#Imprinted Flip Flops

[customlogoflipflopsny]

Custom Photo & Branded Flip Flops - Imprinted & Logo-Printed Styles

[suksatoru]

𝝑𝑒 katsuki finds out what you've been drawing in your sketchbook all the time...and to say he's surprised is an understatement.

"y/n."

"hmm?"

your boyfriend lets out a sharp growl, his hands practically itching to reach out and snatch the sketchbook out of your hands

"let me see."

you don't respond, brows pinched together in concentration as you alternate between looking at the charcoal in your hands to katsuki's adorable pout

"you need to wait a little longer...not my fault you're so pretty."

he lets out an embarrassed groan, dragging his calloused palm down his face as he flops face first onto your bed. you let out a whine in protest, slapping his arm

"ow!" you huff, silently scolding yourself for hitting the hard, packed muscle beneath his shirt. he smirks a little bit at your reaction, rolling onto his back and making a show of flexing his muscles as he stretches his arms with a loud yawn

"ya took forever. now, show me what you made." he demands, sitting up expectedly with narrowed eyes

katsuki had been dragged from the common room all the way up to your dorm in a matter of minutes. he'd gladly be dragged by you to the ends of the earth, but he was beyond confused when you ordered him to sit down on your bed and stay still. all until you pulled out your sketchbook.

the light bulb in his mind switched on, and with a quiet "ah", he complied, listening to you quietly chat about anything and everything that came to your mind as you scribbled away in your sketchbook

katsuki has seen you carrying it around a lot. you always kept it tucked under your arm even as you travelled from class to class—never apart. it had, simply put, become an extension to your body at this point

of course he's wanted to take a peak in there. and about a dozen times katsuki tried to—but each time ended with him getting beat with your pillows and plushies as you shoved him out of your dorm, slamming the door on him as he laid in the hall, rubbing his head and silently cursing himself for getting caught once again.

he had kept still and quiet for you while you drew because this was....out of the ordinary. you never really did open your sketchbook in front of him—but here you were now, fingers smudging the paper as you smile sheepishly

"promise you won't laugh?"

he rolls his eyes, trying to keep his usual facade up so you don't detect even a hint of the nervousness he felt

"course i won't. now, either you show me—or i'm taking that damned book from your hands and—"

he's cut off when you suddenly raise it from your lap. pages rustle together as you flip it towards him, hands gripping the edges of your most prized possession as you squeeze your eyes shut and await his reaction

katsuki, was for once, stunned into silence. his eyes trailed over the strokes and marks on the paper, your finger imprints pressed all over the paper from the charcoal—

but what you've drawn is undeniably him.

it's not what he'd expected at all. it's him but...it's not from katsuki's view. it's not the mean face he saw in the mirror everyday. the usual scowl that seemed to be a permanent resident on his face was replaced with a soft smile in your drawing

his eyes were lighter, softer. his cheeks were round and full of boyish youth as he smiled. it was beautiful. he was. he feels his heart stutter in his chest as he slowly takes the sketchbook from your hands, eyes glued to page

"hold on suki—"

he begins flipping. flipping and flipping and flipping and it's all him. katsuki sleeping, katsuki yelling and a frightened little izuku scribbled into the corner of the page—katsuki cooking, katsuki in his hero suit, katsuki—

you suddenly tackle him, and with a yelp—both of you tumble off of your bed and onto the floor. unfortunately, his grip on the book loosens for a mere instant, and you're able to snatch it out of his grip and throw it onto your bed from where the two of you laid on the floor

his lips are parted, but not a sound comes out. his eyes are like the drawing you had just made—soft and gentle and round as he stares up at you.

you're so embarrassed you can barely stand to look him in the eye, resorting to tucking your face into the space between his neck and shoulder with an embarrassed groan

"asshole...you weren't supposed to flip..." you murmur, and katsuki thinks you look pretty with your cheeks flushed and tinted like this. his chest falls and rises slowly, and he made no move to get up off the floor as you caged him there—refusing to let him get up.

"i....gah say something you jerk! you can't humiliate me like that and then get all quiet!" you whine, your voice embarrassed and pitched and katsuki can't even stop himself from grabbing hold of the back of your neck and crashing his lips into yours

he pulls your entire body against him, wrapping a single arm around your waist before he rolls the two of you over and flipping your positions—he hovers over you, pulling away from the kiss just to press another one onto your forehead

"you fucking dumbass...why'd you go and waste so many pages on me..." he mumbles, grabbing your charcoal covered hands as he presses a soft kiss onto your finger tips. you smile bashfully at the smeared streaks of color on his face

"you're my muse." you state simply

his eyes are lined with tears, and his grin is wide and toothy—you want to capture this moment in your pages, the shine in his eyes and the way his lips curled, all of it.

you decide you'll have to draw this particular katsuki later, because he's suddenly launching an attack on you—a flurry of kisses being pressed all over your face and neck and just about any bit of skin he could find as he laughs at the sound of your sweet squeals—music to his ears.

[wordpress-blaze-176197706]

The Ridge- REPUBLISHED

Into the Wilderness: Part 6

Our rented SUV was one of the last in the parent caravan. We drove along winding paved roads until we turned off onto dirt pathways, passing white clapboard houses nestled among the hills, weathered with moss, a lone horse, a few sheep hugging dilapidated barns. Then, we turned off those dirt roads onto pitted tracks created by other four wheelers. We navigated slowly up the mountain, wheels edging steep declines. We bumped over rocks, tree branches scraping our doors. We passed an overflowing stream.

Finally, the line slowed and stopped. In what seemed like practiced unison, SUVs turned slightly off the tracks. The forest was damp and thick, the soil emitting steam as the sun warmed it. The Blue Ridge Mountains in Georgia are actually a temperate rainforest and that becomes obvious the moment you crack open your car door. The moisture and heat- it was now late August- envelope you.

All around us was green. If our teens were camped in these woods, seeing them through the trees was nearly impossible. Chuck and I got out of our SUV and followed the other parents walking toward an incline about a half mile down the path. A sense of human presence started to emerge. An abandoned steel tent frame gleamed in a clearing- not from our campers; they have strict rules to leave the forest as they find it. In the distance, smoke from a campfire wafted through the green light. We walked toward it.

All around us, teens and parents had begun to re-unite. Rustling undergrowth, excited screams: the teens rushed to meet their parents.

Far down on the path, was a spot of red. As we walked, it formed into a shape, then a figure. It was unloading food supplies from the back of an SUV. The figured stopped and faced our direction.

Squinting, Chuck asked, "Is that Catina?" We couldn't tell. We walked closer. And as we did the figure began to sprint toward us. And then we knew. This was our girl.

We ran. She ran, clouds of dirt rising around her like Pigpen from Charlie Brown. We came together, grabbing hold and squeezing in an enormous hug.

The first thing I noticed was how bad she smelled. And how smelling so bad, she still smelled good. Every mother knows the scent of her child. It's there from the first moment your child is in your arms and you bury your nose in the soft spot where the neck meets the shoulder.

That was the smell I noticed, along with sweat and body odor. Deoderant attracts mosquitos and flies so the teens avoid it.

Next, I noticed her clear eyes. And her dimpled smile. She was happy, not just to see us, but happy. Her body showed it. She had a confidence she had never carried before.

She had firmed up from the hiking and healthy eating. The teens do not eat processed foods and can only have limited amounts of honey as a rare treat. She was covered in bug bites, red welts dotting her arms, ankles and calves. She wore a long-sleeved red windbreaker and splotched khakis, an orange vest with fluorescent tape and a mismatched pair of crocs, one blue, one orange (see our photo in the About page), without socks.

Chuck and I wore "I heart Catina Wipper" T-shirts. In her last letter home, Catina had asked Chuck to adopt her, and we wanted to surprise her with his answer. Just two days before, we had found a small printing shop in Clayton, Georgia that could make our T-shirts in a day. The T-shirt was hidden beneath our buttoned shirts and we opened them in a big "ta da."

We were together again. After eight long weeks of separation.

We walked to the clearing where they had set up camp. In the center was a big tarp with a campfire. The teens learn how to start a fire using self-made bow drills. Designated campers tend the fire to keep it continually burning. No fire means eating peanut butter in big spoonfuls from the jar or handfuls of GORP.

Each teen was assigned a pack of necessities weighing about 40 pounds: sleeping bag, school and therapy notebooks, water bottles, food supplies, bowl and spoon, a change of clothes, bags for collecting waste, a toothbrush. The packs were piled in a mound about 20 feet from the center tarp. A constructed bathing area and latrine were at opposite ends of the camp, both lined with tarps for privacy. Above the camp, on a ridge, the teens had set up their tents. Each day, they choose a favorite spot for sleeping. This one had a view of nearby mountains, blue and hazy in the distance like a smudged charcoal drawing.

The teens had settled down with their parents, excited to tell them about living in the wilderness. They were all so proud. They had lived outside for weeks tending to their own needs. While different issues had brought them together, the underlying issue was often the same: anxiety, depression, low self-esteem. But now they had discovered they could thrive- through storms, heat waves, bug bites, pesky critters, slips and falls.

Catina took our hands and led us up a hill above the camp to a rocky nook shaded by trees. Chuck and I unfolded our chairs, portable, legless contraptions that suspend a body in a reclining position. These "chairs" are provided only to teens who have reached a certain level in their progress- an incentive to work hard. Visiting parents are warned not to give our chairs away, or to let our kids sit in them.

We checked in. How were we each feeling? Excited, happy, complete. Catina told us about her days- what time they rise, packing up, unpacking, hiking off trails, setting up camp, cooking meals, cleaning up. She had never camped a single day in her life before wilderness, and now she loved being in the deep woods, sitting quietly with a book or journal, or staring endlessly at the beauty of it all.

We talked about a lot of things. Her letters. Her inventories. Her memories. Her new-found love of reading. Her regret. Our regret. An awful, violent incident she had hidden from us and blamed herself for because it had happened at a party she shouldn't have been at. What had led her here, to this place, this moment.

When we returned to the camp, dinner prep was underway, a counselor watching as they cubed raw chicken and cut up vegetables, sauteed in a big skillet over the open flame. They made pasta with chicken and vegetables, simple and good. Catina added sriracha, gobbled it down and wiped her bowl clean with leaves from the ground. When I couldn't finish my serving, she was happy to eat more.

Joy. I had never seen her so in her body, so present to herself. She was just Catina. The Catina that is Catina. Not the Catina that anyone else wanted her to be.

As the sun began to set, we hiked up the hill to the ridge where they had lined their tents. I captured a fallen branch as a walking stick to help heave myself up the mountain and across the uneven terrain.

Catina had chosen to place her tent last, at the far end of the ridge. She tied it between trees, a sharp inverted V high off the ground so she could see the sky and feel the night wind. We crawled underneath, removed our hiking boots and handed them to the counselors. We loosened our clothes and laid on top of our sleeping bags, arms and legs interlinked, staring at the moon through the branches. We repeatedly whispered, "I love you." There was not much more to say.

We lay on this ridge of mountain. The ridge seemed endless, stretching across the Appalachian shelf. It had risen millions of years ago, rock crashing together, thrusting upward, a massive tectonic shift continuing to reshape the landscape even today. And here we were now, on this ridge, together. We too had collided, fault lines rippling through our lives. We had forged new selves out of this, our own seismic event. Here on this ancient ridge, we knew we had come far.

Source: The Ridge- REPUBLISHED

[hanniebaeee]

Not Your Type

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: Nothing much

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluffff, angst

Summary: He saves you from trouble. And you fall head over heels. You're a rich girl, he's struggling to make ends meet. But love knows no bounds right?

a/n: Ok, so this turned into a whole Kdrama 🤣 But I love this Jinnie so much omg 🥺 I usually don't post on Mondays, but here it is 🤷‍♀️

You knew this dress was a mistake. You hated it the moment your mum shoved it into your hands and demanded you to wear it. 

A shimmery, black number with a cut so high on the thigh you might as well have just worn some glitter and called it a day. But no. This was mum's way of nudging you not so subtly into the marriage market, hoping that some future business heir from this high-society party would take an interest.

And if that dress wasn't enough, your mum had the nerve to slide next to you and poke your ribs with her elbow and say, “Smile, darling. You look like a corpse in designer wear.”

So you gave a withering glare and you left. Stomped out. Heels clicking against the marble dramatically until they clicked on the road dramatically.

You had walked a long way until you registered the silence. You stopped short, swallowing as you took in your surroundings. A quiet alley. Dark.

The moment the reality of your situation crashed in in the form of a shadow in the dark, your knees were already shaking. Literally.

You turned and started speed walking - as fast as those cursed heels let you - but you could hear heavy footsteps behind you, closing in fast. 

Of course this was the perfect time and outfit for a creepy stalker to take interest in you. Of course. The night you looked like an expensive, trembling snack in five-inch heels.

“Hey, princess,” the voice rasped behind you.

Shit.

But before you could even gasp, another figure stepped in between you and the stalker. Tall. Long limbs. Broad shoulders in a dark hoodie. Short dark hair. And cold.

His gaze flicked lazily to your stalker. And he took a step forward. 

“Leave,” he said, voice low and calm. “Now.”

The creep stammered. Blinked. And to your surprise, turned and ran.

Silence.

Then the stranger’s eyes slid to you. You were frozen - heart pounding and barely breathing.

“You’re not from here.” He stated, voice flat.

His gaze ran down your dress - slow and unbothered - and back up. And then he sighed. 

“What kind of idiot walks through this part of the city dressed like that?” Another glance at your outfit. “You’re lucky he was a coward.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning to get stalked, thanks.” You bristled. 

His brows lifted the tiniest bit as he said, “And yet here you are.”

“What’s it to you?” you snapped, crossing your arms.

“Nothing, actually.” He said, and turned like he was about to leave.

“Wait!” you blurted. “Please don't leave me here!”

He stopped and sighed again.

“Where do you live?” You swallowed and told him.

“That's not too far.” He said. “Come on, I'll walk you.”

He started walking, not waiting for you. The nerve. The absolute nerve. You wanted to throw a tantrum right there, but you hurried after him, heels clicking. 

“You know, you could be nicer to the girl you just saved.”

“Oh so I have to save you, and be nice to you. And anything your highness?” 

Your heart flipped. But you caught yourself, but not fast enough, unfortunately, because you were pretty sure that you just imprinted on him like a damn baby duck. 

“Do you treat all damsels like this?” you muttered.

He snorted, the tiniest, briefest smirk ghosting his mouth. “You’re no damsel.”

Damn right. 

“I cannot stop thinking about him.”

“You’re still on this? Seriously?” Your cousin Minho groaned loudly from your bed, face buried in a silk pillow. 

Jeongin, your best friend, didn’t even look up from his phone, as he said, “What’s his name again?”

“I don’t know,” you whined, flopping dramatically onto the bed. “That’s the problem. He saved me from that creep. He was gorgeous…like a fallen angel in a hoodie.”

“Or like a potential criminal.” Minho snorted.

You threw a cushion at him. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Jeongin sighed deeply, finally looking at you. He was the picture of a perfect young businessman. Perfect black hair. Rolex watch. Already CEO of his father’s company.

“Babe. Seriously. Why him?” he asked. 

“Because,” you huffed, rolling over, “he didn’t care about me. He didn’t even look impressed. Or starstruck. Or interested. Like I was just... normal.”

Minho lifted his head, looking scandalized. “God forbid.”

You pointed at Jeongin. “You. You can find out who he is. I know you can. Call Seungmin and find out for me, please, Innie.”

Jeongin squinted at you like you’d grown two heads. And you'd mentioned Seungmin - Jeongin’s friend (your short term fling from your uni days), and also a lawyer, who had the necessary “contacts”. 

“You want me to run a background check on the stranger who saved you in a back alley? With the help of your ex.” Jeongin repeated. 

“Obviously. He isn't my ex, he's just -”

“Babe. You cannot be serious.”

You flopped again, more dramatically this time.

“Innie, this is a life and death situation.” You stared at the ceiling with a sigh. “I want him.”

Minho sat up and hit you with a pillow. “You are unhinged.”

Jeongin stared at you for a moment and then sighed like his soul was leaking out of his body.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, pulling out his other phone - the shady one. The black one you weren’t supposed to know existed.

“Jeongin!” Minho gasped. “No. Don’t encourage her insanity, so quickly.”

“She’s going to make me anyway,” Jeongin grumbled, typing furiously. “Might as well get it done before she sells her watch to hire a private investigator.”

“That was one time!” you cried.

“Princess. What exactly are you planning when I do find him?” he asked, glancing at you over the screen.

You grinned, wicked and sure.

“Oh, I’m going to marry him. Oh my God.” you squealed and tackled Minho into a hug as he flailed. 

“She’s going to eat this poor man alive.” he wheezed as he wrestled you away.

—

A few hours later:

Jeongin stood in front of you, holding his tablet like it was the Holy Grail.

“I found him.”

You sat up so fast your hair smacked Minho in the face, and he made a disgusted sound, shoving you away.

“Tell me everything,” you gasped.

“Name - Hwang Hyunjin. Lives in a terrible part of town with his single mother and little sister, Yeji - high school, smart kid. He works two jobs. Day shifts at a garage. Night shifts at a diner near the river.” Jeongin read out. 

“Criminal record?” Minho asked, sitting up.

“None. Not even a parking ticket.” Jeongin scrolled. “Guy’s clean. Like... painfully clean. His school record? Top of his class. Wanted to go to art school. Didn’t. Had to stay and take care of the family ‘cos dad's not in the picture, and mum's a bit poorly to work.”

You were silent. Too silent.

Jeongin looked up as he said, “No mob ties. No arrests. He’s just... broke. Really broke. But responsible. Works like a dog to keep his sister in school. And keeps weird rich heiresses safe from creeps, apparently.”

You stared. Heart pounding.

Minho squinted at you. “Oh no.”

“I love him,” you whispered.

Minho threw his arms up. “Jesus CHRIST -”

“I knew he was good.” You grabbed a pillow, hugging it to your chest. “I knew it. I could smell it. Like... honour. And a bit of tragedy.”

“Princess, no.” Jeongin pointed sharply at you. “You can’t ‘love’ someone because you read a background check. That’s insane.”

“I can and I do.” You grinned, full teeth. “I’m going to marry him.”

“Stop. Stop this immediately.” Minho said, shaking his head. “If your mum finds out-”

“Marry him. Have his babies. Take care of his family.” you ranted. 

“You’ve lost your mind,” Minho said, dragging a hand down his face. “Jeongin, you broke her.”

“Babe. You can’t just... show up in his life. You’re from this world.” He gestured grandly around your room. “He’s from a place where if rent is late, the landlord screams through the walls.”

You just smiled.

“All the more reason I want him.”

Minho groaned. Jeongin groaned harder. You flopped back on the bed, sighing dreamily.

Hwang Hyunjin. Beautiful. Big sad eyes and rough hands and a world you weren’t supposed to touch.

The bell above the greasy diner door chimed when you pushed it open. God. It smelled like fried onions and floor cleaner in there.

“Okay, princess,” Jeongin’s voice crackled through your AirPods. “Go seduce the poor man.”

“I hate this,” Minho groaned. “This is actual social suicide. She’s going to die.”

“Shut up, both of you,” you hissed under your breath, sauntering toward the counter. “He’s here. I see him. Oh my God, he's such a dream.”

Hyunjin stood behind the counter, white apron on, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and head down as he wiped the counter with a rag.

He glanced up, saw you, froze and narrowed his eyes.

You had half a mind to scramble from there, but you took in a deep breath and walked up to him, sat on the cracked red bar stool and smiled at him.

“Ohhh it’s you,” you said aloud, and heard snickering from your idiot friends on the other side. 

“What are you doing here?” Hyunjin asked. 

“Just here for some coffee-” you said, smiling like a maniac.

Silence. He looked you up and down like you’d fallen from space.

“Coffee,” he repeated slowly. “Here?”

“This is so bad,” Minho whispered.

Hyunjin folded his arms, apron tugging tight.

“Not really your type of place, princess,” he said coolly. “We don’t serve sparkling water or gold-dusted lattes, in case you got lost.”

But you didn't hear half of what he said because you were gazing at him with those big eyes, pupils blown wide and a soft blush covering your cheeks. 

“You’re perfect,” you said without thinking.

“Oh my God,” Jeongin shrieked. “BABE HE JUST INSULTED YOU!”

Hyunjin blinked and frowned as he asked, “What?”

“I…uh…I heard the coffee’s good here!” you yelped. “Just wanted to try it. I love coffee. And local businesses, you know. Love them.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Minho said, cringing on your behalf.

Hyunjin sighed and turned, grabbing the ancient coffee pot.

“She’s gonna drink that sludge and die,” Minho whispered gleefully.

“Babe, you can still run, he’s not watching,” Jeongin said.

Before you could say anything, a chipped mug slammed in front of you. Hyunjin leaned in, eyes sharp.

“Drink.”

You blinked up at him and then lifted the mug. Taking a deep breath, you sipped. And nearly died. It tasted like nightmares and tar. 

Jeongin snorted as he said, “Want me to call an ambulance?”

Hyunjin watched your struggle, his mouth quirking - just barely - as you forced it down.

“Good?” he asked. 

“Delicious,” you coughed, smiling like your life depended on it. “Best... best coffee ever.”

He leaned closer, elbows on the counter and his eyes burned into yours.

“Why are you really here, princess?”

“Oh my God,” Jeongin gasped. “He’s onto you. Abort! Abort!”

“Maybe I like the view?” you offered in a small voice. 

Minho made a dying seal noise and said, “NO. You did not just say that.”

Hyunjin gave you a suspicious look. 

“Try not to choke on it,” he muttered, sliding the sugar jar toward you. “Can’t have you dying here. Bad for the business.”

You nodded, stirring sugar into the horror coffee.

“She’s gone. This is the end. She’s ruined.” You heard Minho groan as Jeongin laughed.

You took another sip, and grimaced. Ok, so you can't do this. Not another sip. So you pushed the awful cup away.

“Ugh. You win,” you huffed, looking up at Hyunjin. “Fuck the coffee.”

Hyunjin leaned on the counter, arms folded, a slow amused smile tugging at his mouth. He looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“You think?” he drawled. “Told you it was bad. But you rich types always gotta try things for the thrill, right?”

You pouted, feeling your face heating up. 

“No,” you said loudly, with your heart in your throat. “It’s not the coffee.”

His brow arched, his eyes daring you to speak. 

“I like you, okay?” you blurted. “I really do. You’re the first person I’ve actually liked in…God, forever. And I don’t know how to play the cute, coy girl. So there. I like you.”

The air froze between you as Hyunjin blinked and stared like you’d just spoken parseltongue.

“What?” he said flatly.

“I like you.”

His mouth twitched - but not into a smile. But rather into disbelief and cold annoyance.

“Okay. That’s not funny.” He said, his jaw ticking.  “If that's all, you can leave.”

Your stomach twisted. Oh this was all so wrong. 

“I’m not joking,” you said, sitting up straight. “I swear I’m not. I -”

His hand hit the counter, hard. Not loud, but firm - enough to make you shut up.

“This is my workplace,” he said sharply, but his voice didn't raise at all. “Not your playground. I work double shifts to pay for rent. To buy dinner. To keep my sister in school. Not that you’d know what that feels like.”

You flinched.

“I’m not some shiny toy for you to chase when you’re bored,” he bit out, voice tired, but sharp. “So whatever game you’re playing - stop. Get out. And I’ll pretend this whole thing didn’t happen.”

His chest rose and fell fast, jaw tight. His hand gripped the counter like he wanted to break it.

And you - ridiculous, spoiled, hopeless you - just sat there. Heart racing and face hot.  And wanting him more than ever.

“Hyun-”

“Get. Out.” he muttered again, cold, sharp, final. “Please don't play with my life.”

Oh, you weren't doing this. You weren't used to this - being told off for being simply honest. You were so innocent like that. What did you even do wrong? You were in love, was that a crime? 

So you stood and stepped closer, leaning in till his face was inches away from yours. Hyunjin’s body stilled like a wild animal caught in headlights.

And you smiled, slowly and sweetly. Like you knew something he didn’t.

“How dare you. I know you think I'm some deranged rich girl. But you don't get to say things like that just because I'm rich. I'm human too. And,” you whispered. “Just so you know - I’m gonna marry the fuck out of you, Hwang Hyunjin.”

His eyes blew wide, and his mouth parted in barely concealed shock.

“Because I think you're amazing and I'm in love with you,” your voice cracked, but you held on. “I’m gonna marry you. And then I’m gonna show you what I can really do. Just you wait.”

SILENCE.

And then - 

“AAAAAAAAHHHHH -” Jeongin squealed in your ear like a dying dolphin. So damn loud that your eardrum actually rang. “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD SHE SAID IT - SHE PROPOSED IN A DINER - MINHO SHE PROPOSED IN A DINER -”

Hyunjin was frozen. His jaw moved but no words came out. His pretty mouth opened, closed and opened again. Like you’d broken his entire brain.

“Speechless, babe?” you teased softly, and he blinked - once, twice.

“You’ll see, Hyunjin,” you said softly, the hurt showing on your face for the first time since you stepped into the diner, and Hyunjin swallowed hard. 

You straightened, collected yourself, winked, and sashayed your rich, totally humiliated ass right out of that diner, leaving him gaping like you’d hit him with a truck.

---

You wobbled out of the diner with your heart hammering and your throat burning. Your friends watched as you yanked open the car door - Minho’s sleek black Porsche - and threw yourself into the back seat. 

And burst into tears. Loud, ugly, no dignity left tears.

Minho turned slowly in the driver’s seat and sighed.

“Oh my God,” he muttered, staring dead ahead. “Are you seriously crying over diner-boy now?”

Jeongin popped his head between the front seats, grinning like a gremlin.

“Babe,” he cooed. “Babe no, come on. You killed it in there. It was hot. Honestly I nearly asked for your hand myself.”

You sniffed, wiping your eyes. “He hates me.”

“No he doesn’t,” Jeongin said, climbing fully into the backseat beside you and pulling you into a hug. “He was shook. You fried his brain, babe. He doesn’t know what hit him.”

“He told me to get out,” you wailed.

“Maybe because you proposed like a crazy person, while he was at work!” Minho scolded, grabbing a few tissues out of the box in the dashboard, and offering them to you. 

“Shut up, hyung!” Jeongin snapped. “She’s so brave. She’s a queen. She just confessed her love, that's not a crime!”

You sniffed again, and hugged Jeongin tighter.

“I’m gonna marry him,” you mumbled miserably.

Jeongin grinned wide. “Damn right you are.”

The next morning:

Hyunjin shoved open the garage door - his face dark and tired. Chris, the owner of the garage, glanced up from the ledger he was looking at.

“What's that face for?” he asked, walking around the little counter and walking towards the garage door to swat his younger brother Felix, who was ogling at a girl outside.

“Stop flirting with her, Lix! Her dad’s gonna kill you, and then throw her in a convent. So please get back to -”

“Hyung! She smiled at me!” Felix whined, rubbing his head. “Ahhhh she smiled!!”

Chris glared. “Get back to work, right now.”

Hyunjin sighed loudly and sat down on an old toolbox.

“And you,” Chris said, pointing at Hyunjin. “What happened?”

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair and mumbled, “She happened.”

“She who?” Felix’s head popped up from behind a car. “The rich girl?”

“That girl,” Hyunjin muttered.

“OHHHHH?”

Hyunjin shot him a look. “Shut up.”

Chris smirked. “And?”

“She came to the diner last night. Said she liked me. Confessed. Right there. And told me she's gonna marry me.”

“Holy shit,” Felix breathed, looking way too excited for someone who just got swatted for slacking.

“And what did you do?” Chris asked, trying to hide the fact that he was trying not to laugh. 

“I may have kicked her out of the diner…and she may have left crying…”

Felix gasped so loud.

“HYUNJIN YOU DON'T MAKE GIRLS CRY!” he scolded, his beautiful face set in a scowl. 

“I had to,” Hyunjin whined. “I’m not dragging someone like that down here. What am I supposed to do, make her eat instant ramen and ride the subway? She’s not built for this life. She thinks she is. But she’s not.”

Chris leaned on a car, eyes wide. “But you like her.”

“What?” Hyunjin said, looking surprised.

“You obviously like her.”

“Maybe.” Hyunjin exhaled, looking pained. “She's adorable, ok? She looks at me with those big sparkly eyes and I'm gone. Like when I helped her with that creep? She looked at me like that. And yesterday? She looked at me like that again, and I wanted to die. I just wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole, because I know I don't deserve her, but now it's gonna kill me to see her marry some CEO and carry on with her life -”

“Man. You’re so doomed.” Felix said with a grin. 

Hyunjin groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

You were strolling down the street with Minho, sipping on bubble tea, looking totally depressed.  Well, that was until your face lit up like a Christmas tree as your eyes fell on him. Across the street. You gripped Minho's arm so tight, it made him yelp.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Lino look!!’

Minho's eyes followed you. And there came Hwang Hyunjin, with a pretty teenage girl beside him - his sister, had to be - and they were laughing at something.

“He looks so happy. Are you gonna terrify him in the middle of the street, darling?” Minho asked, sipping his coffee.

“I mean, I have say hi to my sister-in-law, don't you think?”

“You're unhinged.”

“I learned from you.” You quipped with a shrug, before waving at Hyunjin. 

He slowed the moment his eyes locked onto yours. And they widened in horror. 

“Hyunjin!” you chirped, and Minho stopped dead beside you. 

Hyunjin froze like an animal in headlights. Again. Yeji blinked up at him and then, across the street at you.

“Who's that?” she whispered, tugging at his sleeve. 

You beamed and bounced across the street with Minho sighing and trailing behind like a weary dad.

“Hi!” you greeted brightly, waving.

Hyunjin rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere but your face. Yeji was glancing between you both and her narrowed, seeing her brother’s ears turn a bright shade of red. 

“This is...uh…” Hyunjin coughed. “This is...a friend.”

“A friend?!” Minho hissed in your ear. “When did that happen? When did that happen?!”

You elbowed him sharply, grinning at Yeji.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you said, smiling sweetly. “It’s so nice to meet you. You must be Yeji, right?”

Her face lit up as she nodded.

“Oh, your brother talks about you all the time,” you teased, shooting Hyunjin a glance.

He choked.

“I don’t -”

“Oppa, you didn’t tell me you had such a pretty friend!” Yeji giggled and you giggled back - like two old friends already.

Hyunjin’s eyes met Minho's, who stood beside you, utterly silent, sipping his bubble tea with the sourest poker face you’d ever seen.

“Hyunjinnie, how come you didn't invite her over for dinner?” She said, giving Hyunjin a teasing look, and then turned to you and said, “Do you wanna come home for dinner? He’s cooking tonight!”

“No, she doesn’t -” Hyunjin started, panicking.

“Yes I do!” you gasped, clapping your hands. “I’d love to!”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Like he was praying to every god he knew. Because honestly, his heart ached seeing that smile on your face.

“It’s nothing fancy, but you’ll come, right? I wanna hear how you met oppa!” Yeji saud and you nodded. 

“Oh, I’ll tell you everything,” you laughed.

“Of course you will. Of course you will.” Minho groaned softly beside you. 

---

You stood in front of Hyunjin’s apartment door with a paper bag in one hand and flowers in the other. You have been standing outside his door for like ten minutes now, trying to gather your thoughts. You were scared to death. You really were. 

You so desperately wanted him to like you, but that sharp stab every time he looked so done with you didn't help. Neither did the butterflies in your tummy. 

Just as you raised your hand to knock, Hyunjin opened the door. Seeing your panicked face, he grinned and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest. 

“Were you gonna stand here all night?” He teased and yeah. All that sass and courage leaked out of your body and left the chat real quick.

“I was gonna knock.” You said, indignantly.

“Like you were gonna knock that last five times?”

“Shut up.”

“My home, my rules.”

“Well, it's gonna be mine soon. So there.” you said, you face so close to his, and he looked away, but still had that grin intact. 

But he had to give it to you. You looked like a dream in your pale pink dress, hair loose, face fresh, holding flowers and chocolates like you were here to charm a kingdom.

“Who’s at the door, Hyunjin?” his mother called from the kitchen.

Yeji popped into view behind him, eyes going huge.

“Y/N! Why are you just standing there?! Come in! Mum look!”

You grinned and held out the flowers, just as his mum came into view. 

“For you, princess. And these are for you, Mrs. Hwang. I hope it’s okay.”

“They're beautiful!” Yeji gasped, grabbing them.

Hyunjin stepped back silently, watching you charm his mum and sister. You slid past him with a wink.

“Smells amazing in here. Can I help?” you asked. 

His mum smiled, sweet and tired, and said, “Of course you can help. Hyunjin, give her an apron!”

He fumbled one off the hook, muttering under his breath.

“You really don’t have to -”

“But I want to,” you cut in, tying the apron with a grin. “Tell me what to do.”

And just like that, you were in, chopping garlic beside his mother and stirring soup with Yeji chattering happily beside you. You laughed when his mum teased you about your useless rich-kid knife skills, and showed you how to do it right.

And Hyunjin? He leaned against the counter, watching it all unfold. Stealing glances every moment he could.

He didn’t mean to. He'd promised himself not to dream about something he knew wasn't possible for him. But here you were in his little kitchen, hair in a messy bun, sweating in the kitchen heat, and laughing so sweetly when his mum scolded you for cutting the tofu too thick. And his chest squeezed.

Damn it. You looked like you belonged there. Like you fit. Like you could stay forever. Even though his poor heart screamed the reality. 

Yeji hooked your arm, giggling, telling you some story about Hyunjin, and you laughed, throwing your head back - so unapologetically… you. 

Hyunjin felt his ears burn, and his cheeks burn. His entire body burned. His mother leaned in close to him, smiling.

“She’s sweet,” she said softly. “I like her.”

Hyunjin swallowed hard and shook his head. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he muttered, eyes flicking to you.

“I think you’d be lucky, boy.” His mum patted his arm, and Hyunjin really didn’t know what to say to that.

Because you were stirring soup in his kitchen, smiling like sunshine. And he was already losing this war.

A few weeks later:

Hyunjin had just started his evening shift at the diner and it was unusually quiet, except for the soft clink of cutlery and the low hum of old music crackling from the radio.

Hyunjin wiped down the counter, shoulders stiff, and his eyes tired. And then the doorbell chimed. He looked up expecting his usual trucker gang. But it wasn't them.

It was Jeongin - waltzing in like he owned the place, his silk shirt gleaming. He grinned his beautiful boyish grin as he sat on the exact barstool you had sat on some days ago.

Hyunjin went on to stacking the coffee cups for no real reason, avoiding Jeongin’s eye. 

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Hyunjin muttered without glancing up, “it’s a no.”

Jeongin propped his chin on his palm, and said, “Don’t be like that, hyung. I came for coffee. And maybe to give you some unsolicited advice.”

Hyunjin scowled. “No coffee. No favors. No schemes.”

Jeongin sighed, dramatic as hell.

“You’re so difficult. I get it, you don’t like me, I’m too rich, too flashy, blah blah.” He waved a hand. “But you like her, don’t you?”

Hyunjin froze, the last cup on his stack wobbling. 

“That’s none of your business,” he said quietly.

“Wrong,” Jeongin smiled. “She’s my best friend. It’s exactly my business.”

Hyunjin’s jaw ticked as he gave Jeongin a glare. 

“She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t want this. Or me.” He hissed. “She’ll hate this life. Give her time. She’ll wake up.” 

Jeongin leaned forward, and sajd, “She’s not asleep, hyung. You are.”

Hyunjin shot him a warning glance, but Jeongin kept going, softer now.

“You think you’re protecting her. Like she’s some delicate princess in a glass tower.”

Hyunjin frowned.

“But you don’t know her like I do.” Jeongin’s voice dropped, gentle and serious now. “She looks strong and loud and stubborn. I know. But she’s the softest, most breakable thing I’ve ever met. So good. So stupidly genuine. And if it’s not you…” He shrugged. “It’ll be some rich husband. Some billionaire. Yes. You think she deserves that. But do you really want her to have a pretentious empty life? She’ll smile in pretty dresses and die quietly inside. Have you seen her smile, Hyunjin? The one she has when she talks about you? I have.”

The silence stretched between them. Hyunjin put the wobbly cup down and sighed. 

“It’s not fair to her,” he whispered. “I can’t give her anything.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want things, hyung. Maybe she wants you.” Jeongin smiled softly. "Besides, what's wrong in letting her give for a change?"

Hyunjin looked down - his chest feeling tight. Like even breathing hurt. Because no matter how many times he told himself that he can't do this, the way you babied Yeji and cooked with his mum, so many times over the weeks, had his heart completely surrendering to you. 

“She deserves better.” he said, his voice a whisper.

“She deserves what she wants,” Jeongin said gently. “And she wants you.”

The bell above the door jingled again and Jeongin stood, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve.

“Think about it, hyung.” He smiled, knowing. “She loves you.”

And with that, he left, leaving Hyunjin staring at the cup in front of him. Chipped and old. And wondering if Jeongin was right.

But his thought bubble popped as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, and pressed the phone to his ear, ignoring the ‘no phones during working hours’ policy. 

“Hey mum-”

---

Hyunjin burst into his apartment, panicking. 

“Yeji?”

His little sister sat curled on the couch, face buried in a cushion, sniffling like the world had ended. Their mum stroked her hair gently, looking absolutely worried.

“She won’t talk to me.” she said. “She hasn't said a word since she got home.”

Hyunjin's eyes fell on the big blotches of ink stains on her white uniform shirt, his heart squeezing in worry. 

“Yeji, come on.” Hyunjin crouched beside her. “Talk to me. Who did this?”

She just sniffled. And it hurt Hyunjin more because she was the sweetest child. She knew Hyunjin did everything he could to give her a reasonably good life. He did take up extra work apart from his diner and garage jobs, whenever he could. She hated to burden him. Or their mum. He knew that. 

Hyunjin sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and grudging, almost desperately, he pulled out his phone.

And did the thing he never thought he'd do. 

---

Twenty minutes later, you blew into the apartment like a spring breeze, in a soft sundress and pretty sandals. And a giant stuffed bunny under one arm.

Jeongin strolled in behind you with grocery bags and the smuggest grin ever as he placed a few tubs of ice cream on the kitchen counter.

“Where’s my baby?” you said softly, kneeling beside Yeji. “Hey, princess. Wanna tell me what happened?”

Yeji peeked out from the pillow, eyes huge and wet. For a long, awful moment - she said nothing. Hyunjin and his mum watched as she quietly stood up, took your hand and led you inside to her bedroom. 

And now, seated on her bed, she held your hand and said, “They...called me poor…said my clothes were ugly. Called me trash... and...and poured ink all over me and laughed at me, because they know I would go back with this shirt again...”

And she broke, his tiny little sobs absolutely breaking your heart. Your eyes went soft as you held her as she cried. You saw Hyunjin peeking through the crack in the door, taking a step back as he saw his sister in your arms. 

Hyunjin's back hit the wall, a hand over his heart as he willed himself not to cry. He felt so terribly guilty.

“Yeji,” you said gently. “Look at me.”

She did. 

"First of all," you whispered, "anyone who says something like that is smaller than a speck of dust. Second, you know what I see when I look at you?"

Yeji blinked.

"I see someone kind. Someone smart. Someone who’s gonna grow up and run the world. And, you should know that bullies always end up in the gutter…at some point of time."

A soft, tiny smile graced her face. 

"There it is," you grinned. "That pretty smile. Just like your brother's."

Yeji laughed a teary laugh and sniffled.

“Of course you'll say that,” she teased in a shaky voice.

Hyunjin heard you laugh, and even through his tears, he smiled.

“Will you allow me to fix this?” you asked.

“Can you?” Yeji's eyes were big as she asked that.

“Of course, you're my family now. And no one messes with my family.”

Yeji giggled softly, and Hyunjin’s heart cracked a little. Then a lot.

“And you have this now.” You plopped the giant bunny into her lap. “Hold on to this, and consider it done.”

Yeji giggled harder and hugged the bunny tight.

You stood, smoothing your dress, and stepping out of the room to find Hyunjin standing right outside. You could see that his beautiful eyes were moist and he was trying so hard to not let it show.

“Don't worry, Hyunjin, I'll handle it.” you said.

“Wait, what?” Hyunjin said, alarmed. “What are you -”

But you were already walking out the door, grabbing Jeongin’s arm like a handbag.

“Let’s go, Innie. We’ve got bullies to end.”

“No violence!” Hyunjin called out. “Y/N!”

You stopped so abruptly on hearing Hyunjin say your name (probably for the first time) that Jeongin walked straight into you and stumbled.

You turned around, trying not to let your emotions display on your face as you said, “Of course not,” 

The next day, when Hyunjin arrived at the principal’s office at Yeji's school, you were already there, laughing with the principal. 

A few teachers and four girls stood by the side, shifting nervously. You were dressed in a dark blue dress, hair styled perfectly, with a smug look on your face.

“Hyunjinnie, come, sit,” you said, and the principal was quickly on her feet, welcoming Hyunjin in like he was the president. 

Hyunjin shuffled in and took a seat next to you, completely lost. And you slid a file across the table toward the principal, and said, “And that is a formal complaint against the girls bullying my sister-in-law. I have such low tolerance to bullying, but obviously you are such a capable educator, I'm sure you'll handle the situation well. If not, I'll have my lawyer pay a visit, since we already know the lowlifes who ignored all the previous complaints -”

The principal shook her head vigorously, and the teachers on the side looked horrified. So did the girls. And Hyunjin was glancing at you and then those teachers with wide eyes. 

“We'll let the principal handle this for now, right, Hyunjinnie?” You said, turning to look at Hyunjin, who nodded and said, “Yeah. Yes.”

“Oh good!” You said, standing up, throwing those girls one last death glare. And Hyunjin stood up too, and followed you out of the office.

“What did you do?” He asked, catching up with you.

“Oh nothing much. Just a few new computers. New library shelves and books, and -” You smiled sweetly. 

“Ohh so you didn't flex your money at all.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes. 

“Oh please. No one messes with my family, babe,” you shot back. “I take my sister-in-law duties very seriously.”

You winked and Hyunjin stared, his heart fully betraying him. Because he was this close to accepting the fact that he was in love with you. 

You turned with a swish and strolled past him like the queen you were.

“See you at dinner, Hyunjinnie.”

He caught your hand, suddenly, and you turned, your eyes falling on his hand and then looking up. 

“Hey.” Hyunjin said, his ears turning red. “Thank you.”

You smiled, a truly lovesick giddy shy smile, and ran off - leaving him standing there. Blushing and breathless. And absolutely, 100%, hopelessly doomed.

---

Later that night:

Dinner was done. You and Yeji were howling with laughter as you told her all about how her bullies begged and apologized. And their mum, smiling as she watched. 

Now as you carried the dishes to the sink, where his mum was washing the dishes, Hyunjin came up to you. 

“Hey,” He muttered awkwardly. “A word?”

Your eyes met, and you nodded, before following him into his room. 

Door closed, and Hyunjin sighed, back to you, hand on the handle, steadying himself.

“Listen, I’m trying to make this make sense in my head,” he began, voice strained. “You can’t just…do things like that. Being here. Charming my mum. Fixing things for Yeji. Make my heart -”

He stopped, and turned. And saw you gazing at him like he was the only star in the entire sky. Like he'd hung the moon. Like you were so gone for him -  it made him absolutely dizzy.

“God,” he whispered. “I can’t do this. I can’t -”

And then he grabbed you, and cupped your face, breathless, and kissed the hell out of you.

No warning, no hesitation, no self control. Just pure unfiltered need. You gasped, and then melted into him, clutching his shirt as he walked you backward to the bed, lips moving together. The back of your legs hit the bed, and you fell back pulling him down with you. And of course -

SQUEAK. The world’s loudest, most traitorous bed squeak.

“Shit -” Hyunjin muttered against your mouth, trying to stop the metal springs from screaming.

“Fuck, they’ll hear -”

You grinned into his kiss, holding on to him tighter. “Hyunjin... they already know...”

He groaned softly, forehead dropping to yours.

“I swear to God, hold still. Or they’re gonna totally misunderstand this.”

SQEEEEAK.

The bed protested again as you shifted deliberately, smug as hell.

His eyes flew wide and he whispered, “Don’t you dare.”

You gave him a wicked grin, your fingers running through his hair now, and his jaw tightened. He closed his eyes as your nails raked over his scalp.

“Woman, you’re going to ruin me.”

“You like it,” you whispered.

He groaned, helplessly and then kissed you again. And you adjusted underneath him and the bed screamed again. 

“We're gonna need a new bed if-” You said matter of factly. 

“Yeah yeah, we do-”

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @sammhisphere @soona-huh @princesskrystix

[ervotica]

bartyyyy 33. hushed conversation in-between kisses in the hallway or something as reader tries to calm him down and stop him from murdering a fellow student for looking at her/saying something to her lols. maybe she fails and he still gets a little murdery

thanks for requesting my love! ✩ 600 words

You know Barty can rarely deny you anything.

Not when you coo in that honeyed voice, slipping an arm beneath his rumpled shirt to palm at his bare skin. Murmuring reassurances against his lips, smoothing out his jagged edges with sweetened promises.

You have Barty against the wall in the corridor as you nose at his cheek. You thread your fingers through the short hairs at his nape and scratch, your grin imprinting against the side of his face when he sags against you. The anger melts from his expression like softened butter.

He tips his head back against the wall and it thumps; to entice him closer, your lips push out into a pout you know he won't be able to resist kissing.

One kiss, two, three.

You pull back until your lips are just grazing his, and wedge your shoulder under his armpit, an arm slung lazily round his back. You start to murmur against his mouth.

"Ignore him, baby. You know I only want you."

McLaggen's been harassing you for a date for weeks. It's been harmless for the most part, but you know Barty, and you know he won't think twice before kicking the fucker's teeth out.

"That's not what I'm fucked off about, treasure," he says, smoothing a hand over the crown of your skull.

He gets you by the scruff of the neck, anchoring you back for another open mouthed kiss. You push closer and hum your appreciation. Your fingers splay wide at the dip of his spine, tickling until he squirms under your touch and drops his head to the crook of your shoulder.

You feel McLaggen's furious stare but pay it no mind, too busy doting on your lovely boyfriend to care who's watching. You don't so much as glance away until he knocks his elbow with yours as he breezes past with a faux arrogance you know is all for show.

"Fuck off, McLaggen," you spit, pushing further against Barty. You feel your boyfriend lunge outwards before you're pushing him back and putting yourself in front of him as a shield.

"Treasure, I love you more than life itself, but move," Barty hisses. You sigh.

"Please don't."

He smears a kiss over the top of your head in apology before you're being moved by means of those thick fingers round your waist, lifted until you're thrust against one poor, unsuspecting Regulus Black. You let out a terse breath, steadying yourself against Regulus' shoulder with a splayed hand.

"Sorry, darling," you mumble.

"You alright?"

You nod before your eyes snap to Barty once more. He has McLaggen by the collar, thick fingers squeezing his cheeks in an effort to force eye contact as he bellows down at the boy, loud enough to hurt your ears.

"You touch my girl again and I'll break your fucking jaw, you hear me? You so much as look at her and you're dead."

His eyes are wild and you know his pulse is thrumming something rotten now he's geared up for a fight.

"Barty!" you scold.

Regulus hooks an arm around your waist to keep you from darting off through the crowd that's formed. You harrumph in protest.

"Okay, you're done," you declare, dragging Regulus by the wrist through the crowd with you as McLaggen sags and collapses rather unceremoniously at Barty's feet.

Barty's features morph from triumphant to guilty in an instant. He simpers, eyes scrunching at the corners until his crows feet crinkle. You snort and turn to face him.

"You're lucky I love you."

His eyes blow wide and he looks utterly lovesick. Beautiful, albeit mildly pathetic.

His expression flares with a possessiveness you know all too well. He drags you up his chest for a searing kiss that makes your insides flip-flop. You're breathing hard when he pulls away, slick with spit and beaming like a madman.

"Come on, killer," you snort. "Let's go to your dorm."

[boypied]

pairings: kj apa x male reader

request: Could I request where reader is an actor on Riverdale and they're filming a scene with him giving KJ up a blow job on the bed and as soon as Hector yells action that he starts actually kissing KJ's ass and actually starts getting on a b****** with KJ moaning and grabbing their head and using his mouth and throat until he cums and then when everybody's gone KJ just starts fucking reader as hard as kj wants Daddy cum swallowing cum submissive and Daddy kink if that's okay.

warnings: SMUT ! , oral sex, anal sex, slight voyeurism, swallowing cum, daddy kink.

MDNI + FDNI

When you auditioned to be on Riverdale, you had to have a chemistry read with Kj Apa, and the chemistry was off the charts. Once both your characters were finally becoming endgame, the writers decided to write in a steamy sex scene.

While filming the scene where 'Archie' face fucks you, you could see that his vanity patch had begun to lift up slightly as his cock hardened underneath. The warmth of your face pressed against his hidden cock was all he needed to get bricked up.

Kj gets all flustered during the scene and overwhelmed he decides to rip off the vanity patch, letting his stiff member spring free. He gently rubs the tip against your lips, waiting no more time he thrusts it into the back of your throat.

Hector 'The Director' stares in admiration as he watches you warm KJ's cock with your throat. His eyes dart up to meet Hector's, and he stares at him pissed which causes him the director to run off scared. KJ moves all of his attention back to your throat.

He places his hands on either side of your head, using your head as a flesh light. "Fuck, your throat is so warm" KJ laughs out, his cock twitching in your throat. KJ shoots his load in your throat, your eyes roll back when you feel it run down your throat.

KJ's cock flops out of your mouth, he pants and breathes heavily watching you smirk up at him. "Don't think I'm done already", A sultry smirk appears on KJ's face as he grabs your hips and flips you over on the set bed. He tears the jeans off your body and ripping a hole in your underwear for your hole, "Be gentle." You whimper out, "No promises," KJ blurts out.

He lines up his cock with your hole, wasting no time to thrust into you roughly. You groan out, feeling your hole accommodate to his large cock. "Fuck you're so tight!" KJ moans out feeling your hole grip around his shaft.

"Fuck, look at how stretched your hole is!" KJ groans, watching your hole swallow his cock. He thrusts back and forth roughly, spanking your ass letting it become red-raw.

KJ grips your hips, leaving imprints. He thrusts back and forth a couple more times before he pulls out and flips you over. You open your mouth wide for him as he jerks his cock off until he nuts over your face and in your mouth.

He pulls out his phone and takes a photo of your cum-shot face, making it his wallpaper.

taglist - @starboye @mailmango @dcriddler @ghostking4m

[scarlettoceaneyes]

HELOHELLO IVE READ SOME OF YOUR STUFF AND OMG I LOVE IT?? CAN YOY DO EMBRY X NON ENGLISH SPEAKER, IF YOU DON’T KNOW ANY OTHER LANGUAGES EXTROVERTED EMBRY X INTROVERTED READER?? (Or the other way around idk lololol)

Thanks for the request! I am learning some Spanish, but I am a native english speaker. Hey, anyone willing to be my spanish speaker pen pal would rock friends! I use Duolingo, but I don’t want to pay for all the special features. So, I will work on the second part of the request for you love!

*I got the shakes today with my autoimmune disease symptoms, so likely not proofread. 🙂

Opposites Attract- Introverted Embry x Extroverted reader

“Look man, she is always active on Instagram. Send her a DM.” Jacob was trying to convince Embry to actually say hello to his imprint after locking eyes with her in the grocery store outside of Forks for like two seconds. 

“Yeah Embry slide into those DMs” Quil as usual jokes to his best friend as he brings in the pizza and sodas for game night with the pack. One playstation and several wolves always make for an interesting night, usually ending in fighting and some of the pack phasing to run off steam instead of physically hurting each other. Yeah tension could get high, but Emrby was more of a silent observer. He came because he did love spending time with his pack, and a good round or two on the video games, but otherwise his anxiety spiked at times with all the noise and rough housing. 

Embry considered sending a quick message, but he let his mental conflict win. By sending the message he was just another of the sleazy guys wanting a good time, but in reality that was not on his mind. He just wanted to hear your voice. Flipping through the photos and videos you have posted, he clicked the button to follow you out of a moment of bravery. To his surprise, you did follow right back, along with liking some photos. Em wasn’t sure if this was a prank or real, but the guys noticed his heart rate flip flop. 

Paul whipped his head around after sensing the change in Embry. Even with Lahote’s tough exterior, he really gave Embry credit for keeping to himself, as Paul did the same when he wasn’t putting someone in their place. Seeing the internal conflict, Paul suggested he just send one message, but don’t use all those pick up lines Quil would, to which Quil quickly took offense to. 

**********

Y/N posted the lasted video from the girl’s night last night. Receiving a follow request from someone vaguely familiar, and realizing it was that really hot guy from the grocery store yesterday you followed him back. Liking a few of his photos, you could tell he was shy. Suddenly receiving a message, you decided to wait a few minutes to respond as you didn’t want to seem extremely desperate to talk to him. 

Instead you decided to post that video of you doing a dance that didn’t cross the line of scandalous, but was definitely an attention grabber. You were not an introverted person, but knowing that this cute guy was watching your post on instagram made you feel different. Calmer and reserved to a point, but you held yourself back from making the first move because you actually wanted this one to mean something. 

Right before you were giving in to type a cute pick up line or something, you received a message from this guy- Embry Call his profile said while he introduced himself and aksed if you would be interested in a date. Suddenly it hit you, this was Tiffany Call’s son. You worked with Tiffany at times during college for a part time job. You haven’t spoken to her in years, but you always did enjoy working with her. If her son was anywhere as sweet as his mom, you were stuck in a day dream about the possibilities. Dates, marriage, babies...okay woah! Getting to far ahead of yourself and he was still waiting for a response. You quickly responded with a heck yeah- in different terms. You didn’t want to sound like that type of girl, but something pulled you to him. As if you have known him forever. 

-Weeks Later-

You were pulling Embry by the arm, practically running to meet your friends at the restaurant for dinner. Embry was finally getting to be introduced as your boyfriend, however he was less than enthused. 

“Listen, everything will be fine ok? They already like you and have met in passing. What is wrong?” Embry looked at you to respoknd, “Y/N, I am just not used to talking to people, and I don’t know if you noticed, but I am an introvert and keep to myself.” You laugh and remind him that you know and opposites attract. Something came over you as you turned to him and smiled...”I love you”. He whips his head around, kinda confused to if this was a joke or not. You knew his look and responded that it was true, and that you knew something was special when you first met. Your friends know it too, so relax. With that he grabs your hand, says he loves you too, and steals a kiss that you practically could cry of happiness. “I love you too Y/N. I have secrets to share, but I promise nothing bad. I want us to be the long game. I know its been a few weeks of dating but I understand why people are obsessed with love at first sight because I have felt that with you, and every first moment I see you every time again.” You looked up into his sweet eyes with a giant smile. Kissing him deeply you replied, “I am here forever. You’re secrets are now mine. If you could say all that, then lets do this because all my friends are jealous I get your lips and not them.” Embry couldn’t hide his smile knowing that he finally has found his soulmate, but also that he felt less anxiety knowing your feelings. 

You two walked hand in hand to the restaurant. The server leads you to a table while Embry pulls out your chair for you. You two touched in some form the whole night, while you both actually had fun. You did have too much to drink so Embry had to carry you home to his house. He gave you the bed while he made a pallet on the floor until you stopped him. 

“Not sleeping together, but sleep beside me and hold me tonight please?” He couldn’t resist. Opposites attract, as Embry thanked God for his imprint in his arms. He also was thankful he found the one who made him feel brave for the first time in his life. Opposites attract. 

[awkward-walking-potato]

You asked I deliver lol. Deadpool request: what about exes wade and reader that see each other after the break up and the talk between them ends hopeful? 🤭🤭♥️🖤♥️🖤

Lipstick and Heartache

Deadpool didn’t do grocery shopping. Not usually. That was one of the perks of having a blind roommate—she never knew when you brought home takeout instead of the ingredients you were supposed to buy. But today was different. Today, he’d lost a bet with Logan, and now here he was, pushing a cart down the cereal aisle, pretending he wasn’t contemplating murder by Frosted Flakes.

Logan was ahead of him, growling something about the price of beef jerky, while Blind Al was arguing with an innocent store clerk over the alleged existence of a non-alcoholic whiskey. Wade was zoning out, mentally debating which flavor of Pop-Tarts could be weaponized the best, when it happened.

He saw you.

You were standing by the produce section, examining a bunch of bananas with the kind of focus Wade usually reserved for choosing between chimichangas or tacos. His heart did a weird little flip-flop in his chest—like it always did whenever he saw you—but this time it was followed by a pang of something darker. Regret.

It had been months since he ended things. Months since he decided that his life was too dangerous for someone like you. Someone good. He thought he was doing the right thing, letting you go, keeping you safe from the chaos that seemed to follow him like a shadow. But it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, and judging by the way his chest ached just looking at you, it hadn’t gotten any easier.

You glanced up, your eyes catching his. For a moment, everything around him blurred—Logan’s grumbling, Al’s cursing, the mundane bustle of the grocery store—all of it faded into the background. It was just you and him.

And then, you smiled.

“Wade?” you called out, clearly surprised but pleased to see him. You set the bananas down and walked over, your steps confident, casual, like you hadn’t been haunting his thoughts since the day he walked out.

He put on his best grin, the one that was just a bit too wide, a bit too cocky. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite fruit ninja,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “How’ve you been, beautiful?”

“Good,” you replied, stopping just a foot away from him. “And you? I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this. I thought grocery stores weren’t your style.”

He chuckled, glancing at Logan, who was now glaring at a stack of canned beans like they’d personally insulted him. “Oh, I’m just here to supervise the world’s angriest lumberjack and pick out some adult diapers for Al. You know, the usual.”

You laughed, and the sound hit him like a warm breeze. It was familiar and comforting, but also a reminder of everything he’d been missing. “Sounds about right,” you said, your eyes softening as they met his again. “I’ve missed your sense of humor, Wade.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to keep it together. “Yeah, well, it’s a package deal with the stunning good looks and the terrible life choices,” he joked, though his voice cracked just a little on the last part.

You looked at him for a moment, like you were trying to read something in his eyes. “I always liked the package,” you said softly, and it was like someone reached into his chest and squeezed.

He wanted to say something—anything—to keep you here, to explain why he’d done what he did, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, staring at you, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world for ever letting you go.

Sensing the shift in his mood, you smiled gently and reached up, your fingers brushing against his masked cheek. “I’ve got to go, Wade,” you said, and before he could protest, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He froze, every nerve in his body buzzing as you pulled back, leaving a perfect imprint of your lipstick on his cheek. “Take care of yourself, okay?” you whispered, giving his hand a quick squeeze before turning and walking away.

He watched you go, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. It wasn’t until you disappeared around the corner that he realized he was still standing there, like an idiot, with a goofy grin on his face.

“Nice lipstick, Romeo,” Logan grunted, sidling up beside him with a smirk. “You gonna frame that or what?”

Wade blinked, reaching up to touch his cheek where your kiss still lingered. “Shut up, honey Badger,” he muttered, trying and failing to sound annoyed. But the truth was, he couldn’t stop smiling, even as he felt the blush creeping up his neck.

Blind Al’s voice came from behind them. “What’s this I hear about him getting a smooch? Did hell freeze over or is Wade actually getting some action?”

Wade rolled his eyes, turning to push the cart down the aisle. “It’s nothing, just a little fan service,” he quipped, trying to play it off, but his heart wasn’t in it. His mind was still replaying that moment over and over again, the feel of your lips on his cheek, the look in your eyes when you said goodbye.

Logan chuckled, grabbing a pack of beer and tossing it into the cart. “Yeah, well, if that’s what you call ‘nothing,’ then you’ve got it bad, Wilson. Real bad.”

Wade didn’t respond, too lost in thought to come up with a snarky comeback. Instead, he let himself savor the memory of your kiss, the warmth of your touch, and the bittersweet ache of knowing that, for a moment, you were his again.

Even if it was just a moment.

“Hey, Wade,” Al called out as they headed toward the checkout. “You think you’ll ever grow a pair and actually talk to her about why you ended things?”

Wade sighed, the smile finally fading as reality set in. “Maybe, Al. Maybe one day,” he said quietly, knowing full well that day might never come.

But for now, he had your kiss on his cheek, and that was enough to keep him going—at least until the next time fate decided to throw you back into his life.

And as they walked out of the grocery store, Logan and Al still teasing him mercilessly, Wade couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, he was a little bit closer to you, even if it was just in his heart.

And damn, if that didn’t feel like the best thing in the world.

[inkykeiji]

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, drugging, noncon, blood, messy rough sex (slapping + biting), hint of mikey at the end, fem!reader words: 650

i literally, genuinely cannot express how badly i want to get absolutely fucked up with bonten rindou + ran. like i am talking super sloppy fucked up, can barely fucking walk fucked up, slurring words in a single continuous stream only interrupted by little bubbles of giggles fucked up.  

it’s become a voracious, all-consuming, downright intoxicating need.

you need them chuckling softly as they hoist you up between the two of them and drag you out to their sleek, souped up mercedes, sharing devious looks over your drooping head, so heavy and full of whatever the hell they’ve stuffed down your throat and shoved up your nose and shot into your veins that your pretty little neck just can’t seem to hold it up. 

you need them shoving you in the backseat, a mess of limbs and sparkles, hem of your slutty little dress already bunched up around your hips and fraying stilettos, now ruined and bloody from being scraped against the concrete, slicing into their leather seats. 

you need them cooing and pouting and spitting in your face because you’re so fucking dumb, you’re so fucking cute, you’re going to be so much fucking fun, aren’t you? 

you need them fucking you raw for hours on end, until the sky turns from star-speckled onyx to strokes of lilac and corals, until their condo is smeared with the gold of the rising sun, as the world flips over then flops right side up again, more drugs tangling in your veins.

you need imprints of each of ran’s hands seared into your cheeks, all five fingers and both palms stinging and raised and etched into soft skin. you need all thirty-two of rindou’s teeth carved into the flesh of your ass, so deep they’ve left grotesque, purplish-grey gouges, so deep they’ve pierced through the skin and left the indents pooling with thick blood. 

you need them stuffing you full of so much cum that it’s drooling from the corners of your mouth and oozing from your abused little hole, dribbling all over your neck and collarbone and chest in stringy dollops infused with your saliva, slathered all over your inner thighs in fat strokes of cream. 

and then, when they’ve had their fun, when they’ve shattered you to bits and stained the shards with themselves, you need them to offer you to their boss, who takes a single look at you and considers just passing you off to his second-in-command, because christ she’s sloppy and you two really did a fucking number on her, who split her lip like that? 

still, mikey’s grateful the terror twins reincarnate will share their spoils with him—real generous of them, you know, they could’ve kept this little doll to themselves and, really, you gotta give her a go, she’s a lot sturdier than she looks, and we just shot her up with another two ounces, and she’s got the prettiest moans i ever heard, mikey, swear to god, cross my heart, and mikey reconsiders.

because then you’re opening your eyes, bleary and blissed out and shimmering so beautifully in the harsh white light of the warehouse, and you’re reaching out for him, cute little grabby hands that claw at nothing as melty murmurs seep from your lips, and oh, he thinks he gets it now. 

because then he’s jumping down from off his wooden crate and stalking toward you, rhythmic slaps of his flip-flops echoing throughout the dense space, and he’s taking your jaw between his thumb and his forefinger, squeezing hard enough to pucker your lips and elicit a sticky little squeal, and he’s leaning close, so close the stench of sugar stings your nose, mixed with something clean and brisk as his breath wafts across your face, and you wanna play with me, precious?

because precious things are meant to be used, after all, aren’t they? 

[starseedpatriot]

Just a couple of reasons not to vote for Kamala Harris, in no particular order.

1. Opened the border, let 425,000 convicted criminals in the country and spent 451 billion dollars of your tax money on them.

2. Lost 325,000 unaccompanied minor children.

3. She’s married to the poster child for beta males who cheated with nanny and slapped a woman.

4. She chose a communist obsessed with tampons in little boys bathrooms , tip lines to rat out neighbors, lying about himself and just being a weird old communist with no redeemable policy positions.

5. She lied about Biden’s cognitive decline for at least 2 years.

6. She is a plagiarist.

7. She is less authentic than my 2009 Halloween wig.

8. She makes bad decisions… Tim Walz.

9. Her only passion in life is abortion on demand until the moment of birth.

10. She has flip flopped on every single policy she has ever had.

11. The cackle.

12. She can’t explain inflation.

13. She believes in price controls, like Maduro.

14. She spends a billion dollars on a campaign of lies and celebrities and wears a 62,000 dollar necklace and a 1,000 belt to sit down with friendly media and tell you she is middle class.

15. She is a stone cold liar.

16. She seems angry and unhinged as she screams about Trump being a dictator when she has said she would override the second amendment by executive order.

17. She hates free speech and religious liberty.

18. No one likes her because she comes off rude, inauthentic and fake.

19. She can’t articulate one policy position even with a teleprompter.

20. She loves yellow school buses way too much.

21. She wants to pack the court, end the filibuster.

22. Her family owned slaves but wants you to pay reparations.

23. She’s a nightmare to work with, hence the 92% turnover rate of her staff.

24. She put a black mother in jail for truancy even though her daughter had sickle cell anemia.

25. She locked up black men and refused to hand over exculpatory evidence.

Oh and perhaps the most imprint reason, she is a communist.

[liesandspookyfairytales]

Sleeping positions

Pairing: Poly!recoms x reader

Word count: 1267

My headcanons of how the recoms hold you when you're asleep.

🌍 Recom Miles Quaritch Old grandpa vibes. Not often in the mood for cuddling, but you always wake up with his arm slung over your waist. If you’re awake before him and you try to get up, his grip on your waist will tighten and he refuses to let you go. Also, his tail will curl protectively around your leg. The first time his tail curled around your leg, you didn’t notice and got up after which you face planted. Your nose started bleeding. (you have threatened him that if he ever tells one of your other partners, you will skin him alive).

😈 Recom Lyle Wainfleet You’re the little spoon, he’s the big spoon. Cannot sleep without a hand on your titty. Also always presses his cock against your ass when he’s half awake, his tail is usually resting on your groin(he’s a horny little gremlin). He also moves a lot in his sleep, half of the time he kicks you awake or you end up on the floor. The other half you wake up on the edge of the bed with him sprawled out like a starfish. 

🍬 Recom Z-dog (Extremely cuddly) She never, and I mean NEVER sleeps without Walker. When you’re the one who joins them that night, they both spoon you. Z-dog spoons you with her front to yours. One of her arms is awkwardly wrapped under your body, with her fingers hooked in the waistband of Walker's shorts. The other hand rests on your thigh. Legs are a mess, sometimes one of Z-dogs leg ends up across yours and Walker's bodies, the heel of her foot pressed against Walker’s ass. Your tails are also always tangled together, usually with the three fluffy ends caressing one another.

🥽 Recom Walker She never sleeps without at least Z-dog. When you’re the one who joins them that night, they both spoon you. Walker spoons you with her front to your back, nose nuzzled in the nape of your neck. Both you and Z-dog use one of her arms as a pillow. Her other arm is slung over your waists, hand resting on Z-dogs lower back. Legs are a mess, it takes a while to untangle them in the morning. Your tails are also always tangled together, usually with the three fluffy ends caressing one another.

😎 Recom Mansk Classic spooning. Unlike Lyle, he’s more respectful and mostly manages to keep his hands to himself. He’s curled up around your back, one leg trapping your lower body. Both arms are wrapped around your waist, his arms are bent at the elbows, so his hands are closer to your face (he likes to caress your face when he can’t sleep). Loves it when you wrap your own hands around his and nuzzle them to your face or lay your cheek on them. Tail is always gently wrapped over your waist. You have to force him to take off his sunglasses because they poke in your neck. (Sometimes forgets to take them off and wakes up with imprints on his face)

🧯 Recom Prager I once read a Pransk (Prager x Mansk) story where Prager was an insomniac and he could only sleep with tsaheylu, where he became sleepy because of his partner's sleepiness. This man literally cannot sleep without tsaheylu. He sleeps on his back, with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. Your queues are connected and resting on his stomach with his hand protectively covering the connected braids. This man's tail cannot stay still, even in his sleep. So he usually keeps it away from you, so he doesn’t accidentally wake you.

⚕️ Recom Ja Calmest sleeper out of all of them, but sleeps in the weirdest positions (also can fall asleep everywhere and he's proud of it (kinda like Michael Sheen episode 3, season 1, timestamp 11:00 of Staged iykyk)). Usually the last to go to bed. When you’re already in bed, it doesn’t matter what position you’re in, he flips you on your back and flops down to lay on top of you. So you’re laying on your back, with him crushing your body. His arms are either tucked under you, or laying at your sides. His legs are lying between yours, his tail wrapped around your thigh and his head is pillowed on your boobs. And god help you when you don’t wrap your arms around him. He’ll stare straight into your soul, so intense that you wake up from it. Then he’ll pout until you wrap your arms around him. Loves it when you thread your fingers through his hair until he falls asleep (I refuse to accept that he’s bald and I’ll continue to refuse to accept it, until James Cameron personally tells me otherwise)

⛓️ Recom Fike To me, Fike looks like an anxious boy. He overthinks way too much. Cuddling keeps him from overthinking, therefore he never sleeps alone. Usually sleeps with Brown (they’re really close and always getting into trouble together), sometimes with Quaritch if he’s extremely anxious. When you join the two of them, Fike cuddles at your back. One arm is wrapped around his own waist. The other is wrapped around you, his hand is bunched in either your or in Brown’s shirt. His legs are tightly wrapped around yours/Brown’s, holding you against him. His head is pressed tightly against the back of your neck. In an effort to comfort himself, his tail is always wrapped around one of his own body parts. Sometimes sneezes (and wakes the both of you up) because your hair tickles his nose.

🧢 Recom Brown Fike and Brown almost always sleep together, because of Fike’s anxiety. When you join the two of them, he’s lying flat on his back, one arm outstretched for you and Fike to use as a pillow (always complains about his arm tingling in the morning, secretly loves it). Your head is more on his shoulder, your nose in his neck, than on his arm. When possible, he wraps his lower arm around Fike’s shoulder. Most of the time he looks like a starfish. You always rest your hand on his chest, so he folds his hand over yours. Kinda has a tail with its own mind. You’ve woken up a lot with the fluffy end of his tail tickling your face.

📿 Recom Lopez I headcanon that he grew up with a lot of siblings and very little money. So growing up he had to share a bed with his younger brother. His brother trashed a lot in his sleep and he ended up slamming his head against Lopez’s face (and breaking his nose/knocking out his teeth) more often than not. He subconsciously started resting his fist on the pillow in front of his face with his thumb pressed to his forehead to protect his face from more harm. You two usually spoon with your fronts to each other. Even tho he doesn’t have to share his bed with his brother anymore, he never stopped resting his fist in front of his face (everyone thinks it’s extremely cute, he pouts when they tease him about it). You usually rest your head on his arm to still be close to him. His other arm is slung over your waist and even when he’s asleep, he’s still strong and holds you tightly against him, leaving you with very little wiggle room. His hand is resting on your ass under your shorts while his tail sneaks up under the pipe of your shorts (also a horny little gremlin).

[customlogoflipflopsny]

Custom Sand Imprint Slides - Unique SandPrint Flip Flops with Logo

[aizawife]

﹏𓊝 Calming Waves for Tired Feet 𓊝﹏

Requested: Nami demands a foot rub and gets overwhelmed by Zoro’s skills.

Summary: With sore, blistering feet, Nami finds herself at a loss when every Straw Hat fails to step up to the daunting task of a foot massage. Well, every crew member except…him.

Word Count: 4014

Prompt Notes: Not explicitly Zoro x Nami (wasn’t specified by requester); reads more as silly Straw Hat shenanigans! Pre-timeskip.

Author Notes: Every A.N. I make is me apologizing for my absence, but it’s pretty on brand at this point: hey, y’all – I’m back. It’s been about a year and some change, but I hope y’all are all doing well !! Life’s been crazy – obviously. I learned I was gonna be an auntie (exciting), and that made my entire life flip upside down. I had two people – my sister and a new life – to look out for, so of course, that’s where my focus shifted. That, paired with studying for med school, took me away from writing for quite a while.

Then, October 11th, my dog passed.

It was beyond devastating and I ended up beyond depressed (i cut out so much of me rambling here, i’m still deeply affected by it lol). But 19 days later, I officially became an aunt/babysitter, so TLDR; a shit ton of things happened recently; huge life changes, continuing to work for the career I’ve always wanted, and back-to-back travel…so yeah. That’s how we end up here, with requests from over a year ago now coming out.

But we’re back at it :) I’m so thankful for y’all who have been requesting – side note, y’all are so sweet !! Thank you so much for messaging me and understanding life gets in the way but also keeping me accountable <33

Anyway, that’s all the yap from me. More content coming, requests still open, let’s get it >.<

🔹⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏☀️🦶☀️﹏𓊝﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖🔹

It was hot.

The humidity was stifling; one breath out of sync with the rest, and you’d find yourself gasping for air, struggling to find the pace and put your body back in the rhythm of cooling itself off. Even out at sea, on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean, one could only see blocks of blue before seeing hazy waves of heat rising in front of them, distorting the usually peaceful sight. 

It was hot.

But being on an open ship with large outdoor spaces under a shining sun was nothing new, especially not for the Straw Hats. In fact, they all seemed nearly immune to such circumstances, as they found various ways to either beat the heat, take advantage of it, or avoid it altogether. All except for Nami.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle the sun beating down on her; in fact, one might argue she handled it a bit too well. No, that wasn’t it. The problem with weather like this only arose in very rare instances, such as today, when she went to slip her flip-flops back on and quickly jumped back as daggers shot up her soles.

To put it simply, Nami has a problem with wearing shoes, specifically when on board the Thousand Sunny. Don’t get her wrong; her trusty flip-flops always did a great job protecting her feet from harm as the crew traveled from island to island, fighting against any threats or challenges. But when it came to going back on the ship, especially being out at sea for days at a time until the next island showed itself, the only comfort she found was in feeling the floorboards underneath her feet, with each grain and slightly sanded imperfection imprinting the bottom of them.

But it was hot.

And, when it was incredibly hot like this, the usually cool wooden boards just couldn’t resist soaking up the sun’s rays, becoming too hot to comfortably walk barefoot on. So that was the situation Nami currently found herself in; her feet were sore from walking across hot wood for the past few hours, and they were now too sore to put back in her too-flat shoes.

Now, normally, all she’d have to do is mention her feet were beginning to ache, and Sanji would rush to her side, already on his knees with his hands ready to massage her feet. And if they had happened to stop at some island that caused him to be too busy scouting for natural produce and was thus nowhere to be seen, her next helper was Robin, who’d wave her hands and have six others ready to start working on Nami’s feet.

But unfortunately, the last island they visited resulted in her two first responders being bedridden for the past four days. It was a long story that started with Robin, who had extended her generosity and general curiosity to Chopper by agreeing to help him capture an exotic insect required for a special tincture of his. But of course, just as they were setting a trap for the bug to land in the jar they set out, Sanji came over shouting his compliments and startled the insect, and…well, one can easily imagine how that story ended. So now, both were ill with chills, fevers, semi-paralysis, and hallucinations from the mystery bug’s sting, and Nami, while wishing them a speedy recovery, was without a foot massage from her top two masseuses.

Don’t be mistaken, she had gone near the other Straw Hats and whined about her feet hurting to the point of needing assistance, but no one seemed to jump to the task like Sanji or care as deeply as Robin. So now she was trying things another way. If subtly guilt-tripping them to do what she wanted wouldn’t work, then she figured she’d try her next best manipulative skill: sucking up before coaxing in her request. 

So the first culprit she sought out was who she thought would be the easiest to convince—Chopper. Although the ship’s appointed doctor was busy running back and forth as he worked on both his mysterious medicine and doctoring Sanji and Robin, Nami still had him as her first choice due to his familiarity with the task. He had massaged her feet twice before; when both his current patients were off exploring a different island they landed on, he became the substitute after being asked—or more so demanded—by Nami. His hooves were a bit of an issue, but his steady doctor hands did help balance out his slight lack of dexterity.

As soon as Chopper exited the cabins, Nami swiftly slid in front of him. She plastered on her biggest smile, hands behind her back as she began her spiel, “Heyyy, Chopper. How are things coming along?”

The worked-out reindeer smiled brightly—finally, someone aboard this overheating ship had interest in his work. “Oh, Nami! Things are busy, but you know me, always working through it! What are you up to?”

“Well…” If there was one way to get to Chopper, it was with excessive compliments. Thinking quickly on her sore feet, Nami blurted out, “You’re just such a great doctor that I was wondering if you’d help me with something...”

Instantly, a soft red blush covered his brown furry cheeks, hooves coming up to cover his uncontrollable smile. “Oh, stop it, you stupid idiot. Me? A good doctor? You’re silly!” He sheepishly swayed his arms back and forth with each word, clearly feeling so much pride that he became overwhelmed.

“Of course!” Now that he was all buttered up, Nami thought she was in the clear, so she relaxed and just casually threw the request out there. “So, will you massage my feet?”

Suddenly, Chopper’s smile plummeted as he deadpanned. With Nami’s true intentions revealed, he tutted in response, “Nami, come on! You know I have to tend to Sanji and Robin right now!” Before she could get in another word or try again, he quickly turned and scurried off below deck into his infirmary.

With a roll of her eyes, Nami blew her bangs out of her face. She blew it; her chances of getting a massage were slim to none now. 

Suddenly, she heard a loud clatter from somewhere above her. As she traced the commotion to the kitchen, she had an idea—flattery alone wouldn’t work, but maybe also slipping in her reasoning would. Perhaps she wasn’t out of luck after all.

When she swung open the door, she found two pots and a pan in her path. Her eyes darted to the right, where Franky was standing in front of the stove. Normally, the sight would be unusual, but since Sanji has been out for the past four days, and Robin would have been the next best substitute chef, the blue-haired cyborg had risen to the task of trying to cook for the crew. And it was going about as well as one would expect.

Next, her eyes landed on Luffy and Usopp, who both sat on stools laughing about something stupid, most likely. However, this didn’t stop Nami; she carefully walked over to the pair before sliding down to the stool next to Luffy, once again putting on her best fake smile. “Hey, captain! I was hoping you could do something for me.”

Although he was facing straight ahead rather than looking at her, Luffy still droningly replied, “Oh, hey, Nami. Yeah, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if maybe you could-“

“Uh-huh.”

“I was thinking maybe-“

“Uh-huh…”

“Well, it’s a bit strange, but-”

“Yeah…”

Nami looked up with furrowed brows, seeing Luffy’s attention elsewhere. Was he serious? “Luffy!” He turned his head in her direction this time, lightly chuckling to himself about something. Still, she plodded on, despite his evident distraction. “Can you give me a foot massage? It’s a bit out there, but your rubber hands are just manipulative enough.”

A few seconds passed by before he replied, “I don’t really know what you’re talking about, to be honest.”

A plate of Franky’s most recent attempt slid in front of him, and suddenly, Nami knew why he had such a hard time paying attention. When it came to food, there could be nothing else on his mind. She knew he wouldn’t listen to anything she said at that point, so she accepted defeat and sighed almost sarcastically, “l hope you enjoy it.”

“It’s slightly above average,” he said through chews. Well, mostly anything.

Seeing as Franky just finished his dish and was starting on another, Nami decided to take advantage of his lapse in cooking. “Hey, Franky, your hands would be perfect for massages, wouldn’t they?” She imagined they’d be extremely precise, given they were robotic and all.

The answer to her question remained up in the air, flames joining it literally as they erupted from the pan on the stovetop. Franky quickly jostled the metal pan in his hand, specs of food flying in the air before crashing back down in hot oil. “Sorry, lil’ sis, a little busy trying to make sure we don’t all starve to death out here!” 

Nami pouted in response to his denial, a bit worried as her list of helpers began to dwindle. What—did they expect her to do it herself? Why would she do that when there were tons of perfectly capable, non-busy people all around her?

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, a familiar high-pitched, nasally voice added in, “Yeah, and our navigator hasn’t led us to an island with some fruits or something in FOUR days!”

Nami turned to Usopp, her form shaking and her fists tightly clenched by her side.

“Nobody asked you!” She bellowed as she nearly turned red, both Luffy and Usopp shrinking back at her fury. “And I can’t lead us anywhere anyway with my feet like this!”

With that, she stomped out of the kitchen, her anger making her momentarily ignore the aching pangs of her soles.

Being mindful of her feet, she carefully walked down the stairs and back to the main deck, taking in the sight of the beautiful tangerine trees backed by the bright blue sky and sea behind them. At this point, she was ready to just call it a day, relax on a lounge chair, and try again later. That was until she heard a low humming voice from behind a tree.

Cautiously craning her neck, she leaned to the side until she could see around one of the tree’s trunks. There, she saw Brook.

This time, before she said anything, Nami chose to think first. His skeleton fingers were skilled enough to play piano, so maybe they would work to massage her feet. Plus, his hands were bony, so combined, you got textured massagers that know how to work a foot!

“Oh, ho’, ho’, Nami!”

Truthfully, she didn’t want to be let down again, but she figured she’d try one last time. Nami cheesily smiled again, her cheeks starting to hurt from all the phony smiling she’d been doing. “Hey, Brook. This might sound a little weird, but your hands would be amazing for a foot massage so…would you mind giving me one?”

He seemed to think for a moment before joyfully laughing, “Yo-ho! I’d be delighted!”

With a large grin, Nami happily turned around to the lounge chair right behind her, where she then relaxed and shimmied her shoulders, settling into the seat. After slowly picking up her foot by the big toe, Brook started to clumsily press his bony hands into her feet…both of them simultaneously. It already wasn’t looking like the best foot massage ever, but any relief was relief, and it would do. So she began to fall into peace, right until—

“YO-HO-HO-HOOOO, YO-HO-HO-HOOOO~!”

The sound of Brook loudly crooning made her immediately jolt out of her peacefulness. Of course. Of. Course. Why did she ever think she could find any sort of serenity on this ship? At that moment, it was either mediocre relief or her eardrums and her peace of mind—for Nami, it was a rather quick decision. “Y’know what? I think you did a great job!”

“Oh? Done already?”

“Yeah, thank you!” She hurriedly stood up and rushed away to the helm, leaving on screaming feet but getting away with her sanity.

With all hope lost, Nami sluggishly walked over to the railing, placing her bum down first before swinging her lower half over it. She sat on the railing as she looked down at the water moving beneath her feet. Oh, her feet. The poor babies were still sore, even more so now that she had run after and, in some cases, run away from everyone just to make her aching soles feel better.

Now, there was no one else she could ask. At least that was what she thought, until she heard a schwing she was way too familiar with hearing.

Well…there was one last person on the Thousand Sunny.

But he was brutish, and crude, and dense, and overall annoying. At least with everyone else she had basic reasoning when asking; he wouldn’t do a good job at all. Actually, she was quite sure he’d do the worst job—so much so, she was more prepared to try again with Brook and endure his singing. No, with his muscles, one would think he’d be good, but he’d be more likely to squeeze her feet and crush them due to his lack of brain cells.

Nami looked down at her throbbing feet once again.

But she did need someone who’d do something with them quickly and especially quietly, and that was starting to sound like it could be him. He’d probably never bring it up ever again too, so it was a clear win-win situation.

So, she took the last of her pride—and with asking a man like him, she assumed she only had a bit of dignity left too—and shoved it all aside as she took one last stride to the one last person left to ask.

Nami made sure not to stand too close—when Zoro was working out, it was best to simply leave him alone, as he usually entered a single-focus zone. So she stood a ways away and mentally prepared herself.

She knew it would be a challenge to get him to actually do it, let alone be good at it, so she figured she’d take it one step at a time. 

Step #1: Try to appeal to the target’s heart.

“Damn, my feet hurt so bad. Usually Sanji or Robin rubs them, but they’re sick! I guess I’ll just stay here with sore feet…”

She thought her whining would work, but the thousand-pound dumbbell he easily lifted with one hand continued rising and falling steadily. Not one brow raise or a glance over, not even a single green hair had turned in her direction.

Step #2: If the target lacks a heart, appeal to their shame! Address them specifically and put them on the spot.

So Nami shook off her first failed attempt and tried again. She cleared her throat before exclaiming, “Wow, if anyone could rub my feet for just a couple of minutes, that would be great. Anyone? Zoro?”

At this point, Nami had to believe his swordsman focus was beyond unbreakable and unbelievably strong, to the point of becoming dangerous, because if Zoro heard her, his determined face showed absolutely no emotion whatsoever. He simply continued to ignore her presence as if she just didn’t exist, his eyes closed as he alternated between swinging a sword and swinging that stupid dumbbell.

Then, a dark shadow erupted over his face, blocking the sunlight that used to pour over him mere seconds ago. When he opened his eyes, he found the source of the shade right in front of him. There, Nami stood with her hands on her hips, brows lowered with resolve.

Step #3: If the target has no heart and no shame, approach them with your determination and never back down.

“You mind?” He complained gruffly, finally showing some emotion—irritation.

‘Never back down.’ Nami paused for a second, hesitating before announcing her proposal. “Will you rub my feet?”

“No.”

Well, anyone could’ve seen that coming, including Nami. So she resorted to her final form of manipulation.

She turned her head to the side, still showing part of her face at an angle as it emerged from behind her orange bob, and flashed her peach irises while she deployed the puppy dog eyes. “Please,” she whimpered abashedly.

He rolled his eyes while looking down at her feet. At the sight of them, his eyes widened as his mouth twisted with obvious disgust. “Ew, what the hell’s wrong with them?”

“Hey!” She exclaimed with offense. Then, Nami took a look down. They were pretty gross by now. The once bright red skin on the sides of her feet now had dark reddish-orange patches. She hadn’t even realized it got that bad; she couldn’t feel any pain at the moment, but she was sure she would the next day.

There was a flash of thought on Zoro’s face before he groaned heavily, placing down his weighty dumbbell. She would feel that pain the next day, and knowing Nami, she would most likely make it everyone’s problem tomorrow. “Go sit on a lounger.”

At first, she was surprised, standing in the same spot. But she soon wasted no time, clapping her hands before dashing to the lounge chairs on the main deck. It wasn’t long before Zoro idly walked after her, setting himself down at the end of her chair. 

Truthfully, Nami was nervous. Her anxiety only increased as he grabbed her foot with one hand, his other prepared to massage. As soon as the pad of her foot met his palm, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch it be crushed by the man with less brains than brawn.

‘Here goes nothing…’

Immediately, her eyes jolted open.

“What the f-?”

Just as the expletive was about to exit her mouth, a low humming noise escaped her throat. To her surprise, the man knew how to massage a foot.

She opened her eyes wider to ensure it was really him giving her such pleasure. The first thing she saw were the veins in his muscled hands as his tan, deft fingers expertly targeted just the right joints and connections within her foot. To add to the pleasure, his thumb from his left hand worked in circles as it softly pressed into the arch, allowing it to hit the strained areas of her soles.

Nami came into the massage as a last resort, expecting close to nothing, but now? Now she found herself practically having to hold back her moans of satisfaction. Every rub, every imprint, every single push into her heel made her want to mewl with delight.

To stop herself from screaming with pleasure (and probably waking Sanji up in a flash), she began asking him questions. She cleared her throat, but nervously this time. “How are you so…good at this?”

His eyes shot up to her, clearly taking offense. “Hey! What’d you think was gonna happen?”

“I don’t know, you’re just…” Nami struggled to find the right words. Brutish? Crass? Clueless? There was a nicer way to say all of that, so she figured she’d be kind to the man who chose to save her feet from peril. “You don’t seem like the delicate type.”

To that, he raised another angered brow.

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean!”

Zoro sighed. He did know what she meant; contrary to popular belief, he was quite aware of his general impression on others. “Well…as a swordsman, I need to know every body part and how to fit them into my attacks.” As he spoke, one of his hands supported the top of her foot while his opposite thumb began to press the top of her instep, massaging the tense upper curve. “So…I know the parts of the foot as well: the heel, the arch of the foot, the tendons, how to maneuver your toes…” With each anatomical word, his thumb smoothly slid down her forefoot, identifying each section with a quick but gentle press. “Also, I hold sword hilts every day; that’s about the same size as a foot…I guess.”

She wanted to say more, but his response made more than enough sense, so she simply shrugged him off. For once, Nami found herself speechless as she took advantage of the calm, quiet moment. With no other sounds but the ship breaking through the waves and passing birds squawking overhead, Zoro was able to demonstrate why he oftentimes ended up as the crew’s favorite member. In these times of leisure, his focus and diligence were evident; he was known for quietly doing his own thing alongside the other Straw Hats, providing company without distraction.

Nami's head sank to the side as she felt his fingertips firmly gliding over her feet, and the sound of the Thousand Sunny's keel faded. Her breathing settled into an effortlessly deep and peaceful sound, nearly matching the rhythmic movements of his fingers moving in opposing directions on the sides of her feet.

Just as she started drifting off, his hands retreated and the pleasant feeling stopped. Her eyes shot open, an almost distressed look on her face as he pushed off his knee and stood up before walking away.

“Wait!” Nami exclaimed. Even though it was obvious he didn't want to, he stopped walking, his back still facing her.

She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say. All she knew was that that massage was the best she had ever received; it was far better than Sanji's and, strangely, better than Robin's. She also knew for sure that she did not want it to end.

“What?” The annoyance was heavy in his voice, despite the fact that they had been in near-complete silence for the past twenty minutes.

Without a second thought, she quickly blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “Why’d you do it?!” His thousand-yard stare made her feel so self-conscious of her desperation that she quickly cleared her throat as an attempt to regain her usual control of things. “Normally, you’d just stay strong and keep saying ‘no’. So why’d you do it?”

“Damn, you really don’t know how to say thank you,” he said with so much ire, one could almost see a red cross of popped veins emerge from his forehead. Zoro then paused, a weary hand sweeping his bandana over his face. “Listen, if you really wanna know…” He paused to stretch his arms high above his head. “Chopper said today’s their last day of recovery before they’re good as new again"—Zoro’s face twisted with sudden shadows concealing part of his face, his reputable evil grin following after—“…and I just can’t wait to tell Eyebrows. He’ll lose his mind.”

Nami just rolled her eyes as he walked off, mumbling something to himself and scratching the back of his head. ‘Typical Zoro, wanting to piss off Sanji.’

But then, she smiled, softly and to herself, as she looked down at her feet. ‘He didn’t really have to do that, did he?’ But he did.

Most would describe Zoro as reserved and presumptuous, and maybe some part of that assessment would be true. But the Straw Hats knew. Despite the swordsman being everything Nami described him as—brutish, crude, and dense (especially when it came to locations)—he was also well-known for one more thing: his loyalty.

Zoro would always be loyal to his crew, whether that meant standing beside them against the World Government, fighting foes to the death to protect his found family, or even rubbing the sore feet of his entitled navigator.

With that reminder of his most respected trait, Nami sank back into the lounger and closed her eyes, finally content now that her feet were taken care of. As she started drifting back off, she couldn’t help a smile from quirking up the corner of her lips.

Maybe he wasn’t so annoying after all.

🔹⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏☀️🦶☀️﹏𓊝﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖🔹

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

If Wild were to have magic (like hyrule) what magic would he best at?

Well first off, I believe that he still has the Champion's gifts, even after he defeated the Calamity in BOTW. Mipha's Grace, Urbosa's Fury, Revali's Gale, Daruk's Protection. I kind of flip flop between believing whether the ghosts themselves stayed behind or whether they merely left their imprint, but either way I believe that their magic is now his own, in a way. And don't forget that bullet time thing he can do--I think that's his own Champion's gift.

Other than that, I would like to think he has a sort of "wild" (heh) nature magic to him, if that makes sense. He as an unexplained affinity for wild animals (such as Wolfie (which he isn't really wild but you get the point)), an ability to move with complete silence through the forests, a connection to the wilderness that isn't entirely natural. I think flowers bloom up around him, when he walks by. Maybe he doesn't have a magic as defined or focused as Hyrule's (such as his thunder or jump spells) but it is there.

What magic do you think Wild should have? Honestly, I have no ideas about what I would add to him.

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished: M&M Teamwork

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Word count: 2028 Cw: blood, gore]

—————

While Blitzø is recovering from finding out about Barb. M & M are not yet dating.

Moxxie idly tapped his claws on the meeting room table. It was half an hour after I.M.P. was supposed to open for business, but there was no sign of the boss yet. He had double and triple checked the calendar; all the full moons were highlighted. Blitzø didn’t enjoy the restriction that came from being late for an ‘appointment’ with Stolas. So despite him being notoriously bad at making schedules, he had all the full moons marked. But the last one had been over a week ago, Blitzø’s absence probably wasn’t related to the royal demon.

“Maybe he partied too hard? Or maybe he got locked up again?” Moxxie checked the calendar a fourth time as Millie waved a dismissive hand.

“Calm down Mox, I’m sure he’s fiiiiiiine,” she drawled. “He’ll get here when he gets here.”

“Yeah, but there’s no sign of Loona either.” He and the Hellhound clashed but he didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

He didn’t have to speculate much longer. Loona burst into the office nearly ripping the door off its hinges. She’d flung it open hard enough that it lodged into the drywall; when she yanked it closed, there was a perfect imprint of the handle in the wall. The Hound was panting heavily and she looked like she hadn’t slept the night before,

“Fuck. I thought…the new…apartment… was closer,” she managed through gasps. She grabbed the water cooler’s reservoir, yanked it off, and chugged it like a beer keg before jamming it back onto the base. She’d gulped down two thirds of it, the remaining water sloshing widely from her treatment. She went to her desk, flopping over it from the visitor side.

The imps exchanged a glance and Millie walked up to their receptionist. “Uhhhh, Loona? Sugar? Everthin’ okay?” The Hellhound gave a thumbs up. “Well that’s good. Where’s Blitzø?”

Loona raised her head. “He’s taking a personal day.”

“Is that code for ‘drunk off his ass?’” Moxxie asked dryly.

“Drunk off his ass for personal reasons. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it later.” Loona knew his tendencies to overshare and excessively pry into others' business. But she didn’t feel like explaining his shit. “Good news, we’ve got a client all lined up. I can send you to Earth, business as usual.”

“Wait, just Moxxie and me? We haven’t done a job without the boss before…” Millie was sure she could take on whatever the job was, but she wasn’t quite so sure about her coworker. Moxxie had been capable enough, but she didn’t know how he’d do without Blitzø around.

Loona heaved herself into her office chair and shrugged. “Either that or we default on the job. Besides, this one’s easy. Even Fatty there could do it solo. Probably.”

Moxxie weakly called out “I’m not fat!” as Loona continued. “You get to kill a whole group, which I know you like Millie.” She pulled out the relevant file. “Buncha humans died from salmonella poisoning and they want the people that packed the lettuce dead too.”

The imp took the file and flipped through it. It really did look like an easy job, despite the requested body count. “Awright, guess we gotta. Get your stuff Moxxie, we got work to do and jackasses to kill!”

Millie always had her favorite knife with her. She grabbed her new battleaxe, along with a sword and pistol. She preferred a more personal approach to murder, but she wasn’t a bad shot. And it was better to have the weapon than wish she’d brought it.

Moxxie had his arsenal of firearms and melee weapons as usual. Shotgun, sniper rifle, handguns in multiple colors and calibers, crossbow, hunting bow, blow darts, grenades, throwing knives, and a kukri were today’s rotation.

Loona made sure they each had a work cell to contact her when they finished. She smoothly opened the portal to Earth on their office wall and closed it quickly once the imps hopped through. “Ugh, finally. I can fix my makeup and get a goddamn coffee.”

The imp duo found themselves in a bucolic farmland, a sizable building in front of them. Moxxie squinted at the sign above the double doors. “McDrumpf’s Vegetable and Raw Meat Packing Emporium? Looks like we’re in the right place.”

“Remember Mox, we gotta get everyone in the building. Two dozen workers, three managers and the owner.” With that Millie broke into a bounding run to the side of the structure. Her sword made an excellent temporary climbing spike to reach a tiny window. Moxxie followed her up, retrieving the sword with his tail.

In the metal rafters, the imps had a vantage point over the entire operation. A variety of humans were at work, some blankly overseeing machinery, watching vegetables launch past. Others were chopping poultry without pause. Yet more made sure the produce was arranged correctly for packaging, then doing the same for a conveyor belt of chicken parts. The food emerged wrapped in plastic and got slapped with a sticker saying “McDrumpfs: Packed with ‘care.’”

Close to the front door was a room with frosted windows. The imps could vaguely see a wide figure walking around the room before it settled down to one corner. Presumably that was McDrumpf. The three managers were set apart by wearing dress shirts and ties; the rest had aprons and hairnets. Gloves seemed to be optional.

Moxxie scampered along the rafters to lock the front doors, while Millie made her way to block the emergency exits. One of the exits was blocked by a pallet of cling wrap rolls before she even got there. They regrouped on a small platform over the owner's office.

“Got a plan Millie? I figured I take out a few from here before we hop down. Maybe shoot the straps holding the pallets together near the front to block the doors?”

“Good for starters. I doubt this lot’ll put up much of a fight anyways.” In particular she noted one by the lettuce sorter who was nodding off while standing. Another putting stickers on was snoring as she did so. Millie readied her axe.

Sniper rifle steadied, Moxxie fired four shots in rapid succession. The first took out a manager, the second hit a butcher in the eye, the third went through the temple of a worker at a wrapping station, and the fourth grazed the rope tying the pallets. That was enough to break the fibers; the already unstable stack teetered and crashed into a pile of jagged planks and rusty nails.

The humans closest to his first three kills started screaming. Moxxie calmly reloaded and Millie leapt to the concrete floor. She grinned ferally at the nearest human and swung her axe to neatly decapitate him. She followed the battleaxe’s momentum to spin into another human, slicing him through the torso.

The other humans started panicking. “The fuck is that?! Jimbob is dead! Helga too! Crap the doors are blocked! Huuuuh, is it lunch yet-?” The last was cut off by Moxxie’s bullet. Millie was happily working her way up between two conveyor belts. A neatly sliced thigh appeared wrapped up on a styrofoam tray and a flung sticker landed on top.

Moxxie grabbed his shotgun and took out a group trying to open the only unblocked exit. The pile of three bodies made a nice bloody barricade. The machines continued to work even as the employees were falling. Moxxie saw a line of three beautifully cut salads garnished with eyes, ears, and fingers emerge from the belt of lettuce heads. Half a dozen human heads with hairnets still on followed, each packaged and ready to load into boxes.

Millie reached the butchers. Four of them armed themselves with cleavers and tried to corner her. Her eyes flicked between them. The gap in her teeth showed as she flung her axe at the farthest, slicing her vertically and lodging the weapon into a wall.

The other butchers were sprayed in blood, one half of the newly dead butcher landed on the shoulder of another. “Auuuugh! Oh god Sherry’s on me!” A third butcher shoved him. “Now’s our chance, get the devil!” He swung a cleaver down at Millie. The imp dodged, climbed up his arm, and wrapped her legs around his head. Her momentum dragged him to the ground where she got enough purchase to brace herself and snap his neck.

Barely pausing, the imp lunged at the next human, stabbing her knife between his ribs. Millie grabbed his meat cleaver as it dropped from the limp hand. With a smooth motion she threw it at the fourth butcher’s head as he tried to run. It neatly stuck into the skull, looking like a cheesy Halloween accessory as it bisected his head.

“Whew!” Millie went to retrieve her battleaxe and heard a gunshot followed by a gurgle behind her. Whirling with the axe, she saw another human body drop right next to her. Blood was spewing out of the mouth and she saw Moxxie lowering one of his pistols at the other end of the building. Two of the workers bodies laid next to him with neat holes in vital points, more of the male imp’s handiwork.

“What the fuck is going on out here?! I’ll dock everyone’s pay for-holy shit!” A man who was dressed way to nicely for the locale barged out of the office next to Moxxie, saw the carnage and hastily went back inside. Or tried to at least. Millie’s own pistol rang out. The bullet hit between the man’s eyes. Blood splattered on the frosted glass door as the man fell backwards.

Moxxie was in awe of the expertly sliced bodies Millie had left in her wake. Her shot that took out McDrumpf was better than anything he’d seen from his father’s goons. Could she be any more perfect? Well, yes, she could not be his coworker so he’d have a chance to ask her out.

“Nice shootin’ Mox.” Millie walked back to the other imp, counting the bodies as she went. “Oh! Ah, thanks! You’re not too bad a shot yourself Millie.” He also started counting; the job was for twenty-eight humans. If they ever wanted to be trusted on a mission without their boss again, they needed to kill all the targets.

But they both only counted twenty-seven. Moxxie handed Millie her knife back; he’d pulled it out of a chest as they did their deadcount. “Y’think someone stayed home? Pretty sure we got everyone in the building.”

“Oh crumbs, if one did, we’re going to have to find out which one! Then we’ll need to track them down and-” Moxxie’s stressed out rant stopped as they heard a door click open. Not any of the doors leading outside. It had been hidden behind a pile of flat packed cardboard boxes.

The imps ducked behind the stack and peeked over. A lanky male human, his death metal music audible through his earbuds, exited the men’s restroom. His head bobbed as he mouthed along. Coming around the pile, he saw the blood and viscera spread across the room. His jaw dropped and Moxxie hopped onto his head, slicing through the human’s neck with his kukri.

Moxxie jumped off the body. “Twenty-eight. All targets accounted for,” he stated with a satisfied air. Millie’s heart thumped at his quick dispatching of the last target. His pose and grin were so adorably gallant, she felt bats fluttering in her stomach. Never felt that with the shark toothed fuck face. Or any of the others, really. She really wished they weren’t coworkers and she could just ask the other imp out.

No point in wasting time on what couldn’t happen. “I think we’ve done some damn good work today. And we’ll get the rest of the day off, since the boss isn’t in.” Millie sent Loona a message while Moxxie made sure all their weapons were accounted for.

A freshly made up Loona opened the way home. The imps chatted about the kills as they went back to Hell. Neither noticed their tails swishing, barely touching each other’s and forming hearts as they walked home.

—————

A/N: Sorry for the delay, life has interfered. I hope everyone likes this little bit, poor M&M haven’t gotten much attention in the main story. We’ll be back to part 29 shortly!

Tip me through Ko-fi!

Writing Masterlist

[maddashdiscoinferno]

A Happy Origin

A scrawny girl with dirt covered blond hair, squeezed through a previously boarded up window. She muffled her grunts, trying to stay as quiet as possible as she wiggled out into a dingy alleyway. The ruckus coming from the building behind her told her that she had enough time to get far enough away from the building without her captors noticing. Once free, she quietly jogged down the dark alleyway; nights smoggy skies and the murky stank of molding trash and piss accompanying her on her walk home.

This wasn’t a new development in her life, no, the whole kidnapping scenario was oddly reoccurring. Different groups of scumbags every time but the same lousy routines. They’d grab her, intimidate her, throw her in some moldy room, and check on her occasionally. She stopped being scared after the fourth or fifth time this had taken place and since then it had been a regular, yet annoying, routine in her life.

She made her way through the labyrinth of streets and alleyways to a backpack she had planted behind a large trash bin; thank God it hadn’t been stolen and that this time she had enough of a heads up to plant it. She took a seat beside the pile and methodically stripped away her disguise. Dirty golden hair pulled away to reveal fiery red locks and makeup wiped away to reveal skin that had been mauled. She peered into a small handheld mirror and scoffed at the woman peering back at her. She snapped the small mirror closed and chucked it back into the backpack, she would take off the latex that smoothed her features into a younger and less scarred face when she got home. She pulled out a jacket and sweatpants she had stashed in the bag and shimmied them over the leggings and long-sleeved shirt she wore. Once the wig was stuffed into the bag and the makeup wipes were disposed of, she flipped up the hood of her jacket and made her way to the closest bus station. It was a quiet ride home on the buses, small victories for the late routes.

The woman made her way back to the same shady trailer park that she’d lived in for 15 years now. The rows of mobile homes were lined with weathered asphalt and the neighborhood sandwiched between the main city and woods. This place never truly felt special to her but it was the closest thing to home she had. She stopped in front of a lime house, the paint long faded and vines started to creep up the sides of it. She didn’t bother trying the front door, just made her way straight to the back door. It opened with a creak into a dead silent main room, she didn’t dare bother calling out, just quietly moved through the musty house towards her room.

Her room was the same pale eggshell color as the rest of the house’s interior but far minimally decorated. She flopped onto a small stool sat in front of a dirty desk and dust covered mirror; the imprint of a hand routinely wiping away the specs that settled on it gave her a clear spot to view her own reflection. She peeled away the latex that hid an ugly acid scar that ran the expanse of her right cheek and down the right side of her body. Then she carefully popped out the contacts that changed her eyes from a subtle green to one dark brown left eye and one milky white right eye. When her disguise was successfully removed and her face was once again her own, she threw herself back onto her bed. She only had a few hours to sleep but she took this moment to simply breathe before falling into the comforting arms of a dreamless sleep.

This was the life of Maxine Auclair, 25-year-old, French American, scam artist and high school dropout extraordinaire.

Aren’t you tired, Maxine?

Maxine woke up with a gasp. Her peace disturbed by slamming doors, screams, and burning eggs. She sighed and got out of bed, showering, getting dressed, and finally putting on a new disguise. This one was one she was much more familiar with. Today, and every other time that daylight hit her hemisphere, she was Bridget Laurent. Bridget worked at the corner store. She had unmarred flesh, brown hair, brown eyes, and always wore a gentle smile when checking out the greasy low lives who asked what she was up to when her shift ended.

She took a deep breath and slipped out of her room. She made brief eye contact with her father and offered him a lazy wave, one that went unreciprocated as he continued to yell at her mother.

“Stupide pute, QU'EST-CE QUE C'EST!?” The graying and lean man screamed with a thick Brooklyn accent. His taunting parroted by the equally thick French accent of her mother.

Max walked over to the stove, flicking off the burner and scooped some of the now partially charred eggs onto a plate, then moved the skillet to a cool burner. She slumped into an empty chair at their dining table and watched the two adults continue their verbal war. To say she resented the pair would be an understatement, after all their bad decisions were directly responsible for the misery that her life is full of. The reason her skin was marred with scars, the reason she had no further education than a GED, the reason she lived a life of fake identities, and oh yes, of course, the reason she often found herself blindfolded and gagged in the back of shady vans.

Are you not craving freedom, Maxine?

She was snapped from her thoughts by a crooked hand firmly clasping her shoulder, “Good to see you made it back, girl. Try and be a little quieter coming in next time? Your mother is a she-devil when she doesn’t get her “beauty rest.””

Mr. and Mrs. Auclair had the unmistakable talent of doing business with the absolute worst kind of people but at Maxs young age of 16 they developed the incredible strategy to scam the low lives they borrowed money from. Most parents wouldn’t take pride in routinely selling their daughter, but the Auclair’s certainly did. They were tight on cash and out of things to barter so they traded her to a shady group. To their surprise, Max showed back up at their door a few days later, shaking with tears streaming down her cheeks. With a dog so loyal their next steps were a no brainer; sell her again and again and she would just come right back. But eventually they ran out of groups to deal with, so she took up new identities to scam the same groups again and again. All of this resulted in losing her true identity along the way. By day she was Bridget, by night she was anyone they needed her to be. This cycle resulted in a terribly miserable and lonely life; one she had no relief from, not as she kept living a complete and total lie.

You could live your own life, Maxine.

She finished her eggs, cleaned her plate, then grabbed her bag and headed out for the day. Mornings were a lot nicer without all the screaming so generally, she enjoyed her commute to work. Work itself was about as good as it could be when you work at a gas station. The weathered eggshell walls, grime covered tile floors, and bright LEDs was the perfect environment to attract all sorts of folks. Funny enough, she recognized some of her captors from her “adventures” as they stopped in. She always took a little bit of pride in charging the lowlifes for items they most certainly didn’t buy, after all nobody looked close enough at their receipts to call her out. Day in and day out this was the cycle, one that she couldn’t escape. Go to work, go home, see if she had any “surprises” waiting for her, escape, go to bed, rinse and repeat. The monotony killed her but it’s hard to realize that when your whole life has been the same routine, running and hiding for survival.

That is, until the cycle was broken by her parents flying too close to the sun in their scams and greed.

It was a quiet evening, so she had no greasy lowlifes to escape and no late-night busses to catch. No screams filled the house, which meant her parents were in a good mood. Unfortunately for Maxine that was a good indicator that tomorrow would bring more problems for her; they were only this quiet and content after getting the money for whatever they needed it for. Tonight though, Maxine let herself breath, quietly drifting off to the muffled sounds of some late-night sitcoms laugh tracks and the smell of nicotine gently rotting the walls.

Loud banging and the shrieks of her mother filled the air, startling Maxine awake. She didn’t think, just sprinted to her door and threw it open. She was barely two steps passed the threshold of her room when hands gloved in leather yanked her back. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her side and her body against their own. Her captor’s other hand slapped against her mouth, effectively silencing her.

Maxine was dragged into the living room, her heart pounding in her ears. Fear and adrenaline mixed into an ugly, sickening concoction in her stomach. Her eye landed on her mother and father, screaming and pleading down on their knees. Then her eye landed on two men who stood in front of them. One was tall and big like the man that held her, and the other was lean and weaselly. She didn’t get long to process the scene before she was unceremoniously thrown to the floor in front of her parents.

“Now that we got the whole family here let’s discuss our little problem Mr. and Mrs. Alarie or maybe Blanchet is what you’d prefer?” a man spoke. When she lifted her head, she noted that it was the weaselly man.

“You see you lot owe us a hefty price. Those two different deals under two different names sure didn’t make the boss all that happy when he found out he had been swindled. Especially when your payment has trouble staying in her cage, so the boss sent me to collect,” he squatted down and yanked Maxines head back by her hair, “Huh, ugly little mouse, aren’t you?”

“We didn’t mean any harm, honest, you see our daughter has always been a basket case ha-ha- We had no clue that she’d come crawling back, but we obviously tried to return her with our second dealings. I know-” her father’s desperate ramblings were silenced by the weaselly mans gloved hand raising. The man slammed Maxines head down and stood up, wiping his hands on his coat.

“Hush hush Mr. Blanchet. It’s no sweat off our back; the boss is a forgiving man. You just have to give us the total you owe us to clear up this misunderstanding, with interest of course.” A wry smirk sat on the weaselly man’s lips as he spoke.

“We- how much do we owe your boss?” Her father sighed, anxiety in his tone drawled out by his thick accent.

“$78,000”

“$78,000! You can’t possibly be serious- we borrowed no more than 40- 48- 56k from you guys. No one has that sort of money on hand!”

The weaselly man ran a hand through his hair with a mocking sigh. The two larger men went behind Maxines mother and father, kneeling down and restraining the couple.

 “Not to worry, you can buy an extension of… oh well, how about a month?” His words were punctuated by the gun aimed directly at Maxines head.

Maxines breath and heart quickened as she looked down the barrel of her death. No, surely her work escaping and being traded around was too valuable to give up. Her parents wouldn’t trade her life like this. Her demise would surely spell their doom, they had to have money somewhere, especially since they just traded her for some more.

Are you ready, Maxine?

Maxines thoughts stilled as her mother’s voice cut through the tension like a butcher’s knife and landed in her back.

“Oui, oui, s'il vous plaît. Nous accepterons l'affaire, nous aurons votre argent dans un mois.” The woman pleaded through anxious sobs.

“Maman?” Maxine whispered looking back at her mother.

“What was that? Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.” The weaselly man replied with a chuckle.

“Yes, we will accept your deal,” her father doubled down.

Everything was happening in the matter of a few moments for Maxine. She faced her twilight, the final act of a life she had had no control over, an itch for freedom left unscratched by the hateful maws of those that drowned her. She turned her gaze to the man, noting his smile.

“Good choice.”

Fight, Maxine.

She didn’t think, just acted. Her hands shot out and grabbed the gun, a loud bang rang out as she wrestled the weapon from his hand. She howled in pain as a bullet buried itself into her thigh but something louder in her howled. The ugly concoction of fear and adrenaline mixed into something new under her skin. She pried the gun from the man, pressed it to his chest and pulled the trigger.

She didn’t even watch him drop as she spun to face the rest of the people in the room. Maxine briefly stumbled as she aimed the weapon at the big guy that restrained her mother. She shot twice, one bullet lodging itself into her mother while the other hit its mark in the man’s chest. She didn’t notice the other man already reaching for his own gun, just pivoting and firing. As Maxines own gun went off, another bang echoed, its bullet lodging in her shoulder. She let out a shrill scream but watched as the behemoth fell.

Silence enveloped the house as she panted. Finally looking at the carnage in the room. Cold filled her veins as the adrenaline of the moment washed over her. Her eye flickered over the corpses of the three strangers bleeding out in the greasy living room. Her mother’s body was draped over one of them as well. Her eye then landed on a figure in the middle; her father getting off the floor and approaching her with his arms out.

“Maxine! You did so good, girl!” Her father’s voice drew her out of her thoughts and back into reality.

She was aware of everything at that moment. The smell and slight tang of copper mixing with the lingering smell of nicotine, the sharp pain in her shoulder and thigh, and the gun that felt heavy in her hand. Her eye drifted to the weapon, sleek and covered in splatters of crimson that extended to her scarred hand. She was shaking but not from fear or regret, no, she was shaking from the aftermath of the rush she just felt.

Her father’s voice was drowned out by the roar of her heartbeat as he pulled her into a tight hug, her gaze still trained on the gun in her hand. Its weight felt like liberation. Her gaze rose back to her father who limped to go pick up his cane from the floor, still rambling nonsense that was lost on her. Her hand stopped shaking as she raised the gun again. Her eye locking with his as horror flashed over his face. Some part of her delighted in the look he gave her as his mouth started to move again. She didn’t have to be a good shot; he was close enough.

A small smile made its way to her lips as she pulled the trigger one last time.

Sirens started to fill in the silence, with all the commotion, of course police would be called. She picked up her father’s cane and hauled out the door. Her eye landed on the forest at the end of the street and she took off. She ran as fast as she could with a bullet hole in her leg and another oozing blood out of her shoulder. Using her dads old cane as a crutch, Maxine thumped down the trailer parks roads. Sirens drew closer but her attention was on the woods, the sound of the wind in her ears, and the freedom that she now possessed. She huffed, bare feet meeting broken asphalt, fiery red locks catching the light of half burnt out streetlights, a wide grin on her face as the woods in front of her drew ever nearer.

Maxine reached the threshold of the woods as the sirens started to pour into the trailer park. She dodged and weaved through the large trees, trying not to draw any attention to her as she made her escape in the dead of night.

Sharp rocks and thrones embedded themselves into her skin, causing her to wince and cry but she pressed on. She began to feel faint from blood loss, but she forced herself to stay conscious. It was only a matter of time before people came looking but she wanted to get a little further into the woods. She stumbled into a patch of Aspen trees. By now her balance faltered as her end approached fast.

Maxine knew that she would die but at least she would die knowing that she was finally free. She would not die as Bridget Laurent, or Blanchet, or Alarie, not even Auclair. Tonight, she would die as Maxine, just Maxine.

She tripped and caught herself on one of the pale trees. She slid down the bark of the tree, her vision blurring in her one good eye. Her body hit the forest floor with a thud, but she managed to prop herself up. She threw her head back and looked at the stars, huffing for air as she bled out. A small laugh leaving the normally quiet and stale woman.

She looked at her surroundings, her freedom and grave, with a smile, life fading fast from her. In her delirium or so she thought, her eye landed on a tall figure. The watching eyes of the aspens melding into the form of a man, no he was too tall to be a man, perhaps a monster. Her thoughts didn’t linger on him much more though as her vision fell to black and she slumped over.

Before eternity took her gracefully one last thought wiggled its way into her fading mind.

You are not done yet. Don’t you want more than a lick of freedom?

“Yes” she whispered with her last breath.

Then so be it, Happy.

So began the life of Happy, 25-year-old, French American, murderer extraordinaire.

Hi Hi!!! So erm I am slowly rewriting everything, its going to be posted here and AO3 but I hope yall enjoy. Ill probably have more shitposts here over the weeks. Also! Like the official chapter 1 should come out soon so there wont (hopefully) be more multi month waits. Enjoy!!!!

[pussyhoundspock]

they fucking WHAT in genderswapped company why would you even

GREAT question LET'S get into this. so of the many (many!) of my least favorite changes about the (extremely ill advised and poorly executed!) gender flipped company from like 2021? that started in london. anyway. that one. yeah so of the many changes they made they FAR more firmly than the original grounded bobby (or bobbi when I'm talking about the female gender swapped version) in being Straight. It's just about the most aggressively straight and heteronormative rendition of company i've seen yet. anyway. regardless. regardless.

so in this version of company at the end of the show when bobby gets dinner with joanne and joanne makes a pass at bobby to prompt him into realizing he wants someone to take care off -- he wants the pains and difficulties and miseries of being open and tied to another person -- and this is obviously one of the top ten most insane-making moments when you are a repressed cartoonishly anti-marriage extremely closed off closeted dyke so like. life imprinted on patti lupone age thirteen drinking her vodka stingers #milfs. anyway. so that's the original version of the scene -- bobby and his oldest friend a thrice married socialite joanne have drinks and by "when are you and i going to make it" she forces him to realize what he actually wants out of life and then we go into the closer (being alive).

in the gender flipped revival, joanne is still a woman -- still played by patti lupone even LOL -- and they've committed to an aggressively heterosexual bobbi with no other possible interpretations, so they can't play this scene out like anything else. so instead they have joanne's husband make a pass at her (and this lands very awkwardly like they have no longstanding relationship OR understanding of each other and WE don't have the understanding of this random dude like we do joanne so it's literally a much less emotionally rich version of this and also i was seeing this with three other people who had no familiarity with company and all of them were confused by that scene so it genuinely is very out of the blue nonsensical and a little dissonant i had to explain the original to them which they agreed made much more sense. ANYWAY so it's a flop scene to begin with i'm mad they're confused and we get to the line "but then who will i take care of"/bobby having his realization that he wants someone to take care! but because it's gender flipped -- and this is insane this genuinely makes me insane -- they change it. to. "but who will take care of me" which is just crazy!!!!! it's crazy!!!!!!!!!!!!!! literally definitively making the statement that men need someone to take care of and women need someone to take care of them!!!!!!!!!!!! what! what!!!!! those are not gendered things!!!!! changing the heart of who bobby if he's a woman like that isn't at ALL how characterization works!!!!!!!!!!!!!