a hand on his shoulder, "your soul"

He turned but Fortuna wasn't there, once again sitting at their usual place, playing around with their cards, smile as big as it had ever been.

That was the first soul. The demon did in fact beat his enemy, but at what cost

After that, striking deals for soul became much more usual as word spread of just how good Fortuna's divinations were

Fortuna didn't really know when they became an overlord, but one time as they were strolling around the city, they heard people whisper: "The Fortune demon" "the overlord of fate"

Obviously, due to their occupation Fortuna did know a lot about Hell, but not many details about the other Overlords, they really didn't care for that

Fortuna also didn't quite care about their status as an overlord, all they wanted was to be financially stable and not be bothered

Carmilla was obviously the one to reach out, calling Fortuna for a meeting that honestly was a waste of time. They discussed what Fortuna's territory is, mostly having carved out a place near the gambling houses and what they planned to do with it

The second overlord to approach them was Vox. Asking if Fortuna wished to ally with him and the other Vees. That created a tentative cooperation, mostly consisting of Fortuna saying what the next successful trends would be and the Vees offering enough money to not make Fortuna regret their decision

Fortuna doesn't really use the souls under their possession much. Here and there they may ask for a favour or some Intel one of them might have, but for the rest, they leave them be

When they find out about the Hazbin Hotel and the Radio demon Alastor, they are quick to check in with their cards

Fortuna is extremely opportunistic in this version so when they find out it's convenient for them to join the princess of Hell, it doesn't take long for them to be knocking at the Hotel door

But the rest is for another time since this is getting long. Hope ya liked it, more is coming!

[drades-lair]

Tummy Ache

Fandom: HelluvaBoss

Pairing: Striker/Chaz

Rating: T

Note: This was inspired by this twitter post https://twitter.com/apparentwr1ter/status/1701249709677879766

Chaz swore the ratty rug beneath his feet was starting to form a hole with how many times he was pacing it. Striker was Six weeks overdue from his current job, a day or even a week wasn’t unusual however six weeks was highly unusual for the pale imp. Sighing heavily Chaz trudged to the bed where he curled up, tail coiled around himself like a frightened pup as he stared at the twenty unanswered texts under Striker’s name on the shark’s phone. Chaz gave a little whimper, rubbing his stomach gently as it clenched sending little pangs of pain through him. Suddenly the door to the motel opened causing a moment of panic followed by relief as Striker trudged inside, he was dirty with a few obvious minor injuries, but ultimately the imp was fine. Striker released an irritated, exhausted sigh as he shut the door behind him and toed off his boots before turning back around to Chaz.

“Howdy fish cake,” Striker greeted, tossing his duffle onto the small round wooden table, arching a brow at seeing the money he’d left Chaz for food still sitting on the tables surface.

“Welcome back, you were…gone for a long time,” Chaz smiled remaining on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest.

“Yeah, fuckers tried to screw me over with the payment forcin’ me ta chase ‘em halfway across hell,” Striker groused, digging around in his duffle till he found his med kit.

“Oh…did you get my texts?” Chaz wondered.

“Nah, sorry fishy, during the initial job they broke my phone,” Striker explained, shrugging off his jacket followed by undoing his vest.

“Okay, we’ll have to get you a new one,” Chaz chuckled softly.

“Yeah, I’ll pick one up on the way out of town,” Striker agreed, pulling his long-sleeved black shirt off. 

“I made three hundred dollars in tips at the saloon,” Chaz informed Striker with a proud little smile.

“Humph, good for Ya fish cake,” Striker chuckled softly, moving over to the small fridge in the room only to furrow his brow in confusion at seeing the same pizza that had been in there when he left.

“Hey, isn’t this the same pizza that we had before I left?” Striker inquired, standing up straight with a gesture into the fridge. Chaz immediately looked away as he coiled in on himself a little tighter, something he did when Striker called him out on something he’d tried to hide from the pale imp. Striker pulled the pizza out of the fridge to toss it in the trash on the way over to the bed where Chaz was sitting.

“What’s goin’ on fish cakes?” Striker asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Nothing…I just…forgot the pizza was in there…” Chaz trailed off.

“Oh yeah, did Ya forget about the money on the table as well?” Striker pointed out.

“N-no…I…” Chaz stammered unable to come up with an excuse.

“When did you eat last?” Striker asked now getting a concerned tone to his voice.

“A couple…days ago…” Chaz mumbled out earning him a shocked wide-eyed expression from Striker.

“What? Ya haven’t eaten in a couple days?” Striker asked in shock.

“I…I’m sorry…” Chaz apologized under his breath, fearful that Striker was angry at him.  

“What about the last eight weeks?” Striker asked now highly concerned.

“I was eating normally for the first couple weeks but after you didn’t come back, I started only eating the free meal from work,” Chaz explained, frown settling firmly on his features.

“Isn’t that just a side like fries or somethin’?” Striker asked seeking clarification.

“Yes,” Chaz mumbled again, pulling his tail tightly around his legs.

“What the fuck…? Why haven’t Ya been eatin’?” Striker wondered; concern now thick in Striker’s tone because normally Chaz was a garburator that never stopped eating. Striker was trying hard to not scare Chaz, he wasn’t angry at the shark just extremely concerned at the odd behavior.  

“I’m sorry! Mmm,” Chaz whimpered, his hands wrapping around his stomach.

“Huh? Did Ya get hurt? Or are Ya sick?” Striker asked noticing Chaz’s action.

“N-no…” Chaz mumbled out again, laying his chin on his knees.

“Okay, look fish cake I ain’t mad but somethin’ isn’t right wit Ya now what’s goin’ on?” Striker insisted getting up to walk around the bed to the side Chaz was sitting on, placing a hand gently on Chaz’s shoulder.

“I…don’t know, it’s just something that happens every now and then. My stomach starts aching then I lose my appetite,” Chaz explained to the best of his ability, rubbing his stomach for emphasis.

“Ya…have a…stomach-ache?” Striker repeated, arching a brow in curious confusion.

“Yes…my tummy hurts,” Chaz mumbled under his breath with a small pout on his face.

“When did this start?” Striker curiously inquired, slightly amused at the childish demeanour of Chaz.   

“About a week after the two weeks you told me you’d be gone for,” Chaz explained.

“When has this happened in the past?” Striker asked, starting to piece together what was going on with Chaz.

“Well, it happened after jobs went bad or before really big jobs, sometimes it happened when I had to meet with my bosses or…” Chaz rambled for a few moments before Striker held up a hand to stop him.

“Alright, alright, I think I know what’s going on here,” Striker chuckled.

“Really?” Chaz asked taking his turn to be confused.

“Yes, those were all situations where Ya were stressed or that’s what I’m assumin’ and it sounds like Ya get a stomach-ache when Yer stressed,” Striker concluded, pushing off the bed.  

“What? Really? Makes sense I guess…” Chaz trailed off thinking through all the times he’d experienced his stomach problems.

“Now, Ya got stressed cause I didn’t come back?” Striker inquired curiously, heading over to his med kit on the wooden table.  

“M-maybe…I was afraid you weren’t coming back,” Chaz mumbled again, averting his gaze once more.

“Okay fish cakes, hang on,” Striker sighed in exasperation.

 The pale imp popped open his med kit to pull out a rubber water bottle that he carried into the bathroom for a few moments. Upon returning Striker located Chaz’s bag on the floor which he rifled through for a pair of joggers and a T-shirt that he tossed at Chaz causing them to land on the shark’s head. Chaz took the hint to change into the outfit while the pale imp rifled around in his own duffle till, he pulled out a can of chicken noodle soup. After the soup was heated and Chaz was changed Striker made swift work of tending his minor injuries then changed himself into a pair of boxers before getting onto the bed next to Chaz. Handing the water bottle to Chaz, Striker instructed the shark to put it on his stomach followed by passing over the bowl of soup for Chaz to eat. Chaz finished the soup unfortunately his stomach started cramping immediately afterwards making him whimper as he recoiled in on himself.

“Hey, easy fish cakes. Come here,” Striker gently encouraged, pulling Chaz closer till the shark was curled up next to him with his head on the pale imp’s lap. Striker grabbed the hot water bottle that Chaz had set off to the side while he ate and gingerly pushed the shark’s shirt up off his stomach till the hot water bottle could lay against Chaz’s skin. Chaz gripped Striker’s thigh as he continued to whimper through the waves of pain when Striker gently slipped his hand between the hot water bottle and Chaz’s stomach. The shark gave a hum as Striker started gently rubbing in circles providing a modicum of relief from the waves of pain rippling through Chaz’s stomach. Slowly Chaz closed his eyes eventually falling into a soft sleep with Striker continuing to rub the sharks stomach till he too fell asleep.  

[solardick]

Добро пожаловать

All the effort made to produce disfunctional relationships to experience. The point is to keep me down as much as possible while leaving me functional enough to be herded.

A change in alphabets. Will aid in producing symbols minimally affected by conditioning. The notion that the russians are nuclear’ly irresponsible in keeping production going under harshee environmental circumstances. The cold. As winters are heavy and stark. Stark is a word in association of it’s deffiniton.the latest film being I.S.S. Partnership and goodwill are countered by the destructive. It’s message is of a hurt of feelings. Trust and nurturing. Of feeling betrayed.

Flipping it around as I am not?

The fact that my date is a targeted personality to base media fantasy around. Media has been speaking to me directly. Timing of events and motivations. Centralized around specified dates for conditioning. As another outer person speaking directly to you. Similar to “natural” phenomenon. Of the birds and the bees and the trees in the wind. Like a hand petting a cat. If ine were to listen, to a purring tree. Thr branches and thr leaves, the rustling.

If you cant beat’em. Join’em.

Got to try and figure out a way of fallowing through on the motivation, while being put down, and bullied, to feel untainted by their Hs. Not to suffer negative consequences for growing instead of degenerating.

Beyond how much growth and cooperation i create in the world. All those people. All that support to evil deeds and evil intentions. Those pretendign sympathy to the others who ultimatly do. Your fucken welcome. Not tbat i get paid for it.

Maybe pluto comign along will bring torment to all those whim deserve it by right of way. If nature and i are conformed to a single entity. Then i do pray good fortune agaisnt my own will. That classically fake smile trying meekly to be honest.

Or on the evil side that CSkrs smile. Knowing and satisfied with the effort placed to bring you bad fortune.

Though its more complete to say. That everything is out on the table. There’s nothing to hide. The image catches multiple positions.

Though one wouldn’t trust a swindler. Or the peddler as has been taught, disseminated my way. Fishing out of a little pond and full of what has been released into it. Cheers fucker.

B is for family. And for knowing you have everything you need. In complete honesty. It also shows trust or faith in the opposing party. A welcoming relationship. The feeling of confidence in social matters. But also here serves as the image looking forwards. From the mirror. Separation of self into a projection. Based on influences not of the self.

The power of vowels. To say; drop her line and drop her a line. Are two completely different suggestions.

And my search for finding a dentist continues as they are all corrupt.

Im the black chick from startrek. Spock turned into a woman briefly. But got his mojo back. Need to embrace the inner spock and go full logical.

Something is wrong here. 99¢ a can. Maybe iy up to 2$ soemthing. 463 positive reviews uh?

Anyway. Went out to the dep and a guy was buying a can. And to continuenin this string theory. In association with cats and trees.

It be fun to muse with the definition of R to that of Я. As the letter Я is synomenous with the english letter i. As it serves a single letter word. Which is the self I and Я. In comparison to english Я’s pronunciation is identical to an affirmation. As its pronounced as ya or ja. Which means yes.

Comparatively speaking, between German and english is the word hell. For english is equivalent to despair or anguish or something similar. But in german hell means bright. As in a bright light. There a problem here. Considering. Bright and light are the associations of heaven. The german typeset is identical to the english qwerty system except they replace the strength card with that of the world card. This is suggestive of “man over nature” to stand in for the definition of the strength card. If its not being perverted with the flip of gender association.

The bible says to be closer to god is to know all languages. And yet am discouraged from doing so.

Anyway. Looks like im back to seatching tor another job to be ficked with st again. I ficken hate it here. And i cant walk into the buildibg without having lung pain and choking.

Hu pot store. Heres my id. Ok…. What?! I dhoild you. Its my fault you cant see. (Its was less than a foot from his eyes).Ok get out. Im not serving you. Why? Cause you told me to go fuck myself what? No i didn’t. I said you cant see. Do he bars off the entrance. Smiling. Fucken cocksucker.

(Its the same smile my brother used to give me. One time right before he came at me with an axe. A silly smile. Cause he tripped and hot embarrassed.) then almost hospitalize me if i didnt have such quick reflexes.) .. thats a fucked mix of influences… to have a start of another run through another level of hell.

What i cant be suicidal and not be own by sn ignorant gocksuvker looking to over himself on me cause he’s bored? Fuck off. Cheers to another tear of being ficken raped.

Ohwell giess im not studying cards tonight. Go watch the new age homosexyal tv instead.

And there go the crows. Nothing good gomming my way. On well buy my drugs illegally then. And walmart sending me my T-4 from two years ago? Great really? Is therw a connection there. That eoplw want to rub in that i dont get? Sorry i already got raped today. Your too late. Try again later.

Look at me becoming an asshole.

I think he won that one.

You do?

If you think about jt.

Temperance and the affirmation of self.

In the image of war. The moon reflecting the wheel. (Cog). The vowels may be taken out. And an R for temperance. Named with a powerful T. Of violence. And the Я. I see it. I like that letter.

Now we can deviate a bit from the script. Give the current i-fool card for joy to Я. If it occupies its own place. Add in another, actual, fool card. Modernize it slightly. Like i already have done 100% charged. The fool keeps the security in self. Top shape. One thinks the concert.

They intentionally suppressing his life?

Looks that way.

Я think so. Hah! see what i did there?

Temperance and fortification.

Theee goes the crow.

[toyhouselolcows]

Guidelines & Information

Hello & Welcome to Toyhou.se Lolcows, a blog made to just watch in amazement at the many grown adults or "lolcows" who flock to this website and make it their hobby to produce le "lols" for the on lookers. Thats is all the information I will provide because this is a side thing When posting asks you can refer to me as Dog for the smile dog icon I'm sure th users will wet themselves overs when they see it. I will not answer questions about my life outside this blog- only yes I'm an adult who is also on the spectrum which allows me to use sperg.

Rules:

-1: DO NOT POST MINORS ON THIS BLOG- children cannot and never should be classed as "lolcows" because big shock children are stupid as all hell due to immature brains. I would only allow minor based asks under these expections: The child has been scamming people for a while now, falseifying information as an adult to receive nsfw, and spreading doxes. Anything else will be ignored. If a child is caught doing illegal acts such as sending cp to an adult or other children- contact the fucking cops of your area with any information so they can pass it to the child or creepy adult asking for it area for further investigation not an internet blog because I'm not the fbi just a dog with a blog (insert laugh track here).

-2: Do not send in asks about serious stuff without proper evidence and not "just google it lol". I will not post, anything serious without evidence I can backcheck on. I'm not chronically online at al with toyhouse users so big shock I won't know who your talking about by vague wording like "that one artist ya know??".

-3: Asks I refuse to post in general: children being dumbasses,doxes, petty friend drama, such as my ex friend sold off the gifts I gave them" like kindly grow a spine anon it happens. Dick riders for animal,kid and the dead fuckers because yall actually need to seek either god himself or the woodchipper. I will not post asks I deem unfit and will delete and update any previous ones if I find out a user is infact a kid who posted a dumb take and make that correction for further notice.

If anyone could kindly also provide a certain smile dog gif icon that "triggered" so many toyhouse users. I would love to use that as the face for this blog because I could never find out which one it was only false leads thanks. If not after a while, I will ask a friend to make me one with an existing base for shits and giggles till I can find the real deal.

[thewholecrew]

@headstrongblake: rev & nick. / verse: all american.

rev had been around since they brought nick back, mostly keeping an eye out for the fucker who did this to him but no, it seemed that he really had left with grant and well that was information rev could not wrap their head around no matter how hard they tried. the only thing they could possibly think of grant leaving with garrett was to murder him outside of town but that couldn't take more than a week and it had been that, over that in fact, and the man still hadn't come back. plus from the sounds of bits and pieces they heard from octavia, it didn't seem like she thought he was coming back any time soon either. so now they were taking their turn looking after the big grump. kassy had class and alec had erands to run.

rev couldn't very well blame nick for being miserable. being tortured would tend to do that to anyone and with all the rules hunter put in place for the fastest road to recovery, hell rev wasn't sure how good they'd be doing either. but still, it upset them to see nick like this. made them seethe with anger if they thought about it longer than a couple minutes, which was why they had so badly wanted that bastard to dare show his face again. rev would've torn him to shreds. and now here nick was and he seemed like nearly a shell of himself and far older than he was, sitting by the window in his office. a brow rose at his such welcoming question, a small smirk tugging on their lips as they leaned against the door frame. "hi to you too, sunshine." arms crossed over their chest, they shook their head catching sight of the flask with a scoff of their own. though if rev was honest, they weren't really sure they'd ever seen nick fully sober so, not only was he miserable from getting tortured but all his favourite things taken away too? hell that fuckin' blows.

as slow as the recovery was, nick's tongue was as quick as it was lashing, hardly giving rev a chance to say anything. another scoff escaped rev, aqua eyes narrowing at the laugh, studying his somewhat disheveled form as they waited for him to rise. "well, now that's the spirit, gramps, i'm sure some fresh air'll do ya some good." they murmured blandly before stepping out of the doorway. rev held their arm out though not to help him but in a grand sweeping gesture for him to lead the way, at least until they made it outside. "you're lucky it wasn't kass catching you rule breakin' with you're little flask in there," they then added with a jerk of their head towards his office as they headed towards the front, "she's surprisingly been a real stickler for those goddamn rules, huh?"

“ let’s go for a walk. sitting here all cooped up will only make it worse. ” / rev & nick (before he leaves when he's recovering) / @thewholecrew

nick's withdrawn lately. sullen and often found in the garage or his office, staring out the window as he berates himself in his head. it's been nearly a week of this where his mood is fickle and those who file in and out of his home are typically met with hostility. he hates it, causing that self-loathing guilt to mount higher because kassy, alec, and octavia... don't deserve it. none of them have done anything wrong, yet he can't stop himself. can't hold his tongue or look at them with anything but his permanent scowl. everything makes him angry, and if he can't lash out without damaging the little progress he's making in his healing, what else is he supposed to do? he can't smoke. hunter's scolded him for drinking. he takes his morphine as directed, but it all clouds his mind in a sickly way where he feels a loss of control. nothing is within his control anymore. nothing.

"what're you doin' here?" nick scoffed from his office chair, glaring as rev entered the space. at least with rev, nick's less worried about hurting their feelings. perhaps a good argument with rev could actually release some of this pent-up rage nick felt unsteadily beneath the surface. "doesn't matter," nick muttered beneath his breath, sipping slowly on the flask he'd hidden in the false bottom of his desk drawer. to hell with hunter and his rules. nick has healed from many fights with whiskey flowing through his veins. the hell did hunter know? "you sittin' or leavin'? kass and alec ain't here right now, so..." nick raised a brow, finally leaving space for rev to speak.

“ let’s go for a walk. sitting here all cooped up will only make it worse. ”

crystal hues rolled with a sharp laugh. as if some walk around the block like a dog kept on a leash was going to make anything fucking better. "you gonna leave me alone if i say no?" he asked, lifting the flask to his lips once more before twisting the cap and tossing it into his drawer. he knows the answer before rev even has to say a word. fuck no rev wouldn't. nick himself had said kassy and alec weren't here, it only made sense that rev was. at least they could withstand nick's sour moods. "fuck it, why not...you can tell the good doc i'm doin' swell without all his goddamn rules." nick muttered. what else did he have to lose?

[huyh172]

Like to Charge, Reblog to Cast

[bakatenshii]

I think../ I think... I've become a kita fucker Oh no

welcome— to kita hell ♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

im absolutely honoured to have welcomed your conversion, miki and I are doing our jobs then hehe

[m-myeon]

New anon here! ♠️ Would love to read a Beomgyu Drabble with 4 or 6 if you haven’t already!! Love ya tysm byeee ♥️

𝑀𝑂𝑅𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑁 𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐷𝑌

4. “Tell me how you like it” + 6. “Don’t cover your face, I want to see you”

contains !: (kinda softdom!)gyu x subfem!reader, mentions of gyu being a switch, fingering, lots of petnames and praise 🤪, eding, grinding , mentions of hook-ups, best friend to .. fuckers?, you could say gyu is kinda jealous or really devoted to his task lmao, tears and mentions of toys

authors note : thanks for waiting and welcome to the annons family !! also tysm for requesting this, it was so hot to write 🫡

what the hell was going on

At what fucking moment were you in your best friend's lap, letting yourself be done by his beautiful long fingers buried deep in your pussy. Oh, sure. At the time when Beomgyu's big heart had not been able to allow his best friend to leave the house of one of her hook-ups unsatisfied after discovering his disastrous finger play.

Incomparable to Beomgyu's, by the way. You had no idea that your best friend had so much talent stored on his fingers, but you were more than happy to be discovering it.

A whimper escaped your lips when your friend's middle finger brushed your G-spot, Beomgyu smirked when he noticed you move on top of him and continued to abuse your gummy walls until your sighs turned into muffled moans on his neck. .

"Come on, sweetheart" he whispered in your ear, leaving a kiss behind your ear "Don't cover your face, I want to see you"

Gathering up enough courage and dignity, you rested your hands on his abs, rejoining his legs. You felt his abdomen contract under your blades and, right there, you felt it, something hard and hot touch your inner thigh, begging for attention.

"Shit, you're so-" "I know, darling" shushed you Beomgyu ", but right now focus on putting on a good show and showing what that asshole has been missing"

The knuckles of the boy below you (who you hadn't recognized as your best friend in a while) made wet noises as they hit your folds with dizzying force and speed. You felt like you were bordering on madness and the only thing you could focus your thoughts on was Beomgyu's digits making a “come” gesture towards himself, bouncing into his hand and biting your lip when hearing his airy laugh.

“Very good—fuck-, you're doing so good” you whimpered as Beomgyu's teeth kissed your neck, digging in with a care that belied the force and harshness of his actions in your south zone “Are you enjoying yourself, pretty? ”

“S-so much —oh f-fuck”

“Mmh” hummed the boy, wetting his lips hungrily “Do you like it when I touch you here…?” a little cry came from your mouth when his fingers curved, searching for your belly button "Come on, baby —shit, tell me how you like it, I want to make you feel good" with two fingers, he took control of your jaw, forcing an eye contact of what more intimate “do you prefer to hard-dom me? I would do anything you asked me for those pretty eyes you make"

“I-I like to h-listen to you, g-gyu” you were a trembling ball of blush and sweat, eagerly awaiting any delicious movement Beomgyu's fingers made.

"Is that right?" his thumb pressed on your lips, causing you to hug the intruding finger with your tongue "ah— so obedient, didn’ even have to ask" you closed your eyes tightly at the strong praise that escaped from Beomgyu's mouth unconsciously "good job, princess" fucking god. You lost any remaining contact with reality, pulsing around the fingers embedded in your pussy and suppressing your moans with the boy's finger resting in your mouth.

"oh god— you're squeezing so good " your shoulder blurred the dirty mutterings of Beomgyu, who was getting more and more lost in the curve of your neck "more, ple— ngh, gyu p-please" "what a greedy girl I have, doin’ what he wants with me" the boy growled, enjoying the view that his position afforded him "come on, princess, use me, imagine you are using one of your pinkie toys on that pussy, mmh, just like that"

You began to rub against his bulge and fingers, seeing the stars as Beomgyu stimulated your clit with his thumb, continuing with his movements into your tight cunt. Your moans were heard above your friend's, which faded as his mouth made contact with your cheeks or jaw.

"you gonna come?" he whispered as he noticed the trembling and erratic jolts on his legs "tell m-me, sweetheart, words"

"'m gonna —ngh- come!" tears began to form in your eyes and Beomgyu felt like his pants were going to burst at that sight

"are you —fuck!- gonna come on t-that dickhead’s cock?" you shook your head from side to side, making tears roll down your cheeks, but as you felt the grip on your jaw intensify, you remembered Beomgyu's call for attention. "Nuh-uh, gonna c-come on gyu's f-fingies!"

"fucking s-soak them, princess, go ahead, make me proud"

your orgasm hit you with a deep moan and several more tears. Beomgyu helped you ride it, murmuring more praise and petnames in your ear, praying you didn't notice his teary eyes from being edged into his pants.

Blinking, you came out of the trance you had plunged into in your post-orgasm, snuggled into your best friend's neck and calming circles being drawn on your thigh by his clean hand. You settled back on his lap and felt Beomgyu's hard cock through his pants and underwear poke at your cunt. You took a breath to speak but he cut you off before you could intervene.

"Please tell me that boy also fucked terribly, because I'm more than ready to give you the fuck of your life"

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Eleven - (The Sue Sylvester Shuffle) Its All About Football

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Who knew that thrusting the bully filled football team and the glee club that they target would lead to such chaos? Honestly, you probably should have expected as much.

Word Count: 9,317

WARNINGS: Anger, violence, eating things that you shouldn’t, almost cheating.

(A/N): Sorry for the short delay, I have recently gotten terribly sick, and am still going through it.

-----

The new year had sprung, and with it, new experiences. Ones that weren't necessarily good.

With one of your feet resting upon the back of a chair, you slouched in another. Awaiting the arrival of the Glee Club's Director so that the lesson could finally start.

Soaked through, stained red, frozen, and with sloppy ice laying upon him, in rolled Arite. His presence being announced by a pitying Tina.

"Oh, my God. Artie."

Anger filled you as Brittany rushed down to attend to her boyfriend, instantly realising who had done this, no proof necessary.

"It was awful," the boy whimpered.

Finn Hudson felt the same way you did, outrage flowing through his veins, causing his limbs to shake.

"That's it," he seethed, "Screw rehearsal! This ends here and now."

"Oh, hell yeah!" you yelled, jumping up from your seat, following the boys that all wore letterman jackets, much to the displeasure of Quinn and your sister.

"We're gonna go all Thunderdome on those guys!"

You would have questioned Puck's reference if it weren't for the objects of your anger striding through the doors of the choir room themselves. Wearing letterman jackets of their own, suddenly you stuck out like a sore thumb in the mass of football players.

"So, this is what the ladies' lounge looks like on the inside."

"This is the choir room," Sam replied to the curly-haired blonde jock, "Now, put up your fists because you and I are gonna do some dancin'."

Ever wanting to be the leader, Finn reached out a hand to the boy's chest, stopping him from advancing, altho pointlessly as he didn't even make to move towards the group, as they chuckled in reply.

"No, I got this, Sam."

Insulted, the boy quickly shoved his arm away from his body.

"There's too much talking, not enough fighting, for my liking."

The same football player scoffed at you, "Yeah, you sure put up a fight against us last time."

"Well, maybe this time we can go one-on-one, instead of five of you fuckers ganging up on me like a bunch of pussies. Ask Karofsky. I'm sure he would be happy to tell ya' how well I fair in a fair fight."

The boy in question rolled his eyes, trying to act tough in front of his friends, deciding to change the subject before you ended up showing them all the proof to your statement.

"Coach Beiste told us to come. Where is she?"

As it turns out, right behind the. Along with Mr Schuester.

"Watching it." She pushed through the boys, gesturing to the maroon chairs. "Everyone have a seat."

"You too, guys," Mr Schue said, "All right. New Directions," he continued once everyone had done as told, standing side by side with the coach, preparing to give the announcement, "Let's give a warm welcome to the newest members of Glee Club."

There was outrage all around.

The Glee Club members insulted by the presence of their main tormenters infiltrating their safe space.

And the jocks. Purely because they thought it was lame or "gay", and they were far too worried about how they -and others- were perceived to understand that people do things purely because they enjoyed it. No matter how it could make them look on the outside to everyone else.

"Oh, hell to the no, Mr Schue!" Mercedes yelled over all the riot, "Are you serious?!"

"This is some sick God damn joke, and I do not appreciate it!"

The teacher rose his hands, trying to calm the teenagers, as Azimio jumped to his feet. As Coach Beiste commanded them to with a couple,

"hey"s.

"Are you serious?" Finn stood up now in outrage. "These are the guys who made Kurt transfer."

"Mainly one," you bit, harsh glare directed towards Karofsky.

"And there's no way I am sharing the choir room with a known homophobe," your sister spoke, pointing at the boy who couldn't make eye contact with anyone in the room, herself.

"I don't disagree with you guys."

"So why are they here?!" you yelled, jumping up yourself, "Why is he here?!"

"Because Y/N, I talked to Coach Beiste about it, and she and I both agreed that the kind of bullying that David does is born out of ignorance. Sit down, Y/N."

A hot breath slowly exited your nose as you steadily lowered yourself back into the chair beside your sister. Fixing the man with a death stare for your troubles, thanks to how angry you were.

"Having him in here, as difficult as it may be for us, is an opportunity to show him and the rest of the guys that being in Glee Club is kind of cool. You know, find some common ground."

Coach Beiste took over the man's speech, pointing a hand towards the football players gathering on the left side of the room. "All of you are gonna be in this Glee Club for one week. No exceptions."

"She's bluffing," Karofsky told his buddies, "Next week is the championship game. Without us, she has no team."

"With you, have no team! You guys have gotta find a way to come together, or we're gonna get our asses kicked from here until Tuesday finds a saddlebag full of buckwheat."

You still didn't get her metaphors.

"If I have to stay, I'm not singing no show tunes," Azimio voiced, "That is the music of my oppressors."

"Do you even have any idea what we do in here?" Finn questioned in exasperation.

"No." Mr Schue shook his head. "None of them do. We have to show them. Rachel, Puck. Haven't you guys been working on something? Why don't you give it a whirl?"

"Fine. As offended as I am by their presence here, I won't let anything get in the way of a performance," she stated as Puckerman angrily removed his jacket, shooting the jocks a glare as he reached for his guitar.

After that, quite frankly, in your opinion, disgusting performance between the delinquent and your sister. Including the boy making threatening moves toward the football players, everything seemed calm once the song ended. A lull in the tense atmosphere. Until it was brought back tenfold. Making you roll your eyes at Azimio's words.

"The girl with the mohawk had a really nice voice."

Puckerman smiled towards him sarcastically, acting as if he were in on the joke, removing his guitar. Before the instrument was soon turned into a weapon, and he rushed the boy.

Everyone jumped up then.

Some to stop the attempted violence.

Others to join it.

You were one of the latter.

Or so you tried to be.

With Quinn pushing at your chest, keeping you away from the fray whilst still hurling her yells at the jocks. And Mike, with his arms wrapped around yours, tugging with the blonde's pushes.

"You've had some shitty ideas in your time, Mr Schue! But this one takes the cake!"

His eyes fluttered at your words, his back pressing against the coach's who held Puckerman at bay, also trying to stop the group of teens from going full gladiator mode against each other.

"Great first day, right?" he remarked sarcastically, Beiste returning it with her own statement.

"Awesome!"

It was like you had gone deaf.

One second, cries of anger filled the room. The next? Nothing.

And that was all thanks to one thing.

One sight you caught out of the corner of your eye.

The wild kicking of your sister's tight-clad legs thanks to being hoisted into the air. The perpetrator? A random jock who had been forced into the club for the week. Stopping her from pouncing onto one of his teammates.

Quinn grew worried at your sudden silence and lack of movement, Mike's head poking around to see why you had stopped, considering that was so unlike you.

They didn't have the chance to follow your line of sight as you dropped to a bend, easily slipping out of Mike's distracted hold, causing Quinn to tumble into the Asian boy.

"Oh, so you wanna die today?!" your roar made the others in the room pause mid-action, turning to face where you now stood facing the boy holding your sister still.

The same boy whose eyes were wide as saucers, with enough fear in them to rival someone staring down the barrel of a gun.

Quickly dropping your sister, the jock high-tailed it outta there. But you weren't about to stand for that, chasing him instantly.

Taking any means necessary to defend your sister, including using all your skill to jump onto the piano in one steep step, using it as a means of a shortcut as the boy rushed through the door.

With you not too far behind him, Mercedes yelled, "He's gonna see God!"

---

You were still furious after that whole ordeal in Glee Club. And after punching a bag of sand didn't seem to help, you decided to take a jog around the track.

Only for your jogged movements to stumble into a stop at the giant flame-painted 'WHMS' cannon sat in the middle of the football field. Mouth dropped in pure confused disbelief, so much more so that you hardly noticed the head cheerleader walking up to you.

"What's with the cannon?" you asked her dumbfounded, pointing towards the object when she paused beside you, the other Cheerios walking by, heading back into the warmer school.

"Sue bought it."

"She a pirate now?"

"She's planning on shooting Brittany out of it."

"Right." You nodded before her words finally sank into you and got you to tear your sights off of the dangerous contraption and peer down at the girl. "Wait. What?!"

"Don't worry, I'm gonna talk to Mr Schue about it right now."

"You want me to come with?"

She shook her head in denial, hands deep in her jacket pockets, "I'll be fine. Hey, uh, what happened to that guy you were chasing?"

"He's really fast," you grumbled, eyes glaring down at the ground below you. "He got to his car and drove off before I could reach him."

"I can't say I'm not glad. Don't want you to be suspended again. Or worse. Going to prison for murdering him."

Huffing, you folded your arms across your chest, pointedly not looking at the blonde.

"Come on." A cold palm rubbed against your arm, coaxing you to look up at its owner. "You know I'm right."

"Doesn't mean I can't be mad about it," you mumbled.

"Has anyone ever said you're like a big baby?"

"No. But apparently, I did drink your breast milk, so it only makes sense."

"You're disgusting." Quinn smiled.

"You love me."

'I love you'

---

He wouldn't look at you.

There you were, bracketed in between two cheerleaders, each with tight grips upon your forearms, glaring over at the boy who had grabbed your sister.

You weren't planning on storming him... much.

But thanks to Santana and Brittany's hold upon you, you weren't able to, no matter what. Knowing how feisty Santana would get, especially if Brittany were involved.

But you were still so deep into your glare that you had entirely blanked what Mr Scuester had been saying.

That was until Karofaky voiced his outcry.

"No fricking way!"

Finally, you turned to face your teacher as he spoke, "We don't have a choice. Sue pulled the Cheerios from the game, so if we don't do it, there's no halftime show."

"And this is a problem because?" Zizes pressed.

"Well, isn't the halftime show the best thing about a football game?" you remarked, but Coach Beiste decided to give an answer of her own.

"It's not a problem. It's an opportunity."

"Opportunity to humiliate ourselves," the curly blonde football player replied.

"Hey. The whole point of this week was to bring you guys together. To bring the school together."

"Wait, so you want us to play the first half, change into some "sequin" ball gowns, and then go out and do the halftime show at our own championship game?" Azimio asked his coach.

"Yes."

"You're gonna be tired," you poked fun at the jocks in a sing-song voice as they groaned.

"It's the championship game!" Azimio jumped up. "This is a crazy town! This is crazy!"

"What about the Cheerios in Glee Club?" Finn asked over the other jocks' squabbling.

"They have a choice," Mr Schue stated, "Us. Or the Cheerios competition."

"Well, obviously Quinn is gonna choose the Cheerios," your sister remarked bitterly, gesturing down to the blonde seated beside Brittany.

"How do you know that?" you asked as Quinn shot her a glare.

"Yeah, that's not fair," Finn joined ranks with you, "You don't know what she's gonna do."

"I think the cheerleading is gonna be a lot of fun," Mr Schuester stated, still hoping to coax them into staying with his next words, "But if you go, you're gonna miss out on us doing the most iconic song of all time."

"Spooky?" you questioned.

"Yes, Y/N. "Spooky"." He pointed your way. "In fact, the Super Bowl of pop anthems: 'Thriller'."

The Glee Club side of the room grew excited by the news, as the jocks looked less than pleased.

"Yeah, remember a few years ago when that Philippine prison did that mega performance of 'Thriller' and put it on YouTube?" Now, in the four months it took to rehearse that number, prisoner-on-prisoner crime dropped eighty per cent. Doing that. Together. As a team. Created a unity within that prison. And that's what I'm looking to do here."

"Send us to prison?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, you know. I'm big on Micheal and everything, but isn't that kinda what they're expecting us to do?" Mercedes asked, shrugging her shoulders, with her arms still deep within the pockets of her hoodie.

Pointing to the girl, Mr Schuester was happy to continue his announcement, "Which is why we're gonna mash it together with the 'Yeah Yeah Yeahs' equally spooky single, 'Heads Will Roll'."

"Oh, this is gonna be so cool," you gushed to yourself.

"Who's 'Yeah Yeah Yeah'?"

At Azimio's question, you called over, "They're a band, big guy."

"New Directions," Beiste spoke to the club, turning to her football members, "Titans. We're going to zombie camp." To which she solidified with a sharp blow of her whistle.

---

'Zombie Camp' was fun.

Even with the football players shoving one another thanks to their stumbling feet.

But by the end of the first lesson, the team and football players were at least making some good progress. And your director seemed to think so too, with his clapping.

"All right. Nice progress, guys. Let's take a breather, and I'll see you in the choir room for a lesson in zombie make-up."

"Make-up?" Azimio voiced affronted, following after the group as members of the Glee Club kept up the zombie act, "No, no, no, no, no."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," his coach countered.

"It's not make-up like that."

"How else could it be?" he asked you.

"It's not the kind that makes you look pretty," you explained, gesturing your arms around, "This stuff is meant to make you look gross and gory."

"That sounds a bit better, I guess," the large boy mumbled.

You were mid-way through your zombi make-up, working on the giant gash across your face, when you spotted the football player by your side, about to smush something into his eye. Something that he thought was regular make-up.

Snapping your hand out, you grasped his wrist mear inches from his face.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why not?"

"That stuff will glue your eye shut. Trust me, I've done it before. Lost like fifteen eyelashes ripping it open."

The boy dropped the sponge onto the table, reacting like the thing had just bit them and it was poisonous.

"Yeah, wise decision."

---

"What did you get on the math homework yesterday?"

Turning to Sam as you walked down the school's halls, you asked, "We had math homework?"

The blonde boy looked at you obviously, making the small amount of dread he had given you to flood larger.

"Shit."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you can talk to her about it," the boy said, referencing your math teacher and patting your shoulder.

"Oh, you are so naive." You recognised that voice, even from almost halfway down the hall. Quinn. "This whole school is about labels."

"Wow." You also knew that scoffed tone. Finn.

Patting Sam a few times against his arm, you pointed out the two squabbling teenagers before you were about to round the corner. Literally pointing them out, as you said, "Uh, dude."

"I never realised you were so freaking weak."

"Oh? I-"

"What did you say?"

Finn spun at the sound of Sam's voice, only to spot you side by side with the blonde.

"All the Cheerios quit Glee Club."

You peered over to Quinn to see if it were true. Who silently shook her head and shrugged at your sadly.

"So, why are you yelling at my girlfriend about it?"

"I'm yelling at her because I'm the leader of this team."

"You are swimming in hypocrisy, Finn," you told the boy, who looked confuddled beyond belief.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that you're acting all high and mighty for someone who's done the exact same thing. Or do I have to remind you of how you ditched the club, too, in favour of being on the football team last year?"

"That's not the same!" he tried to excuse, "I didn't have any other choice."

"Yes, you did. You had the same choice that Quinn had now."

"But I made it better. And I felt really bad about it!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she feels pretty fuckin' bad about it, too."

Quinn's eyes fluttered at you, shoulders dropping softly, suddenly so thankful you were here.

"Why are you always sticking up for her? For everything," the tall boy sneered, "You've got a problem with me acting like this, being a leader, but you have no issue with her?"

"Well, maybe it's time for a change at the top," Sam jumped back in.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This is kinda hot, actually."

At Quinn's words, you took a glance at her before processing her words and looking at her properly.

"Good to know," you said with a nod. Receiving a light push t your arm from the girl's boyfriend, to which you playfully tapped his own back in retaliation.

Finn, who had also been looking at the girl over his shoulder, turned back once Sam began talking again, giving you the opportune chance to lean over to her with your whispered question.

"That includes my participation too, right?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at you dramatically. The smile she tried to force away told you all you had to know. Making a confident grin pull across your own face.

"It means that maybe the reason everyone hates us is because we need some new leadership," Sam gave the boy some, quite honest, truth, "Face it, you've had your feet in both worlds for a year now and never been able to bring them together. I guarantee you, if Y/N were on the football team-" He gestured to you, using you as an example for his point. "-Things would be in harmony right now."

"Thanks, man." You smiled, catching Finn glaring at you. "What? I'm not allowed to take a compliment?"

"Point is," Sam stressed, continuing, "Maybe someone else could."

"What? As in maybe, you?"

"Or me, apparently."

"As in yes," Sam replied to Finn.

"Well, maybe we should settle this right now," Finn challenged.

"Bring it." Sam pushed the boy ever so lightly.

Pushing the blonde back in his chest, Finn replied, "Brung."

"Oh, well, this is childish," you stated, watching as the boys carried on shoving each other, getting harsher each time.

Quinn thought the same thing as you, watching them with judging eyes.

"Yeah, you want some more of that? You like that?" Finn egged him on.

"Really, guys? Really?"

"What are you doing?" you squinted at the two. "This isn't how you fight. Throw a punch- Ow!" Rubbing at the now sore skin under the shirt of your arm, you looked wide-eyed at Quinn after the glaring blonde had just pinched you. Which you decided to use to your advantage. "Yeah, even start pinching. That'll be better than this shoving bullshit."

Before the boys' "fight" could grow any harsher, Mr Schue jumped in between them with a yell.

"Hey, hey. How many fights do I have to break up this week?"

"Oh, don't worry, Mr Schue. That wasn't a fight." You waved the man off, to which you went ignored at the teacher was still far too focused on keeping the boys separated.

"Now, calm down. And get back to Glee Club." He tugged Sam around, pushing him down the corridor. "Come on."

"Hope to see you there," Finn said, turning to Quinn before walking off himself.

You rolled your eyes at the boy's departing form.

"Don't listen to him..." you would have said more to the Cheerio if you hadn't gotten so distracted. Now beaming at her brightly.

"Why are you smiling?"

You gestured to the gold necklace you had gotten her for Christmas, hanging around her neck, below her signature gold cross. "You're wearing it."

"Of course I am." She lightly pushed your shoulder. A sad look began to take over her eyes as she took a step backwards. "Now, get going. You're gonna miss Glee Club."

As you watched the blonde leave, you could only think one this.

'Screw Sue for making her do this'

---

You were awarded the temporary title of 'Honoury Football Player', even including a jacket of your own, just for this performance with the guys from the Glee Club and the jocks.

Zombie makeup and movements fully ingrained into you by the end of the performance of 'She's Not There'.

Rounding the green auditorium chairs, Mr Schuester came to the foot of the stage, slapping the file onto the. "Guys." Momentarily looking back to a shrugging Beiste. "Awesome!"

A breath of relief flowed through you after the teacher's psych-out.

"All you football players, nailing that zombies classic on- on the first time out. I am impressed."

"Now get your butt's into the locker room and get cleaned up." Beiste stood up.

"Thank God, this stuff's uncomfortable."

The students and faculty of William McKinley High School felt like they had suddenly walked into a horror movie, one where their entire football team turned into jock zombies and now patrolled the halls of their school like phantoms of the day.

Being stopped only by a gang of hockey players.

"Appropriate outfits," the ring leader said, "They represent the death of your guys' reign at this school."

"How many times do we have to put you puck-head in place before you realise that football rules this school?"

"I forgot we had a hockey team," you mumble to yourself from beside Azimio, "They must suck worse than you guys did last year."

Azimio hummed at your words, nodding in agreement.

"Maybe, but not after you make dancing fools of yourselves at that halftime show."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you remarked, raising your hands up into the air, "Is it that, or just the fact that you guys don't have big enough balls to do it yourselves."

Shocking yourself at how quick you were to defend the football players that tortured your team, not even including what they -Karofsky- had done to Kurt.

The leader scoffed at you, shaking his head.

"Come on. You know it, and we know it. The whole school knows it."

"Yeah, I don't take criticism from people who have mullets worse than the 80s."

"And anyway, they'll think differently after they see it," Karofsky jumped in now, "It's gonna be awesome."

"Holy crap. They turned Karofsky gay," the "puck-head" laughed, gaining a chuckle from his teammates.

Rolling your eyes, you said, "You can't turn people gay. It's in their DNA, I know we live in Ohio, but you should know what that is at the very least."

"What are you moose knuckles doing with those slushies?" Puckerman brought everyone's attention to the filled cups within their hands.

"Ready for the fireworks? It's independence day."

"Cover your eyes!" you yelled as a warning to the football players that had never experienced the pain of the ice-cold drink before.

Even with your warning, the stinging juices still managed to trickle and splash into their eyes.

Minutes later, you were in the boy's locker room washing the drink from your eyes and face as the football players whimpered in pain.

"Agh, my eyes!" Karofsky grunted in pain, "Burning."

"Just relax. It stops after a couple of hours," Finn said, as all the glee clubbers reacted to being slushies as if it were nothing, just proceeding to clean their faces of the zombie make-up.

"I tend to sleep it off if I can," you advised, walking forward towards the long-haired Hawaiian football player, struggling to get the stuff out of his eyes, "Don't rub it back in like that." Helping him wash his face off, you added, "That stuff I stopped you from putting in your eyes burns worse than this if you would believe it."

"No fricking way I'm letting that happen again," Karofsky said, trying to push back the tears in his voice.

"I consider this karma for all the times you've done this."

"He's in the first stage of loserdom: Denial," Artie stated.

"No!" the jock snapped, pulling away from the shower he occupied, "I am not a loser!"

"Everyone's a loser in their own right," you called over.

"Well, not me! And I don't sing and dance. I walk tall and carry a big stick."

"Oh, wow. My mind is imploding with the amount of dick jokes I can make with that."

"Dude." Finn walked towards the pissed-off boy. "Relax. This is gonna be fine."

"Yeah. Of course, it is." Karofsky gave the boy a harsh shove, making you jump up from where you were helping the boy you had been these past few days. "Because I'm quitting Glee Club."

"No, you're not," Beiste stated, turning the corner into the shower portion of the locker rooms, "Fact is, covered in ice and red dye number seven, you guys look more like a team than you ever have out on that field."

"I don't care. I'm out."

"Then you're off the team."

"No way."

"Yeah."

"If we quit, you barely have enough guys to play next week. It's the championship game. You're not gonna throw it."

"Try me."

"All this because you can't handle your eyes burning and being called a loser when you get sacked out on the field regularly? This is what breaks you?" you scoffed.

Finn's voice was pleading when he spoke, trailing off into one of his leadership speeches, "Don't do this. If we stand together and we do the halftime show, we can win this game and be kings in this place."

"Oh, what a castle to rule in," you muttered to yourself, glancing around the locker room.

After looking around at his jock friends, gaining shakes of their heads, Karofsky replied, "Good luck with that." Before all the new Glee Football players trailed from the room.

After looking around at his jock friends, gaining shakes of their heads, Karofsky replied, "Good luck with that." Then all the non-glee football players trailed from the room.

Cutting the tension in the room, you sniffed, then asked the coach, "You mind if I hold onto this jacket for a while? My shirt is soaked, and I don't have any spare clothes here. I gave them to Artie when he was drenched."

---

This is exactly what you needed after the long day you had.

Warm coffee to combat the cold ebbing from the streets outside. Along with the plates of sweet treats and your friends.

No matter how much they jokingly bragged about their number for the upcoming competition.

"Now, I don't want to sound cocky or anything, but... you guys better be pulling out all the stops for regionals because the number we just rehearsed is so off the hook, it's dangerous."

"Seriously." Kurt nodded from his seat beside the boy he wished to call his boyfriend, as you took yours at the head of the table, sitting between Blane and your sister. "People should wear protective headgear when they're watching it."

You sighed as Rachel and Mercedes shared a look.

"Guys, we're kidding," Kurt supplied, not meaning for any harm to be taken by it.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to laugh right now with everything going on at McKinley," your sister replied.

"I mean, look at us," Mercedes voiced, "The stars of two rival show choirs sitting down to coffee?"

"I think that's very healthy of us," you spoke around the lip of your coffee cup.

Gaining a nod from Blane. "I agree."

"But that still doesn't negate the fact that our school is so messed up we can't even keep our own football team together," she pointed out.

"It's so sad, you guys. Coach Beiste and Mr Schue were so close at getting everyone at the school together."

"And the boys are super depressed about it."

"Why hasn't Finn told me anything about this?" Kurt asked in indignation, "I mean, we live together. And I bring him a glass of warm milk every night, just in hopes that we'll have a little lady chat."

"Warm milk?" Blane asked, "Really?"

"It's delicious."

Rachel shook her head. "Finn's too proud to complain. He feels like he has to be strong for everyone, but I know it's just killing him inside. I hope he realises that, you know, if he and I were still together, I could make him feel a lot better, you know."

"Hopefully not by spreading your legs," you muttered.

Rolled her eyes, she replied, "I'm not Quinn."

At the same time you gave her shin a swift kick under the table, Mercedes shoved her shoulder into hers lightly.

"Let it go, Rachel," Kurt replied to her words about Finn.

"I- I just wish that there was a way that we could help. That's all."

"Yeah. And the worst part is how bummed the guys are," Mercedes added, "I mean, they already suffer enough abuse just being in glee. I really think that winning the game could have eased some of the pressure, at least for a little while."

"Wait. So, the whole team quit?" Blane asked, munching on his biscuit.

"Everybody not in glee. I mean, you can't play football with five guys, and one of them is in a wheelchair."

"Yeah, and Coach Beiste put up a sign-up sheet for people to join. I think they'll take anyone at this point."

"Well, the good news is you only need four more guys," Blane pointed out, trying to bring some hope back into the three McKinley students, "High school regulations actually let you play a couple guys short if you want to."

Sharing plotting looks with the girls, the boy had given you an eureka moment.

"But if they figure out a way to make it work, we will definitely be there to cheer 'em on."

"Oh, totally," Kurt was quick to agree, "Blane and I love football. Well, Blane loves football. I love scarves."

"Are you two thinking what I am?" you asked the girls before turning back to the head Warbler, placing a hand upon his shoulder, "Blane, you do not know how glad I am that you love football... even if you do dunk your biscotti into coffee."

---

"Why can't we just let them back on the team just for this game?" Sam asked during the next glee club session after the news everyone knew was coming had finally been broken.

"No." Beiste shook her head. "We carry this thing through. Even if it means having to forfeit the game."

"I can't believe this is it," Finn said glumly.

"Maybe it isn't." Sharing a look and an assured nod with your sister, you both stood up and walked to the centre of the room, where the adults were. "We wanna join the team."

"Or, in better words, we volunteer as tributes," your reference was met with silence, "Seriously? Have none of you read 'The Hunger Games'?"

Artie waved his hand. "I have. I got it."

"Thank you!"

"Wait," the boy then paused, processing what this all insinuated to, ""We" who?"

"All of us glee girls, and Y/N." Mercedes popped up now, followed by Tina. "We wanna join the football team, and we want to play in the championship."

"Come one, guy. Stop screwing around," Mike said moodily, "It's not cool."

"What's not cool is you guys not respecting women enough to realise we're perfectly capable of playing football," Lauren countered, walking to the front of the room herself, "And don't forget who the state champ in Greco-Roman Wrestling is. I've got offers from three different professional wrestling organisations for after I graduate, so..."

"High-five," your sister said, the two sharing one as you celebrated Lauren's achievements yourself.

"Oh, hell yeah!"

"Rachel, have you actually seen a tackle football game?" Mr Schue asked, leaning against the piano, "When they tackle you, it hurts."

"No, I thought it would tickle," you replied sarcastically, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"Yeah, Puckerman voiced, agreeing with his teacher, "And not in the good Mellencamp way."

"We thought about that, but the truth is, is that you guys don't really need us to play. You just need enough players out there to field a regulation team. So, when they snap the ball-" Rachel mimed. "-We're just gonna lie down on the ground. We're just gonna lie there."

"Well, I'm not," Zizes informed, "I'm gonna bring the pain."

You nodded in agreement, "Yeah, me too."

"I guess they won't get hurt if you stay down," Coach Beiste said, clinging onto this shred of hope that had been given to her.

"Okay, what do your parents have to say about this?"

Pulling out a stack of paper from behind her back, Tina moved to hand them over, "We all have signed permission slips from them. It took some convincing, but they understood what it means to all of us."

"Oh, not for me. My dad's were happy to let me do this. They thought it was a great way for me to get out my anger. Tackling people on the field, rather than in the hallways. Even if it is for one game."

"What do you think, coach?" Mr Schue asked, handing the permission slips over.

The woman sighed. "I think... welcome to the football team."

"Yes!"

You celebrated along with the girls, the boys coming down to join in the festivities.

"I'm gonna kick some ass!" you yelled, pumping a fist, "Whoo!"

"Football team! Football team!" Rachel chanted, clapping her hands. "High-five, teammate!"

Oh, this was gonna be so much fun.

---

You couldn't remember the last time you had felt this much anxiety vibrating through your bones. Which, lucky for you, was masked with excitement.

Hats, scarves, and jackets were needed on the cold January evening. And here you were in bulky football gear and pads, the stereotypical black steeks painted under your eyes.

Finn shook your shoulders once the guys joined up with you on the field, noises of excitement coming from everyone.

You had just finished high-fiving Sam when you heard your sister's loud shout came from behind her gold-star-covered helmet.

"Let's kick some ass!"

"Yeah!" you and Puckerman yelled in unison.

"Kick some ass!"

"Kick it!"

"Yeah!" Rachel and yourself stood side-by-side, synching each other up. "I knew it wasn't just me with anger in our family."

Speaking of...

Your eyes glanced over the crowd, finding two familiar faces.

"Hey, dads are here."

"What?" Rachel followed your line of sight, spotting your father's smiling down at you, making her wave excitedly to them with both hands. You, however, used a single arm, waving largely to them.

Even from so far away, you could feel the worry radiating from them. But still, with their bright smiles and waves, you could tell they were looking forward to the game you had felt so passionately about, just to help your friends.

"You sure you're gonna be able to join in?" Finn asked, "I mean, you don't even know how to play football."

"Just tell me what number to go for," you replied confidently.

Before long, you were in a huddle, with Finn giving out plays that you nor most of the girls even knew.

"Punch and Judy on one. Ready, break!"

"Break!" All the guys clapped.

"What?"

"Who's Judy?"

Turning to your sister as you made your way towards the line, you sassed, "You tellin' me that you know a guy called 'Punch'?"

"Where do I go? What do I do?"

Finn pointed her towards the ground, leaving her to copy a position she had once seen on television before turning to tell you where you had to go.

"You have to stand behind Rachel and Tina and stop number 38 when they lay down from going any further."

"Got it."

Copying the position of the boy you were tasked to stop, a smirk tugging at your face when he joined his teammates in chuckling at what your team had to do. Knowing you were gonna take him down, just like you had Karofsky weeks ago.

"Blue 42! Blue 42!" 'What?' "Down! Set! Hut!"

Your sister screamed around her mouth guard as she, Tina, -and Mercedes- all dropped to the ground. Leaving you to slide between the two, halting the football player with a huff.

With the blow of a whistle signalled the end of the play.

"Is it over?" Rachel asked as you helped her and Tina up.

"It was the first play. Obviously, it's not over."

"What happened?" Tina asked next.

Checking the board, you replied, "They got the ball."

By the second quarter, your team hadn't got a single point, and the rivals were up by seventeen. And you were in yet another huddle.

"All right. How's everyone doin'?" Finn asked, checking in.

"Kill me now," Mercedes spoke up exhausted, "I wanna die."

"Well, I'm actually having a lot of fun," you stated, turning to Sam, "Hey, you think Coach Beiste would let me try out next year."

"You don't even know the game."

"No, but tackling people is fun."

"Is anyone else tired of lying down all the time? I want to play," Tina said.

"Oh, hell yeah."

"Just... don't get ahead of yourself, okay?" Finn tried to talk the girl down from her boredom and intrigue, "Ready, break!"

One again bent down behind Tina and Rachel, with your hand pressed into the grass, ready for yet another failed play.

"The Blitz. The Blitz. Watch!" you heard Coach Beiste's voice coming through your helmet, pointing out directions.

"What the hell does that mean?" you asked yourself worriedly, hoping that it wasn't anything directed at you.

"Set! Hut!"

You, as usual, had stopped 38. But Finn had gotten tackled anyway, sending the ball tumbling across the field for anyone to nab.

Luckily, it was one of your team that managed to grab it and begin running it down the field.

Still pushing at the boy, you heard directions being screamed through your helmet.

"25, get to number 4!"

Glancing down at the number printed across your chest, you shoved the boy to the side whilst yelping, "Oh, shit. That's me! That's me!" Bolting towards the boy chasing Tina.

You weren't able to get there in time.

Skidding to a halt, you threw the boy off her back while he manoeuvred himself up.

The whole team gathered around the girl, still flat on her face, along with the medics. Her boyfriend worriedly hovering over her.

"Is she breathing?" Mike asked.

"Is she dead?" you asked before you were able to stop yourself, too busy panicking and racking through your brain, trying to grasp onto any idea you could muster to help the girl. Gaining a swift smack around your helmet-covered head from Sam in reaction to having your foot in your mouth.

Finally, once her mouthguard was pulled away, Tina spoke, "Did we win?" Sending relief flooding through you, your teammates, and the crowd.

"Glad you're alive, Tina," you joked after pulling your helmet off.

"Thanks, so am I."

"We're still in this," Finn tried to keep everyone's hopes up.

"Oh, give it up, Finn," Rachel retaliated, turning to face the boy, "Our only shot at redemption, right now, is to kick butt at the halftime show."

"She's not wrong," you panted, gesturing over to the scoreboard, "I mean, how do we come back from this?"

Just then, a look crossed the brown-eyed boy's face, the type where two wires fell together and sparked a thought that could rival an epiphany.

"Sam! Come here." He waved him over. "I need to play quarterback for the rest of the half."

"Haven't you already?" you asked, confused. Considering he had been the one shouting out the plays all night.

However, the blonde nodded readily. "Okay." Leaving the taller boy to continue giving directions.

"Puck, when the half ends, you gotta go convince Karofsky and the rest of the guys to do the halftime show with us."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

Finn rolled his eyes at the question. "Figure it out. You're my wingman, right?"

"I got tone, Mav," Puck assured, pumping the boy's awaiting fist as you threw out your arms in indignation, looking at Finn shocked.

"And what am I, your dancing chimpanzee?"

"W-Where are you going?" Rachel asked, sensing the boy was about to run off himself.

"You can't have a halftime show without cheerleaders."

"Oh, nuh-huh," you voiced, stopping him before he could make any real distance from your little group, "Quinn's probably still pissed at you. It won't do nothing than make it worse. I'll go."

"You sure?" he asked as you jogged past him, making you turn to face him, walk backwards down the field, and throwing your arms up onto the air, still holding onto your shiny red helmet.

"Well, she likes me right now!"

Then you turned, sprinting away, hoping to make it in time before they left. Even if you had to run in front of the bus to stop them.

Maybe your parents were right. You were reckless at times.

---

Running down the rows of parked buses, you were given some hope of reaching the girls before the Cheerios coach drove off with the cheerleaders inside, thanks to all the other Cheerios mulling around the area of the parking lot.

When the coach came into view, it wasn't hard to find the giant cannon this whole ordeal started with. Along with the three cheerleaders you recognised, even from the back.

"Hey, hey, hey," you called over to the trio, making them turn to find your panting form jogging up to them.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn asked, then looked you up and down, brows furrowing at your outfit, "And what are you wearing?"

You looked down at yourself, spreading your arms out, "Costume party. And to answer your first question, I'm here to stop you from going with Sue to the Regionals competition."

"Y/N..." the girl started, shaking her head softly.

"Come on, Quinn. Please come back to the game. We need you guys there."

"Haven't you been paying attention?" the head cheerleader snapped, "If we're not Cheerios, we're nothing."

"That stigma might have been pushed onto you, and every dumb fuckin' student here might believe that, but you and I both know that that's bullshit. You wanted to be popular, so you joined the Cheerios, but why did you join the Glee Club- Well, why did you stay in the club? Because you loved it, right?"

The three nodded softly.

"We care about you in the club. Sue doesn't! She's fine killing Brittany for a bullshit competition. Be honest with me, guys. if it meant you could still be popular and it wouldn't hurt your reputation, which would you choose?"

With a shrug, Brittany admitted, "Glee club."

"See." You gestured happily to the girl, before your eyes found Quinn's, spotting the sad yet unsure look in her own hazel ones. With a gentle sigh, you stepped toward the girl to speak with her more personally. "I know you. And I know that you don't think you are, but you're strong enough to do this. You're strong enough to do anything, Quinn Fabray."

The blonde smiled up at you, eyes shifting into the ones she used to look at you with during the summer.

"Okay," she breathed.

"Okay?"

A nod, "Yeah."

"Yes!" you yelled in celebration, shooting your arms up into the air, making the girl giggle. "San, what about you?" You then turned to the silent cheerleader.

"Screw her. She put me on the bottom of the pyramid."

"And there's no more harsh vibes between you two?" you asked, waving a finger between her and Quinn.

"No. We duked that out."

"Hot. Wish I could have been there." The blonde smacked your arm in playful punishment. "Ow," you spoke dully, "Okay, we've gotta go, halftimes in a few minutes, and we've gotta get changed ASAP."

"No time for a foursome, ladies," Sue called over from the front of the bus when you tried to leave with the girls, "Bus leaves in five."

"Which, by the way, I'm totally down for," you told the three with raised eyebrows, waving your helmet between the three.

"Of course you are," Santana smirked.

Ticking her head to the side, a smug look upon her own face, Quinn spoke to the coach, "We quit Cheerios." Making you beam proudly.

"You can't quit Cheerios," Sue stated, "Its blood in, blood out. Now get your sweet little cans on that bus."

"But we still quit," Santana pressed, ticking her head sassily.

"You're my stars. If you leave, I have no performance!"

"Sucks for you," Brittany sassed herself as you began walking away once more.

"You signed a consent form!"

"What's that?" You turned, finding the cheerleading coach holding up a sheet of paper. "That the only copy?" you asked, coming closer.

"The only one I need." Swiftly, you tugged the sheet of paper out of her fingertips and shredded it to pieces. "I can tape that back together," she told you smugly.

"That right?" you asked rhetorically, calling her bluff and throwing the shredded paper into your mouth. Taking a smug joy in the way her face fell at your actions. Swallowing the dry, clumpy paper down, you sassed, "Try taping that back together."

Chuckling, you jogged back to the three shocked teenagers, throwing your arms over both Quinn and Brittany's shoulders.

"You know that she couldn't have done anything with that consent form, right?" Quinn smiled up at you.

You stared down at the road below for a few seconds before speaking, "Shit."

---

Puck had managed to get all the football players -but Karofsky- to perform in the halftime show until the boys joined everyone at the end, dancing along with the zombies.

Things were still unsure for the team, which is why you were brought along into the boy's locker room, celebrating with them on the successful performance, before you possibly had to go back out there and tackle more rival players.

"Hey, what are you guys doing in here?" Beiste asked,

"Oh, we were just gonna take out zombie make-up off for the second half," Finn said, "It's kind of itchy."

"Yeah, you're tellin' me," you agreed from your seat upon one of the wooden benches, scratching at your neck where the stuff started.

"No, leave it on. Maybe we'll freak out the other guys a little bit and we need all the help we can get right now. Now, get out there."

"All of us?"

At Puck's question, you peered over at the woman curiously, awaiting her decision on letting the guys back on the team.

"Yeah." She nodded. "All of us."

"Oh, thank God!" you celebrated yourself, once the boys finished cheering, flopping down onto the bench fully, head rolling back into the wood, "Now I can lay down."

"I don't think so."

A groaned, questioning grunt left your mouth as you turned to peer at the coach, who only looked at you pointedly.

"Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes!" She nodded to you happily. "Now, get back out there!"

"I don't wanna! I'm tired!"

"Come on, Y/N." Sam smiled, fingers curling into the shoulder pads sitting on your chest, using that leverage to pull you back up, "You've got more people to tackle."

As you were ascending, against your will, you whined out, "But violence is never the answer."

---

Turns out, having football players who actually participated in the game and knew what they were doing, not including yourself, really made the difference. It also might have had something to do with the make-up.

Finn and everyone around you, were still telling you what number to go for. But other than that, you seemed to be doing pretty well out there. Not to mention you were having a lot of fun out there, more so than the first half. And that could be seen, thanks to your humoured laugh, straightening out your helmet.

"Did you bite him?" you managed to get out through chuckles.

Puck just grinned at you knowingly whilst nodding his head, only making you crack up more.

It was the last stretch of the game when Sam nodded to the huddled team. "It was a good run. We almost had it."

"Well," you began with an exhaled breath, "Considering the fuckery that was the first half, I think this was a big achievement."

Finn, ever the optimist, said, "Hey, this game isn't over."

"There's, like, ten seconds left. It's over." Karofsky shrugged.

Then it dawned on the once quarterback, "Not if the quarterback fumbles the snap."

"How do we make him do that?"

He knocked on your chest. "Just follow my lead."

Meeting the rival team at the line, you started the chant of 'brains', swaying like zombies as you did, creeping them out. Which quickly lead to the entire crowd chanting it into the night sky, like some stereotypical cult meeting.

And it did exactly what Finn planned it would.

The quarterback, too distracted by the crowd, missed catching the ball. Giving your best friend the perfect chance to scoop it up and run it to the end zone, successfully winning the game for your school.

"Oh, I'm gonna pass out as soon as I hit my bed tonight," you groaned, dropping your helmet to the ground and holding your knees as soon as you got to the sideline where the rest of your friends stood waiting.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked, unable to wipe the smile from her face. Both at winning the game and your overdramatics of the moment.

"I'm exhausted." You let out another deep guttural groan from your chest, spotting the helmet at your feet. Sliding it across the ground, you lowered yourself down, choosing to use the hard thing as a pillow. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"Y/N, you can't-"

"I'm gonna take a nap right here!"

"They always were overdramatic when they're tired."

Your eyes snapped open when you heard that voice. Looking up, you spotted your fathers both looking down at you with proud smiles up on their faces. Scrambling up, you rushed to give them a hug. Full pads and all.

"Dads!"

"We're so proud of you."

"Thanks!" Pulling back, you told them, almost conspiratorially, "I ate paper today."

"Why did you eat paper?" LeRoy asked, both their eyes wide in shock at the information.

"It's a long story, and you had to be there. But all you need to know is that I had to do it, and it wasn't pointless in the slightest."

From over your shoulder, Hiram and LeRoy could see a still zombie Quinn, shaking her head obviously, clearly mouthing the word 'no', letting them know you were lying.

They both hummed at your words as you continued to smile at them happily, content with the decision you made earlier.

They wondered how you weren't a 'leash kid' when they were younger sometimes.

---

Rounding the corner, still turning heads in the halls as the students walked to their next class, thanks to your involvement in the championship game, you came face to face with one Quinn Fabray.

"Hey!" You smiled brightly at the girl, who still looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky.

"Hi." The blonde watched you for a couple moments before she blinked herself out of her thoughts and gestured to the folded letterman jacket in your hand. "What's with this?"

"Oh, well, I borrowed it when I got slushied the other day, 'cause I didn't have any other clothes. Just tried to give it back."

"She letting you keep it as a souvenir?" she asked, referencing your participation on the field.

"Yeah." You nodded happily. "Also said that I might as well keep it now instead of getting it next year."

Quinn's eyes lit up in surprise. "You're on the team?"

"Apparently so. She said I was good, even though I had no clue what I was doing out there. It's strange, huh? I gain a uniform just as you give one up. How does that feel, by the way?"

She shrugged happily. "Weird. Did turn a couple heads."

"Well, I think it suits you," you spoke earnestly, glancing her up and down, taking in her dress, "Very 'nieve girl going to see church grandma', but still hot at the same time."

Playfully, the blonde shoved your shoulder, trying to push away the heat building upon her cheeks.

"I never got the chance to thank you." She looked down bashfully. "For helping me do the right thing."

"Ah, all you had to do was get out of this." A soft tap on her forehead. "I'm sure if we weren't on such a time crunch, you would have figured it out yourself in no time."

"I... I just have to say that you were amazing this week. On the field and off."

You gave a soft chuckle, "Yeah, it seems I'm just as good at tackling football players on the field as I am during fights."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Your dedication to your friends and how much you cared... it reminded me of why I fell for you."

"Wait..." Your head drew back, breath thinning out of shock of what Quinn had just confessed. "Y- You fell for me."

"Of course, I did." She shrugged as if it were obvious. "How could anyone not?"

"Quinn... I..."

As you stumbled over your words, trying to process the information that was thrust upon you, hardly noticing the blonde moving closer to you. Finally, snapping out of your stupor, by the feeling of her hands on your chest, travelling to wrap around your neck.

"Wait..."

Quinn hummed, nose nudging against yours. In the middle of the school hallways.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you said, with your hand on her hip, "You're- You're with Sam. And you're still not ready to come out, right?"

The girl sighed, nodding her head as she rubbed your cheekbone with her thumb. "You're right." She finished her sentence off by pressing a heavy kiss against your cheek, then left you alone in the hall, looking over her shoulder, shooting you a soft smile, before rounding the corner.

And you could only think one thing.

'Quinn Fabray loves me!'

-----

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[butterfluffy]

Hello! Could I get angst (with a happy ending if that’s possible) (or if angst is hard to pair with this song anything’s fine!) with Kid and female reader with the song “Not my slave” by Oingo Boingo for the “sing me a song” event please! Thank you so much!🌸

“not my slave”

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· after a break-up with your toxic ex, you then became eustass kid's lover, and used to the controlling of your past lover, kid immediately reminds you that you are his, his lover, but you are “not my slave.”

⠀⠀➧ angst to fluff / hurt-comfort | eustass kid × f!reader | oneshot / song fic

⠀⠀➧ warnings — mentions of toxic relationship with your ex, small quarrelling, and shouting! mistakes and swearing are present too.. so do ignore them, thanks!

⠀⠀➧ requests are closed until further notice!

⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: welcome to my “sing me a song” event made to honor this account reaching 200+ followers! visit it to see my other works on this special!

reqested by: anonymous — thank you for joining in and dropping a request, anon! so, here's the fic! i absolutely love this—kid being unusually comforting and loving. it melts my heart...! ♡

Tears brimmed your widened eyes as soon as Kid entered your room with him, hand instinctively hiding the phone on your hand as you held your breath as your lover walked towards you with the usual frown on his face.

“K..Kid, welcome back, i-is there anything bothering you today or—or anything you need..?” You ask with a whisper, wiping your tears away while Kid plopped himself down the bed, sitting beside you.

“Obviously, there is something bothering me, and no, I don't need anything,” He grumbled, eyes travelling to your figure that stiffen under his gaze that slowly softened after letting a deep sigh out. “so never mind that. How about you? Is there anything wrong? You look like you're fucking constipated.”

Mentioning this, you jolted, turning the phone in your hand off and clutching it, not wanting Kid to know that you have your phone with you—but unluckily, it made a small shutter sound upon closing, catching your boyfriend's attention.

“Was that your phone?” The red head asks as you looked down, guiltily nodding your head as an answer, finally revealing the gadget and handling it to him.

“Eh? The hell am I supposed to do with your phone?” Raising one of his non-existent brows up, Kid pushed your phone back to you while he relaxed himself on the headboard, small yawn escaping his lips as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“You.. You are not going to check it? You're not gonna ask me what was I doing or who was I talking to?” Asking this with a stammer, Kid froze, slowly turning his head towards you, mouth agape.

“The fuck?” He cursed, soon taking your phone and slamming it on the nightstand, causing you to shudder. “Do you think I'm like your fucking ex who's such a control freak!?”

Exclaiming this in fury, your breathing got ragged, the tears you wiped away coming back. “I don't care if you're on you're phone, talking to someone! I don't need to know everything you do, damned woman!”

Grabbing your chin with the lightest pressure he could put on it, Kid forcefully made you look at him directly in his eyes that burned in anger and somewhat... Sadness.

“I am not that fucking ex of yours to be staying well informed of you...!!” The man spat, letting go of your chin and running his hand through his flaming red hair with a loud exhale through his nose.

“But look, right now, you're treating me like that fucker..!” Clicking his tongue, he then bit his lower lip, trying to cool down the slightest upon realizing that he's been shouting at you.

“If you miss 'em that much, why don't ya go back to them and go cry every night because of the shits you have to put up with them, huh?” Suggesting this in a much more tame tone, yet same venomous words, Kid looked away from you who's got hot tears flowing down your cheeks, sobs escaping your lips by what he said.

“I'm sorry, Kid! It's just—their rules were etched into my entirety, and—and I hate it, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please.. Please don't push me away from.. You.” You plead, hands shakily reaching out to your lover, wanting to embrace him tightly, but you retracted them after.

“I..I'll be better, I promise. I'll change, so tell me, what—what do I have to do? What are the rules you want me to follow? Do you—do you want me to be less clingy with you?”

You croaked out, voice shaky, still crying to your boyfriend who clenched his shirt, his chest tightening, snapping his head to you and immediately engulfing you into a hug that is tight enough to almost suffocate you, yet it is comforting, warm, and inviting.

“Ugh, damn it all! Curse that bastard, I'll kill them for turning you into this—this thing, as if you are a servant! Fuck, fuck, fuck them..!” The frustrated male shouts, a string of curses leaving mouth later on.

“..This is upsetting. I thought we left that ghost that kept creeping up on your mind behind? Can't we just be happy together without the nightmare they gave you?” He mutters after calming down, caressing your back as you cried on his shoulder.

“Just ignore what everyone 'round us are telling what to do.. Deafen their sound, by a sweet whisper,” Taking a pause as your crying slowly subsided, Kid whispered into your ear, “I love you.”

“You can adore me all you want, but don't go overboard,” He sighed out, running his hand through your hair, combing it, hoping that you'd feel better before he continued what he was saying, “..to the point that you're here, crying in my arms because you can't put this shit up even with yourself.”

“I see no escape from the roles we always play, but I don't want to follow those ridiculous sexist beliefs that you have to succumb to me and crap just because you're a woman.” Giving you a kiss on the forehead after he spoke, Kid lets a relieved sigh out of his mouth seeing you calmed down, sitting on his lap with your arms dangling by his neck, sniffling as you listened to him with all ears.

“i just want to prove, and let you know that you're mine now, but you're not my sister, you're mine now, but you're not my child. And you're mine now, but you're not my slave.”

“You're missing the whole point, you're not my little pet, so don't throw away your life just because of me.” The red head stated in a serious tone, wanting to change your mind that has been poisoned by your previous toxic lover.

“I do not own your soul, and I don't want you in a cage, unlike your ass-like ex.” He says with a frown upon mentioni your ex that kept you locked up away from everyone.

“I only want your heart to find a special place, with me.” Your boyfriend mentioned, falling silent for a few moments, letting yoy hear his heart thump for you then continuing.

“You're not. my. slave. Keep that in mind, babe.” Kid reminds you of once again, face burrowed on your collar bone.

“I am not a King, so please... Don't worship me.” Voice cracking as his heart sunk into the void knowing that you were made to follow your ex like a dog, Kid grit his teeth. “You may be mine, but I don't own your entirety, you have your own life, and I have mine.”

“I love you the way you are yourself, all free like a bird, and not the way you act like a puppet for me,” Etching this on your mind, Kid once again kissed you, showering you the love you deserve. “you are not my slave, but you are my lover.”

© butterfluffy 2022