#if all goes well I should have that fic up today :D

[cotcweek]

Welcome to day four of Creek Week 2023!!

Hard to believe the week is half over already.

Today's prompts are...

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader falling obsessively in love with kny men after getting poisoned

Pairings: Rengoku x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader; Giyu x fem!reader; bonus Genya x fem!reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: There's no smut going on but it's definitely a close call lol, I just thought this concept is funny so the fics itself and the whole scenarios aren't 100% serious it's getting absolutely heated in every single one though hehe, Not proofread bc I literally finished this last minute before my flight lol, I'm currently in Greece when this gets published so surprise ya girl with your support until she's back 🤍

Rengoku Kyojuro

“And you’re sure this is safe?”, you question while looking up at Shinobu with frightful eyes.

It should be fine. After all, Shinobu is the one who invented a medicine that is supposed to finally force your headache away. She’s a professional, so well-educated that even Kagaya-sama’s very own children get treated by her.

Even though she didn’t have the chance to test this medicine, you should be fine.

Right?

“As you know, I’ll never promise something I can’t keep, (y/n). But you’re here with me and if something goes wrong, I will find a way”, she tries to reassure you, only to spike your panic up even higher.

“Listen Shinobu, maybe I’ll try something e-“

Before you’re able to finish your sentence and stop her, you feel a needle poking through your arm oh so gently.

For a moment, you simply sit there and blink in confusion. Huh, not as bad as you thought. It really seems like your headache slowly but surely starts fainting away while the medicine burns every so slightly through your veins.

Not bad at all.

Until your heartbeat picks up so suddenly that your eyes dart wide open. Like in trance, you yank out of the chair you were sitting in, orbs darting around without a real aim while frantically searching for something.

Or rather someone.

What a quiet and peaceful day it is to roam around the beautiful butterfly estate. Rengoku actually didn’t even plan to come here. After all, he isn’t injured nor does he need something from Shinobu-san. To be honest, he’s only here because of you.

You told him yesterday that you’ll see Shinobu today in order to test medicine that is supposed to end your ongoing headaches. You were a little frightened when you thought about getting an injection, so it was never a question for Rengoku to be there for you. Hopefully, he made it on time.

“Kyojuro.”

He furrows his eyebrows and turns towards that unusual seductive voice.

When your eyes meet his, he forgets how to breathe. There you stand, your kimono opened just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your chest like never before. But what simply sweeps him off his feet are your eyes. As gorgeous and captivating as ever, but this time igniting an so unknown spark, inviting him to a silent dance.

“(y/n), are you feeling alright?”

Your hips swing from side to side as you draw closer to him and place your hand straight over his beating heart.

“I’m feeling better than ever before, Kyojuro.”

Kyojuro can’t help but blush deeply, eyes widening in surprise. A nervous smile plays on his lips while he stammers slightly, unable to hide his flustered state. Is this really you, the secret love of his life, discovering his body with your bare hands? The second your flat palms start wandering over his back, his hands start to fidget. Out of instinct, he avoids eye contact, his very own hands now keeping you in place.

“W-What’s going on. (y/n)?”, he stammers like he never did before.

“Take me, Kyojuro.”

His eyes grow even wider, usual confidence momentarily faltering like a house of cards.

“I-I…um, what?”

With a force he didn’t even know you have, you shove him against a nearby tree, your knee gliding between his legs.

“I want you since the first time I saw you. I won’t wait for another opportunity when you’re right here.”

“(y/n)…D-did you already meet Shinobu-san?”

Are you sick or injured? A quick scan of your body reveals nothing that could indicate a serious wound. No, to be precise, you reveal nothing but your soft curves, your gorgeous frame he has never seen like this before. With your kimono slightly opened and the cleavage that peaks at him oh so invitingly…He never felt your hands pressed against his chest like that before, never got a taste of how well you fit inside of his arms.

No. He shakes his head ever so slightly, forces his own mind back to reality. This isn’t the (y/n) he knows. You’d never sneak up on him like this, even if the words you just spoke are true.

Oh, please let them be true.

“All I care about is you”, you purr, face now only inches away from his.

If his back wasn’t pressed against a tree already, Kyojuro would lose his balance for sure. He was always captivated by that gorgeous colour your eyes have, never able to look away. But now, with that dark gleam inside of them, your hands wrapped around his neck. A little innocent kiss, a dream that comes true right here and now-

“(y/n), come back right now!”, a voice cries behind him so suddenly that he jumps up inside the cage of your comforting arms.

“We are here, Shinobu-san!”, he replies automatically.

Only to regret his words instantly. Just one second more and his lips would have touched yours, only a few moments more in your embrace before it all ends again. It takes him all his strength to let go of you when Shinobu arrives with an injection ready in her hand.

“I’m beyond sorry, Rengoku-san! (y/n)’s strange behaviour is all my fault. But don’t worry, I’ll bring her back in just a moment.”

Faster than he’s even able to comprehend the insect pillar’s words, she sticks a needle into your arm and releases the injection.

You blink a few times, head spinning uncontrollably as you stumble backwards. Where are you? What happened? Your head pounds so roughly against your skull that you feel like puking any given minute.

“How are you feeling, (y/n)?”, Shinobu’s comforting voice rings in your ears.

Slowly but surely, your foggy vision starts to get clear again.

“Since when are you so tall, Shinobu?”, you mumble absently.

“It’s me, (y/n). Kyojuro.”

Oh.

“Kyojuro!”, you mumble in utter surprise.

“But…what are you doing here?”

“Let’s not talk about it. I-I…I need to go now”, the flame hashira announces before turning on his heels and walking away.

You stare at his back in nothing but confusion. What is wrong with him? Is he not feeling well, maybe?

“Is it just me or does Kyojuro walk very strange today?”, you question, earning endless giggles from Shinobu next to you.

“He does indeed.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“Watch out idiot, you’re gonna get hit!”, the white-haired man barks harshly at you before dashing towards again.

It happened faster than you were ready to react. A little troll through the woods at night, a deep conversation with the wind hashira. And just a few seconds later, an upper-ranked demon appeared out of nowhere.

“Don’t let it hit you, (y/n)!”

“I’m not stupid, dumbass!”, you bite back while dodging another hit with a tendril.

What a strange-looking demon that woman is. With countless pink tendrils that act as her hair and her long tongue, she really looks different from every demon you’ve seen before.

“Still fighting for your love, you fool?”, she jeers at Sanemi before trying to hit him once again.

"I will show you what love really is! It's a consuming fire that burns away your sense of self, leaving you hollow and desperate. It's an obsession that blinds you to reality, making every thought, every breath, every heartbeat revolve around the one person who becomes your entire world. In this love, you lose your freedom, your identity, and your sanity, as you sacrifice everything to feed the insatiable hunger that never goes away-“

“Can you just stop talking shit, ugly bitch? I just wanna go home”, Sanemi interrupts her dryly

You chuckle to yourself. As if a demon would know anything about love. Their only purpose on this earth is to kill innocent humans for the fun of it.

“What the hell do you know about love, huh? All you do is destroying it”, you blurt out.

Just a moment of sloppiness, a second of turning your back to the tendrils that surround you like a prison. The second you feel it, it’s already too late.

“(y/n)!”, Sanemi cries out, feet rapidly carrying him to your side in order to slice through that fucking piece of tendril that pierced itself through your leg.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, saves you from clashing onto the ground. But the second you open your eyes again, they don’t look like they did before. No, you look obsessed.

“Hey, look at me (y/n). Come back to me”, he insists, a slight tone of panic now taking over his usual so harsh voice.

What if that bitch poisoned you? Shinobu is miles away, there’s no way in hell he’d make it on time. And even now, tendrils continue to circle both of you, waiting for an opportunity to hurt him as well.

“Just see what love does to you! You’ll have to kill her!”

“What the fuck are you talking about”, he hisses under his breath.

“(y/n)?”

“Sanemi.”

Your voice sounds dark, unpromising, coated in something he’s never heard before.

“Hey, are ya alright?”

You’re moving too fast for him to react. In the split of a second, you sit on top of him, your hands holding his in place while your lips start tracing up and down his neck.

For a moment, Sanemi forgets how to exist.

You’re sitting on top of him.

With your lips pressed against his neck.

Almost instantly, blood shoots up his face and straight into his private parts, eyes widen in…horror?

No, not because of you, not because he doesn’t enjoy to finally feel you this close. But this isn’t you. This is the poison of that fucking demon.

Just before he gets hit as well, he slices through another tendril that was ready to attack both of you.

“You can’t save her and yourself!”, the demon shouts at him in sheer amusement.

“Your love will get you killed!”

“(y/n).”

His voice is as tender as never before, hands now grabbing your arms oh so gently.

“You need to come back to me, okay? This isn’t you, this isn’t…how you feel for me.”

He hates the way his heart starts aching as soon as those words leave his mouth. There’s no way in hell someone like you would ever fall for someone like him if it wasn’t for that demon. Not when you’re so gorgeous, so breathtakingly beautiful, so smart-

“But I love you, Sanemi! And I need you!”, you cry out, lips now only inches away from meeting yours.

“You don’t love me, (y/n). How could you ever love me?”

“Let me show you.”

Just before your hand gets the chance to grab his pants, he swings you around in order to lay on top of you – completely out of breath and flustered like never before.

“You need to focus. We need to kill that bitch”, he tries to remind you while dodging another wave of attacks with his free hand.

“You’ll need to kill her!”

“Shut up!”, he barks at the demon behind him.

But that thing’s right. With you writhing like a snake underneath him and those countless merciless attacks, he can concentrate on neither.

“I’m the only one who’s able to save her-“

“I said shut up!”

“(y/n), please get yourself together”, he breathes out.

God, why do you have to look so damn tempting with your legs wrapped around his waist and eyes as flustered as he’s never seen before? Countless lonely nights, he imagined what you might look like, feel like, sound like.

But this isn’t real. That sudden outburst of love isn’t real.

“Looks like you’re busy, Shinazugawa. Maybe you should do things like that somewhere other than on the battlefield”, a painfully known voice comments behind him dryly.

“Shut up at take care of that bitch. I need to look after (y/n)”, he instructs the serpent hashira sharply before picking you up and sprinting into the woods.

“I need you. Please”, you beg between his arms, the way your hands roam around his chest simply driving him insane.

“You can’t help her!”, a faint female voice cries behind both of you.

Screw that fucking demon. He needs to get the real you back, needs to finally confess his damned feelings. Even if all of this is nothing but poison, he simply can’t live like this anymore. Not when you’re so close to him every day, not when he secretly can’t get enough of that sight in front of him right now.

“Come back to me, (y/n)”, he almost begs while letting you down.

Fuck, what is he supposed to do? What if he’s not able to help you? Even if he sends after Shinobu, you might go insane until she arrives. And what if you do something stupid, what if he isn’t able to protect you? And what if this isn’t the only thing that cursed poison does?

“Don’t you love me? I thought you like me back, I thought we have a future together, I…I can’t do this without you!”, you suddenly scream on top of your lungs while bursting out in tears.

“What? I never said that-“

“I don’t wanna live without you. I…I’ll end this!”

It happens almost too fast for him to react. In the matter of milliseconds, you grab your sword and direct it towards your throat, ready to slice it open with full-force.

“You little idiot”, he hisses through gritted teeth while forcing your blade away.

“I love you so fucking much that it hurts, you’re the only thing I’m thinking about constantly! Can’t you see that you’re driving me crazy since joining the corps!? I love you, (y/n)! I always did and I definitely always will! You’ve got me trapped, goddamn!”

And then he presses his lips against yours. Longingly, passionately, as if you’re air and he cannot breathe. Never in his life, Sanemi longed for something so small yet so big. Each and every night, his mind wandered to your lips, your laugh, just you and your fucking perfect self. He can’t stand the thought of you talking about yourself so badly. Him not loving you? Are you fucking insane?

“Sanemi.”

You breathe his name against his lips oh so sweetly.

Sweetly, with that cheeky undertone he knows so well.

“Is that you, (y/n)?”

When he opens his eyes again, he gets greeted by the gleaming kindness that radiates from your orbs just inches away from his.

“I’m sorry for…throwing myself at you like that…”, you mutter with reddened cheeks.

How embarrassing. You can’t believe you were about to touch his groin without permission. Even if you were poisoned, what the hell has gotten into you? And why do you have to remember all the things you’ve said and done? That would have been the least that cursed poison could have done…

“Don’t be, it’s fine”, Sanemi replies equally awkward.

“But…are you actually into me?”, you mumble followed by a swift gaze.

“I…I mean…-“

“He totally is”, Obanai barges into the conversation from behind.

Giyu Tomioka

“Didn’t you say that-ah! This was supposed to be easy?”, you press out while fighting a bunch of demons.

You really have no idea how you ended up here. Just a few seconds ago, you were having the best sleep of the week when your crow interrupted your slumber as rude as ever and literally dragged you onto the battlefield straight on his side.

His side. Giyu Tomioka, to be exact. The mysterious yet captivating water hashira you are eyeing since the first day of joining the chosen circle of pillars. What is it that ties you onto him like a chain, that forces your mind to wander towards him each and every day without any break?

“I will take care of the right side. Stay focused”, he instructs you as absent as ever, not even sending you a single look while your heart is all over the place.

It’s ridiculous and you know it all too well. A man like Giyu would never fall for someone as clumsy and unsettled at you. He will never look at you the way you look at him, not even daring to send you a single smile. Because you’re nothing but comrades, distant known. If it wasn’t for your responsibilities as pillar, he would have never even talked to you.

And you absolutely hate the way this stinging fact bugs you every single day of your life.

“You’re not focused enough, stupid girl”, a voice way too close suddenly purrs inside your ear.

There’s no time left to react. Not even Giyu Tomioka is able to reach you in time when the demon scratches your neck oh so slightly.

Only enough to spill your blood.

Only enough to make you go absolutely insane.

Your mind gets flooded by a wave of emotions, memories, thoughts. All at once. So rapidly that you feel like fainting any given minute.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing hurts more but the truth. Did you ever wonder about what she might feel for you, even love, maybe? I will reveal her darkest secrets, her thoughts that were never said out loud. And when she finally loses her mind completely, I will force her to kill you and afterwards herself!”

Giyu’s eyes widen at those words. You, loving him? He never even dared to think about something like this, not when you are admired by everyone around you. Why would you fall for someone as quiet and boring as him?

He swallows hard. But knowing that deep inside him is definitely different from hearing those words coming out of your mouth.

“Giyu.”

Your voice sounds cold and distant, eyes completely blank.

“(y/n), I will get you out of here, I’m sure Shinobu is able to-“

“I love you.”

You hate him.

No.

You love him?

“And I’ve loved you for so long that I lost count a long time ago. I love the way you walk, the way you inspect the world around you so carefully. I love how tender you are when it comes to children. I love your kindness, your calm voice-“

“Wait, this wasn’t supposed to go like this!”, the demon cries out.

“I love the feeling of your eyes set on me even though I know I’d never stand a chance. You are so much more than a friend to me, so precious that it hurts. And I can’t help but imagine myself lying inside your arms every night. I can’t help but stare at you whenever I catch you training. I can’t stop those butterflies from invading my stomach every time you’re around. I love you with all my heart even though I know you’d never love me back.”

HIs mind goes blank, ocean blue eyes staring at you in sheer disbelief. Suddenly everything else around you goes silent. The demon, the screams from afar. All he’s able to see is you with those tears glistening in your orbs.

Giyu’s heart skips a beat when he begins to realize.

You really mean it. Every word you just said is true.

“But I do feel the same way about you”, he finally replies while cupping your hands with his.

“I just never thought someone like you would fall for someone like me.”

“I would always choose you”, you clarify in an instant.

And then your eyes roll back into your skull, your lifeless body threatens to hit the cold ground.

-later-

“Giyu? Where’s Giyu?”, you croak out before you even open your eyes, your heart hurting so bad that you feel like puking.

What happened? All you’re able to remember is Giyu’s hands intertwined with yours before everything turned black. Or was it just a dream?

“Finally, I was so worried about you, (y/n).”

But no. At this very moment, he still holds onto your hand tightly while looking down at you with his brows furrowed.

“What happened?”

“You were poisoned by a demon and lost consciousness. I carried you to the butterfly estate”, he explains as briefly as ever.

“You…carried me?”

“Of course I did. You were unconscious, like I said.”

“Did we hold hands?”, you blurt out so suddenly that you even scare yourself.

You can feel Giyu sliding back and forth on his chair, eyes avoiding yours at any cost. Oh no, did you make him feel uncomfortable? What if he’s annoyed because of your foolish mistake? You should have never asked him-

“(y/n), do you remember the conversation we’ve had on the battlefield?”, he questions with unspoken hope glimmering inside his orbs.

“I…I don’t remember anything…”, you finally admit.

What did you talk about? Did you insult him? And what about that demon? That thing definitely wasn’t a lower ranked demon.

“You told me you love me.”

Your heart leaves your body and soul behind, glossy eyes staring at him in sheer disbelief. Fuck, did you hear that correctly? You told him you love him?

“I…I said that?”, you stutter.

“I mean…M-maybe I h-hit my head a l-little too h-“

“And I love you too.”

Oh.

This is even more ridiculous.

“You love me?”, you shriek in reply.

“I never thought about the possibility that you might actually like me back. But when that demon poisoned you, when you told me that you love me…I can’t keep this lie up any longer. I love you, (y/n).”

Gently, he wraps his comforting arms around your aching body, allows you to take in his calming scent.

“It embarrasses me that it took a demon to finally say this out loud.”

“But…would you mind telling me what I said?”, you mumble against his neck.

He lifts up your head enough for you to catch a glimpse of his breath-taking smile.

“I’d rather keep these words for myself.

Bonus: Genya Shinazugawa

“Where’s (y/n)!?”, Mitsuri cries out in sheer panic while darting around the estate in a haste.

“(y/n)? I’ve seen her on her way to the hot springs just a few moments ago”, Tanjiro replies in utter confusion.

“Is there somebody else, Tanjiro-kun?”, Mitsuri continues while grabbing Tanjiro’s shoulders roughly.

“Hello, Genya”, you purr.

“(y-y/n)!? What the hell are you doing here, I’m taking a bath!”, Genya cries out with his cheeks already bright red.

But instead of getting lost like he told you to, you let your towel fall to the floor.

And stand in front of him.

Completely naked.

“What are you doing!?”, he shrieks.

In the matter of seconds, he turns himself away from you, his face burning like a thousand fires. Fuck, he’s already flustered when you’re around him in your uniform. But you, butt-naked, in the same hot spring? He’ll definitely die here.

“I needed to see you. There’s actually something I wanted to tell you in a long time, Genya.”

When the water around him starts to move due to you entering the hot spring, he feels like dying out of excitement and fright. You shouldn’t be here together, not when you’re completely naked, not alone. He never prepared himself for something like this to happen, didn’t even allow his mind to wander such places. Fuck, what is he supposed to do?

Suddenly, he finds himself whirled around in your arms, your chest pressed against his.

Your very naked chest.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“What are you doing!?”

“Come on, I saw the looks you were giving me when you thought I wasn’t watching”, you purr while drawing small circles onto his chest.

“I…no…I didn’t mean it…that way…I just think that…that you are awesome. And cute…”, Genya mumbles.

“(Y/N)!”

Another splash, another butt-naked woman that now grabs your shoulders and pulls you out of the water with impressive strength.

“I’m so sorry, Genya! I fear (y/n) mistook the love portion I made for juice!”, Mitsuri bubbles while trying to tame you down.

“CAN THE TWO OF YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE NOW!?”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt @sanemifucker

[weird-is-life]

Can I request a shy reader and Spencer's fic. When the reader works at a flower shop, Spencer comes in there looking for flowers. And the reader goes on a little rant about what he should buy and what each flower means.

Hii lovely, ty for the request! Hope this is okay🙈warnings: use of y/n, fluff, a few swear words, (0.9k)

Spencer needs to buy some flowers for Emily. It's her birthday and he's always brought her flower before, so even if he's already running late to her birthday dinner, he can't not go buy her some flowers.

He goes into the first flower shop, he spots on the way to Emily's apartment and that's where he finds you.

It's almost the closing time, so you are just sitting behind the counter, reading some book. Spencer immediately thinks he's in love.

He swears, you are the prettiest girl, he's ever seen and the fact, that you are too absorbed in your book to even notice him, makes you even more attractive to Spencer.

You finally notice him as he's a few steps away from the counter. You quickly slam the book shut and try not to look too caught off guard.

You weren't expecting anybody to come to the shop anymore and you definitely weren't expecting it to be a very handsome guy.

His messy, curly hair, expensive-looking black suit and the small stubble have you buckling at your knees. You are sure, that if you weren't sitting on the chair, you would be on the ground.

"H-hi," you somewhat compose yourself, "w-what can I help you with?"

He shoots you a smile and you're pretty sure that your cheeks go very red," Hi, I was wondering if I could get some flowers?"

"D-do you have any specific in mind?" you ask, barely holding an eye contact with him. You are shy and he isn't helping your situation at all.

"Ye-...No, I don't. Can you recommend me some?" Spencer literally knows the meaning of every flower you have in this shop, but something about you makes him shut his mouth, so he can stay here longer.

"I can, yes," you smile sheepishly at him, "who are they supposed to be for?"

"My friend, it's her birthday today," you would be lying, if you said that your heart didn't skip a beat at hearing that it's for his friend and not a girlfriend. You thought, that he was getting flowers for his girlfriend.

"W-well, I'd suggest, that you should definitely get some yellow flowers for her. Yellow color represents friendship, would that be okay?" you hesitantly ask. Spencer just nods encouragingly.

"Okay, so we could do some mixed bouquet. Yellow roses are definitely a yes, you can't go wrong with that, they are beautiful and smell amazing. We should also add sunflowers, they represent loyalty and adoration of the friendship. Oh and mums are grest, too. They can really make the bouquet come alive, they are like the spirit of optimism. We could also-," you ramble about each flower, that you put in the bouquet for him.

Spencer listens to your every word with a happy smile, you remind him of himself with your rambling and to be honest, he finds it adorable.

You are done too quickly tho and Spencer finds himself wanting to hear you speak again.

But his phone rings and he doesn't even need to pick up to know, that the team is wondering, where he is.

"Here, i-is this okay?" you hand the insanely pretty bouquet to him. Spencer's grin basically answers your question.

"Thank you, thank you. It couldn't be more perfect. You're a total lifesaver..." he looks at your name tag, "y/n. Thank you, y/n."

You are certain, that your cheeks couldn't be more red as they are right now. Spencer's compliment makes you blush like a fool.

"Oh. I'm..I'm glad, that you like it." You stutter out your response, looking at the ground. You carefully wrap the bouquet in the flower wrapping paper and tell him the price of it.

He pays it and before you can say no, he puts a bigger tip than it's normal into the tip jar.

Spencer then slowly leaves thanking you as he goes. And right before the door closes, it looks like Spencer wants to tell you something else, but in the last second he shakes his head and dissappears.

You wave him a shy goodbye, you are a little disappointed even if you don't really know why. Well okay, maybe you do know why. But you shouldn't have put your hopes up, thinking the handsome stranger felt the spark like you did. And that maybe, only maybe, he'd ask you out.

You sigh and sluggishly start to clean up the counter to finally close the shop and go home. The door bell rings again and your head immediately shoots up.

He runs up to the counter, a little out of breath, "shit, I'm sorry to bother you again. I don't usually do this, like ever, it's just....Would you like to go out with me sometimes? Like for a-a coffee? You can say no of course, hell, I'd totally understand if you said no." Spencer's now the one to rumble.

"I-I'd love to," you, surprising even yourself, reply immediately. Cheeks, of course, burning red.

"It's okay- Wait, really?" Spencer was totally expecting you to reject him.

"Yes, really....." you want to say his name.

"Spencer, my name is Spencer," he quickly understands.

"Spencer, " you try out his name," I'd love to Spencer, here." You bravely scramble your phone number on a piece of paper and give it to him.

Spencer takes it with a huge smile, "I'll call you, " he looks like he wants to stay longer, but looks at his watch and curses under his breath," I'm so late. I gotta go, but I'll call you, I promise."

"Bye, Spencer," you say sweetly and Spencer already knows he's fucked. Not even one date and he knows, he's down bad.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

the art of breaking: part two

the art of breaking, part two: theory of decay

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. this fic contains themes of abuse and extremely dark content.

words: 10k

summary: joel knows just how to make you his forever. a sequel to "the art of breaking"

warnings (new warnings in red) and story under the cut; reader discretion is advised.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, glory hole, reader gives tommy a blowjob (joel and tommy do not touch), body modification, permanent marking, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, whipping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, vaginal, reader x other men, degradation, humiliation, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare, blink and you miss it piss "play," straight up abuse this time guys, overstimulation, forced eating, needles, voyeurism, objectification, human furniture/ashtray, cigarettes, consumption of non-food items, nipple/clit pumps, this one might be worse than the first idk sorry

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it. 

Please read responsibly. 

i. dessication

When he goes to work, he leaves you free to roam the house and do your chores. For shorter trips out, he tends to put you in your cage. There’s no real reason, but it keeps you in a good place. You’re always softer, quieter when he gets back and lets you out. 

He couldn’t do it all the time, of course. There are things needing to be done. Plus, every day, he gets to come home to you knelt, waiting by the door with dinner kept warm. He could afford a housekeeper, but then you’d have nothing to keep your mind and body occupied when he’s away. 

Of course, sometimes he leaves you chained up in the basement. He can’t always be nice, after all. And the thing he loves to come home to most, second only to you kneeling at the door, is your exhausted body still tied where he left it, bearing the marks of his latest pleasure. 

Sometimes, he just leaves you in stocks to contemplate all the raw kisses from his favorite whip. Sometimes, he has you pinned to the table with a vibrator strapped to your clit for the day. On the lowest setting—he’s not a monster. 

Well. It starts on the lowest setting. He can do whatever he wants with it through a handy app. It was the only way Tommy could convince him to upgrade to a smartphone.

But today, you’re just set about neatening up. Neither you nor Joel are messy— though he does have a tendency to empty his pockets wherever he’s standing—and it’s not a huge house. You finish up early and have time to read while supper’s in the oven. 

You’re already kneeling when you hear the key in the door, eyes down, hands behind your back, but you have to tense up not to flinch when you hear a second pair of boots.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” drawls a voice you don’t know. 

The only reason you don’t panic is because Joel’s boots enter your field of vision. You’re intimately acquainted with them—literally—and despite the fresh layer of dirt, you’d know them anywhere. 

“Ooh, damn, she’s good,” says the voice.

Joel chuckles and reaches down to stroke your cheek. “Told ya.” 

You melt a little against his hand, letting the pride in his voice warm you.

He rubs his thumb over your cheek and lets you press a little kiss to the digit before stepping back to take his shoes off and dump the handful of change and crumpled receipts on the foyer table. “C’mon,” he says, snapping his fingers so you know he means you, too.

You resist the urge to look at the stranger, but you don’t like the way he lingers to follow you instead of following Joel. You can feel his eyes on your exposed flesh, the dress just short enough to show off your cunt when you crawl. 

No one has ever come into the house before. At least not when you’re out and about. You don’t know if Joel’s had company while you’ve been in the basement or something; you’ve never even thought about it. All you know is that it’s been a long time since you’ve seen another person. 

It’s terrifying. 

You go to kneel between Joel’s feet, but he stops you. “Turn around,” he says, guiding you with firm hands to face forward. 

He laughs when he sees that you’re still staring very carefully at the carpet. “Y’can look at him; he ain’t gonna bite.”

The other man, who has settled in the armchair facing the couch, laughs too. “I might,” he says.

“No, you won’t.” Joel’s voice goes hard for a moment, and you don’t need to see to know he’s glaring. 

It makes you feel better. So what if someone’s looking at you? Joel’s still protecting you. 

He lifts your chin up so you have to look at the other man. He’s broad, though not as much as Joel, with dark curls and dark eyes that make you feel like he wants to cut you open and see how you tick. 

“This is my little brother, Tommy,” Joel says. “Go tell him hello.” 

“Hello,” you say quietly. 

“C’mon, now, go give him a proper greeting,” Joel nudges you with his foot. You crawl over to Tommy and kneel between his legs. Your gaze darts from him to Joel, teeth worrying at your lip. 

“Don’t embarrass me, girl,” Joel warns.

Tommy lifts your chin with his hand. “He wants you to suck me off. Go ahead.” 

It’s nice, but it’s not his permission you need. You risk one more glance at Joel. 

“You heard him. You got two seconds, sweetheart, before you’re gonna regret it,” he growls.

“You goin’ soft? You usually have ‘em trained better by now,” Tommy teases, but his words have Joel seeing red. 

You sit back. “What?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, did you think you were special?” Tommy says with a nasty smirk. He pats your face. “Poor thing.”

You look at Joel, tears welling up. 

“What, you think I had a house full of equipment that’s never been used? Y’should be grateful. All my toys before you had to suffer some trial and error. I got it perfected now, and you’re wasting it, being a fuckin’ disobedient bitch.” 

You close your eyes tight and choke back a sob. He’s never, ever spoken to you like that before. When you turn back to Tommy, you have your mouth open wide and waiting.

He leans back. “Well? You gonna make me do all the work?”

“Can I use my hands, please?” you say, eyes darting from Tommy to Joel. 

“Great, now you got her all nervous,” Tommy bitches, and Joel rolls his eyes. 

“Go ahead,” Joel tells you gruffly. You’ve been so good. So obedient. Maybe he shoulda warned you that he wanted to show you off. No, he thinks, it’s not his fault. He didn’t owe you a warning. You should just accept it and obey.

You’re shaking when you tug open the button of Tommy’s jeans, fumbling with the zipper. Apparently, it takes long enough that he grunts and knocks your hand away, pulling his cock out. 

It feels like a trap. Joel has not explicitly ordered you to do this. But he doesn’t usually try to trick you. 

“For Christ’s sake,” Tommy snaps, and yanks you forward. You get with the program quickly, wrapping your lips around him and trying to do your best. 

He’s smaller than Joel, but it’s a decent cock. Not that it matters to you. Despite not having to gag on him, you can’t breathe anyway, too preoccupied. Why is Joel doing this? Is he going to punish you for it later? 

And the worst thing, the thing that keeps bouncing around your brain as you try to get Tommy off: What happened to the other girls? Did he get tired of them and kick them out?

Was he not going to keep you?

You don’t notice you’re crying, but Tommy clearly enjoys it. He moans and holds you down as he cums down your throat. You aren’t ready, though, and sputter a little, coughing and leaking his cum down your chest. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel snaps. He gets up off the couch and yanks you away from his brother by the hair. “What the hell's the matter with you today?” 

“I’m sorry,” you cry. 

“Shut up,” he says, and drags you out to the place you visit in most of your nightmares, despite only having been there once in reality. 

The Pit. 

ii. consumption

When he comes to get you in the morning, you’re wrecked. Deflated, no more tears left to pour down your cheeks. For now, at least.  

The sun is against his back when he opens the gate, reaching down for you with one strong arm. Bathed in the golden light, he is every inch your savior, and when you’ve climbed out on shaky legs, you prostrate yourself at his feet the way he likes. 

He’s still mad, though, so he steps one filthy boot on your head and grinds your face into the mud. He pisses on it for good measure, the hot stream dripping down your hair and face onto the soil. 

He’s got a switch in one hand. With you effectively pinned in place, he wastes no time in swinging it down on your ass. 

You scream and sob as he beats you. When he finally stops, when he’s drawn every bit of his anger in welts against your skin, he lifts his boot from your head and squats down. 

“Why d’you have to make me do this?” He’s solemn, sorrowful. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, focusing on controlling the hysterical sobs wrenching from your chest. 

You don’t know what will follow, so you remain still, not daring to move without an order. 

“I should drop you off at a fuckin’ whorehouse,” he mutters. He pulls you up by your hair, and you scramble to your knees. “You can learn to suck who you’re told to suck.”

“Please, sir, please don’t, please—” It’s too much. You stumble, sobs wracking your body hard enough that you can’t move. You collapse in the grass with his hand still holding your head up. 

He lets go, letting you fall. 

You crawl to his boots and kiss them, mud be damned. It wasn’t like you weren’t covered in it anyway. “Please, sir, I’m so sorry, please don’t—” you say between sobs. 

“Please don’t what? You think you’re in any position to be askin’ for anything?”

“Don’t get rid of me, please; I promise I’ll be better; I can be good.”

“I’ll think about it, if you can fuckin’ earn it.”

“Please, please let me try to earn it.”

He squats down and helps pull you to your knees in front of him, cupping your filthy face in both hands. “I don’t wanna send you away. You know I love ya. But if you can’t be good, then what’s the point, baby?”

Your sobs are subsiding out of the pure elation that comes from his gentle touch. “I’ll do anything,” you whisper.

“I know ya will. You don’t really have a choice.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m gonna get you fed and taken care of. But you’re about to have one of the worst days of your fuckin’ life.”

You choke on a sob and sway a little. The fear and the hunger are like a fog over your brain. 

“Hey. Listen t’me.” He holds your hands in one of his. “You’re gonna learn, and it’s gonna be real hard for ya. But at the end of it all— if you take it all like a good girl—you’ll be forgiven. Got it?”

You look up through tear-sodden lashes, lip quivering, and nod your head. 

There’s no part of you anymore that registers an issue. No warning bells, no red flags, no hair raising. 

You follow him to the bottom of the patio steps, where he nudges you to kneel back down, folding over so your face rests against the soil. You wait while he goes inside, unsure of how much time has passed until he comes back out with a plate of eggs, scrambled with cheese and little bits of sausage. 

That raises some alarms. Not to the way he treats you, but more of a signal for what to expect. It’s protein-heavy, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it smells delicious. And there’s no way you’re getting to eat that after behaving so badly. 

You’re half right. He squats down next to you and scoops up a bite with the fork. You don’t take the bait; you know that’s not for you. 

He moans exaggeratedly when he chews, grinning all the while. And then he scrapes the rest off the plate into the dirt in front of your face. 

“Ah, ah. Not yet,” he says, and you close your eyes at the sound of his zipper being yanked down. 

“You get wet from that beating earlier?” he asks.

You nod, even though he’s already reaching down between your legs and shoving his fingers in your cunt. He brings back his shiny hand and strokes his cock. 

“Look at me, baby,” he says, shifting onto his knees so when you open your eyes, you’re faced with his fist pumping away at the red, angry head. “Coulda been you. Shoulda been, but bad girls don’t get what they want.” 

You whimper. It really does hurt your feelings, but you know you have nothing to say for yourself. 

“Open. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and get some fresh.”

You obey immediately, squeezing your eyes back shut as soon as he starts to cum. A little bit lands in your mouth, which you hold open.

“You can swallow that. But don’t eat yet.” 

He walks away, puttering around on the patio. You try to work up the nerve for his command, stomach churning. Maybe it’ll still taste fine. Maybe cold semen and dirt won’t ruin it that much. Maybe. 

If you hadn’t earlier, you believed him now about it being the worst day of your life. He certainly wasn’t starting out small. Sure, you’d eaten off the floor before, but inside the house. The house you clean, so you know how sanitary it is. 

But thinking about doing this makes you want to cry. And when he tells you to get started, you do cry. Just a little. 

“You got about six minutes,” he says, checking his phone for the time instead of the eternally broken watch on his wrist, “and there better not be a single crumb left. Get your ass up here as soon as you’re done.”

You’re not sure how long it takes you, but it must be nearly the whole six minutes, because by the time you’re knelt at his feet on the patio, he says, “Cuttin’ it damn close, sweetheart.” 

He’s playing fucking Candy Crush, legs kicked out on the little wooden table in front of him. He’s got you knelt at his side, and after a few minutes, he digs into his breast pocket and hands you a smushed carton of cigarettes. 

You draw one carefully out of the pack and extend it to him, letting go once he’s pinched it between his lips and pulling out the lighter. Carefully, you ignite the tip for him and tuck it back away. You go to give the carton back, but he shakes his head.

He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth to blow smoke. “Hang onto that for me. And this,” and he hands you his coffee cup. 

It’s not the first time he’s used you as a table. He tried using you as a footrest but found it less satisfying. You try to sit and work through your nerves, try to ignore the terror that he might not keep you if you can’t endure the day. 

It’s a good thing that he drained you of any concept of dignity long ago, cut you open, and let it ooze away like pus from an infection.  

“Open,” he says absently, not bothering to look away from his game.

Your eyes and mouth snap open, and he taps the cigarette against your lip, letting the ash fall onto your tongue. You jerk back a little but correct it immediately.

He quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll give ya a pass this time. But keep your mouth open, tongue out, and don’t fucking swallow.” 

He’s clearly happy to spend the afternoon like this. He goes through a second cigarette and still doesn’t let you swallow or spit. Your knees ache from the planks of the deck. 

He gets up and goes inside for a few minutes, taking his empty coffee cup with him. You don’t dare drop your position, though. 

When he comes back out, he hands you a bottle of beer, condensation already dripping. He resettles to watch the game on his phone. 

Anything resembling hope is trickling out. He hates watching things on the little screen, peering at it through his glasses. But he never smokes inside the house, so he’s resigned himself to this for the sake of your punishment.

It makes you feel less than the ash on your tongue. 

By the time it’s over, your mouth has long gone dry, itching with the ash of four cigarettes, when he stands up and stretches. He leans down and holds your chin before spitting in your mouth.

“There ya go. Swallow.” 

And you do. When you cough a little as the ashes cling to your dry throat, he pries your mouth back open and spits again. 

It helps a little. 

iii. dismemberment

You’d only been in the Pit once before. The first time was arguably your worst offense, which was good, Joel thought, that you still hadn’t topped that misbehavior. 

But as glad as you are that it hasn’t happened a lot, it means you don’t really know what to expect. When he brings you into the ensuite, you know this routine enough that you kneel on the shower floor, barely flinching when he turns only the cold tap, and the faucet sputters to life. 

He never gets in until you’re shivering, so while he gathers fresh clothes and towels, you scrub the mud from your body. When he checks and finds you satisfactory, he turns the knobs until the water runs warm. 

Your shivers don’t subside for a few more minutes, though. Not until you’re practically done cleaning him with the spongey loofah. Hot tears burn in the corners of your eyes, though only a few slip loose.

When he turns around and takes it from you, you thank him for letting you wash him. 

He gives you a smile, hand cupping your cheek.

“Of course, baby. Don’t worry. I’m going to help you remember how to be my good girl.”

But first, before he can follow up on the threat, he washes the mud and piss from your hair with gentle hands, massaging your scalp. You hold still, head tipped back, and let the tears come harder.

He notices but doesn’t comment. It’s normal now, when he takes care of you after a hard punishment. Or, in this case, in the middle of one.

You go to speak, to pour out your regrets and devotion, but he shushes you.

“I want you quiet ‘till I say otherwise,” he says. “Nothin’ outta you unless it’s an emergency. Got it?”

You nod, and he helps you to your feet, drying you with a soft towel and taking care around the raised welts on your ass. There will be some nasty bruises tomorrow, but when isn’t there? Your tits have mottled spots of yellow fading, and the shape of Joel’s hand around your throat basically never leaves. 

He gives your raw, burning skin a sharp smack, sending you off to put on the dress he’s laid out for you.

He tells you nothing, just leads you to the truck. The drive is quiet, apart from the crooning voice on the radio. It’s a bit of a drive, and you park in a broken-up lot surrounded by rusty chainlink fence. He grabs your hand and takes you across the street to a dilapidated building. A cheap banner is tacked above one of the doors. 

Joel hands a bill to a man, who opens the door just enough for you to squeeze in. It doesn’t take long to figure out where you are.

“Been a while since I brought you someplace nice, baby. Hope you like it, ‘cause we’re gonna be here most of the night.”

That’s the understatement of your life. He hasn’t taken you out of the house in over a year. You’re not sure you remember how to exist away from home, clinging to his arm as he leads you through the club.

You can’t decide what will be worse, but you don’t have to wonder for long when he drags you around to an empty stall. He’s not there to use a hole. You’re there to be one. 

He clips your collar to the wall with just enough slack that you could pull back to breathe if the person on the other side doesn’t let you. 

He takes the ring gag out of his pocket and dangles it in front of you. “You need this, or are ya gonna be good?”

“I’ll be good,” you say immediately, a phantom ache in the hinge of your jaw. 

“You sure? ‘Cause if you have to ask later or I have to make that decision myself, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper. 

“Good.” He pats the side of your face, two sharp smacks in lieu of a caress. There will be no softness for you tonight. 

He waits to talk to you until your mouth is full. You look miserable, but you don’t hesitate. It’s not to the standard he’d usually require, but you’re both aware of the hours ahead, so he lets you pace yourself. 

He crouches down near you. “You like that? Some random dirty prick in your throat?” 

You, of course, can’t answer, but your eyes close against the hurt.

“It’s fucking disgusting. You think I want to let just anyone use you? I could fuck any hole I want. I could go out there and have every cunt and ass and mouth. You know why I won’t?”

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t try to answer, don’t stop what you’re doing. 

“Because they ain’t you, sweetheart. You’re my perfect girl. Nicest I’ve ever had. And if I got something this nice, and I don’t share it with my brother? You don’t even suck him off right? How do you think that made him feel, baby?”

He keeps it up, past the point where he feels like carrying on, but he can tell it’s wearing you down faster than the relentless facefucking. You’re starting to work your jaw, joints popping in between visitors, but even that doesn’t compare to the way you’ve started to shake when he’s scolding you.

“I know you’re tired, baby. I hope you remember this fuckin’ lesson because I’m not sacrificing two nights of sleep again to repeat it.”

You whimper around the stranger’s cock, which encourages them to fuck into you harder. But Joel knows the tears in your eyes aren’t from that. 

“Yeah, you were bein’ selfish, huh? I couldn’t fuckin’ sleep with you out there, and now I’m up all night with you here.”

There it was, he thought, watching you break. A little too early; it was going to be tough to keep you going. But nothin’ did you in like the thought of having hurt him in the process. 

And it was true. He never slept with someone out in The Pit. Too fuckin dangerous. He kept watch on a camera. He needed you scared and sorry, not dead. 

He watches as you choke down the stranger’s seed, looking like you might retch. He shuts the little sliding door for a few minutes and gives you some water. After you’ve rehydrated and seem a little less green, he opens it back up.

“Alright, get ready for the next round.”

In the truck on the way home, he keeps you tucked close to his side. Between the dark, empty highway and his coat wrapped around you, you start to doze off. 

He nudges you a little. “None of that now. Ain’t finished with you yet.”

You whimper, not in protest but in exhaustion. Despite how hard you try to fight it, you’re fast asleep when he pulls into the driveway. 

He thinks about waking you up anyway, to follow through on his word. He carries you inside and up to the bedroom, still deliberating, but when he tries to set you down on the bed, you cling to him desperately, even in your sleep. He manages to wriggle the coat off you and lays down beside you. He’ll just let you both rest for a little while.

You wake up, mid-afternoon, shaking all over. Joel awakens moments later, eyes wide as he tugs on your arm to roll you over. 

“Oh, baby,” he says, and moves to get out of the bed. “Knew I shouldn’t have let you go to sleep.”

But you grab onto him, lip trembling. 

He knocks your hand away. “I‘ll be right back, jus’ hold on.”

You’re curled into yourself, sobbing, when he gets back three minutes later. 

He hands you a water bottle anyway. “Sit up; you need to eat. It’ll help.”

Somehow, you find the strength to struggle and wriggle your body into sitting. He brings you to lean against his chest while he leans against the headboard. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a kiss pressed to your head. 

You start crying hard all over again. 

“I know. M’sorry. I should have talked to ya last night, huh? S’that what you’re all worked up about?”

You nod. There you are, sitting in his bed, when you hadn’t fucking earned it. But he doesn’t shove you off or hurt you for it; he just feeds you a protein bar and lets you sip at the water between bites. 

After he’s given you the last of the bar, he has you slide down to your knees by the side of the bed.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I disobeyed and embarrassed you.” 

“I didn’t ask you what you did wrong.”

“Oh,” you say softly, and have to think. “I didn’t understand, at first. That you wanted me to suck his cock.”

“And after you did?”

“I—” you don’t want to say it. You know he’s going to be mad. He doesn’t like when you question things like this.

“Is this because Tommy said you weren’t special? ‘Cause you know better.” 

“No, I just… why did you get rid of the others? What did they do?” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, and cups your face in one hand. “I don’t think that’s anything you gotta worry about. Not anymore.”

“But how will I know how to do better?”

“You already are. None of ‘em ever made it this far. They talked big talk but couldn’t back it up. Some of ‘em didn’t want to give up the things you have, some of ‘em couldn’t handle my expectations. I told you, you’re the nicest thing I’ve ever had. You’ve let me make you exactly the way I want you to be.”

“Even though I was so bad the other night?”

“Yep. Because you took every consequence, and I know you’ve learned your lesson. And you’ll probably fuck up again someday. But if you keep wantin’ to be better, I’ll keep teachin’ ya.” 

You can’t help but cry again. You’re so tired and so tired of crying. 

“What, were you worried I was gonna replace you with some new young thing someday?”

You nod, and he clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“I’m gettin’ old, sweetheart. I don’t want to keep breakin’ in toys that ain’t worth my time. I just finished puttin’ you back together exactly the way I like ya. You stay my good girl, and you’ll be mine ‘till I die.” 

It doesn’t stop your tears.

“Hey,” he says. “What do you need?”

It startles you. “What?”

“What do you need? What’s gonna make you feel better, baby?” 

You’re not sure when the last time you’ve had to think about something like that is. He’s been taking care of you for so long now. 

“Whatever you want,” you say. 

“No, baby, that’s not what I’m asking.”

“That’s my answer, though,” you realize. “I need to feel whatever you want me to.”

“God damn,” he whispers. “I fucked you up, huh?”

Your lip trembles.

“No, baby, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just kinda incredible. Jesus. How could you think I’d ever get rid of you? There’s not a fuckin’ bit of you that isn’t mine.” 

Your cheeks burn, so you bury your face into his palm and press a kiss to the center. 

“You want to know what I want, is that right?”

You nod. 

“I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth. And then I want to order us some fuckin’ takeout and eat it in the bath.”

It makes you smile just a little. 

“Yeah? That sound good, baby?” His thumb rubs against your cheek. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, open up for me.”

You wrangle yourself into position. The initial weight and taste of him sends warmth through your bones for the first moment since he dragged you outside. 

It’s sloppy, the way he fucks your throat, in a way it usually isn’t. It’s always messy, but his thrusts are erratic. You can’t keep up with his pace because there simply isn’t one. It’s not long before he’s holding you down and pumping his cum down your throat.

It trickles down and cleanses everything in its path. You’re lighter, like you can breathe again. You thank him sweetly, pressing a kiss to his twitching cock. 

He’s panting, but strokes your cheek with one hand. “That’s my good girl. Feel better now that I washed all those other guys outta your mouth?” 

Technically, he had done that last night, had shoved three soap-covered fingers in your mouth in the gross club bathroom. Wretchedly, it had the side effect of making you nauseous, and he had insisted on doing it over after you threw up.

But this felt more pure to him, more consecrational in a way. The soap might have cleared the actual evidence away, but his come was your wine and wafer. 

“Yes, sir,” you say into the flesh of his thigh where your head rests. You kiss there for good measure, eliciting a pleased hum from him that sends you preening a little. 

He lays back on the bed, leaving a hand on the top of your head to stroke your hair while the other gropes around for his phone. “What do you want, baby? Lo mein?” 

“Oh, yes, please.” 

He feeds you noodles in the bath and then eats you out until you fall asleep. 

iv. reduced to bone

You’re on your knees in the basement, bent forward over a metal pipe placed at just the right height to nestle into your hips and keep them tilted up in the air. Stocks hold your head and wrists in place, tits hanging just below. The wood is slowly dampening as you drool around the ring gag. 

“Got a surprise for you, baby,” he had said when he led you down. “You know how you keep beggin’ me to hurt you worse, and I have to keep tellin’ you I’m not tryin' to wear you out?”

“Yes, sir?” 

“Well, I think you’re going to like this.”

That had been… well, you’re not entirely sure. A while ago, maybe, but your brain wasn’t the best judge of time right now. After he had secured you here, he had dragged out the little machine. It’s sitting under your torso somewhere, thin clear tubing stretching out like a web he’d caught you in. 

There’s no noise but the hum of it, which you’ve gone pleasantly numb to. The pressure is unending, each nipple and your clit being tugged into the tiny cups relentlessly. 

It tingles, just on the side of too gentle to be fulfilling on its own. That’s okay. You’re pretty sure you’ll be in delicious, mind-shattering agony soon. 

This you know because, well, it’s Joel, but also because of the tools he’s laid out on the little wheeled cart and left for you to stare at. 

A thin cane. Clover clamps with a length of chain. A tawse with a tapered, pointy tip. A wand. 

It makes you dizzy to look at. 

Also, you know because it’s a Friday night. Joel enjoys you however he likes any day of the week, but he’s careful about saving the deepest of his cruelties for Fridays. Because mind-shattering wasn’t really an exaggeration. When he gets like this, you sometimes don’t surface enough to take care of yourself for a day or two.

On those occasions, he never leaves you alone. Doesn’t want to, both because he loves when you need him that deeply and because you’re so soft and pliant. Truthfully, he thinks he could do anything to you then and you’d thank him for it. 

Which is why he’s got Tommy coming over tomorrow. It’s not that he thinks you need to be out of it to avoid a repeat of last time. He knows you learned your lesson and you’ll be good. 

But he’s got something special in mind that he needs help with. It’ll just be easier for everyone if you’re at your most agreeable. 

And yeah, you owe Tommy a blowjob. One of the ones that make Joel feel like he mighta died and somehow gotten through the pearly gates by the grace of your devotion. 

Plus, he’s pretty sure you’re going to love his plan, and he wants you unprepared, so you’ll cry real pretty and be truly desperate to show him your appreciation. It’s been on his mind since that night a few months back when you didn’t seem to believe him about never letting you go. 

He’s never fucking letting you go. There’s nothing in this world that could take you from him. He’s made sure of it. 

Sometimes, he has to remind himself that you don’t know you’re married. 

He thought about telling you that night, so you’d understand the depth of the commitment he’s made. But he doesn’t want you to take it the wrong way. Doesn’t want you thinking you need to act like a wife . 

He’d had a whole bucket of bullshit cooked up to excuse it, but when he told you to sign the paper, you hadn’t questioned it. Hadn’t questioned that you couldn’t see what it was, only the line where he pointed. You’d signed the fucking paper and never asked a goddamn thing. 

He was glad. He didn’t like lying to you. This was just one of those hoops to jump through in a world that didn’t understand what you shared. 

When he comes back down, your eyes are already glazed over. Your body shines with a thin layer of sweat, and your chest is heaving as you squirm. It’s gone beyond gentle. The waves of suction have you whimpering soft and high, barely louder than a breath, but nearly constant. 

He chuckles and strolls over, crouching down to wipe the sweat off your brow with the bandana from his pocket before it gets in your eyes. You give him a truly pathetic look, eyes wide as you drool helplessly. 

“Not so nice now, huh?” 

You whine. 

He strokes your cheek with an exaggerated pout before sliding two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the back of your tongue. It tries to curl around them, eliciting another cruel laugh. 

“Jesus, girl. S’there anything that would stop ya from gagging for my cock?”

You shake your head. Even if you weren’t spread by the ring gag and choking on his fingers, you’re beyond speech. Too far deep. 

Joel actually doesn’t mind when you talk. He’s got no rules restricting your speech (well, most of the time). As long as you’re respectful, he likes the company. 

But he really likes when you go quiet like this. When he’s pushed you so far that you can’t . 

“Look at you, all worked up. We haven’t even gotten started, baby. You gonna be able to take it?”

You nod, whining, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes them on your cheek. 

“What was that, baby? Couldn’t quite understand ya.”

Tears spring to your eyes as you whine again. 

“I’m just teasin’,” he says and kisses your forehead. “I got ya. I know you’re gonna be my good girl and take everything I fuckin’ want.”

He reaches down and tugs the tubing until the cups pop free of your breasts. You cry out, but it turns into a desperate moan when he tugs the one off your clit. 

Yeah, he coulda turned the pump off first so they just fell off, but where’s the fun in that? 

He’s grinning wickedly as he reaches back up to your breast. He barely, just barely, brushes over the side of your nipple, and the sound you make goes right to his cock. 

“Fuck, you’re so swollen.” He has to remind himself he’s playing the long game; he just wants to pinch and pull so badly. He’s pretty sure you’ll scream, even though normally it wouldn’t be much at all. 

But he wants to fuckin’ torture you tonight, so he’s going to drag it out. He wants you incoherent and beaten down when he’s done, so far gone you’ll stay there for days. 

So he’s gotta start soft. He drags his fingertip around your areola, not quite brushing the nipple but tracing the ring left behind by the cup. You twitch, shoulders jerking back, and he grips your breast. 

“None of that, now,” he croons, letting go and switching sides to torment your other breast. 

It’s holy, in that way you never quite understood. Not like the Jesus kind, though you never were much for church either, but in the way that people chase salvation through empty bottles and sharp needles. 

With the wand and the tawse, he breaks you down again and again and again. But that’s the thing about Joel. He reduces you to pain or pleasure or the delicious apex of both that brews between your thighs, and then he cleans you back up, puts the pieces back where he likes them.

He makes you come until you cry, and then, when you’re sobbing and exhausted, that’s when the night really begins. You’re twitching and jerking at the barest contact, writhing with every snap of the cane. 

It’s so, so good. Until it isn’t. But he’s running that damn mouth of his, that sweet, filthy mouth, and you can’t not take it. Your tears are gone, all run out; he likes to wring you dry. And he keeps rubbing his hand over your hypersensitive flesh, already raw and ruined, and murmuring soft words and sweet taunts. 

“Look at you,” he croons. “My pretty little toy. You’re so beautiful, suffering for me like this, baby.”

And so you do. You suffer for him. There’s nothing left in your little subby brain right now but Joel Joel Joel. 

You’re dry. He almost can’t believe it. The only time you’ve not been a sloppy, soaking mess was when he broke your finger. 

He whistles low and slow. “Shit, baby. Guess you have some limits after all, huh.” 

It’s impressive that you can even lift your head enough to shake it weakly. An overwhelming fondness washes over him. 

“ Aw. Takin’ it for me anyway, were ya?” He comes around and squats near your head, unhooking the gag and easing it out of your mouth. He rubs gentle circles on the hinges of your jaw as you whimper.

“Did so good for me, baby. Lemme get you outta there, and I’ll give you my cock.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, but you don’t have a voice. The words don’t come together in your mind, just devastation.

His grip turns tight, forcing you to look at him. “No? You tellin’ me no?”

You shake your head again, lip quivering. 

“You don’t want my cock?”

You shake your head harder and try to reach for him, hands flexing where they’re bound in the stocks. Trying to make him see just how bad you want his cock. 

Luckily, he understands that much. “You wanna stay there? Baby, my knees ain’t gonna like fuckin’ you here.” But he can tell from the way your face crumples that he still isn’t quite getting it. 

“Are you tryin’ to tell me you want me to keep goin’?” 

You nod and he slaps you, a sharp strike that catches you by surprise.

“Stupid girl,” he says, scowling, and gripping your chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger. “I decide when we’re done. The whole point of this was not to ruin ya. This ain’t a punishment. Well, it wasn’t. Might be, next time.” 

He stands up, shaking his head. “Dumb fuckin’ cunt.”

It hurts worse than the cane did. 

When he sees the heartbreak on your face, he sighs. “Ah, shit. Look, I know you’re just tryin’ to please me. But you’re makin’ me feel bad for tryin’ to be careful with ya. If I take it too far today, you won’t be able to take as much anymore. I ain’t breakin’ you.” 

You’re sobbing too hard to respond, but you don’t try to argue or struggle when he releases you. You crawl to lay kisses to the toes of his boots and nuzzle your cheek against them.

He sees it for the apology it is. 

v. parched to dust

This time, when Tommy Miller takes out his cock in front of you, you’re ready. And there’s no way in hell you’re disappointing Joel again, so you wrap your lips around him, not quite eagerly but with enough determination that no one could fault you.

When you drag the second consecutive orgasm from him, he tugs you away with a fist in your hair, panting and gasping. Joel swats his hand away and beckons you back to his lap. 

“ Jesus,” Tommy finally says, tucking himself back into his jeans. 

“Told ya it was just a bad day,” Joel snipes. 

“Sorry,” Tommy says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shoulda figured. It’s just… you’re a little soft for her, yeah?”

“Course I am. But I’m not soft on her.”

You know he loves you. You do. But hearing him admit that he’s soft for you makes your chest ache. 

“Got another surprise for ya, baby,” Joel says, rubbing his hand over your back. 

You’re overwhelmed. It’s not that he doesn’t give you things or do things for you; it’s that it’s never such a big deal. It just is . He takes care of you. That’s how this works. Not gifts and surprises. 

You bite your lip so you don’t question it, but he sees through you.

“Now I know you don’t remember. D’you even know what day it is?” 

“Saturday,” you say. “You’re home.” 

He shakes his head, but it’s betrayed by the smirk. “You’re right, baby. But what’s the date?”

You actually have to think for a minute. You hadn’t crossed off the calendar this morning like you usually did, and yesterday’s activities have you a little rattled. “It’s um, it’s August 19th?”

“That’s our anniversary, baby.”

Your brows scrunch as you try to think back. That’s not right. Your first date was in February. You moved in sometime early in June. You’re not sure what his metric is, but August doesn’t make sense. “Um. Are you… are you sure?” 

He doesn’t get mad like you thought he might. He just laughs. “Course, I’m sure, baby. It was the night we came home from your folks’. When you agreed to be mine.”

Your face heats. “I’m sorry—”

“Y’ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about, baby. I didn’t expect ya to remember. But you’ve been mine for two years now, and you’re still worried I ain’t gonna keep you. But I’ve been thinkin’, and I know how to prove it to you.” 

If this doesn’t convince you, he thinks, nothing will. Never mind that his whole goddamn life revolves around you. Never mind that you’ve worn his collar for the last 731 fuckin’ days. 

You’re busy wondering why he made you suck another man’s cock today if he cares about your anniversary. But then again, you’ve long accepted that what he wants won’t always make sense. It’s not your job to make it make sense. It’s just your job to do it. 

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs,” he says. 

You swallow hard around the sudden fear, and he laughs. 

“What? Had enough yesterday?”

“No, sir,” you say. It’s mostly the truth. Mostly. 

He shakes his head. “Not today. C’mon.”

Now that he moves, you follow. 

Tommy’s already in the basement, which almost gives you pause, if only because his movement startles you. 

Joel has you hop up on the padded table instead of the metal one, typically a sign that either you’re going to be here for a well-extended time or that he’s going to fuck you on it. 

Tommy’s setting things you don’t recognize out on the little cart, but you don’t try very hard to look. Looking makes your breathing get a little ragged, so you look at Joel instead. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, bending slightly to give you a kiss before he begins to slowly circle the table, fastening straps over your body. 

He’s left the dress on, which is weird, too, but you’re not complaining. It’s always a little chilly down here and even though you know you shouldn’t, you’re glad he’s not made you bare yourself completely in front of Tommy. 

It’s a lot of straps. You watch curiously, if not a little dazed, as he secures your ankles, thighs, stomach, chest both above and below your breasts, arms in three places, neck, and head. 

The one around your neck clips to your collar, not adding another band or choking you. But you’re unable to lift your head and neck at all. 

When he’s done with the strap across your forehead, he smooths away the worry lines that crease beneath it. 

“Just need ya to hold real still. You’re probably going to like this, but don’t fuckin’ come.”

“Yes, sir.” Your eyes are wide and worshipful as you wait for further commands. 

“Be real good for Tommy, okay?”

Your heart pounds in your throat, but you promise immediately. 

He hops up to sit on the spanking bench nearby. 

“Where first?” Tommy says. 

“Hip,” Joel says, settling in to watch. 

Tommy goes about his business and pulls the bottom halves of the table apart, wrenching your legs open slowly. He spreads them wide and slides a stool over, situating himself right up by your cunt, and flips the hem of your dress up over your belly button. 

You whimper and try to look at Joel for any indication of how you’re supposed to behave, but the restraints don’t allow enough wiggle room. 

Something cold smears across the front of your left hip, and, much to Joel’s surprise, you break. You’re still raw in more than one way from the previous day. 

“Please, sir,” you blurt, lip trembling and eyes squeezed tight. 

He hops down, brow furrowed, and comes closer, raising a hand to Tommy to pause him. 

He cups your face. “Please, what, baby?” His other hand rubs up and down your side. 

You force your eyes open to look at him, blurred through waiting tears. 

“Please, can I have a gag?” you say. Your eyes are scrunched, and fists clenched. 

He strokes his hand over your cheek. “‘Course you can. Good girl.”

The praise keeps you calm while he steps away. When he comes back, you open your mouth wide, and he settles it between your lips. 

You nearly cry in relief when you feel the little bulb press inside, not much different than the head of his cock. A few tears spill over when he leans down to kiss your forehead. 

“Atta girl, he says, pinching your chin before returning to his perch. 

The warmth of his touch lingers, and you let the pressure of the gag distract you from where Tommy starts to move again. You suck on it steadily, eyes fluttering shut when you feel the unmistakable scrape of a blade across your hip. 

Shaving. He’s shaving you. You can’t fathom why, with only peach fuzz reaching there. And you think maybe it’d be a cold day in hell before Joel let anyone shave your pubic hair. He liked it kept trimmed but not too neat. 

“I’m from the seventies, baby. Women’re supposed to have a nice healthy bush,” he had told you fairly early on when you were just dating. He hadn’t told you to stop shaving and waxing, but of course, you had. 

Warm water washes over the area with a washcloth not far behind. Tommy’s firm hand does a final sweep with something cold. 

“Alright, honey,” Tommy says, his voice almost seeming fond , “just hold still and be a good girl, okay?” 

As if you’d do anything else. 

You startle a little at the loud buzz that kicks up, and Tommy rubs gloves fingers over the opposite hip for just a moment. 

And then he gets to work. It hurts . But the pain clues you into what’s going on, and you come to the only logical conclusion: Joel’s having you tattooed. 

You start to cry, the feeling of being loved and owned overwhelming. You don’t hear Joel’s chuckle, buried as it gets under the gun in Tommy’s hands. 

You thought it was overly cautious of him earlier, to worry about you having an orgasm during anything involving Tommy. But you get it now. The pain itself is bearable, almost delicious, but the rush of euphoria in your veins from the mere concept is intoxicating. 

It goes on and on. Maybe it’s only half an hour. Maybe it’s four. The pain cycles, fading to a soothing heat before building back up to a scald. 

You don’t realize it’s over right away. The buzz of the gun plays on in your brain even when the room falls quiet. And Tommy’s doing something to it, probably wiping it down, but your skin still rages. 

Joel hops down and comes over to the side of your left leg. “Shit, that’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says to his brother. 

“Looks damn good. Hey, she’s got a real pretty pussy, huh?” He says, elbowing Joel. “S’funny, watchin’ her leak all over.”

Joel peers over, running a finger over your cunt, and laughs. “Knew you’d like that,” he says.

You whimper. 

He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo. “Want to see, baby?” He asks though he’s already turning the screen to you. 

The skin is red and irritated, but the ink takes your breath away. In shiny black, right there on your hip, sits a blocky “JM” surrounded by a circle. It looks like a fucking brand. 

Your eyes fly to his, whining desperately and praying he understands. A sly grin spreads across his face, and the tip of his middle finger traces oh so gently up your slit. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says, not bothering to touch you further. He knows you won’t need it. 

Vision blacking out, you writhe uselessly against the restraints as the pleasure batters through you. You’re only vaguely aware that the loud keening sound is coming from you, but it’ll register later when you feel the raw ache in your throat. 

Tommy whistles. “Sorry I doubted you, princess.”

You whine through the aftershocks, tears welling up again at the thought of the tattoo. You hope Tommy would leave so Joel will fuck you. 

Then you remember him asking, “Where first?” just as Tommy drags his stool around to the right side of your torso. 

Joel comes with him, rolling up his sleeves and tinkering with something on the cart. They both touch your arm a lot, fingers roving and adjusting you. You start to tune it out until Tommy lathers a spot on the inside of your wrist. 

Once it’s been shaved and cleaned, someone presses something against the spot for a moment. 

“Well?” Joel says. 

“Lines look clear to me,” Tommy says. He’s leaning close to your arm. 

Joel doesn’t walk away this time. As the gun kicks back to life, he stays with his hand resting on your upper arm, looming over Tommy’s shoulder. 

It’s easier this time, now that you know what to expect. It hurts, but you’ve had worse and probably will again. You’re feeling a bit too dizzy, though, when it finally stops. 

“This one’s for you to see,” Joel says, starting to unlatch the straps. He frees your arm first and then your head and neck, plus the gag. The ache makes itself known as soon as you shift a little. 

You peer immediately at your wrist, and a strange clenching tears through your chest. A few inches below your palm lays the dark outline of Joel’s thumbprint. 

“Oh,” you whisper, a strange tingling spreading through your limbs. “Oh.” 

“Knew you’d like it,” he says, lips curling into a smug smirk. 

Once you’re untethered, he peels your dress off so the fabric won’t brush against your hip. 

“There’s a protein bar and a bottle of water on the coffee table,” Joel says. “Go eat and wait by my chair.”

You’re swaying a little but he helps you down and makes sure you can stay on your feet before he removes his hands from your waist. 

You make your way upstairs in a daze. Truthfully, you don’t really remember it. When they come upstairs, you’re knelt in your place, wrapper and empty bottle on the table. 

“Good girl,” Joel says, lowering himself with a little groan into his recliner. He shifts around and pulls his cock out. “C’mere.”

You hop up immediately, and he takes you by the waist to help you settle where he’s fully hard already.

“Don’t move,” he says, to your great disappointment. “None of that,” he scolds at your pout. “It’s my turn. Just relax.”

Tommy sets the gun and equipment up to the side of the chair. You settle against Joel’s chest, snuggling in and resting your head on his shoulder so you can watch. 

Joel’s other hand, the one not waiting in place, comes up to cup the back of your head. He bends his head down to kiss where he can reach. “You’re being so good. Just a little bit more, and then you can take this cock.”

“Do not come on her tattoo, Joel,” Tommy says. 

Joel laughs, but Tommy smacks his arm. “I’m serious. It’ll fuck it up and probably infect it. Don’t fuckin’ do it.”

“I’ll wait ‘till it’s healed, don’t worry.”

You moan and clench around him at the idea, which only encourages his pleased chuckling. 

Tommy takes your hand, peeling it from where it rested against Joel’s chest, idly brushing through the hair there. You let him, letting it go limp and unresistant.

He presses your thumb against an ink pad and pushes it down on a piece of paper, rolling it carefully. He repeats the process a few times before he’s satisfied. Wiping it clean, he coats it one more time before pressing it against Joel’s wrist.  

You stare, rapt, as he traces the lines of your fingerprint onto Joel’s thick arm, framed by dark hair. It sits in parallel to the watch on his other wrist. 

“Where d’you want these?” Tommy says after he’s wrapped up and started to pack away the equipment. He’s holding the papers where they tested your print.

“The safes. One in each office,” Joel says. 

It’s weird, certainly, but so is Joel, so you don’t give it much thought. 

He’s cradling your face in his palm, looking at you with something so tender and ferocious that you can’t possibly look away. He thrusts up into you, his other hand tight on the hip opposite the tattoo.

It hurts, but, well, you don’t mind. 

The way he fucks you open now is slow, cruel after making you sit still for so long, but he’s savoring it. Savoring the way you can’t help but stare at him in worshipful bliss. It’s like a drug, the way his attention makes you hazy. He’s got you hooked, addicted, right where he wants you. His. 

Not a damn part of you that isn’t. 

The smirk curls across his face, and his hand curls around your neck, abandoning the gentle caress for something you both understand as love. You come on his cock when he tells you, every time he tells you, as he leaves you gasping and clutching his forearm, not prying him away but holding on as the room spins. 

When he fills you, he kisses you deeply, hand back around your throat as his mouth takes the rest of your air. You collapse against his chest when he lets go, and he holds you there with a smug, satiated smile and a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You doze in and out in his lap as he and Tommy share a bottle of bourbon. 

“Damn, I shoulda brought Daisy over. You haven’t had someone for her to play with in a while,” you hear Tommy say through the fog of your brain.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Joel says. His hand is scratching at your scalp and it feels so good you almost forget Tommy is talking.

“... my wife and your little pet—” he’s saying.

You don’t mean to open your eyes, but you catch his as soon as you do. He laughs. “Yeah, I got a wife. I’m not as mean as my brother, here.” 

You find that hard to believe, but also, you don’t really think of Joel as mean. He’s strict, sure, and he has high expectations. But he takes such good care of you, and you want for nothing. 

The phrase stirs something odd in your head. Do you want for nothing? Well, it’s at least partially true. You don’t want anything, not a thing you have or don’t have. You’re happy with whatever Joel gives. 

It’s probably the same thing. Besides, you wanted that career; you wanted to put on a face, a mask, and pretend to be someone who gave a shit about the company’s reputation. And you were wrong, so wrong. And Joel’s always been right. So what do you know about what you want?

Joel’s rumbling voice startles you a little where you’re tucked against his chest. “She was one ‘a mine, y’know,” he says to you. 

Tommy’s wearing a sly grin. “Yeah, until you scared the shit out of her,” he says, laughing. “Poor little thing didn’t know what to do with herself.” 

“She wasn’t like you,” Joel says. He waits as if he expects a reaction, but you don’t stir from your safe place in his arms. 

“Nah, not everyone’s as fucked up as y’all,” Tommy says. “I ain’t a sadist,” he says to you, a glint in his eye. “Don’t get me wrong, I do love puttin’ her in her place, but mostly, I just like havin’ my pretty little wife at home.” 

Joel’s watching you; you can feel the heft of his gaze. But you’re so blissed out, so calm right here in his lap, dripping his seed slowly around where his cock still fills you. 

“Would that bother you? Playin’ with a girl who used to be Joel’s?” Tommy goads.

You think about it for a moment. “She ever get his mark?”

Tommy grins, teeth like a shark. “Nope.”

You hum, unbothered, and nuzzle your cheek against Joel.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “Knew you’d learn this time.” 

You gaze at his thumbprint on your arm. The cells around it will grow and die, but not his claim on you. 

It’s almost comforting, you think, that by the time that fades, there’ll be nothing left of you anyway. 

bonus: the art of breaking playlist

thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who asked for a part two and expressed love for the first. I will admit I am INCREDIBLY nervous to publish this both because it's kind of fucked up but also because so many of you loved the first part and I'm scared this won't live up to your expectations.

please, if you enjoyed this, let me know! soothe my anxiety lol. and if you don't want to publically do so, anon is always on.

i love you!

[al-of-the-stars]

Hello, I saw this post and I wanted to ask if you could do a one shot as a Vox x reader, where Vox has been neglecting reader after Alastor appeared and reader started acting cold towards him and he only then did he notice and tries to make it up to them. You can use any gender but you don’t have take this request! Thank you for listening and I hope you do well!

"He's the past, you're my future"

A/n: Hi, Anon! Thank you for the request! This is the first fic I've ever posted publicly so I'm not sure if it's good or not so if you have any feedback, feel free to let me know! Sorry its not very long, I tend to write shorter stories. I hope you enjoy!! :D

Another day goes by alone. This has been happening ever since the Radio Demon returned. You thought Vox would be over his childish rivalry by now but you were proven wrong when the CEO had spent over a week trying to find some way to beat that old-timey prick. It felt like he had no time for you. It was always scheme after scheme, plan after plan. Did he just forget about you? Well then, why should you waste your time on someone who doesn't care? Someone who will forget about your entire existence to defeat some deer looking bitch? If he wants distance, then that's what you'll give. While you were lost in thought, Just then, you heard a knock at your door.

“Y/n, may I come in?” You know that voice, it's one you've grown fond of over the years. The voice that you love now feels bittersweet, like sour candy. After he left you alone for that long, your only interactions throughout those days being just a simple “hi” when you stumbled upon each other in the halls of the Vee building, you just can't handle another day of being another acquaintance.

“Yes, Vox, you may,” you say coldly. The sound of the door opening fills the silent room and the overlord walks in. Vox walks over to where you sat scrolling mindlessly through your phone. Usually, you would greet him with a hug and kiss but today was different. Vox had a confused look on his face, a look that made you want to just stop the act and go tackle him in a hug but you can't give up that easily, not even when he looks at you like a kicked puppy.

“Hey,”

“Are you… alright? You're acting strange today, darling,” Vox grabbed Your hands, careful not to accidentally hurt you with his claws.

“Of course I'm alright, not like you care. Isn't this what you wanted?” You pull your hand away. Vox had a look of realization that soon turned into one of guilt.

“Shit…” He cursed under his breath “Y/n, I'm so, so sorry I just.. I don't know.. I was just really caught up with dealing with Alastor and I… I'm so sorry..” His extensive rambling was cut off by a kiss. If it hadn't, who knows how long he would have apologized to you for? You would probably be there all day.. and you did also desperately want to kiss him again.

“I forgive you, but it better not happen again,” you say with a smile.

“It won't, I promise, love,” he lifted your hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss. “He's the past, you're my future,” He gently grabbed Your hand and gave it a soft kiss. “And I refuse to let the past get between me and my future.. I love you, y/n. I love you more than you could ever imagine,”

“I love you too, Vox” you smile. He didn't forget, and he never would.

[miyuuuki]

How about a fic where male reader goes out with they're husband to a sanrio store

✦ SANRIO ~ ♡ !

PAIRING: M!OC/M!READER

SYNOPSIS: your rich husband lets you spend money on your favorite thing, Sanrio.

A/N: Oc name is Osoro Rio!

“Hun, why are we going to the mall at 10 in the morning..?” Osoro asked tiredly.

“They’re having a sale! All Sanrio being 30% off! I can’t miss out!” you said excitedly, dragging him too the mall.

“Hun… the store doesn’t open till 12…” Osoro said.

“Oh..” you said, stilling at the realization.

“Oh well, I can spend money on other things in the mall!” You said happily, dragging him once more much to his dismay.

“Ooh, they have boba! Let’s go get some!” You said excitedly seeing a boba stand, running towards it.

“Hun, calm down you’re dragging me like a ragdoll…” Osoro tried saying, but you ignored already ordering two, memorizing his order.

“Seriously, a clothing shop? Hun, you have like a thousand outfits at home..” Osoro said looking around.

“So? Thrifting is fun, and better clothes then those designer companies. Barely know anything about fashion.” You argued back and eventually grumbling.

Osoro turned his head, before being appalled at the sight. You had your shopping cart already was 1/3 full.

You’ve been here for three minutes.

“Hun, you don’t think you’re getting a bit too much..?” He asked, still appalled.

“Nope.”

“I’m paying for all of this aren’t I..?”

“Mhm!” You confirmed.

“You’re also carrying everything!”

“Oh come on, (N/N)!”

“H-hun, a-are ya d-d-done?” Osoro shakily asked eyeing your cart, which was FULL. Full as in all the clothes were spilling out.

You looked around, before nodding.

“Guess I am, let’s go check out.” you mumbled.

The total was $987.87.

When you went to checkout, it was 11:20. Now it’s 11:56.

“Hun.. it’s 11:56.” Osoro mumbled, barely being able to hold on all the bags.

“The sales gonna start soon!” You gasped in excitement running away, leaving Osoro in the dust.

“Hun- wait for me..!” Osoro yelled after you.

“I’m just gonna drop everything to the car and come back..” Osoro sighed as he walked towards the exit.

Walking into the store, he realized how big it was. He turned his head and saw a depressed cashier, that was on the verge of passing out.

“Dang he looks rough..” Osoro mumbled, before walking ahead into the sanriotopia.

“Hmm… Sanrio nails, bags, supplies, ooh rings!” Osoro exclaimed.

Osoro took one that he deemed would fit you. He turned his head to look for you before seeing the same employee being yelled at by a Karen.

“My daughter wants that bag with the green frog on it! Tell that man to give it back!”

“Ma’am, I can’t do that. He got it first, just because your daughter wants it doesn’t mean he has to give it up…” the worker spoke tiredly.

“He is an adult! Where’s your manager!? I’d like to speak to them, and young man, where’s your wife!? As you’re clearly married, with that ring on you!” She yelled, causing ruckus.

Osoro turned his head to see the young man being YOU..?

“Ma’am, get out or I’m calling security.” The worker said sternly.

“Where’s your manager!?”

“He’s up my ass, I’m the only one who showed at work today. And I’m not taking bullshit, get the fuck out.” He said tiredly before kicking that woman and her kid out. Literally.

“And this green frogs name is Kerropi, and I have a husband too, get it right!” you yelled out at her.

Osoro sighs before walking up behind his husband, and kneeling on one knee.

“(N/N), will you marry me?” Osoro spoke with puppy eyes with the Sanrio ring in his hands, surprising you who turned around just in time.

“Osoro… we’re already married.” You mumbled, reminding him as you showed him your ring finger.

“So? We can still marry again!” Osoro grumbled not moving from his position.

“Fine, only cause the ring is cute and that everyones looking at us. Now get up!” You ushered him off the floor.

“Are you done, hun?” He asked you, peering down at your cart.

“No, I heard there’s onesies we should get matching ones!” You said, dragging Osoro once again.

“I don’t know how I can be taller then you, yet you still manage to pull me with you..”

“I’m just built different, Oso.”

“You’re hello kitty, I’m dear Daniel.” You decided giving him the onesies.

“Why am I hello kitty..?” Osoro asked, he was a man! No way was he gonna be-

“Because you act like a bitch boy sometimes.” You replied, not skipping a beat.

osoro sulked in silence.

“Oso, I’m just joking!” You chimed, already feeling him sulking.

“Ooh, oso they have hello kitty picture frames!” You suddenly yelled in excitement and awe.

“Are you gonna hello kittyify our house..?” Osoro asked starring at the frames.

“Mhm… you can’t do shit about it either.” You answered.

Osoro chuckled before patting your head.

Once you guys were finally done, you guys checked out. The same cashier being there.

He had prominent eyebags and looked gloomy, I mean I don’t blame him, imagine being the only one working at a store as big as a food court?

He had black curly hair, and looked like he could blow a bullet through the next persons head.

“Your total is $104.25… will you be using cash or credit? We don’t take debit.” He asked bluntly.

“Credit.” Osoro replied giving him his card.

“Okay thank you, bye. Come back never please.” The worker said slumping on the desk, falling asleep as soon as his head touched it.

“Jeez, a hundred bucks on hello kitty stuff??” Osoro asked, holding your bags.

“Mhm, now hold still so I can flaunt you and my stuff too my friends!” You said pulling your phone out.

two fics in one day, eat up my children!!

TAGLIST:

@call-me-nev @furotage @peedyharkyonut @nickey-diano

[sugarsfics]

Crushing On The Babysitter

Summary: Eddie finally has the courage to ask out his crush. What happens when she is babysitting? Not just babysitting anyone, he little sheep. Those same sheep he just told that having a crush is force conformity.  

A/N: Hiiii I'm Sugar this is my first fic and so many more to come so enjoy;)

Warnings: Use of Y/N, fluff, horrible writing.

Word count: 1.0k

Eddie fake gags as he watches Lucas stare at Max with the biggest heart eyes ever. As he looks around the table, he sees that almost all the boys have their eyes on someone, except for Mike and Dustin who are arguing on who's girlfriends are better. “Boys!” he says as he slams his lunch box on the table. “ Have you all been taken in my the dark side of the female gaze” he continues “Yes they are nice to look at but would they really want to be with us, us freaks it is all just force conformity” Dustin pipes in “Well Mike and I do have girlfriends” “ Still not believing till I see them, but as I was saying before they want you to look to fall in love for you to buy them stupid crap and that money that you are spending to make your “lover” happy goes straight to the big man’s pocket, that is way I never had or never will have a crush” oh boy was that a lie. 

Eddie has been hung up on the same girl since 8th grade. Y/N L/N. Just like him you were an outcast, a nerd. Your older brother was the founder of Hellfire and was very welcoming to Eddie. Sophomore year, your brother graduated and passed on the torch to you. Eddie was head over heels for you but was too scared that you did not like him. Oh boy was he wrong. After having many talks with Uncle Wayne, he was ready to ask you out. He asks you to meet him in the Hellfire room but then he got the worst news of his life, he failed senior year. He spent the rest of the day in his van smoking and fell asleep. When he woke up it was 5 pm and ran out and the parking lot was empty, your car was nowhere to been found. He apologized the next day and asked to talk to you again tonight, but you were busy. He never got the courage again then you graduated leaving him behind.  

He got home we you on his mind, as if Uncle Wayne were reading his mind “You would never believe who I saw at the store today” “Who” “Y/N L/N��� Eddie’s heart skipped a beat hearing your name “Really?” “Yeah, she said she has been in town for about a month-” “Do you know how long she is staying” “Boy I did not ask her 21 questions” Eddie got a ran to his room “What are you doing” Eddie comes out with a nicer shirt on, his wallet, and a letter “Doing something I should have done a long time ago.  

You have watched the boys every Friday and Saturday since they were 5. It was always Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will and you at your house or the wheeler’s basement playing D&D and watching movies. Even though you would have thought that you would stop watching the boys since they were now in high school but nope here there are. You plated the food for Mike, Dustin, and Lucas you almost grabbed a four plate out of habit for will, oh how you missed Will. Then the doorbell rang followed by rapid knocking. “Boys come eat” the three boys ran to the dining room. You open the door not excepting the person who was on the other side 

“Eddie?” he was frozen, how could you get more beautiful he thought. “Earth to Eddie” as you wave your hand in front of him. “Oh, sorry hi hey how are you” “I am doing great you?” “I am doing good oh oh these are for you” he brings beautiful boutique of red roses to your face. “Oh, wow thank you Eddie” “No problem I heard that they are the symbol of love so-” “EDDIE?” You both look behind you to see the boys staring at you guys. “Eddie what are you doing here with roses?" says mike Eddie’s face flushed a bright red “I- um – I – Well you see- I was-” “Boys go eat your dinner” “But-” “Now” they walk into the dining room but stay near the wall to hear you guys. “ I didn’t know you knew the freshman” “Yes those are my boys remember the littles one I used to babysit” “ Oh my god those are them” “Yeah isn't it crazy, but why did you stop by” “Oh yea well um listen so the night I stood you up I wanted to tell you something but then something happened, you the whole not graduating thing, then you got busy so um-” he spins and fishes something out of his pocket “ Here!” He gave you a letter. “What is this” “Read it, it will they you everything that I was going to tell you and so much more” he starts walking away until you pull his jacket “Stay, let me read it with you here with me” “Oh um yeah sure” he nervously laughs.

Dear Y/N I haven't got you out of my mind since the first day we met. I have been wanting to tell you this for so long but scared that your brother will banish me, or you just plain out would like me so here I goes. I really really really I could write so many really and it still would express how much I like you. You are funny, smart, beautiful, and so many more things and I really like you so much so will you give me a chance and go on a date with me? -Eddie M 

“Wow Eddie why didn’t you tell me this before” “I was too scared really” “Well that suck” “Sucks?” “Yeah because if you would have told me before you would have had yourself a girlfriend maybe now if you ask so kindly” “Wait really you like me too” “Duh” “Oh wow in that case Y/N L/N will you please let me, Eddie Munson, take you on a date and have the best night of your night” “ Yes” You make arrangements then kiss him on the cheek. The boys run to their seats as they are here the door closed “What” you look that the boys “Nothing” they say in unison. Oh boy were they going to tease Eddie Monday at school.  

[garcargofarfar]

Wavering Between

A Garroth x Reader x Laurance Fic

Prologue

Follow up on EIN REWRITE

YOU CAN ALSO READ THE STORY ON WATTPAD @/iiYoshi

A/N : I have no intent in finishing the first two books before posting this one. :D

- × - × - × - × - × - × - × -

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

"Like I want to be with you." Ein barked back.

"You better not mess this school up as well." I sighed. This was sure going to be a fun year of junior year. "I'm not going to stop you again this time."

"Spare me your overblown ego." Ein rolled his eyes at me, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground. "You don't seriously think you can stop me?"

"I did once, and I'll do it again."

Before he could argue back and break out into a fight, the principal finally walked into the office, and we both shut up.

"Ah, so sorry for making you wait." She says, "I'm assuming you're Ein and Erielle Lovette?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Wonderful! Let me start off by saying how happy I am to have you both here at Phoenix Drop." She beams.

I nod.

Ein forces a smile, scoffing silently.

"I'm Principal Layla, good friends with Principal Dickson from TH. Though, I'm sure you know that already." She simply laughs, and Ein glares when I nudge his rib to stop him from falling asleep.

"I'm really sorry for all the trouble, Principal Layla." Ein suddenly starts in a polite voice. "My sister and I never meant to cause trouble at Twilight High, but as her big brother, I just have to look out for her."

This time, I scoff.

"What in Irene's name are you on about?" I hiss.

"You know. Seeing as you're human and all. I feel it's my responsibility to take care of you and drop my position as Alpha in TH."

"You're joking." I almost laugh. "You two-faced little-"

"Alright, alright! Enough of this." Principal Layla cuts us off. "I don't care what happened back in TH. It's all in the past now. I only ask of you two to be well-behaved here at Phoenix Drop."

"Yes, Principal Layla." We say in sync.

"The school day is almost over today. You two can get settled in your dorms and check out the clubs they're holding for Freshmen. Feel free to come to me if you need help." We both glare at each other once more before she dismisses us.

"I don't want anything to do with you and your manipulative shenanigans, got that?" I ask, taking a look at my schedule.

"Like anyone wants anything to do with you." He hisses in return.

"Arya would."

"Stop. Bringing. Her. Into. This." He warns.

"You had a chance with her, Ein. You just completely blew it yourself." And with that, I walk off to my homeroom. "Have a good life without me."

-----

I pass by Room 208, my homeroom for the year. TH didn't have homerooms, so I was still getting the hang of things.

Everything was so different here. The students in the halls were human. The students in the halls were also werewolves.

There's this weird balance and equality that I never got to experience in either schools for freshman nor sophomore year.

I don't think I've ever felt this nice just existing in a swarm of people before without any killing eyes or vicious brother to bug me.

"Hey." I turn to see a black haired boy with sky-blue eyes staring at me. "What are you still doing here in the classrooms?"

"Oh I'm sorry." I apologize. "Am I not allowed to be here?"

"No. It's just that everyone's gathered at the football field to sign up for clubs and all that stuff." He signals to the window, which has a view of the whole situation going on beneath.

"I'm new here. Just checking out my surroundings." I shrug.

"The name's Gene. Nice to meet you." He lifts out a hand.

"Erielle." I shake his. "You're a student here too?"

"Oh, no. I graduated last year." He says. "But my little brother still goes here, and he left his homework at home. I had to bring it over for him."

"Ah. I see." I laugh at his remark.

"You should run along, Erielle." He tells me. "They're already starting to sign up for clubs."

He looks out the window as I follow his gaze.

"Maybe I will." I mutter, mostly to myself. "You seem like a cool person, Gene. Was lovely meeting you."

"Was nice meeting you as well." He replies with a smirk. "I'll introduce you to my squad one day. You'd fit right in with the Shadow Knights."

"Looking forward to it." I smile. "I should get going. Have a good one!"

"Same to you."

-----

As I turn the corner, I am finally struck with the realization that I'm lost.

Oh my Irene, why am I so dumb? I should've asked Gene for help.

The halls are mostly empty by now, and I have no idea where I'm going. I'm still walking along the halls as I finally spot sight of a tall blonde in the distance.

"Hey!" I yell, watching the blonde to turn to look at me with azure eyes.

"May I help you?"

- × - × - × - × - × - × - × -

[hillerskalibrary]

This is my first time being in a fandom so I don't really know - do you think people writing YR fanfiction will die down quickly after the end of the show? I am already super sad about the show ending but no more new fanfiction about these two might be even worse 🙃

Do you maybe have experience from other fandoms? 🧡

Hey anon! To you, as well, apologies for the late reply, especially since this question is clearly important to you - and no doubt to many others.

Now, should I have attempted to write a heartfelt answer on how the YR fandom will indeed probably slowly fade away but that's okay because the important thing is the joy it gave you while it lasted? Yes, yes I should have.

Did I spend half an hour making a graph in Excel instead? ... also yes.

look I may be a failed scientist but I'm still a scientist and you came to my inbox so...

Behold! My beautiful and not-at-all questionable graph of the number of YR posted per month since the release of S1.

Now, first the good news: as you can see, the general trend of fic goes UP! ;) I think it's been clear that S2 has drawn in lots of new fans, and that reflects in the number of fics - not only are there more writers, but more readers = more interaction = more motivation for writers.

Now, what does this tell us about fic numbers after S3?

... absolutely nothing. No, seriously, it is impossible to extrapolate any of this into the future :D. I mean, it is likely the peak will be even higher for the S3 release, and it's safe to say that then it will go down. But how fast, or how low, is hard to tell...

Now, I can see how this may make you sad. And I would like to offer two counterpoints.

ONE It's not done yet. This may seem obvious but- the time to be sad is not here yet. Suppose the sun shines today, and the forecast predicts rain for tomorrow. What are you going to do? Go out and enjoy every ray of sun while you can? Or spend the day inside, sad because you won't be able to go out tomorrow? Look - don't get me wrong, I don't wanna dismiss your feelings. It's just- we'll have time to be sad about it later, you know? Right now fandom is active: great fic is being published, thought provoking discussions are being had, ... . Let's enjoy that!

TWO Whether fandom lives or dies after the show, is partly up to you. I mean it! A fandom lives by grace of its active members. So write fic. Prompt other authors if you can't (and even if you can!). Organize events, challenges, polls, ... There are so many things you can do to keep the fandom going, but it's going to require time and effort. And no, success is not guaranteed. But it's worth it.

Lastly though, as you say yourself: this is your first fandom. A first fandom is always a little special, but after a first... comes a second. Always. It may seem hard to believe, and it may not even be something you necessarily want, but very often, that's how it goes. Fandoms come and go - and that's fine. It sucks too, of course, sometimes. But it's fine. It has to be, because the alternative is for nothing to ever change, and that would suck even harder. So enjoy this wonderful fandom we have, gush about it all with your mutuals, and trust that a new blorbo will find you ;).

[susiecarter]

hi!! hope you're doing well!! just wanted to check in as you haven't updated your projects page in a while (not that you have to! but you're one of my fav writers of all time so just got worried) also, if you're seeing this, how goes the arranged marriage au? (and if u can sprinkle in some writing advice, that'd be great, tho srsly i feel like i'm asking a little too many things lmao so feel free to ignore)

/o\ :D Hi, anon, and thank you so much for checking in! No need to worry—I'm absolutely fine, I've just been ludicrously busy (my job changed somewhat at the end of last year and I acquired New Responsibilities; figuring out how to handle those and still have as much time as I need to write and to reply to comments has taken me six months :'D but I think I've mostly gotten the hang of it, hence me finally starting to catch up on my inboxes both here and on the AO3).

AND, ngl, I am absolutely delighted to hear that you were looking at the Projects page! :D That was honestly three-quarters me experimenting with the new theme I set up, haha (and the reason I threw a "last updated" date on there was 100% because if I got busy, I knew I was definitely going to start forgetting to update that sucker). I've updated it today, and the good news/bad news breakdown on the arranged marriage AU is: good news, I am still working on it; bad news, it is super not done. :'D I've got some other shorter stuff that should be done sooner than that (including some Bruce/Clark!), but I'm hoping to make that this year's Big Long Bruce/Clark Fic. Obviously I also have not made a whole lot of progress on some other things on that list :D but here's hoping I can fix that this summer!

As for writing advice, I've written a few posts in the past about my process, how I approach managing character identity, and my tl;dr thoughts on characterization, pacing, dialogue, and prose rhythm, if you haven't seen one or another of those! Honestly, working on my writing has been a real process of self-discovery for me :'D so I'd say my bottom-line "if you do nothing else, do this" of writing advice is: try things! Try different techniques, try outlining and not outlining, try doing writing exercises and not doing writing exercises, try sitting down to write a few hundred words each day and try only writing when you feel inspired to do it ... Everybody is different, everybody's brains and subconscious creative sources are different, and stuff that works for other people might work for you or it might not, but you won't know if you don't try it all multiple ways and see which approach feels the best to you.

Personally, I used to not outline at all, and I wrote the scenes that came to me in my head first and then went back to fill in the gaps—and that worked okay, it was fine, but as it turns out I'm MUCH better off when I outline every! single! time! and also my odds of completing a story I'm working on increase about 5,000% if I write it straight through from start to finish. I thought I knew what worked the best for me! I was wrong! :'D But I wouldn't have found out I was wrong if I hadn't decided to try outlining, and then decided to ditch how other people outline and outline in the way that worked for me, and then tried writing straight through, tried writing every single day and sucked at it BUT trying to write every day is actually good for me, it's just I have to let myself not do it if it's not working, &c &c. So, yeah, try stuff, don't get too stuck on doing anything one specific way, and sooner or later you'll figure out how you work, what gets your brain doing its best writing, and you'll be able to get it to do its best writing more and more often. :D

[mamawasatesttube]

okay, i'm going to spam today. mmm damian, jon (as he is in OUR minds), aaaaaaaand. lois.

hell YEAH lets go!! damian first:

Headcanon A:  realistic

he goes to veterinary school. something something not either of his parent's legacies but something of his own that still feels like it's honoring them in its own way (medicine-adjacent. hands to help heal rather than harm. you get it)

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

he pretends not to know english that well in order to make jon explain the "deez nuts" joke he just made. jon is mad about it because he KNOWS damian knows english perfectly well enough to get deez nutted, but damian refuses to drop the pretense until jon glares at him and explains the joke. damian thinks he's hilarious. and he is.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

man this isn't even hc really but do you ever think about the way he is just a little guy who never wants to hurt anyone or anything but he was born into a cycle of violence he never asked for. before he was ever old enough to understand it, there was blood on his hands. it's a guilt he'll always carry. i think he and cass should bond over this btw

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

i dont know what the fuck canon is doing over there at this point but its important to me that he and talia love each other. there can be complexity and nuance to it but he loves his mom. dc shut up and listen okay they love each other!!!!

and now jon (as he SHOULD be):

Headcanon A:  realistic

he grows up with two central struggles: a) the classic mixed kid agonies, and b) the fact that he lives with immense pressure between both of his parents legacies that he can't escape. as a hero, he's superman's son. as a civilian, he's lois lane's son. everyone compares him to his parents, and so does he.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

his puppy eyes are so strong he's literally charmed the shirt off kon's back before. ("hey, kon, i'm packing for that camping trip with my friends this weekend, can i borrow your red--oh... you're wearing it. okay... never mind... 🥺👉👈 unless? 🥺🥺🥺") (kon, actively pulling off his shirt: "YOU ARE A HORRIBLE LITTLE MANIPULATIVE GREMLIN AND I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT.")

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

well now im just thinking of that time you were like haha what if i write a fic where lex luthor kills jon in front of kon. i don't think i can top that. you motherfucker.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

no age-up bullshit. instead he exists in our beautiful postcrisis mishmash sandbox. he's like 4 when kon hatches (unless he isn't because timelines? what are those <3) and he is simply kon's beautiful little baby brother who has him wrapped around his little finger from day one.

AND NOW LOIS!!!

Headcanon A:  realistic

she's the breadwinner for the family. clark works from home/is a stay-at-home dad while jon is little. they have to figure it out a bit whenever superman is needed, but they make it work.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

the first time she visited the kent farm, she stepped in a cow patty and clark laughed his ass off at her, so lois took off the shit-covered shoe and threw it at him.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

having to take care of baby jon during the month clark was dead/"dead" while watching everything go down in reign of the supermen is probably what she would say is the hardest thing she's ever had to do.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

i need her to take tim under her wing for a little while. she sees in him a kindred spirit: a do-gooder, incredibly nosy little fuck. she can enable all of his snooping and sneaky tendencies. she'll ruffle his hair and generally regard him like a weird kitten kon found in the gutter one day and brought home. they go on at least one (mis)adventure.

[q-gorgeous]

What Will It Be?

ao3

fanfiction

some art i drew for this fic. credit for the idea goes to berry kjjbhgf

wooooo :D this is my newest longest fic. very excited for this

prompt (way back from phic phight): Dash sees something he shouldn't have and ends up making a deal. @kinglazrus

Dash watches as the GIW kidnap Danny. They make a deal with him to keep him silent but he is wracked with guilt. What will it take for him to spill this secret?

hehehehehe

Dash walked into the front doors of the school. Today would be a good day. It was Thursday, which meant it was almost Friday, which meant it was almost the weekend. He just had to get through these next two days. He was looking forward to relaxing this weekend. He’d been so busy lately. 

He looked up and down the hallway and smiled when he saw someone standing by their locker. 

“Hey, Fentonowski!” 

Dash strode over to where Danny and his friends stood by his locker. 

Danny looked at him and rolled his eyes. “Dash.”

“What are you nerds up to?” Dash leaned forward to look inside Danny’s locker and only got a glimpse of a Fenton thermos sitting inside it before Danny shut the locker in his face. 

“What?” Dash looked down at him. “Got secrets to hide in there or something?”

“Maybe I have a stash of pictures of every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done.” Danny smiled up at him. 

“You better watch yourself, you’ll get what’s coming to you one of these days.”

Danny looked up at Dash with a glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah, what are you going to do?”

“Barf.” Sam faked a gag. “Get a room.” 

Danny’s face turned red. “We don’t need a room, Sam. Why would we need a room?”

“You should see what your guy’s faces look like.” Sam rolled her eyes. “Maybe then you would finally believe me when I say-”

“Okay, well, bye Dash. We’re leaving for class!” 

Dash watched as Danny pushed Sam away from him and Tucker snickered at their antics. Sam was still rolling her eyes but she finally turned around to walk beside Danny instead of being pushed along in front of him. 

He turned and walked to his own locker. Normally he would go straight to his first class without stopping by his locker, but today he had two textbooks in his backpack and he did not want to be lugging them both all over the place. 

“Boo!” Kwan appeared behind Dash, clapping his hands on his shoulders. Dash jumped and spun around and was ready to bolt before he realized it was Kwan.

“Hey! I almost thought you were a ghost!” Dash pulled Kwan into a headlock and gave him a couple noogies. “One of these days you’re gonna get punched by going around and saying boo to scare people.”

“Aw, come on. Most people aren’t scared much by it anyways.” Kwan smiled at him. “The only ghost that says boo is the box ghost and nobody’s afraid of him anymore.”

“Speak for yourself.” Dash shut his locker door. “You don’t have a bunch of funko pops that he’s always trying to take out of their boxes.”

Kwan turned and started walking toward their first class. “Oh no, what ever will your toys do without their boxes?”

Dash wildly gestured with his hands, shooting Kwan a look. “They’re not toys! They’re collectible figures and they’re not worth as much if they’re taken out of their boxes!” 

Kwan laughed at him. “Okay, okay. You win.” He shot a look at Dash. “Have you told him yet?”

“What?” Dash gave him a confused look.

“Danny.”

“Oh.” Dash shook his head. “No. I think Manson has been trying to tell him herself but he doesn’t want to hear it.” Dash frowned. “It makes me wonder if I should even tell him. If he doesn’t want to hear it from her, why would he want to hear it from me?”

Kwan shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the one with the feelings. It’ll probably mean more coming from the person who has the feelings.”

“I guess.” Dash sighed. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way though?”

“Then you at least told him. You’ll never know if you never say anything. Besides, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Everyone sees the way he looks at you. It’s only a matter of time. People have bets going around on how long it’ll take you guys to confess to each other.”

“What? Who?”

Kwan made a zipping motion over his mouth. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

Dash snorted. “Yeah, okay. I’m now led to believe you’re the one running everything then.”

“What? No! It’s Tucker!” 

“Of course it is.” Dash rolled his eyes. “Why is there a betting pool anyways?”

“The same reason there was a betting pool when Sam and Danny had goo goo eyes for each other. It’s funny.” 

“It’s not so funny when you’re on the other end of it.” Dash grumbled, hunching his shoulders up towards his ears. 

“Lighten up, man.” Kwan clapped him on the back. “Everything’ll work out, you’ll see.”

They stopped in front of Dash’s classroom. “I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am.” Kwan nudged Dash’s shoulder. He nudged Kwan back and then headed into their classroom. 

Maybe it would be easier if he just never said anything about his feelings to Danny. What did it matter if his heart swelled at just the thought of him? He could go his whole life without saying anything. 

He sat down right as the bell rang and Mr. Lancer cleared his throat. 

“Today we’ll be starting our unit on Shakepearean dramas. Shakespeare has many well known plays, such as Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth. These are both tragedies.” 

Paulina raised her hand. “What’s a tragedy?” 

“A tragedy is a play that deals with tragic events, such as suffering, catastrophes, or death. They have unhappy endings and they follow the downfall of the main character.” 

Lancer turned to face the chalkboard and started writing the definition on it. 

He remembered when they went over Romeo and Juliet as freshmen. It was a love story doomed to fail. Two kids from rival families that fell in love. They’d rather be dead than be without the other. 

Dash just had to pray he wasn’t living in a tragedy. That his love wasn’t doomed to fail. 

[corvidcrybaby]

Hey, I found your tumblr today and I just wanna tell you that I'm ABSOLUTELY in love with how you analyse Alucard's behaviour, his mindset and general emotional reactivity, and so on. I'm a sucker for that kinda analytical stuff, because most "let's talk about headcanons" blogs kinda veer into that very fluffy, very idealistic territory. You, on the other hand, approach all this stuff with a fairly neutral and almost academic perspective, and oh my goooood that's right up my alley. It's so refreshing man, I can't even put it in proper words. Think I'll definitely have to give your fics a try as well! :D

Hello! Thank you so much for the kind words, it makes me feel good about myself to know my fan theories and quibblings on Hellsing lore are reaching an audience that appreciates them. I've devoted far too much brainspace to thinking about Alucard as a character and dissecting his every molecule because I truly find his warped but understandable persona compelling. And I do agree - as much as my squeeing inner teenager loves a fluffy story about a hot brooding old man, especially given my repressed upbringing (didn't figure out I was a woman till my teenhood was far behind me), I do find that over time I began to feel the lack of an academic's touch in the Hellsing fandom. Which is a shame! I encourage others to do the same because the Hellsing universe is ripe territory for mad scientist OC's and fan theories and the like, and there are disappointingly few of those. I happen to be a big fan of the SCP universe and love to mix that delicious sci-fi-horror-y goodness into my Hellsing fancontent because it goes together like chocolate and peanut butter.

If you do decide to check out my fics, I hope that you enjoy them! They are a labor of love and I'll concede my writing is choppy and goes through awkward growth stages, but I put a lot of thought into them.

ADDENDUM: also I should damn well hope I sound appropriately academic! My whole professional specialization IS in picking apart stories and characters, so I'm glad that it shows, LOL.

[saltymongoose]

Hey its stitches anon...idk if your requests are open, hell I'd gladly commission you at this point. But I was wondering if you could write a small fiction about the main 4 and their lover/partner (trans man he/they) that just recently got fired from their job because they are disabled? And who is now in pain and is super sad? That just happend ot me today (2 days till my birthday too) I have HEDS, pots, and mast cell to name a few. I can't write to save my life either. And I just want my bois comforting me while trying to find a new job. Sorry you can completely ignore this

Love all of your work and u would gladly commission you with what money I have for fics too ❤️ reminders to drink water everyone

Hey Stitches Anon <3, I'm really sorry to hear about your job, that's an absolutely awful thing for them to do. :( You've probably found another place to work by now, and while I don't know very much about legality, I'd keep an eye on labor laws regarding disability where you live. (Where I'm from, firing anyone for stuff directly related to their disability is extremely illegal.) However, while I can't give much advice on this since Idk legal stuff like this that well, I can write about the boys comforting you, so I whipped these up for ya. Good luck in your professional career, my friend! :) 💕❤️💖💗(P.S. And Happy New Year!!! 🎉✨🎊)

[Part 1] They Comfort Their Disabled!Transmasc!Partner During a Jobsearch ft. The Main 3 + 2BDamned

(TW: Mentions of Violence, Brief mentions of disability-based discrimination, extreme fluff.) *A.N: I wasn't too sure about how much detail to go into with PoTS/hEDS/Mast Cell, so please lmk if I portrayed anything in this incorrectly and I'll rework it pronto. Thank you! &lt;3

- [HANK J. WIMBLETON] -

Rage and worry are the two words that best encapsulate what Hank feels once you tell him that you've gotten fired and why. Your disability didn’t prevent you from getting hired in the first place, so there’s no logical reason why it should cause your boss to fire you either. It doesn’t make any sense to him, and the fact that this whole situation is happening to you really pisses him off.

(You've seen Hank angry before, but it was never like this. He's almost shaking with rage, his hands spasming against you as he rasps out the harsh question of who was responsible for your tears and the sobs that left you. Yet you don't give their name, instead opting to press your face deeper into his collar. He goes still when you sniffle and whimper, his tense form relaxing as he presses even closer to you, pulling you tighter to him and enveloping you in his form. He'll drop the issue for now; those bastards who fired you can wait. Your well-being was always been one of his first priorities anyway.)

In typical Hank fashion, the first solution he suggests is outright murdering who fired you to get your previous job back, which makes no sense to you. (It's not like your company would be eager to hire someone whose boyfriend killed their ex-coworker). The proposition does get a small laugh out of you though, so he still considers it an achievement.

Instead of going out to commit a massacre in your name, he decides to divert all of his energy toward taking care of you and comforting you as best he can. This means he puts off all of his "official work" for as long as possible; he can tell how distraught losing this job made you, so he considers helping you to be his new mission. There’s no one that Hank ever has ever cared for more than you; you're the most special person in his life, so it’s only natural for him to put all of his focus on his role as your partner when you need the support.

Despite being wholly indifferent to the plights of Nevada's denizens, you are the only exception to his apathy, and he’ll be all over you trying to help you out during this time. He’s not the most domestic person, so he can’t take care of much on his own, but he’ll do his best to complete your normal household chores nonetheless; cleaning, taking out the trash, etc. He even cooks on rare occasions, if he thinks you shouldn't be doing it (usually because you're either too tired or in pain). You'll have to instruct him on what to do for some of these (especially cooking, he's not really experienced with that), but he'll complete every task dutifully. Hank is very good at following orders, after all.

(He straightens up when you take a bite of the food he made, his hands twitching as you give him a pleased, albeit tired smile. "It's very good," you say in response to the question you know he's aching to ask. Your eyes meet the red lenses of his goggles, and your grin widens. "Thanks, babe. You did well." He made your favorite, and although it doesn't taste exactly like how you make it, you think you prefer this version.)

Yet this is more of an afterthought compared to his main preoccupation: being by your side for as long as you'll have him, in the most literal fashion. He's almost attached to your hip the entire time, molded to your side and purring as he tugs you closer to him.

He prefers to show most of his affection through touch; hugging you softly, pressing what remains of his lips to your cheeks and forehead (and a few stray pecks on your mouth, of course), and keeping a stray hand on yours whenever you're busy looking through job listings on your tablet. He's soft and careful, always having a close eye on you for any signs of pain when he shifts closer to you, and silently noting every bruise or mark you might have in an effort to avoid irritating them. Whenever you make a noise of pain, or even if you show the smallest sign of strain, he immediately freezes, tilting his head at you in obvious worry and attempting to bring your attention to him so he can ask if you need anything.

Despite how often he gets injured, Hank doesn't know close to anything about the medical field, so he'll insist that you speak to Doc about any pain and discomfort you have due to your disabilities (who recommends you to Skinner, since he's also not a doctor either). That being said, Hank will do his best to help with alleviating anything you're going through at the same time, whether it be by fetching you your medications at a scheduled time, carrying you if you're in too much pain/too tired to walk around (or adversely, helping you exercise if you want to), or just cuddling with you if you'd prefer that. (He's constantly on the verge of being in your personal bubble anyway, so may as well.)

If anything, you'll have to tell him to stop hovering over you at times, since he's just that clingy. It's sweet that he's so concerned, but while you recognize that he's trying to show you his love the best way he can, it can be a bit smothering at times. (Like when you're trying to read out available positions and he sees fit to carefully drape himself over your back, purring like a large cat. It's nice, until he ends up obscuring the view of what you're doing.)

He'll cooperate of course, since he respects your boundaries as any partner should, but he will put in an effort to be more verbal after this to make up for it. His voice is very rough from disuse, and his wording can be a bit clunky when he compliments you, but the blunt praise you get from him still makes you blush. It's probably because you know for a fact that everything he says is what he honestly believes, which just makes it a hundred times more meaningful.

(Your face burned with each subsequent word about how proud of you he was, and the short declarations he gave of how much he admired you and your strength. Hearing such words from someone as powerful as him made them very impactful, although this also just made you more bashful to receive them. 

"Thank you…you didn't have to say anything like that, hun. It’s very sweet of you," you said before laughing a bit awkwardly. Perhaps it was in your nature to try to skirt around compliments, or at least those that were so direct and blunt, but that would never work with Hank. He never wasted his breath on lies or things he didn’t feel important to put out there, it just isn’t how he works. He states things like they’re facts because they are. He’s proud of you, you’re strong, you’re handsome, etc. He could go on. And he will.

He looked at you for a moment before shrugging. “...Doesn’t matter if I need to say it. It’s still true.” In Hank's view, if he has to strain his voice just to show you the level of affection you rightfully deserve, that’s more than alright. He speaks only when necessary, and bringing your mood up at a time like this makes it so. Besides, he’d much rather use his words to compliment you than for anything else, really.)

However, when it comes to actually helping you get another job, he isn’t can't do all that much. It’s not his fault; Hank hasn’t had a “normal” job in a very long time, so his ideas on how to find one are very out of date. Nevada’s not exactly in the same state it was when he was employed in a traditional setting, and the rubble that makes up most of the cities still around wouldn’t be very useful for real estate. (Which is the only thing he has concrete experience in. Besides homicide.)

The most he can do is keep an eye out for any “help wanted” signs and writing down the locations of the places he finds them. He’ll also ask Deimos, Sanford, and Doc to look into potential job openings. (Well, demand they do. Luckily some explanation by Doc about how Hank's boyfriend was fired was enough to remedy any protest. It's weirdly nice of the merc to be so concerned about someone else. Barring the surprise of him even having a boyfriend to begin with, since he'd never said a word about you to them before.)

2BDamned is also surprisingly okay with just letting his main agent take some time off to help his significant other while they look for a job. However, Doc realizes better than anyone that if he attempted to keep Hank from you in a time like this, he'd just leave anyway (and violently), so there's little point in even trying. He's the most clued in out of everyone about Hank's personal life and has enough sense to know about your importance to him. (Why else would Hank be asking about "date ideas" and engagement rings, of all things?)

He wonders sometimes if you realize just how much you've got the tall grunt wrapped around your finger. Though, judging by how Doc can hear you brighten up and playfully admonish Hank when he accidentally interrupts your calls with him (and the fact that he can hear the man purring loudly over the phone after you call him a pet name), you must have a pretty good idea by now.

- [2BDAMNED] -

2BDamned likely didn’t approve of you working at your previous job to begin with, as it was too far from the Status Quo’s base of operations for him to keep an eye on you at all times (and being with him did put a considerable target on your back, no matter how secret you tried to keep your relationship). However, he was wholly displeased when you tearfully revealed to him that you’d been fired for something you had absolutely no control over.

Both the sheer audacity and the stupidity of the company you worked for are incredibly surprising to him. He'll make a quick note to find out where your previous workplace is located; he won't do anything to ruin them, as much as he has the power to, but if some of his agents in the location accidentally do anything to hurt their business, he's not going to offer anything close to assistance. (Although the agents might get a soft reprimand - it's hard to be mad at them for this, even if he really should be.) It's petty, but also far more than he knows they have a right to.

However, in the meantime, he'll focus on comforting you while you find another job, seeing as interfering with your previous workplace is beneath his consideration. (Unless you ask him to, of course. He's always frowned upon people who couldn't separate their work from their personal lives, but he could handle the hypocrisy if using his resources for this made you happy. After seeing how they made you cry, he thinks it would be at least somewhat deserved.)

Doc's a busy man, but he'll always have time for you. Luckily for him, he's not exactly needed at any bases, and his work has him moving around quite a bit as is, so staying at your place to help you won't cause any issues. It’s not like anyone would notice his absence. Although, he'd be willing to forgo his current assignments regardless; you're more important, to put it simply.

He's well versed in your medical conditions already, due to hours of research and speaking with both you and Skinner, no doubt. Even before you were fired, he'd have been there to help you should you need it (even if a phone call away), and there's no reason why this would change after the fact. He's always been reliable, and just like back then, he'll be there to give you exactly what you need to keep yourself comfortable. This also includes himself, if you so ask.

You'll often find yourself with your head resting in his lap, feeling his eyes rake over you once in a while to look for any signs of pain and discomfort. (To anyone else, it would feel cold or clinical, but something about Doc's gaze always warms when it's placed on you.) His voice loses its harsh edge when he reads your listings, occasionally nudging you against contacting them for an interview if the company in question gives pay that's too low or lacks the benefits he knows you deserve.

("That last one sounds alright," you muttered, and he paused from reading his tablet to give you a look of slight disapproval. You raised a brow as if to ask what the problem was and he sighed.

"Honey, they don't have dental or offer basic health insurance - and the salary is half of what you should be making," he responded pointedly, to which you laughed. This was Nevada, it's not like that was common anyway, and most businesses couldn’t afford very good pay rates at that. Yet the fact that your boyfriend was so concerned about where you'd end up working was so funny to you for some reason. The leader of one of Nevada’s greatest forces fretting about your hourly wages. Perhaps it was because it was so weirdly domestic; you didn’t get a lot of time with him considering his work schedule, so to have him drop everything just to do something so normal was actually surprising to you. It seems you underestimated just how much you meant to him. Which you know he’d chide you for if he could read your mind. Of course he would do that, he loves you.)

(You didn’t notice how he stopped reading yet again, gazing at you warmly as you drifted off in thought. For a moment he wondered if it would be better to have you work for him, where he could keep an eye on you and give you the opportunities you’d already worked for. However, he knew he couldn’t stomach you being in danger because of it, and decided against doing so. Though he’s still going to vet who you’re looking to work for, that’s a given.)

Doc’s actually rather quick to begin assisting you with lining up interviews; he’s the type of person who tries to get rid of the emotional weight of problems by solving them as soon as he can, and so he tries to do the same here. However, he’s not tone-deaf; he’s not going to immediately push it on you if you’re in need of comfort after just being fired.

There are very few people that 2BDamned can say he genuinely cares about, and you're the most important of those individuals by far. This shows in how he softens his voice around you, the sweet pet names that are reserved only for you, and the tender way he kisses you whenever he removes his mask. His gestures only increase here, when he knows you need his comfort more than ever.

He's never been the most physical in how he shows his affection (it's something he's had to ease himself in to with your relationship), but that gets thrown out the window for the most part. While he won't be cuddling you whenever you're together, you can expect to be seated in his lap with one of his arms thrown around your waist to keep you close while you both go through your work (you looking for some and him reading reports). He treats it like a casual thing, and he's found that having you near him like this brings him more peace of mind.

(The slight smile he can see tug at the corners of your lips when you feel the warmth of his form against yours is the main benefit though. Although the weariness in your eyes from what happened still hasn't faded away, you're certainly feeling better than before. Your gaze flickers upward to meet his, and he feels a purr building up when you give him a look of unbridled affection.)

While Doc is aware that he can't remove your pain or completely prevent all of your disabilities' more disruptive symptoms from happening, his main goal is to make sure you aren't having to deal with them as often as possible. If there's anything he can do, from finding special types of medication that help you the most (which is likely in short supply due to how Nevada is) to setting up schedules so you avoid getting exhausted, he’ll get it done immediately and without question. It’s his goal to make it so you’ll never feel embarrassed or ashamed to ask for his help with anything (medical-related or otherwise), and you don’t.

Furthermore, Doc’s not a medical specialist per se, but he also took some “classes” from Skinner on how to treat the more major symptoms you might experience. Case in point, those unfortunate times you dislocated some of your joints, and he resets them for you, or when he eases you into a better position to recover if you happen to faint from your blood pressure dropping too quickly.

(He’s been arms deep in people’s intestines and gore before to put them back together, and done so with relative nonchalance, but seeing you in pain makes him almost queasy by comparison. The point that brings him back to focus is his central goal; minimizing your pain and discomfort, which means taking care of your state swiftly.)

2BDamned is someone who respects your independence. You're capable of taking care of yourself, as you usually do when he's not there. However, in a situation like this one, where you need him, he'll always be there. You're Doc's partner (soon fiance, perhaps), and he's yours; he'll always be there for you to lean on, just like you've been there to comfort him and bring him out of his shell.

It doesn't matter what you're going through, or how things on the outside are. If Nevada as you both knew it was going to end without him, he might just let it, as long as you'd be safe and well. If this means letting go of his usually-busy schedule to take care of the one he loves when they lose their job (and for their disabilities, which he'll still remain angry at no matter how much time passes), then it's something he'll go along with happily. In 2BDamned's eyes, you deserve far more than he can give you, so the only logical thing he can do is give you all that he is with the hopes that it's enough. This is just an incredibly small instance of him showing this immense love he has for you (one that's returned tenfold).

He hopes to make you as happy as you make him, and if the warm, affectionate looks you share, with soft smiles and hands intertwined, mean anything, then he does. And that is enough for him.

[venaue]

broski can we please have infodumps on a random yuusona -💝

actually got shocked still when i saw this WDYM PPL R INTERESTED IN MY YUUSONAS GUYSSSS :sob: :sob: cue that one audio thats like "theories?! ive waited years for someone to ask me about my theories!!" or however it went

TODAYS SUBJECT IS YUUTO WHO CHEERED!!!! (is that because yuuto's been alive in my brain for months and kiyuu only a couple weeks... maybe but shhhh) fun fact! he goes by it/he and is transmasc, but this isn't known by anyone other than my ocs :) yuuto isn't his birthname & nobody knows his deadname, not even any of my ocs ;p my premise for yuuto was basically that i was reading a lot of yuu-insert and then retelling the plot of twst type fics, and sorta noticed how a lot of the yuus were really similar, yk the bubbly, shy, oblivious type? and it sorta got me thinking like "what if yuu WASNT like that?"

that then got me to thinking of the idea of "hey wouldn't it be funny if there was no grim but instead yuu was the one to be impulsive and have anger issues and be the one to instigate everything and stuff" and BOOM YUUTO WAS BORN there are alot of things about yuuto that i think are significant to do with his character and stuff, i really tried to make him unique and also just in general a character with lots of depth and thought put into him :D he's a very impulsive and violent person, often resorting to violence first when people make him angry or piss him off. (you do NOT wanna know what went down during yuuto & ace's first meeting /j) (yes he abuses the hell out of the fact that there isn't a rule against fighting WITHOUT magic) the thing that gets on his nerves the most, is people assuming things about him. this can go from people assuming he's weak, to things like assuming what he would and wouldn't like or do in certain circumstances, etc. he hates having his autonomy taken away from him, and will almost never follow orders from others unless he's close to them or unless its like rly serious he also hates being mocked or made fun of, as well as being talked about behind his back. he has gotten... lets just say a LOT of detentions for beating people up because of this... (he doesn't go to any of them tho) (what's crowley gonna do about it, expel him?) he also very much has an avoidant attachment style, and he subconsciously sort of like turns down the opportunities to interact with people like he probably should to keep connections and stuff (luckily for him he has kiyuu to drag him around everywhere) (bffies fr) another thing about him that i think is pretty significant to mention is that hes 100% an adrenaline junkie... he loves playing sports and he loves starting and participating in fights (whether life threatening or not) the only times you'll really see him smile are when hes hung on an adrenaline rush from one thing or another. he absolutely thrives at broom riding (in my au i made it so that brooms already have magic and all they need to go from resting to moving is just a little additional magic to 'start it up' which he usually pesters anchor or mace to help with), so much that he often completely refuses to actually do whats being instructed of him and just goes absolutely nuts on the broom (he literally does not try in any other subject except flight class so at least its something??) he also loves playing spelldrive and is in the spelldrive club. despite not knowing any of the rules until learning about the sport like less than a month ago or some shit he's still actually a really good player because he loves it so much

(if you see him grinning almost maniacally or some equivalent of that while fighting an overblot... er... thats not a hallucination hes just feeling a bit silly!!1!1!!1!) if presented with the opportunity to go home, yuuto with refuse, and will keep refusing till the day he dies, even if he was forced. he's attached to the thrill of this new and not-boring life at NRC, and thinks that its infinitely better than the life he had before. he thinks of the fact that they were isekai-d as a miracle, and a chance at a fresh start in a brand new environment, and he would rather DIE than return to the life he had before. aaand thats a wrap for right now!! if i keep going i fear i wont get anything else done today LMAOO...

i sorta didnt proofread it too much so i hope its not too disjointed....

TYSM FOR THE ASK HEART-RIBBON ANON IM SO HAPPY I HOPE U ENJOY AND STUFF :D more stuff is coming soon , im almost finished the official intro post for him and kiyuu, and am working on the pinned post for their rp acc which is almost done! (i might repeat some of this stuff in the intros, so er sorry abt that!! qwq)

[literaryoblivion]

Abandoned WIP--SuperWolf Deancas/Sterek

As stated before, this is an abandoned WIP snippet. I’ll tag them with #my abandoned WIPs to organize it. If you see any and are so inspired by any of these to either create your own or finish, PLEASE tag me! I’d love to see if someone was able to take it and run with it since it stalled out for me.

Dean and Derek own a bakery together and Dean helps Derek woo Stiles and Derek helps Dean woo Cas.

Derek definitely remembers better than Dean when they decided to go into business together.

“It was after you made that pie for our Thanksgiving potluck in college, and I told you we should have a bakery and you could make pie and I’ll make cookies.”

“Dude, no it wasn’t. It was when I told you after you made me that birthday cake that we should sell it,” Dean replies emphatically.

Derek sighs because he’s honestly tired of this argument. The point is they have a bakery now, even if neither of them can remember the exact moment they thought of opening one. They had become friends in college, roommates soon after, and now business partners.

It had taken a while to come up with a name though… 

~

“D&D.” 

“No, Derek.” 

“Why the hell not?” 

“For one that’s a game Charlie plays all the time. And two, I think Double D’s would be better.” Dean says it with a waggle of his eyebrow and a smirk. Derek is not impressed.

Derek gives him a flat look. “You are such a pervert.” 

“What? It’s clever. What you want to name it something about getting some D instead? I’m an equal opportunity sort of guy.” 

Derek ignores him. Then says, “How about DD’s Desserts?” 

“Ugh fine, you are no fun, man.”

~

DD’s Desserts gets a lot of customers, and even though Derek and Dean have part-time employees that help them on the weekends and seasonally, they try to have at least one or both of them there all the time. They are the bakers after all, but they take turns taking care of customers’ orders, ringing people up, etc. They like still feeling like it’s their business.

They each have their specialties: Dean is the sole maker of the pies and pastry-related items, and Derek makes the cakes and cookies. It works and along with their specialties, they also take turns who helps with customers, which is why Derek is in the front taking inventory of what they have left and what he might have to make more of before the day is through, with Dean in the back working on a few orders.

The bell on their door chimes, and Derek turns to greet the customer who’s walked in when he freezes, struck by how attractive the customer is. He’s tall and lean, brown hair and eyes, a few moles scattered along his jaw. He is gorgeous and Derek kind of doesn’t know how to reign in his attraction so that he can be professional towards this customer.

Finally, he gets a grip and nods and mumbles out, “Hello.”

The guy grins and approaches the display case. “Hi.”

Derek coughs. “What can I help you with today?”

The customer smirks like he had some dirty answer to that question. Luckily for Derek he doesn’t say it, but he replies, “Well, I’m not sure. A few friends told me this place was pretty good, so I figured I’d come check it out. What should I get?”

“What types of desserts do you like?”

“I mean anything with sugar is awesome, but I have to say I’m pretty partial to pie.”

Derek nods and moves down the counter towards the display case that holds their pies. “Today we’ve got apple, blueberry, french silk, and coconut creme all by the slice. If you want a whole pie, you’ll have to place an order.”

***rest of the rambling fic idea: Dean is the pie/pastry dude, and Derek is more of the cookies/cupcake guy, and Stiles LOVES pie But like Derek goes and hides in the back when Stiles comes around because he gets flustered around Stiles and Dean thinks he's being ridiculous and he can tell Stiles likes Derek because he asks Dean where he is EVERY time he comes in and so Dean is like that's enough and bakes this amazing pie and when Stiles comes in, Dean just hands it over and Stiles is like ???? and Dean is like it's from Derek. Just take it. and Stiles is like *heart eyes* and then while he's mooning over his pie, Castiel walks in and Dean is just at a loss for words, and runs to the back to shove Derek into the front because it's his turn, but Stiles is still there, and Castiel is standing there confused & looking at Stiles, like ??? and Stiles shrugs and is like IDK dude. And like Dean and Derek are arguing in the back and finally Stiles jumps over the counter and comes back there and is like... YO. And Dean and Derek stop and Derek is super embarrassed and maybe Stiles walks closer all shy smiles and blushing cheeks to Derek and Dean is like I'm out of here and he mans up to greet Castiel and while they are in the front Derek and Stiles are blushing and stammering out hellos and compliments and finally Stiles just throws himself at Derek and kisses him. AND THEN later Derek finds out about Dean making Stiles pie, so he makes a basket of muffins/cookies etc. and gives it to Castiel and says they are from Dean, who is out on break and Castiel sits and waits for Dean to come back bc he wants to thank him and Derek is like... shit really? you don't have 2 but Castiel insists and Dean comes in and is like oh um heya cas what's up, and Cas is like, I wanted to personally thank you for this basket of baked goods that you made for me, and Dean is like WTF? I didn't make any- and Derek is like coughing and shaking his head and Dean is sideying him and finally gets it and is like Oh yeah, right, totally from me. You're welcome. and then Cas says, I'd like to repay the gesture, perhaps you can come over and I can make you dinner? And Dean is like UM YES OF COURSE I AM THERE YES. and it's a date and they make out and Stiles comes and hangs out at the bakery and eats the day old stuff and mess ups and makes out with Derek in the back. THE END*****