etnoterapias

[corazondebeskar-reads]

the art of breaking (dark!joel miller x f!reader; dead dove do not eat)

the art of breaking part one | part two

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

written for the #deaddovedecember2023 event hosted by @romana-after-dark | also on ao3 | dedicating this to @kewwrites, who is a master and icon of unsettling-but-still-romantic dark fic & whose incredible vibes made me feel brave enough to write this. love you ty 🖤

dividers by @saradika-graphics

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Seriously, I am saying this as clearly as I can: read the warnings carefully. If anything listed is something you don’t want to read, don’t. The working title for this was “the darkest joel” for a reason (and I actually tamed it down/cut out some of the intense scenes). It’s modern-day/no outbreak, but Joel still lost Sarah and went off the deep end. He was probably a good dom at some point, but now he’s just fucked up.

If you're worried it'll be too dark, it probably will be.

Warnings under the cut:

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, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, semi-permanent damage (a bone is broken, I’m not fucking around), whipping, spanking, face slapping, tit slapping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, anal, vaginal, degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, edging, denial, dacryphilia, bastinado (mentioned), restraints, very brief knifeplay, tiny drop of blood play, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare 

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. in media res

     -the fracture

There’s one comfort Joel almost never denies you.

Well, never denies himself.

Unless you’ve been real bad, you always take your place in bed with him at the end of the day. You think it’s so he has easy access to you if he wakes up horny, but honestly, that happens a lot less than expected. He works hard all day; he needs his sleep.

No, he likes the comfort of your warm body next to his. The way you curl up and press kisses to him, no matter how bad he hurt you during the day. His sweet little pet, desperate for every bit of his affection you can earn. He’s always gentle with you here.

It’s part of what makes The Pit so effective.

It fucks with your brain on so many levels, exposes you to so many fears, and then you have to reconcile that you were bad enough for Joel to deny himself the comfort of you in his arms at night. That you’re so undeserving of his love.

Of all of the ways he punishes you, this will be the worst. You can take the humiliation, the pain—not easily, but you can, and there’s usually immediate care after.

But a night in The Pit will tear you down completely.

You hadn’t known what to expect when he said you’d have to spend the night alone, but it wasn’t this.

“No, please,” you scream, stumbling to keep up as Joel pulls you by your hair.

“Shut up,” he snarls.

The soil is loose, clinging to your sweat as you try to right yourself. It’s a futile effort. When you reach The Pit, he holds you down with his boot on your chest while he unlocks and opens the bars.

“Get in,” he says.

You’re sobbing and shaking, skin already gone cold. Somehow, you manage to obey.

The Pit is exactly what it sounds like. It has an open wooden frame with mesh on the side walls to keep the dirt in place. The bottom is bare soil. Mounted to the top of the beams is a grate of bars that sit flush with the ground.

It’s big enough for you to curl up at the bottom—which is what you do now.

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

He shuts and locks the gate.

II. from the start

     -intact

It was kismet, really, that he was there that night. He didn’t usually go out for drinks with the guys, not wanting to be the boss who was always cramping their style. But Tommy had dragged him out tonight, and so he was witness (with the rest of the pub) to your relationship falling apart.

And okay, maybe he went outside for a smoke after you moved the fight to the alley so he could eavesdrop. But it wasn’t his fault. How could he not?

You had said, “Maybe you’re just not man enough for me,” to the brawny but pathetic prick across from you in the booth. “Wanting you to be rough doesn’t make me a freak.”

“That’s not rough; that’s fuckin’ abuse. You’re sick,” your boyfriend had practically shouted.

The discussion evolved into a screaming match in the alley, where Joel had been pleased to be right. It was about more than just a little rough sex or spanking.

At the end of it, your boyfriend stormed off, and you went back in the pub. Joel found you at the bar, throwing back another shot and wiping your tears away.

“You did good back there,” he says.

You startle and look at the stranger. The very handsome stranger. Rugged, with a salt and pepper beard and a scar across his nose.

“What do you mean?”

“Standin’ up for yourself. Not a lot of people woulda been confident enough. ‘Specially not a girl lookin’ for that.”

You glare at the bar counter. “M’not a weirdo.”

“Nah, you’re not. Shit like that is perfectly normal. He’s just pathetic.”

You look back up at him, and he sticks one hand in his pocket, trying to adjust himself discreetly. The tear streaks on your cheeks are getting to him.

“I don’t know. He’s probably right. It’s not your garden variety shit,” you say. The tequila and his gentle eyes have loosened your tongue.

“I doubt that. Try me,” he says.

“What?”

“Try me. Tell me what he freaked out over, and I’ll tell ya if it’s weird. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

You hesitate, but he looks genuine and kind. “I asked him to hit me. Like, in the face. And to, y’know, pin me down and—” you trail off.

“And make ya take it?” he guesses.

You nod. “He thought I like, I dunno, actually wanted to be raped,” you whisper the last word, eyes darting to the people around you.

Joel laughs. “Honey, that’s so normal, you wouldn’t believe. I’ve helped ladies out with that little roleplay more times than I can count. If that’s your deepest, darkest fantasy, and he couldn’t take it, then you’re better off without him.”

“It’s not,” you mumble.

“Speak up, honey.”

“It’s not my deepest, darkest fantasy. It’s probably one of the least of them.”

He grins. “Then you’re definitely better off. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with likin’ things on the darker side, sweetheart.”

You’re feeling hot all over and are about to ask him more when your phone rings. It’s your idiot boyfriend, who’s realized you have the car keys.

“I better go. Thank you,” you say, standing and offering him your hand.

He gives it a firm shake, tipping his head. “I’m Joel. And if you’re ever so inclined, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

You laugh. “Let me break up with my boyfriend first, Joel.” But you dig a pen out of your purse and write your number on one of the tiny bar napkins.

Your first date was so normal. You’re not sure what you expected. To jump right to hardcore sex?

But no, he turns up at your door in a neatly pressed green button-up, black slacks, and an ostentatious belt buckle. He greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of wildflowers, lavender stalks nestled between pink honeysuckle and red salvia. Not a traditional arrangement, but it reminds you of a summer sunset.

“From my garden,” he says a little sheepishly, but you like them a lot better than some generic store display. You tell him as much and his cheeks flush a little.

You return the kiss and pop the flowers in a vase of water before he sweeps you off in his pickup. You aren’t surprised, really, but it’s more charming than some of the other men and their gaudy trucks.

Joel’s is older but well-kept, with minimal rusting around the wheel wells. The bed is open, and you can see streaks of grease and paint spills. A silver tool chest is mounted against the back of the cab. Everything inside and out has a light coating of sawdust.

He isn’t some insecure man with a truck big enough to make up for what isn’t in his britches, that’s for certain. You’d hazard a guess that the corded muscle of his forearms and the breadth of his shoulders are well-earned.

He holds the door open for you, which you tease him for as you slide onto the truck’s bench seat.

“Ain’t doin’ it ‘cause you’re incapable,” he drawls. “Or because you’re a lady,” he adds when he sees the glint in your eye.

“Oh yeah, cowboy?”

His grin is lopsided, a little dark. “Nah. I just think you deserve to be taken care of, s’all.”

You flush, the back of your neck burning, but you don’t fight the smile that threatens to break out. “Thank you, Joel.”

He shakes his head. He’s pretty sure, now, that if he plays his cards right, he’s found somethin’ special.

He waits three whole dates to take you to bed, and even then, it doesn’t start dirty.

“Let me get to know your body first, baby,” he urges when you ask him to fuck you rough. Instead, he takes you apart piece by piece. First with his tongue, and then his fingers. He brings you to the edge over and over, but never lets you fall.

After a while, you’re a broken record, pleas and sobs spilling from you.

“That’s music to my ears, darlin’,” he says, pulling his fingers out abruptly to see how your cunt throbs for him. He spits on your clit and watches it drip down to join the mess between your thighs.

“Please, please, Joel,” you beg.

“Please who now?”

“Please, sir,” you try, and are rewarded with his sharp grin. But not with an orgasm.

He slaps your cunt. “That’s more like it, baby. You remember who you’re talkin’ to, alright?”

You nod. “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.”

He shakes his head, sucking on your clit for a moment before pulling back to get a good look at you. “You do like a little pain, huh?”

“Would like more,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What would you let me do to you?”

“Anything, please, sir.”

He clicks his tongue at you. “Don’t go sayin’ that to someone you barely know. It’s okay to mean it when you trust somebody, but you’re gonna end up in more trouble than you bargain for if you pass that out like candy.”

“I do mean it.”

“Yeah? You’ll let me do this?” His open palm smacks across your face, leaving a sting tingling on your cheek and a lightness to your brain.

Tears spring to your eyes, but you nod frantically.

“What about this?” he grabs a nipple in his calloused fingers and yanks, twisting.

You yelp, but it trails off to a moan, and you nod.

“Goddamn, baby. S’good. But what about this?” He flicks open the switchblade he keeps in his pocket.

You jerk and whine, eyes wide and wet as he brings it to your breast. Your breathing falls shallow as you try to hold still, the point scraping the delicate skin as he circles it. But the look you’re giving him almost has him cumming in his pants like he were twenty years younger.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. I mean, you’ve gotta have limits; everyone does. But you just want me to hurt you, huh?” He digs the tip of the blade in a little on the side of your breast, cock throbbing as you gasp, and you both watch a tiny drop of blood bead and trickle down the blade.

He puts it away. “No,” he says when you whimper. “Not today. I ain’t prepared for all that.”

Joel doesn’t like to break his toys. Not permanently. Just enough that he can put them back together how he likes and then do it all over again.

“Don’t need to be prepared; just do it,” you whine.

He slaps you again and wrenches your head up with a hand in your hair. “First of all, I fuckin’ told you no. Second, I know you want to be a stupid little cunt for me, but I’m not about to cut you open without any goddamn first aid shit.”

He leans back and smacks the breast he had cut. He hits you over and over, alternating sides, until your chest burns, and you’re sobbing.

He looks you over briefly and then shoves his hand between your thighs. “You’re wetter than a slip ‘n slide, baby.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, and wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb. He feels your cunt twitch when he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.

It’s the last straw for him. He’s not opened you enough, but he has a feeling you’ll like it better this way anyway.

You cry out, back arching when he shoves into you. He meant to go slow, he really did, if only to drag out the anticipation. But you’re so warm. So wet. So he just stuffs himself inside.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you love the pain; it’s just that he can’t resist feeling the evidence for himself. He slaps you across the face while you’re still processing his cock, and the resulting clench and jerk of your body drag a moan from him.

He holds back, regulates his urge to pull each whimper and scream from you, but it’s still so fucking good. It’s been a long time since he’s doled out real cruelty to a slut like you who loves to suffer.

When he finally lets you cum, it’s when he’s about to. He pulls out and spanks your cunt, granting his permission. As your pussy flutters desperately around nothing, he cums on it, watching the way it gets prettier as he paints it.

You black out for a minute. When you come to, he’s wiping you down gently with a warm washcloth, wicking the sweat off your face and chest before cleaning his cum from your curls. You whimper, and he grins, leaning over to steal a kiss.

Even after that first night, he goes slow. He can’t scare ya, not while you still have someplace to run. Plus, it’s so much easier if he starts planting the seeds for your training now.

He knows you’ll beg for it, anyway. He’s been getting the nastiest text messages from you. Part of it is the dopamine; he’s not stupid. But part of you really wants this shit. And the rest? Well. You’ll get there.

It’s the little things. He orders you a black decaf at the drive-thru when you ask for a latte. You start to correct him, like you think he’s made a mistake, but he gives you a look, and you shut your mouth immediately.

When he pulls away from the speaker, you look over at him again. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry…?”

You squirm a little, heart pounding, unsure if he’s really doing this at the Dunkin’ Donuts. “Sorry, sir.”

He smiles and rubs his hand on your thigh where it peeks out from your skirt. “Thanks, baby.”

And that’s all it takes. You take the cup when he hands it to you and you’re quick to say, “Thank you, sir,” even though the kid at the window is still passing things through to Joel and can clearly hear you.

     -fissured

It goes on like that for a couple of months, but it doesn’t all go so smoothly. One night, he picks you up from work and takes you to a restaurant, saying he wants to treat you. Halfway through the meal, he asks for your panties.

“What?” you say, shocked at his vulgar language in the dining room.

“Take ‘em off and hand ‘em to me.”

You go to stand, probably thinking you can go to the bathroom to obey.

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Right here, right now, baby.”

“Joel,” you hiss, sitting back down, “I can’t do that.”

He fixes you with a calm smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, raising one finger in the air. “I’ll give ya three choices. The first one, the one I’m going to advise you pick, is that you do it right now, and I’ll only punish ya for talkin’ back.”

“The second one,” he holds up another finger for emphasis, “is you can go to the bathroom to take ‘em off, but you’re gonna pay for it when we get home. The third one is where you don’t listen, we leave right now, and you learn to fuckin’ regret it.”

Your breathing is shallow, and your pretty eyes are shining. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he is now.

“I-I can’t,” you whimper. “Please, sir.”

“You got about thirty seconds to make up your mind.” The softness is gone—from his voice, from his face, from the set of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you whisper, and you stand up. You’re only in the bathroom for a minute, and when you sit back down, you try to hand them to him under the table.

“Nah, that was only a choice if you were good,” he says, smirking and laying his expectant hand on the white linens.

Mortified, you ball them up tight in your fist and press them into his hand. He slides them into his pants pocket.

He doesn’t say anything else about it for the rest of dinner, asking instead about your projects at work and your visit with your parents over the holidays. You feel sick, barely eating a thing, and biting your lip to stave off the tears.

As soon as you’re in the truck, you start to cry. “I’m sorry, I was just scared and—”

“Shut up. You made your choice. You’re not sorry. You’re just afraid of the consequences.”

“N-no, I am sorry, I mean it.”

“You’re gonna have to prove it.” He doesn’t look at you on the drive home, doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t even turn the radio on; just listens to you sniffle.

When he parks, he sets his hand on your thigh. “Don’t worry, baby. I know you can be my good girl. All you gotta do is take your punishment and learn from it, okay?”

You sniffle again and nod, blinking through tear-laden lashes at him.

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he murmurs. He gets out and comes around to open your door, offering a hand to help you step down from the tall truck. You take it, and he holds on, leading you inside his house.

He sits sprawled on the couch, thighs parted wide to make room and waits until you’re comfortably kneeling between his legs. You’re sat in silence, head bowed, arms folded behind your back.

“Tell me what you did wrong today.”

This is a first, but not a last. Even on days when nothing egregious has happened, you will follow this ritual. He’ll ask for your sins, and you’ll confess. There will always be something you’ll owe him for.

“I argued when you gave me orders. I was disobedient.”

“Anything else I need to know about, baby?”

“No, sir.”

“Why’d you argue?”

“I was afraid. I’m sorry.”

“Save your grovelin’ for after, baby. Why were you afraid?”

“I didn’t want people to see. I didn’t want to get kicked out or arrested.”

“You think I’d let anything happen to you? You think I would have given you an order that put either of us at any kinda risk?”

Your face burns. “I—”

“I thought you trusted me.” He sounds hurt, and you’re a little nauseous when you look up to see his eyes wide and sad, lips turned into a wounded scowl.

Your shoulders slump. “I didn’t think. I panicked.”

“Hmm. Okay, I can work with that.”

You look up at him, brow scrunched and lips pouting as you try to parse his words.

He smiles. It’s cold, and his eyes are steel.

You swallow hard, and his grin widens, quirking into a smirk.

“Alright, baby. I got just the thing.”

He leads you into the ensuite. You kneel on the little rug by the tub while he fills it. You’re too afraid to ask what’s happening, so you just sit quietly. He leaves the room and doesn’t come back until the tub is nearly full, and you’re starting to worry that you were supposed to be monitoring it.

He comes back in, and once it’s nearing the lip of the tub, he turns off the faucet. He has you kneel on the top of the three steps leading up to the edge. It’s the most luxurious thing in this house, and you suspect he installed it custom so he could soak his aching muscles.

He bends you over the edge so you’re leaning close to the water and crouches down behind you. It’s a pleasant surprise when he spreads you wide and licks from your clit to your asshole.

He stays there for a few minutes, indulging in your wet cunt and the cries it draws from your lips. After he’s had his fill, he stands up and lubes up his cock before pushing his way into your ass. He’s generous with the lube but rarely preps you, since you both like it better when it hurts.

You’re writhing a little beneath him, wriggling your hips to try to ease the passage. Once he’s fully seated inside you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves it under the water before fucking hard into you.

You thrash, displacing water from the tub, until he yanks you back up.

You gasp for air and scrabble to get a grip on the wet tile, but he pushes you back down and groans at how tight you get while you’re struggling.

He pulls you roughly back up. “Gonna keep going until you stop makin’ a fuss.”

You go to protest, to panic, and he pushes you back down.

The next time he pulls you out, he spanks you until your skin is burning. “Fuckin’ trust me. You think I’m gonna let you drown?”

“No, sir,” you cry, but it’s garbled as he pushes you back down. You’re still fighting him each time.

He pulls you back out and repeats the beating. “Relax, or we’re gonna be here all night.”

He continues the process a few more times and then gives you a reprieve, letting go of your hair so you can rest your cheek against the cold edge of the tub while he pounds into you. He reaches and rubs featherlight circles around your clit until you’re softly moaning.

“You gonna trust me?”

“I’m trying, my body panics,” you pant.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya. You hear me? You know you’re panicking, so focus on me instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

It shouldn’t make sense, but you think he’s long warped your brain anyway. The next time he pushes you underwater, you clench your fists tight and focus on what oxygen you do have, even if he knocks a little out with each thrust.

His hand in your hair is your anchor and buoy. You tense when you feel your body start to jerk, trying so hard to control it.

He pulls you up. “Just like that, baby. Again.”

It gets just a little easier each time. He leaves you under longer, until your lungs are burning, and you’re on the edge of gasping in water, but he pulls you out in time.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well.” He’s a little fascinated. He hadn’t really been sure it could be done or if your survival instincts would go into a frenzy. But here you are, letting him almost fucking drown you.

Not that he would.

Despite being balls deep in your tight little asshole, he isn’t trying to reach his orgasm. Not yet, staving off his pleasure so he can keep a clear head.

He keeps it up just a little longer. You’re getting tired and tolerating less and less time underwater. The last time he pulls you up, he pinches your clit and tells you to cum while he fills you.

He dunks you again while you cum, and you clamp down on him tighter than you have before, convulsing on his cock. When he pulls you back up, you’re gasping and sobbing. He pulls out and wraps you in a towel, easing you to the wet floor while he cleans up.

When he comes back to you, he helps you stand and dry off, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“So?”

Your brow furrows. It’s not what he usually asks after a punishment, but you think you know what he means. “I’m sorry. I trust you, I promise.”

“I know. M’so proud of you for taking that. You’re turning out so nicely, sweet thing.”

In the morning, you’re almost late to work after sucking him off when you should have been getting dressed. He’s about to walk out the door to head to the site when he hears your frustrated voice from the bedroom.

“Joel, where are my underwear? I need to fuckin’ leave.”

“I told you, baby. There was a price to pay when you picked the bathroom. Y’ain’t wearing ‘em anymore.”

“What?”

He doesn’t need to see you to smirk at the shocked expression he knows is on your face. “We’ll talk about it more tonight; I gotta run.”

     -avulsed

“Y’know, baby,” Joel says, leaning forward to rub your shoulder. “They just don’t fuckin’ appreciate you.”

You’re bent over, elbows on your knees, crying with your face buried in your hands. You sit up and sniffle, wiping the tears. “It’s fine; it’s not like I need to be coddled at work.”

All the stress of the PR world is getting to you, and you hate it, you fucking hate it, but you dropped 50k on a degree, so now you’re stuck.

“But they make you work all this overtime, cut your team in half, and then berate you when you can’t meet the client’s deadline? You do not deserve that, baby.”

You let him coax you into his lap, facing him so you can bury your face in his soft, worn tee. He rubs your back and holds your head to his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” you mumble.

“Nah, darlin’, I’ve told ya a thousand times. You deserve to be taken care of.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I, well. I was thinkin’...”

You wait, but when he doesn’t pick back up, you sit up and look at him.

“I dunno. It’s nothin’,” he says.

“Please tell me?”

“Alright, fine. Now, I don’t want ya to feel any pressure. It’s just a thought. But maybe you should just quit and stay with me a while, ‘till you can find something better?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking. He must see something on your face, because he tips your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I know it’s sudden, but I mean it. Let me take care of ya while you figure shit out. We don’t gotta treat it like living together if y’ain’t ready. But I’d be open to that conversation, too.”

It doesn’t take much more than that. The first couple weeks, he lets you give it a try—searching for new degree programs, applying for jobs you know you’re overqualified for just to try something different.

After nothing pans out, he suggests you both take a week off. Him from work and you from the burden of trying to escape unemployment. Just relax, like a little staycation.

It’s bliss. You go on dates, eat pizza and marathon the “Jurassic Park” movies, and fuck like crazy.

On the third night, he sits you down. On his cock, of course. While you’re bouncing and brainless, he cups your cheek. “Baby, you’ve been too damn stressed still. What if we… well, what if we tried out a day or two like we’ve been talking about?”

Sometimes, you whisper to him in the darkness, usually while he’s balls deep, how you wish you could be his all the time. His good girl. His pet. And he whispers back, lures you right in with promises of taking care of everything, of you not having a worry or care in the world. Just him.

Now, he fondles your tits while he murmurs to you. “We can just wake up together, and I can take care of ya. Everything you need, baby. All you’d have to do is be good for me, yeah?”

You moan and grind down harder on his cock. “Please, sir. I want it more than anything. Just to be yours.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Joel had no patience for brats, so he usually broke his toys in sooner into the training process. He liked ‘em nice and obedient—scared, if that’s what it took, but devoted. But you had been from the start—you wanted to be good in all the ways you could never seem to be to other people. Your family, your job, the world seemed to just demand more and more.

Joel was the first person to make you feel like you had actually, really, truly pleased him. There wasn’t a higher mark you should have made. There wasn’t any expectation for you to give more and more.

His orders were complete, always. You learned that very quickly. Attempts to go above and beyond were rebuked.

“If I wanted that, I woulda said so,” he told you. And like everything else, you committed his words to memory.

It helped that he gave praise freely. You didn’t have to wonder if he was satisfied, if you should have licked him differently, if you should have made prettier faces while you came. He reassured you until you believed him, and then kept going anyway.

It made it easier for him to slowly peel you away from the ungrateful world.

“You don’t have to take that,” he’d say after watching your face fall further and further while on the phone with your mom. “Family ain’t supposed to make you feel like shit.”

They made it too easy, really, and your relationship with them would have likely just fizzled out. But in the end, he had to step in and snap it off.

You asked him to come with you to dinner at their house. He was hesitant. He wasn’t really the boyfriend type. He wasn’t really even your boyfriend. That was too weird a word for either of you, not when he owned you.

But he knows you didn’t want to go alone, and he has a feeling he’ll be cleaning up the mess anyway.

You want to give them a chance. Things have been so tense, and they said they missed you. But they didn’t even make it through the entrée without ridiculing you.

When your father asks how work is going, you quietly confess to quitting, hastily reassuring them that you are looking for a new position. Though, and you keep this part to yourself, you maybe haven’t been trying that hard.

“What do you mean you quit? How are you paying your bills? You better not have come here to ask for money,” your father says, setting down his fork to glare at you.

“Well, I’ve been living with Joel,” you mumble to the tablecloth.

“I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger,” your mother chides.

Joel tries to bite his tongue and let them dig their own graves. But your father calls you a “fucking whore,” and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand the way you’re cowering in your chair, fighting back tears.

“You watch your mouth,” Joel snaps at your father.

You look up, mouth agape, eyes darting from Joel to your parents.

“Mind your business,” your dad tells him.

Joel stands up and throws his napkin on the table. “She is my fuckin’ business. I wouldn’t stand by and let anyone talk to her like that. You’re not an exception just because you managed to get it up long enough to cum in your wife.”

“Joel,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve. You’re burning, melting on the spot, from the vulgar way he’s talking to them. For him, someone who’s always strict about manners and proper hospitality, to talk back like this? God, you think, he must really love you.

He puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds firmly as you lean into it. He rounds back on your parents. “You treat her like fuckin’ dirt beneath your feet, and I’m tired of it. You don’t deserve the fuckin’ dirt beneath her feet.”

He shoves his chair back and grabs your hand. “C’mon, baby; we’re leaving.”

You take it and stand up, letting him pull you along. Your father follows you into the foyer, and you try not to look at him while you shove your shoes on.

Joel holds your coat out while you slip into it, and you tune out whatever your dad is yelling now. You don’t want to hear it; you know it’s nasty, and your whole world has narrowed to Joel anyway.

He holds out the key. “Go wait in the truck, baby.”

And you do.

He comes out about five minutes later, red-faced and huffing with fury. He doesn’t say a word when he gets in; just throws the truck into reverse and pulls away. You both ignore the blood on his knuckles.

Once you’re on the road, he looks over at you and sighs. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

You unbuckle and slide over to the middle seat, tucking your hand between his warm body to curl around his arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Whaddya sorry for? None of that was your fault.” He kisses the top of your head and cups your cheek at the stoplight. “It was gonna happen eventually, anyway.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the ride home is silent while you breathe in his comforting musk and try to relax. But the tension is unrelenting, the horrible rotting feeling eating away at your spine.

He knows. Knows what you need, knows what he can do to seal this moment forever. He waits until he’s unzipping the pretty little cocktail dress you’d stressed over.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, breaking away from where he was sucking his claim down your neck to swap out your delicate necklace with his collar.

He unhooks the bra and kisses the marks he left behind with the cane, your penance for being allowed to wear it. It leaves you bare to him, and his hands turn greedy. He presses biting kisses against your lips while digging fingers into your bruises, swallowing your whimpers.

He grabs you by the neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, holding you to him while your vision blurs. When he lets go, you stumble, but his arm around your back holds you upright. He slaps your face with quick, sharp blows in rapid succession to keep you unsteady.

“Knees, hands behind your head,” he says, and lets go.

You fall but are quick to right yourself and take the position. He wastes no time, giving you another harsh smack before grabbing your hair and shoving his cock into your throat.

You choke and gag but keep your hands in place even as your head spins. You feel limp and grateful that he doesn’t seem to require any effort from you as he uses you without mercy.

“Look at you. You’ve got my whole cock down your throat. You’re so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your eyes are already glazed over, and you moan your appreciation around him.

He pulls out and hauls you to your feet. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Get your ass downstairs.”

He fucks you, beats you, uses you wherever he wants. But the basement is where he keeps the heavy equipment and where you know you’re about to have your mind and body pushed to the absolute limit.

You’re ready, he thinks, when he gets down and finds you waiting perfectly in place for him, eyes wide like he’s descended from on high. He jerks a thumb to the wooden post, and you meet him there.

“Forget about what they want you to be,” he murmurs as he closes the steel cuffs around your ankles. “You know what you want, baby. Right?”

“Mhm,” you nod, already slipping away into that safe place only Joel can get you to.

“What do you want to be?” he asks, binding your arms up over your head to the eye bolt at the top of the post.

“Yours.” It’s half-whisper, half-whine.

“Yeah? You just wanna be mine? You don’t want to get a new job?”

“No,” you finally confess. “But—”

“But what, baby? If you say somethin’ about money or bills, I’m gonna be mighty unhappy.”

You bite your lip. “I’m scared one day, you’ll wake up and not want me anymore.”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, sweetheart. You think I put all this work into helpin’ you, into teaching you how to be mine, just to toss ya out? You’re hurtin’ my feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.

He slides a silicone cock into the bracket lined right up with your mouth. It’s a fairly standard size, since he knows you’re going to thrash around and doesn’t want you gagging too much and throwing up.

Your torso gets tied to the post by your tits, the wood nestled between them and rope woven around. Securing you there forces your head onto the toy, but he doesn’t make you take it all the way. You keep your mouth open and don’t move closer or further, waiting for his command.

“Suck on it whenever you’d like. You’re going to need it.”

Your eyes roll back a little at his promise. If he thinks you’re going to need something in your mouth to self-soothe, you’re in for an absolutely amazing time.

“Focus on me. That’s all you’ll need to do from now on, baby. No more worries in that pretty little head, okay?”

The first strike is a warm-up. When you feel the lash of his favorite whip lick your ass, you moan. It’s a moderately short signal whip that he wields like a fucking pro. His warmups are quick but thorough, and you’re squirming when he moves on to your thighs and shoulders.

“Already?” he says, laughing when you whine around the silicone cock.

You’re absentmindedly sucking on it when he starts a harsher assault. A particularly sharp strike stings at the valley where your ass meets your thighs, and you yelp, jerking a little and gagging yourself on the dildo.

His smirk burns into your back as the cry melts into a moan, and you writhe a little, trying to get friction where you need it most. What you get, though, is the tip of the whip against your cunt.

By the time he moves around to your tits, they’re covered in spit, heaving with the effort of holding back your orgasm. He comes up to you first, and pinches at your nipples.

“Aw, does my dumb little cunt want to cum?” He croons, tugging and twisting until you moan. He laughs when all you can get out is a muffled “mhm.”

“Tell ya what. You can cum all you want while I hurt you tonight, okay?”

He punctuates it with a particularly cruel pinch, and that, combined with his permission, is all you need to let the pleasure shudder through you.

“Yeah? You gonna get off to being my little toy? Gonna let me do whatever I want?”

You moan around the fake cock, easing it further into your throat.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He doesn’t give a warm-up on your tits, figuring you’re already so far gone it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.

He’s right. The first lash is harsh, a welt blooming across the top of your breast in its wake, but you groan, trying to press your cunt up against the post for any relief.

You don’t need it, though. He brings you to your peak again with the skilled flick of his wrist, landing blows across the fat of your breasts. He waits until you’re mid-orgasm to bring the whip hard across your nipples.

The resulting wail almost makes him cum in his pants. He does it only twice more, relishing in your agony, but restraining himself from just letting loose. Not with the whip, as much as he’d like to. Maybe later with a flogger.

Once he’s taken it as far as he’s willing to risk, he moves back around to give the rest of you the same treatment. The hardest hits push you over the edge, and by the time his arm is getting tired, you’re sobbing and writhing in your restraints, overstimulated in every way.

He unlatches your ankles first, helping you find steady footing before untying your wrists and torso. You drop to your knees and open your mouth, throat aching for his cock after the tease of the toy.

He doesn’t have the willpower to torment you by denying it tonight. Instead, he nearly pops the button off his jeans in his urgency to pull his cock out and shove it as far down your throat as he can.

Your arms find their place behind your back, and you just take it. He fucks into you without restraint. It’s filthy, from the mess you’re making to the wet choking sounds he pushes out of you with each thrust.

You’re shaking, and he pulls out abruptly.

“I said while I’m hurting you. You don’t get to just cum from getting facefucked.”

“Then hurt me, please,” you sob. It’s right there; you’re so close.

He slaps you across the face and laughs as you cum, shoving back into your throat while you’re still riding out the aftershocks.

He pulls back out, and you whine until he yanks you up by the bicep and pushes you over to the padded bench, bending you over it and shoving into your sopping cunt.

“Still disappointed?” he teases.

“N-no,” you pant. “Please hurt me.”

“Beg me properly, greedy little cunt.”

You clench around him just at the words, but obey. “Please, sir, please hurt me so I can cum. Please.”

“I’ve been hurtin’ you all night, baby,” he says, voice thick with false pity. “Don’t you want me to be gentle with you now?” He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cum as he mocks you.

“No,” you sob. “No, love me, hurt me, please.”

It’s got an edge of desperation and heartbreak to it that he just loves.

He smacks your already bruising ass until you sob harder, shaking uncontrollably as you cum. He wraps his hands around your throat and fucks you through it until he cums, hips stuttering, and filling your cunt with his spend.

He lets himself collapse a little on top of you, pinning you with his weight against the bench with his softening cock still buried in you. “Feel loved now?”

You’re still crying, and when he folds his arms around your chest, elbows resting on the table, you cling to him. “Love you,” you murmur over and over, pressing kisses up and down his forearms.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at you. “I know, baby. You know I love ya.” He’s half-hard—not something that happens a lot anymore at his age, so he’s not gonna waste it. He pulls out just to manhandle you up onto the bench on your back, climbing up between your legs and shoving back in.

It’s a little sloppy until he’s fully hard again; your combined cream making things a little too slippery. Once he’s erect, though, he sets a punishing pace, folding you in half with your legs up by your ears. He works your clit with his hand, relishing in the way you’re fucking exhausted and overstimulated, but your poor clit’s been neglected. It means he can twist and pull on it, tugging until you give him more and more, until you’re sobbing for mercy that you know you’ll never get.

He doesn’t ease up until he pulls out to cum over your tits and face.

“Mine,” he snarls, shoving his fingers into your swollen cunt and feeding you what’s left of his first orgasm and your… well, he’s not really sure how many. A fuckin’ lot. “You’re all mine. Little fuckin’ toy to do whatever I want, right?”

You’re still gasping for breath, having been half-suffocated in that position, but when you look at him, it’s like he’s a fucking god. “Yes, sir.”

     -broken

The day had started out fine.

He’d laid out a dress for you to wear. Sometimes, he made you go around bare for a while, just to fuck with your head a little, but he prefers to unwrap you like a present.

Plus, the sight of you crawling around in nothing but a slutty, barely-there dress is picture-fuckin’-perfect. He’d know; he’s got a bunch of ‘em on his phone.

And crawl, you do. You haven’t been allowed to walk further than a couple of feet in a long time. There’s penance to be paid if you can’t avoid it.

Joel collects your penance whenever possible, gathering what’s owed for your sins and dealing out forgiveness when it's settled. It’s how he shows his love.

And he does love you. How could he not? Such a perfect little toy. He’s spent so much time training you right to be his prized possession.

He knew it’d happen eventually, so when you commit one of the worst offenses, he has to make it count. You were testing your limits, of course; he had expected it. He had expected it months ago. It was worse now, after you’d been so good and earned so much trust. But now that you’d been nothing but his for two months, you had finally fucked up.

Your punishments were never painful. Okay, they weren’t pain-focused. Sometimes, he had to put you over his knee to let his frustration out before he could give you a proper punishment. But the pain wasn’t the point—you both liked it too damn much. No matter how much farther he took it than a regular session, and no matter how sick you were with guilt, you were always a soaking wet mess after a beating.

This time would have to be different, though.

It was time to finally break you.

He knew as soon as he got home. Not the particulars, but that you’d made a huge mistake.

On the surface, nothing was amiss. You were knelt by the door in your pretty little dress, a short number in navy blue. You had your head down and arms folded behind your back in perfect posture.

But something was off. It didn’t feel like you were happy he was home. And he was pretty sure there would only be one reason for that.

He hung up his keys but didn’t bother to take off his shoes, coming to stand in front of you. “What’d you do?”

You flinch and have to re-tense to hold the position as a sob escapes you. Your hands are balled into fists to fight the urge to cover your face. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry. I asked what you did.”

If it were still the early days, when this shit usually happened, he might have been just a little softer. At least until he coaxed the confession from you, anyway. But you were in too deep, now, too entangled in this life that he had little patience for your reticence.

“I—”

“I recommend you spit it out. You’ll tell me in the end, anyway.”

You start to cry. “I can’t say it.”

“You better figure it out pretty fuckin’ fast, little girl.”

“I had an orgasm,” you blurt, whimpers escalating to sobs.

He pauses. It’s worse than he thought. The rush of disappointment and anger sends his heart racing, and his fingers flex in longing for a cane.

“Did you enjoy it?” he says.

It catches you off guard. “No, I promise.”

“That’s too bad, ‘cause it’s the last one you’re gonna have for a while.”

You aren’t surprised; you’re actually relieved. Of course, of course he’ll fix you.

He finally takes his shoes off and sets his phone on the counter, beckoning you to follow him to the living room. Taking his seat on the couch, he waits until you’re settled at his feet.

“Why’d you do that, baby?”

“I-I didn’t mean to. I was edging for the last time today, and I don’t know what happened. It was just there, and I knew it, I knew it was coming, and I—” You choke on the guilt, the grief.

“You what?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t convince myself to stop. I kept thinking ‘no, you stupid cunt,’ but I couldn’t pull my hand away.”

He regards you for a moment. He’s burning inside, but trying to calculate the most effective approach.

“Thank you for telling me right away,” he says, but even though he means it, the words are cold and clipped. “Which hand?”

You look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “What?”

“Which hand did you use? Give it to me.”

You lift up your right hand, and he cradles it in his.

“Listen close.” He waits until he’s sure you’re focused on him, on his words.

This is where things have fallen apart in the past. No amount of training and manipulation can get someone across this hurdle; they have to mean it. The last thing he wants is someone running to the police because they don’t fucking understand how serious he is.

“This is going to be your last chance to back out. I will stop right now and let you pack your shit and leave. But if you stay, you’re agreeing to anything I do to you past this point.”

You bite your lip, stomach churning. “You’re scaring me,” you whisper.

“Good. You should be scared. What you’ve done is one of the worst things you could have. That’s got some serious consequences, baby.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I gotta hurt you. Bad. Y’ain’t going to like this; I can promise you that. I can’t punish your cunt because you’re such a stupid pain slut; anything short of permanent damage is gonna make you wet. And I’m not lookin’ to do permanent damage.”

Your lip trembles, heart pounding. You’ve never been so afraid, but you’re also enthralled. Lured in by the timbre of his voice and the salvation it’s promising.

He squeezes your hand where he’s still holding onto you. “I’m going to break one of your fingers.”

Your heart falters, blood rushing. “Oh god,” you whisper, shaking your head. Instinctively, you tug back on your hand, but he grasps it tight, tight enough that you feel the bones grind under his large fingers.

“It’s up to you. That’s half the price for forgiveness. The rest is gonna be spending the night alone.”

Somehow, that sounds worse. You can’t breathe.

“Gotta choose, baby. You wanna go? I’ll pay for a cab. You can walk away, but you can’t ever come back.”

You think you might be drowning. Leave? How could you leave? There’s no debate in your head; you have nothing without Joel. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And the idea of losing him feels catastrophic.

You’re crying again, and you’re vaguely aware of his soothing voice trying to coach you through breathing. When you focus on him, just like he’s taught you, you start to calm down.

It’s Joel, you think. He’ll take care of you. And he said he didn’t want permanent damage. You just have to suffer for your betrayal and he’ll forgive you.

“I think I might throw up,” you warn him.

He sighs, the fear of losing you flooding away, taking some of his anger with it. “We’ll do it in the bathroom.”

He stands up, and you follow, albeit slowly, as the wave of nausea rises. You do throw up as soon as you get in the bathroom, thankfully making it to the toilet. He holds your hair and rubs his hand across your shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, baby, get it out of your system. You’re being so brave for me,” he croons. He helps you up to sit on the edge of the tub and gets you a little cup of mouthwash.

“I’ll help you brush your teeth after,” he promises. “I’d do it now, but, well. You’re probably going to puke again.”

When you’re done swishing the mouthwash, when it’s all turned to foam and you’ve spit it back in the cup, he swaps you for water. You rinse and spit that, too.

He’s laid a few things out on the counter. You feel dizzy all over again. Something tells you the comfort you feel is wrong, but he’s prepared an ice pack and medical tape, and has four little ibuprofen out next to another cup of water.

The other, louder part of you is whispering, see? He’ll take care of you. The act of wondering what’s wrong with you feels like a farce. You’re thinking it because you think you should, just going through the motions.

He takes off his belt and brings it to your mouth. You clench it between your teeth, letting a shaky breath through. His hand cups your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“I knew you were somethin’ special,” he whispers. You’re not sure he meant to.

Your whole body is shaking uncontrollably. He watches you for a moment, worried you’re going to faint, and then sits on the floor with his back against the tub, pulling you into his lap. He lays you back against his chest, caging you in with his arms and thighs. The ice pack sits to his right, already popped and frozen. Waiting.

Gently, he lifts your hand and brings it in front of your chest, taking it in his left. It’s a macabre mockery, the way he cradles it in his palm, fingers wrapped around the sides. In his right hand, he notches his thumb on the knuckle of your middle finger, bringing the other fingers in below it.

He doesn’t drag it out, doesn’t take pleasure in your terror. When he moves, it’s faster than a gunshot. Your scream is raw, breaking free from the spaces between your teeth and the belt. The taste of leather will remind you of this moment for the rest of your life.

He has the ice pack on it before you mentally register that it’s over. You’re sobbing. Horribly, he’s right, and you are sick again. He holds your hair in one fist, holding the ice pack to your mangled hand in the other.

When you’re done, he pulls you back against him, wrapping his limbs around you in a perverse embrace as you shake harder. With his free hand, he brings a damp, cool cloth to your face, cleaning you of the viscera of your sickness.

He’s shushing you, head bent close to your ear. “It’s alright, baby, it’s over. You did so good. I’m so proud. I love you so much.”

It’s good that he doesn’t expect an answer because he doesn’t get one. You’re too lost in the pain and shock.

When it’s time to take a break from the ice, he grabs the medical tape and wraps it around your index and middle fingers. You cry out again as he jostles the break. Once he’s splinted it, he lowers your hand gently to your lap so he can grab the medicine.

“I can’t; I’ll throw up again,” you say, voice cracking.

“Don’t have a choice, baby. Gotta keep the swelling down.”

He feeds you each pill, one by one, chasing them with sips of water.

You look so sad and precious that he almost feels bad. Unfortunately, he’s also rock fucking hard, so he shifts you a little to pull his dick out.

You don’t say anything when he lifts you to lower you on it. He’s careful, trying not to shake you around too much. He was right; you didn’t enjoy this pain. You’ve never been this dry for him before, and you whimper pathetically at the pinch and sting of his girth.

You may be worn out and in agony, but your cunt doesn’t get the message. He grins when he feels you getting wet and clenching around him. He doesn’t push it though, doesn’t torment you, just fucks up into you gently until he fills you.

You’re limp against him now, and he presses a kiss into your hair. “You may have to walk for a bit,” he muses. “But I’ll cap your penance at ten.”

You wince. Ten strokes with the cane on the soles of your feet every day until your finger heals? You usually only owe enough for two or three. It is a mercy, though, so you nod and thank him.

Joel can hardly contain the way his chest is flooding with warmth. You’re so close; he can feel it. So close to being completely his to put together just the way he likes.

He can’t wait to take you to The Pit.

     -kintsugi

You’re cold. So cold. You’re curled in on yourself, tucked into a corner in the hopes that you’d be able to keep warmer. Your whole right hand throbs.

Moonlight only cuts across the corner, but it’s a comfort still. The soil is loose and you keep shuddering, feeling the tickle of a dozen phantom insects.

Worst of all, your chest aches, like he may as well have hewn you open. Dry sobs work their way free every now and then, leaving your mouth tacky and your throat full of cotton.

The only rest you get is when you blessedly pass out. Every time you close your eyes voluntarily, you see the heartbroken look on his face when you begged him not to leave you there.

“I wish I didn’t have to. I wish you hadn’t broken my trust and I could keep you close, baby. But you’re never going to learn how to be good if I don’t show ya.”

Bad, I’m bad, he doesn’t want me anymore, you think to no end.

When the sun starts to rise, you’re limp, still in your corner. You barely turn your head when a shadow falls over The Pit, but your heart starts to pound when the lock clicks, and Joel raises the gate.

“Oh, baby,” he says, soft and sorrowful. “C’mere.” He reaches out a hand, and you scramble to him, letting him take your left arm in his grasp and pull you out. You move immediately to your knees, body bent forward as your knotted muscles protest. He scoots his boot out of the danger zone near your broken finger.

You keep whispering, a broken record of “Sorry, please, I’m so sorry.”

He picks you up and holds you to his chest, shushing until you fall quiet. It doesn’t take longer than a few seconds as your brain desperately clings to any scrap, any way you can be good for him.

He brushes the loose dirt from you before going inside and upstairs to the ensuite. He sets you on the little rug next to the full garden tub, and he tests the water with his fingers before peeling his clothes off.

You flex your left hand, balling it in and out of a fist. You’ve never been particularly ambidextrous and wonder how you’re going to wash him without falling in or hurting your hand.

Before he gets in, he feeds you four more little red pills. Once he’s settled, he reaches out and guides you carefully by the waist, pulling you into his lap in the warm water.

That’s all it takes for you to start crying again. He doesn’t try to quiet you; just holds you there against his chest and lets you sob.

By the time you’ve calmed, the water has cooled, but instead of getting out, he just drains a little and runs more hot water.

Joel tips your chin up gently with the knuckle of his index finger. “You ready to be my good girl again?”

You nod, lip trembling.

Joel does nothing you hadn’t asked for. The trouble for you was that you asked for too much. Gave him too much. And it was far too late to get any of it back.

He gave what he could, though. Couldn’t replace what he’d taken, so he pours himself in the cracks, puts you back together with a firm hand and loving care. Sure, his love doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but he knows you see it for what it is.

“I know, baby. You took that all so well. Don’t worry,” he pauses to kiss you, “I forgive you. My perfect little toy.”

pls be nice, I'm so nervous about this.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Caffeine fix and beyond - Part 2

A/N: Did I come up with the worst fic title? Lmao. This is for @elixirfromthestars Thank you for hosting the cutest writing challenge.

Sitting at the Coffee shop AU table, with some sweet treats - “I’m only doing it because you’re cute.”, “Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?” & Saying ‘I love you’ for the first time.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warning: fluff!

Word count: 2.4k

Find Part 1 here.

.

It had been a whole fourteen hours since your first kiss with the most famous Avenger and the smile that decorated your face still refused to leave.

After sharing a few more soft kisses and some delicious pizza, Tony left your apartment with a promise of seeing you at your shop the next morning. One could call it the hyper excitement that came with a new relationship but that night, you baked him his favorite blueberry muffins, picturing his handsome, grinning face as you’d feed them to him.

The next day your staff noticed an extra spring in your step as you entered the shop, nobody mentioned the eagerness with which your eyes would scan the door as someone entered in hopes to see that strikingly good-looking face again. The day went by as usual, busying yourself in work seemed the only way to get through without letting nerves get in the way as the clock ticked.

Day morphed into evening and eventually it was time to wind down and head home.

You had checked your phone only about a hundred times to see if there was any message from Tony, every notification only brought disappointment when it wasn’t from him.

He probably had a good reason for his absence but you felt dejected nonetheless. Shrugging your obsessive thoughts aside, you went home and took an elaborate shower. With no updates from the genius billionaire, you turned off your phone and went straight to sleep.

Your colleagues sensed something was up the next day when you arrived, your mood was snappy and irritated which was rare considering how much you loved coming to work. They did their best to not piss you off and you did your best to not have a meltdown over your silly little heart for hoping so much out of that one moment of connection you shared with Tony Stark.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee mixed with delicious baked goods filled the air as usual, something that always brought a smile to your face. But not today. Today you had busied yourself at work to a point where your legs began to ache, you had a headache for some reason and you hadn’t a peep from Stark.

The next day you arrived earlier than you normally would, you hadn’t slept a minute you were in dire need of some caffeine. You almost rolled your eyes realizing the fact that you were behaving like him now. As the day drew on, you were back in your groove, mingling with your regulars at the coffee shop, chatting with your staff.

Commotion could be heard outside as you came back out after lunch. The source seemed to be a few blocks away from the shop, which was also where Stark tower was located. You could see Tony in his suit hovering above the helipad before a blast resounded, making everyone gasp.

You could see a blue beam of light shoot straight up in the sky, making way to a portal that had opened up. You saw Stark head straight up towards it as sentient beings from outer space streamed down from the portal. He hit a few of them effectively, blasting them into smithereens with repulsors but there were too many incoming.

A collective gasp echoed as these creatures flew closer and began firing before people began scrambling to safety. Cars overturned and chaos ensued, making it seem like everything happened too fast and in slow motion all at once.

All while you felt frozen on a spot, there was something bigger incoming from the portal that had opened up, a monster floating down towards the Earth. There was no time to think as a car exploded just a few feet away from you, blasts coming in from all directions making you head back inside for safety.

While it all seemed unreal, you jumped into action by dragging a few injured individuals towards the kitchen, helping a few others get inside right before the glass facade of your coffee shop blew up, shattering to bits as the aliens or whatever these beings called themselves flew by.

You were sure Tony was right in the middle of it all, you just prayed somehow he would come out uninjured. By the looks of it, it seemed like a losing battle, the destruction, debris everywhere, you couldn’t bring yourself to think how many civilians had lost their lives up till this point, and how many would until someone could put an end to it.

Tony’s POV

As unbelievable as the whole situation was, he knew he had to keep going. New York was under attack, it seemed like a losing battle but he knew if the team gave up, the world would probably be ruled by the likes of Loki and his army. They were running out of resources and they were heavily outnumbered. The Chitauri had an endless supply of these monsters and the Avengers, despite their best efforts, were falling short.

He heard Fury over the comms that a nuclear missile was headed towards the city, ordered by the World Security Council. Thinking fast, he decided to use it to their advantage by guiding it towards the wormhole as a last resort.

He knew it could all be over soon, and that he may not make it out alive, but he had to try. The weapon zoomed in and he flew along with it, grabbing it with the suit before increasing the thrusters to maximum speed.

“Sir, shall I try Miss Potts?” JARVIS chimed through the suit, sounding solemn as he too knew there was no way Tony would make it back.

“Might as well.” he mumbled back, partly paying attention while his mind raced through every possible thought; his thoughts landed on you as the wormhole inched closer and closer. Pepper didn’t pick up, the line went blank after ringing hopelessly and he was about to get JARVIS to call you, in hopes that you had somehow survived this, when the AI glitched and went offline.

He released the nuke and watched it head straight towards the enemy before his suit gave up and his eyes turned heavy and he passed out. It was when the missile exploded that the impact of it threw him back towards Earth, sending him hurtling towards the ground just as the wormhole closed.

When his eyes opened, he was on the ground surrounded by the team, heart hammered in his chest, indicating he had by some miracle made it and the mission was successful.

“Please tell me nobody kissed me.” his thoughts quickly returned to you as he said it, wanting nothing more than your lips on his, to let him know he was indeed alive.

.

It seemed like an eternity later that you crawled out of your hiding space, unscathed minus a few cuts here and there, your heart dropped down to your stomach when you saw the condition outside. Dust and rubble had settled but the silence was deafening. You could no longer see the portal that was opened but you couldn’t be sure if all was over.

As people slowly scrambled out and on their way, you found yourself right outside your shop, looking dazed as you plopped down on the street, unable to comprehend.

There was a shuffle behind you, before Tony Stark appeared right by your side and wordlessly took a seat next to you. It was at that point that you felt tears gather in your eyes and cloud your vision.

He pulled you in a hug, clinging onto you just as much as you were to him, stroking your hair in a gentle manner.

“I was so worried, Tony.” you croaked once the tears subsided, leaning into his touch when he cupped your face.

“I know, Y/N. I’m just glad we still have this, well parts of it, anyway. God knows I can’t do without your coffee.” he joked, chuckling when you hit him in the chest and touched your foreheads together.

All the day’s events were made just a little more believable when Tony’s lips touched yours in a kiss that was more of a promise, a promise that you were the sole reason for his more than frequent visits to your little shop.

…

It took more than a month to finally set up the shop post the repair work. You were grateful you had insurance that covered it all, but Tony being Tony, had taken care of a lot of things, even added a few upgrades after convincing you with persuasive kisses and cuddles.

He wore you down, like you even had a chance with that gorgeous smile and doe eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?”

This was something he always asked, something you didn’t know you needed to hear after a hard day. That one question had the power to dissipate any residual anger, frustration or unpleasant thoughts from your mind.

It made you wonder how on Earth was this guy known to the world as just a genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist. He was so much more than that.

It was five o’clock when he showed up one evening, making your little heart flutter as he gave you that winning smile.

“There she is!” Tony exclaimed, holding two cups of coffee as you made your way around the counter to meet him.

“Did no one tell you it was a crime to bring your own coffee to a coffee shop, Stark?” you frowned at the cups in his hands, wiping your hands on the apron you wore.

Chuckling, he placed the mugs aside before wrapping his arms around you, placing a loving kiss on your lips. You felt some heat rise to your cheeks as the onlookers stared at the pair of you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to display his affection for you out in public but it was still something you were getting accustomed to.

“Hello, my gorgeous girl.” he murmured, looking fondly at you while you hopelessly blushed.

“Hello, my handsome boy. How was your day?” you smiled, placing your hands on his chest, idly tracing the outline of his arc reactor.

“Just got better.” he winked.

The cafe was relatively empty as you made your way towards a secluded area which housed a cozy booth. Tony had brought you your favourite coffee from a cafe you loved. You liked yours with a hint of mandarin and there was one quaint cafe that made the best brew. You were shocked he remembered it given you must’ve mentioned it once in a random conversation; the man really was full of surprises. He admitted to having asked one of your closest friends who also worked with you at your cafe about your go to coffee, she had been sworn to secrecy to not mention anything to you.

He had also shown genuine interest in setting up a meeting with your brother, something you assumed he would forget eventually. You couldn’t be gladder that he was proving every assumption of yours wrong.

“This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, Tony. Thank you.” you placed your hand over his, giving it a squeeze. You noticed how he weaved your fingers together and held them against his slightly trembling ones, letting you know he may have been underslept and over-caffeinated again.

It seemed to you like your life was turned into a romantic movie, with the perfect guy and rose-tinted situations. It was almost too good to be true, but you allowed yourself to dream on.

Tony stayed back as you closed up, even helped you clean up as best as he could, looking rather adorable in an environment that was foreign to him. But he was there for you.

It was then that you realized how hard you were falling for this man. It was inevitable, like you were meant to be. It felt right. He felt right. You and Tony.

“Earth to Y/N?”

You blinked as Tony waved his hands in front of your face, getting you to snap out of your daze. He pulled out a small bag of berries you hadn’t known he’d stashed away behind a counter, making you shake your head fondly.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Y/L/N?” he gently prodded again, feeding you a sweet strawberry from the bag.

“I–I love you, Tony.”

You blurted before you could stop yourself, your heart immediately leapt out of your chest at your confession, making it hard for your brain to process. Almost like in slow motion, Tony leaned away from the counter and made his way closer to you, standing between your legs with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Arms snaked themselves around your waist before pulling you flush against his chest, his face inching closer to yours as that stupidly handsome smile on his face grew.

“Say it again.” he whispered, nose nudging yours lovingly as his eyes scanned yours for signs of doubt.

“I’m in love with you, Tony Stark.”

You said it again, this time a lot more confident in your head as you matched his grin, locking your arms behind his neck.

“Again.”

“I love you, Anthony Edward Stark.”

“Jeez, not my full name, Y/N!” he made a face, chortling when you hit his chest, yelping when your fingers hit the metal arc reactor instead.

“You’re supposed to say something back, Stark. Not leave a girl hanging. Maybe a hey I love you too back, or a sorry I don’t feel the same way. Something? And ow! That really hurt.”

You were blabbering at this point, you were well aware, your overactive thoughts almost resurfacing until Tony Stark finally opened his mouth to speak up, shushing you with a finger on your lips.

“I love you too, Y/N. Of course I do. I think I have for a long time now. I just wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. You are the reason I smile so much these days, ask the team, really. They’re probably wondering what pills I’m on. I’m all yours if you’ll have me, my sweet Y/N. And you’re all mine, sunshine.”

Tony really left you speechless once again, smirking down at you before descending those godly lips over yours to prove how much of truth his words held.

[odyssean-flower]

The Chief Justice and the Worst Painter in Fontaine Chapter 3 Bonus Scenes

Summary: It was supposed to be your time to relax and get in touch with your (extremely) buried creative side...but then your boss showed up. A/N: Here are the promised bonus scenes~~ They are really not very long but i just wanted to write them for fun i wish i could pull for freminet but i have to save everything for neuvi 😭 i hope i somehow get him when i pull on neuvi's banner Now that I think about it I should make a masterpost for this fic

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 (Bonus Scenes) || Chapter 4

Unexpected Run-In

After spending some time underwater, you could now confidently say that this was now your second-favorite place in the world, after your apartment, of course. Everything felt so peaceful and dream-like down here. Time seemed to progress at the pace of molasses.

I could stay down here forever, you thought. Perhaps you could take diving classes or hire a diver to escort you down here, though the idea of being separated from the water by a bulky suit didn't appeal to you very much. If only you had a Vision...

You much preferred this--swimming in the water as lightly and nimbly as a fish, with Neuvillette's strong, reassuring grip on your arm. The idea of asking him to take you on underwater trips was dismissed as quickly as you considered it. It just wouldn't be possible.

Neuvillette seemed to be enjoying himself as well, though he didn't look like it at first glance. He must have liked looking at the sea creatures as much as you did, since his eyes softened whenever you would pull him over to look at a Blubberbeast or an otter.

The same couldn't be said when the two of you ran into schools of those mechanical fish. He didn't seem to care for them very much, and although you thought they looked kind of cool, you couldn't say you didn't understand why Neuvillette felt the way he did. They stuck out like a sore thumb against the gentle blues and greens of the water.

Speaking of sore thumbs...

"Monsieur Neuvillette, what are those?" You pointed at two purple rays a short distance ahead of you. They were a different color from the other rays you'd seen. Was it just your imagination, or did they give off a menacing aura?

"Ah, those two are the Fairy Knight Twins, Angelica and Medoro. They're just as lively as the last time I saw them. How wonderful," Neuvillette said.

"Oh, they have names?" Pretty fancy titles for a couple of fish, you thought.

As if they read your mind, the two rays swam towards you two. You looked up at Neuvillette, but he didn't seem to have any intention of moving away. In fact, he was looking at the two rays, which were now opening their glowing blue mouths, like he was looking at long-missed pets.

You screamed and hid behind Neuvillette as two sharp arcs of light sliced towards you. Neuvillette simply dodged them with ease, not a hair out of place. To your horror, he was swimming closer to those things.

After much pleading and tugging on your part, he agreed to take you somewhere else.

You later decided that you weren't quite ready to go back underwater any time soon.

What Freminet Saw

As usual, Freminet was in his blue sanctuary, spending time with his silent friends, the Tidalga and the Romaritime Flowers. He knew this area like the back of his hand. The observatory here had long been unused. There was no need to worry about running into anyone else here.

That was what he thought...until he saw two figures.

Even the normally expressionless Freminet widened his eyes as he recognized one of the figures.

Is that...the Chief Justice?

His distinctive appearance was unmistakable. He was holding another person by their arm. Freminet didn't recognize them. They were diving without a suit on, but they didn't appear to be a Vision holder. It was probably thanks to the Chief Justice's powers.

Freminet watched as the other person excitedly pulled the Chief Justice along as they gazed at the underwater creatures and plants. Freminet remembered his first time diving and seeing this quiet, serene world. It made him somewhat nostalgic.

But putting that aside, this was a strange sight. The Chief Justice was known to not associate with humans very much, and yet here he was.

Freminet had only seen the Chief Justice a few times. Not in the opera house, but standing silently on the beach. Freminet had found him unreadable during those times, but now...even from here, he could sense a certain warmth and possibly...affection exuding from him in the way he looked at and held the other person.

Hmm...

Freminet wasn't good at reading people, and his only experience with romance was the stories in his fairytale books. But he could tell that this person, whoever they were, was important to the Chief Justice.

He watched as that person cooed in delight at a group of otters, then they seemed to tense up a bit before pulling themselves out of the Chief Justice's grip.

"Ah..." a soft cry slipped out of Freminet's mouth as he watched them fall towards the seabed. But it was the look on the Chief Justice's face that really shocked him. A look of pure panic. It looked so out of place there.

The Chief Justice quickly caught their companion. Freminet could hear them both apologizing to each other.

He decided to swim somewhere else. For some reason, he felt like he was intruding on a couple's private time together.

[autumnapricot]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞 because I love your fics <333

ohh, thank you 🥰🫶🏼

(warning: major yapping incoming. no seriously.)

[1] will o‘ the wisps

quite obviously, lol! this story just has a special place in my heart, for the fact that i‘ve had the ground idea for so long, all the details that went into it that for most part probably even went unnoticed to the readers but were so important for me personally, the planning of things, the way i had like a list of the details and easter eggs and everything. also, the name (not to toot my own horn) but i truly had the biggest *oooohhh!!!* moment when i found this title for the story and it just fit so so perfectly. the vibe when i wrote it. yeah, just a lot of love. also it‘s my most „hit“ fic i‘ve ever written and wow, i would have never ever imagined to get this reaction to my writing, ever. like i saw the fics from other brilliant amazing writers in the fandom that‘d get 1-3k kudos and i was like what the hell, that‘s crazy much. and then wotw hit +1k kudos and i was (still am) mindblown by that because imagine 1k people irl telling you they love what you wrote? insane. and all your guys comments and asks and i‘ve gotten some of the greatest comments eeeveron this fic, like, just wow. i write for myself because i just have these ideas and words and stories in my head that i need to get out and one day decided to upload because i thought maybe a few people would perhaps like it, have a little joy with it, but of course validation is always amazing and nice, so this reception is mindblowing for me. also i now kind of wish i could rewrite some parts of the story, do some plots more or different or just write differently, but i always hate kinda hate my fics after a while and think i could have done better. but still, so much love for this fic <3

[2] friday night; i‘m in love

just for the vibe of this fic, it‘s my second fave :)) i remember i had such a good time writing this—it was the first time i went to a park to write and i stayed in that park for hours and just…wrote. this fic. and the song makes up the whole vibe of that time of that summer when i wrote this, so. just vibey. reminds me of good times but also somehow bad times. i got a comment that said „so this is what loneliness feels like“ and for someone reason that has stuck with me a hell of a lot.

[3] shores of forgiveness

this is not f1 but motogp, which is a rather little fandom on ao3 and at times idk what possessed me to write this, but, for some reason i do like it? idek. i don‘t even ‚ship‘ rosquez because oh my god, what a fucking mess that „relationship“ or well, that whole..thing..is. but that‘s somehow exactly what i love about them because fuck me that shit hurts and i lived through the split of worlds!! 2015 sepang. the press conference before? marc’s face? i wanna crumple like a leaf in the wind and to be carried away by them so fast that not even any fleeting emotions would ever graze me again. the coldness of 2016. 2018 argentina?? bro what a time to be alive (not!!). you need to know the whole rosquez lore to understand because my god. it hurts too good. literally as of this week’s events…imagine your childhood idol and absolute hero and later friend and now arch-nemesis still going on podcasts t.e.n. years later and still shit-talking you into the ground about how you’re the worst person to have ever lived and the worst thing to happen to this sport and entire nations hate you and and and!! well, ANYWAY, back to it: i don‘t remember the whole thing anymore actually. but still third! byee (fun fact: i have a rosquez playlist that literally consists of songs to scream in the car in anger and heartbreak, and it‘s my kinda therapy oops. as you can see, i am very invested in them still)

[4] but if it ain‘t you (it‘s a lie)

idk. sometimes i forget about this fic oops. but i do like it, i like me some soft besotted absolutely gone in-love alpha charles and cutie-patootie omega max. i don‘t even like the smut of this. actually why am putting this on fourth?🤣 buuttt i also remember the car rides where i listened to the song and then just randomly sat down, wrote this in one sitting, done. i think i wrote this at work even. well well well

[5] now, i am become death

listen. liiisten. i don‘t even remember writing this whole thing. literally two weeks ago i randomly looked through my works, saw this, halted, and was like—who wrote this? me?? when, where??? when did these words ever spook my mind? i reread it and yk what, it‘s fifth. no clue what‘s going on but hey. swords and blood!

anyway waaay too many thoughts, i’m so sorry, thank you! 🩵🤍

[romewritingshop]

Just Like Magic pt. 2

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Viscount!Choso x Maid/Reader

Warning: N/A

MASTERLIST

A/N: Some of you may have read this before, I just had to make a few changes in narrative and now I feel it is ready. Part 2 is here and Part 3 is coming soon. Thanks and I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! Follow, comment or reblog, IDC because I enjoy writing this fic. Please pay attention before reading.

(Y/N) was always an early riser as she dragged herself out of the luxurious bed sheets, straight away fixing them to make it seem like no one had slept there before sauntering over to the windows to pull open the curtains. The scenery outside was idyllic as she stared at the lush green trees shrouded under clouds. Her fingers mindlessly brushed the knots and tangles in her hair, smoothing it so it was straight and neat.

She fucked up but she may be able to recover from this. In the original story, the reader fell into a shock coma and dreamt the rest of her life with Choso. It was a shitty twist and (Y/N) wasn't weak willed. She was going to make the most of it. In the last three years, her heart somehow hardened and she built up her endurance to become stronger. She would overcome the shock.

She needed to talk to Choso, not too sure what exactly. But she needed to speak to Toge. At least tell him the circumstances have changed. Just so later on, down the line Toge wouldn't be so outraged by her sudden marriage. There was a soft knock on the door as (Y/N) shifted away from the window to answer who was at the door.

It was Nanami and a young woman with short orange hair, dressed in a black dress and white apron. Nanami seemed tired as usual as (Y/N) let the both of them enter the room. (Y/N) recognised the young woman but kept quiet to get a better explanation. Nanami gestured at the woman to begin introducing when his eyes accidentally caught (Y/N)'s nightwear. Red blush spread across his cheeks as he turned around, speaking with a choked voice.

"Lady Itadori, you seem to be missing your robe."

(Y/N) glanced down to notice that she was wearing a sheer silk nightgown that was showing a shadow of her body. The young woman rushed forward and helped (Y/N) slip into the robe that was hanging on a chair.

"Apologies, Nanami. You can look now."

He turned around, feeling a little relieved and embarrassed about the situation. However it wasn't the worst thing he had seen. He cleared his throat and spoke clearly.

"My apologies. This is Nobara. She will be your maid. I assume you are familiar with what her role is."

(Y/N) gave a nod and smiled at the young woman. Nobara was a fun character and she could completely trust her.

"It's nice to meet you Nobara."

"You too, My Lady."

"Please call me (Y/N)."

Nobara was horrified as she shook her head and waved her hands frantically. How could she dare address her Lady without her title? She wasn't worthy to be on a first name basis with her.

"I cannot."

Nanami rolled his eyes, and interjected between the two women.

"My Lady you will have to get used to this. You are the wife of Viscount Itadori Choso of Kaprines. A noble."

"Oh right. My apologies."

There was a brief pause in the air as (Y/N) let his words sink in. Nanami cleared his throat and switched to more important matters.

“Now, Nobara and I will show you around the estate and discuss your duties as the Lady of the Household. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes. Before we proceed with that, I want to talk to Viscount Itadori.”

Nanami had an apprehensive expression on his face, almost wishing that she didn’t ask for that request. Viscount Itadori seemed miserable this morning which was a counter to his usual calm manner. (Y/N) noticed this expression as she tried to rectify this.

“I’m sorry but -”

Before she could finish that sentence, there was a harsh rapid knock on the door, followed by a young maid with a grey dress. She gave a quick bow to (Y/N) and then turned around to quickly inform Nanami.

“Apologies. Nanami, Viscount Itadori is asking for you to help him prepare. He’s been summoned to hunt for monsters that are terrorising the villages in the north. He intends to leave now.”

Nanami gave a firm nod and dismissed the maid, turning to Lady Itadori and bowing with apology.

“Forgive me, my Lady but I must attend the Viscount. Nobara will guide you.”

At that Nanami strode out of the room and rushed away to Viscount Itadori’s room. (Y/N) was also about to follow when Nobara pulled at her arm to warn her.

“My Lady! You can’t go out looking like that! Put a dress on!”

(Y/N) was surprised by the casual tone in Nobara’s voice as she furrowed her eyebrows to look at her maid. Nobara rolled her eyes and let go of her hand before casually sauntering to the wardrobe to pick a dress out for (Y/N). A minute or so later, Nobara had pulled out a simple green dress with a bright yellow cord going across the hem, sleeves and folds of the dress.

“This dress is good. It’s quick to get into, can go on top of the night dress and it won’t drag on the ground if you want to go see Viscount Itadori.”

A gentle smile made its way to (Y/N)’s face, glad that Nobara understood what she needed. She gave a haphazard nod before taking off her nightgown’s robe, using Nobara’s help to get into the dress. Nobara pulled it up over the shoulders roughly before yanking the strings tight to tie up the back. Lady Itadori was ready except for her feet as Nobara went to the wardrobe one more time to grab a black pair of cloth pattens.

As soon as Nobara slipped the shoes on, (Y/N) shoved the door open and rushed out to try to catch her husband. Nobara rolled her eyes and grabbed a red woollen shawl from the wardrobe before chasing after (Y/N). She was a quick person as Nobara darted down the hallway just to catch a brief glimpse of (Y/N).

(Y/N) was passing through the hallways before entering a foyer. She rushed down and pushed the front door open to see several groups of men on horseback. All dressed in metal armour, save for their heads. There seemed to be at least forty men as (Y/N) shrank into herself. It was definitely an intimidating sight as she tried to peek around for a familiar face.

Fortunately for her, she was able to find Captain Tsukumo as she stepped down before calmly walking towards the tall woman. She was steely focused at inspecting the carriages that were prepared to carry their tents and food for a whole five months. It was never easy to pack at the last minute.

"Captain Tsukumo!"

Hearing her name, Tsukumo turned around to see the Lady of the house approaching her as she gave a quick bow.

"My Lady. What can I do for you?"

"Do you happen to know where Viscount Itadori is?"

"Last I saw him, was in his study for the briefing. I haven't seen him since."

(Y/N) huffed frantically as she thanked Tsukumo, then stomping away to look for the other Captain, Nanami, Yuuji or Viscount Itadori himself. Nobara had just reached Tsukumo and muttered angrily to herself as she followed the Lady.

All the knights were perplexed by the new Lady of the house, stomping around looking for her husband. She managed to spot Captain Fushiguro, who was tending to a horse.

"Captain Fushiguro!"

Fushiguro bowed lowly to (Y/N) as she stopped in front of him. She was breathing heavily and shivering as Fushiguro quirked a single eyebrow upwards.

"Lady Itadori, you shouldn't be running in this frosty weather."

He took the shawl off his horse and stepped closer to Lady Itadori, bringing the shawl around her shoulders and tugging it close so that she could grasp the closed ends. She didn't think much of it as she rasped out.

"Don't worry about me, Captain. Have you seen Viscount Itadori? I need to urgently talk to him."

"Lady Itadori!"

Fushiguro and (Y/N) pivoted to the direction of the loud call which came from Nobara. She held a red woolly shawl as she trudged over and wrapped herself in it, grumbling nonsense. A soft inaudible scoff left Fushiguro's lips as he smirked.

"Don't worry, I took care of your Lady."

Nobara squinted aggressively at the Captain's gesture. Fushiguro grinned smugly before he returned to (Y/N) to answer her question.

"I haven't seen Viscount Itadori since the briefing."

At that moment, a loud trumpet sounded as the entire courtyard turned to the knight that sat atop a chestnut coloured horse. It was Viscount Itadori, dressed in a black gilded armour with silver embellishments across the edge and chest. The horse trudged through the crowd and made its way over to Captain Fushiguro.

"Captain, are we ready to depart?"

"Yes my Lord. All accounted for … except for your brother"

Choso rolled his eyes before he took notice of (Y/N) and her maid wrapped up in shawls. He frowned at the fact that (Y/N) was out here and probably looking for him. He didn't want to talk to her. He wasn't ready as he returned his gaze back to Fushiguro.

"I can't afford to wait for him any longer. We will head out first and tell him, he can come with Megumi once he's healed up."

Fushiguro bowed as he walked towards the troops to inform them of their new orders. Nanami came up to Choso to hand over the helmet of his armour.

"Viscount Itadori?"

Her husband ignored her plea as he turned to Nanami with a firm tone in his voice.

"Please take her inside and explain to her everything I explained to you. I must head out now."

With no final glance back at (Y/N), Choso flicked his reins so his horse began to trot to the front of the men, to begin leading them to their military hunt. (Y/N) felt her heart break a little as she watched her husband leave without a glance and regard for her.

In the original, the shock of rejection had cemented so strongly that the original reader fell into a coma and only woke up when she heard the news about her husband's death. (Y/N) was not weak to be weighed down by rejection, she had been forced to go through a lot in the last three years and it had toughened her skin.

(Y/N) stood tall and firm, watching as Choso was riding away until he became a small blimp in the horizon. Nobara carefully brought her hands to the Lady's shoulders to coax her back to the palace. Fushiguro clambered onto his horse and trotted over to the Lady, Nanami and Nobara. He had a warm gentle expression as he spoke.

"My Lady, I'll try to send a raven to keep you informed about our hunt. We should be back soon, safe and sound."

"Thank you Captain."

"Call me Toji, my Lady."

"Toji."

(Y/N)'s heart warmed at his kind gesture. Toji gave a confident smile as his eyes glanced over at the Lady. His eyes went towards Nobara as he smirked playfully at her.

"Please keep Lady Itadori safe."

Nobara scoffed as she folded her arms, almost knowing his intentions from his words spoken to her Lady.

"Don't worry, Captain. I'll keep her safe. You should worry more about yourself."

"I will, Miss."

With that said, Fushiguro guided his horse to turn and gallop after the men. The courtyard was now empty now as (Y/N) exhaled a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. She needed to make the most of her time at the palace, to convince Choso that she was worthy of keeping.

She followed Nobara and Nanami up the stairs only to come across a familiar lanky figure that leaned on the door frame. Yuuji had a proud grin as he gave a quick bow to (Y/N).

"My Lady."

"Yuuji! Weren't you supposed to go with them?"

"And suffer from Big Bro's foul mood for months on end? No thanks. I'm better off being here to help you, my Lady."

Nanami frowned with his folded arms and raised eyebrows.

"How exactly are you helping Lady Itadori?"

"I'm gonna help her win Choso's heart of course."

"With magic?"

"Of course not! That is deceitful and I would never do that."

Nanami shook his head with a grimace as he held an arm out to lead (Y/N) in.

"I apologise, my Lady but don't listen to his words. He will make you drink a potion without telling you the effects."

They began walking inside the hall as Yuuji skipped after them, feeling rather offended by Nanami's insinuations. Nobara and (Y/N) were listening with amusement.

"When are you going to let that go, Nanami?! It was one time."

"It shouldn't have even been one time. It was humiliating in front of Lord Gakuganji and Lady Utahime of Macia. I felt like a fool jester."

"It was very good dancing."

"She almost would have killed me because she assumed that I was trying to seduce her."

(Y/N) and Nobara pursed their lips to refrain from laughing aloud whilst Nanami pinched his eyes at the embarrassment of having to recollect that memory. Yuuji had a grin of confidence as he slapped Nanami’s back.

“Come on! I thought it would help you seem less sleepy in front of them.”

Yuuji quietened down at the dangerous glare that Nanami was giving him. He decides to slide back and walk quietly alongside Lady Itadori. There was a moment of peace before Yuuji opened his mouth.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"To the spare study to teach the Lady about the house."

"Without breakfast?"

Nanami halted to a stop as his face flushed with apprehension. He had completely forgotten about that as he slowly turned with a bow.

"My apologies, my Lady. I had forgotten to ask you about breakfast."

(Y/N) shook her face as waved her hand nonchalantly. She didn't always have breakfast so it didn't matter.

"It's okay, Nanami. I can survive without breakfast."

"But Viscount Itadori will be angry if I haven't appropriately catered to you. You must hold on in the study whilst I go get your breakfast."

"Nanami! Don't worry. Please don't bother to make a big breakfast. Nobara, can you please bring three slices of toast with honey on top and some tea please?" 

“Yeah Nobara, get me a whole plate of eggs and bacon!"

Nobara gave a nod to her Lady, whilst sending a glare to Yuuji before she strayed away from them to the kitchen.

"She'll bring our breakfast whilst we study.”

Nanami acquiesced and they continued on. They came across a tall door which fit the palace's aesthetic. All of them came across a wall of bookshelves, a desk and a small table accompanied by wine coloured loungers. It was a simple elegantly decorated study as Nanami guided (Y/N) to sit down at her desk. He went towards the bookshelf and grabbed a few books off it before placing them on the table, in front of (Y/N). Yuuji plopped himself onto the loungers as he watched (Y/N) with a bored expression. Her face paled as Nanami began to explain.

"This will be your study, my Lady. Viscount Itadori has asked me to educate you in noble matters. These two books are the ledgers that Viscount Itadori has kept regarding the upkeep cost of the house, taxes, employee salaries and other expenses. 

"Viscount Itadori is fairly new to the noble society, only recently was he given the title as a Viscount. Hence he only wrote two years of ledgers. The other Lords of Kaprines have their ledgers here as well and they date back eighty years."

(Y/N) could not keep up with Nanami's words as she glanced over at Yuuji. That man was snoozing peacefully through the droning and after what seemed to be a good forty minutes there was a knock on the door. Nobara pushed the door open, wheeling in two breakfast trays, one with buttered toast, honey and tea, the other with eggs, bacon and toast, accompanied by a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

Yuuji sprung up happily and took a seat opposite to (Y/N), ready to feast on his breakfast.

"Finally! Thank you Nobara."

Nobara rolled her eyes and set the trays in front of (Y/N) and Yuuji. She elbowed Nanami with a teasing tone.

"Did you bore them by droning about finances?"

"No, Lady Itadori was thoroughly engaged through our conversation, right?"

(Y/N) quietly sipped her tea as a way to abstain from answering Nanami. The tea was silky and smooth going down her throat with hints of chamomile mixed in. The toast seemed to be from freshly baked bread and fresh honey. It was the best breakfast she's had in a long time.

She was going to be the best Lady of the region, let alone the house and then maybe his wife. She's not only read fanfics, but historical manhwas as well so she knows how to play the game. Inumaki/Itadori (Y/N) was going to be the best main character there ever was.

Although a lot of what's happening now is completely new and she was out of her depth in knowledge. So she didn't have the best idea of what would happen next. She was going to need everyone's help to adapt and adjust.

"Lady Itadori?"

"Oh! Were you saying something? I'm so sorry, I was lost in thought."

Yuuji waved a hand to brush off her apology as straightened his posture.

"What I was trying to say to Nanami is that you aren't a member of the house of Kaprines until you have your own raven."

"Raven?"

Nanami gave a nod and began to explain.

"Yes. Ravens are the official animal of the House as well as our message carriers. The important members of the house have a raven, currently they are Viscount Itadori, Captains Tsukumo, Fushiguro, one of the knights, Megumi, and myself."

Yuuji clears his throat as Nanami rolls his eyes.

"And mage master Yuuji."

"Miwa takes care of the ravens, you'll like her. We should go pick out a raven for you and Miss Nobara as well!"

This was new. She did remember briefly seeing a raven on Choso's shawl but she couldn't focus on its significance at the time. (Y/N) turned towards Nanami as if to ask him if it was okay. He gave a gentle warm smile which assured her. She gave a nod and stood up to follow Yuuji through the hallway and through the saloon which led to the gardens of the palace. It was still a little frosty as the clouds swirled with a dull white colour.

A few yards away, there is a large glass greenhouse which has an open window to allow ravens to come and go. Yuuji led them up to the doors and pushed them wide to unveil lush trees. There was a small water fountain to the right and to the left was a desk of odd bits of junk.

It was amazing as (Y/N) held her breath at the setting as well as the occupants, the ravens. All were different ages and sizes, flying around and croaking. Yuuji strutted in, with his arms spread introducing the women to the birds.

"Welcome Lady Itadori and Nobara to the Unkindness Sanctuary."

(Y/N) frowned at the name as she walked into the glance at the ravens.

"Why unkindness?"

Nanami rolled his eyes and stepped forward to explain better.

"Because a group of ravens are known as 'unkindness'."

Yuuji laughed as he held his palm out for a raven to perch on it.

"I heard this from a fellow scientist and I just had to use it."

"You're the only one who uses that name. The actual name is The Kaprine Raven Sanctuary."

Everyone turned to the right to see a blue haired girl, dressed in black trousers and a black button shirt. She had one glove and a kind smile as she walked up to (Y/N), curtsying before introducing herself. 

"My name is Miwa. I take care of the ravens here."

The raven that was hanging near Yuuji, flew away to stand on the palm of Miwa's hand. She was a new character being introduced but (Y/N) was going to love this girl. 

"I'm sure you have many questions as to why the House has chosen a raven?"

(Y/N) gave a kind nod as she stood closer to Miwa to stroke the raven perched on her palm. It was certainly fascinating as ravens were commonly known to be harbingers of death and misery. She's aware of the superstitions around the birds.

"It is true that locals often symbolised these birds as figures of death and despair, choosing to avoid the sights of these birds, however they seem to underestimate how intelligent these birds are.

"They are capable of communication, being able to solve puzzles and come up with solutions. Not only that, but they have been known to mimic human voices. 

"The first Lord of the house intended to use the raven as a way to establish themselves as a symbol of misery. However over the years, the different Lords began to notice the potential these birds have in carrying out tasks.

"Only twenty years ago, the Lord of Kaprines opened up this sanctuary as a way to nurture, train and breed ravens. My family have been taking care of the ravens since the sanctuary opened."

"And two years ago, I gave the name 'unkindness'. Hopefully it sticks!"

"Hopefully it doesn't."

Yuuji glared at Nobara, who simply rolled her eyes before looking around at the ravens.

"So how exactly do you choose your raven?"

Miwa shrugged before letting the raven on her palm fly away.

"Depends on which one looks good to you. Yuuji and Nanami, you help Nobara find her raven and I'll help Lady Itadori."

Everyone then split off into their assigned pairs as Miwa and (Y/N) strolled around the greenhouse. All their little beady eyes watched their movements as Miwa introduced a few birds to her.

"This is Max. He's a strong protective raven that can fight a squirrel."

"Can he actually?"

"Well I haven't seen it but apparently he fought one. This is Claude, a brooding raven who'll do what you want as long as you give him a snack. And this is Arsene. He is tempermental and deadly. I wouldn't recommend having him."

Arsene croaked loudly at Miwa's comment which made her jump behind (Y/N) and yelp. (Y/N) held back a laugh as she watched the bird carer begin an argument.

"What? It's true! You almost hit Regina in the beak yesterday. - what do you mean you were play-fighting?"

(Y/N) noticed a lone raven sitting on a branch, looking wistfully out at the gardens and hills behind the glass. She came closer to inspect the bird, moving carefully so as not to disturb it. The raven pivoted its head back as if knowing (Y/N) was there before flying down to stand in front of her.

Its eyes had a gentle fascination which drew her in, she crouched and brought a finger to scratch at his neck. It gave a soft croak and leaned in to accept her tender affection, this brought a smile to her face as she sat down, crossing her legs before bringing the bird onto her lap.

"That's Zachary. One of the soft hearted ravens that is loyal, caring and strong. One of the best choices actually."

(Y/N) lifted Zachary up to connect eye to eye with him as she instantly fell in love. She knew this raven would be there for her as she smiled at the bird. Miwa reached into her pocket and presented a ring and a bracelet to the two of them.

"If you are happy with Zachary, put this ring on your finger and put the bracelet around his neck so that this connects you together."

(Y/N) did as she instructed before turning to Zachary to introduce herself.

"Hi Zachary, I'm (Y/N)."

"Hello my Lady."

(Y/N) jumped at the sudden deep voice that came from Zachary. There is no way that ravens can actually mimic humans to the point that they can speak fluently. It was impossible as she gave Miwa a close to accusatory look.

"I thought you said they could mimic human voices."

Miwa nervously laughed before apologising.

"I did and they can. I'm sorry I should have been clearer. Yuuji charmed the ring and bracelet to establish and strengthen the communicative telepathic link."

(Y/N) gave a slow nod as she referenced the argument she had with the bird Arsene.

"Wait, so you actually understood what Arsene was saying?"

"Of course! The ravens are bred with magic to help them communicate like us. However the bracelet and ring enhance the communication link with the raven you have chosen as a companion. Essentially to a point where you could telepathically communicate across a large distance. Although that has never been tested."

That brought a smile to her face as Zachary took a perch on her shoulder. She learnt a lot as she gave a low curtsy to Miwa.

"I see. Well thank you Miwa for helping me find my raven and teaching me about them."

"You're welcome, my Lady. Should we go see Nobara?" 

She gave a nod as the three of them began to head over to Nanami, Yuuji and Nobara. Nobara had an angry expression as she furrowed her eyebrows at Yuuji.

"You said they could mimic human voices. You failed to mention that they were capable of holding a conversation."

"Oh dear indeed! How could I have overstepped that important detail?"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and linked her arm with Nobara's.

"Don't worry! You get used to it."

"Are you serious, my Lady? There is no way I can get used to this."

(Y/N) led Nobara away to look at other ravens, followed by Miwa who was continuously introducing the different ravens around them. Nanami watched them happily, whereas Yuuji stepped up to Nanami with an apprehensive expression.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Nanami?"

Nanami pursed his lips as if he was unsure about what Yuuji was referring to.

"What is?"

"Keeping Lady Itadori here when Choso asked you to send her away."

Nanami's jaw ticked, not surprised at the fact that Yuuji knew this order. Yuuji was lingering outside the doors after the briefing, he probably overheard the conversation. The mage could tell that this struck a nerve as he spoke tentatively.

"I'm not doubting you. I'm concerned about your wellbeing."

"I appreciate that, Yuuji. I'm sure about keeping the Lady here. Your brother hasn't thought clearly with his head."

Yuuji gave a nod as he gave a gentle pat to his shoulder.

"I understand. I will support you with this and inform the others to do the same."

A calm silence settled between them as they watched Lady Itadori and Nobara look around at the ravens.

[nobodysdaydreams]

📢HEY @sophieswundergarten AND EVERYONE ELSE ON THIS WEBSITE. GET OVER HERE AND LISTEN UP BECAUSE I'M STANDING UP ON THE ROOF OF YOUR HOUSE, AND I'M AGGRESSIVELY LAUNCHING FIC RECS AT YOU LIKE A GUY WITH A T-SHIRT CANNON AT A HOCKEY GAME!

Here's what prompted this fit of rage for everybody that wants the tea 🫖:

@sophieswundergarten wanted me to send in some asks for fic recommendations. Cool right?

WRONG!

Because I gave her the option for four different types of fic recs, and told her she could choose whichever ones she was comfortable with, and she chose to answer three out of the four asks I sent her.

Seems reasonable right?

No. THINK AGAIN!

Because the only one she DIDN'T answer was the one about her OWN FICS which are FANTASTIC and in doing so, she is INTENTIONALLY depriving MULTIPLE FANDOMS of her BRILLIANT writing.

But fear not my friends. This challenge will not go unanswered.

Some of you may know that Sophie made a call out post to praise my writing many years ago. She probably thought she could do it without any kind of response too. Big mistake, buddy. The ADHD might lead me to procrastinate, but I always get there eventually! Sometimes. God willing.

But certainly today, because I cannot and will not allow this injustice to go unanswered. Certainly not when I've had this much sugar and am in the mood to procrastinate on my own writing! (but we don't gotta talk about that)

So let's start out with her Wolf359 fics, because if you are sick and tired of Lovelace's crew not getting enough love, then you need to go read these fics right now! Not only are they all titled after canon space survival tips from Pryce and Carter (yes, Sophie looked them up, she went the extra mile), but they are brilliant, amazing, and make me wish we got to see more of each and every one of these characters!

We got Sam Lambert and Isabel Lovelace.

We got Victorie Fourier and Kuan Hui

We got Fourier and Hui again

and we also got a fic of Renee Minkowski and Miranda Pryce that SOPHIE attempted to BAN me from reading for the longest time and the proof is in the tags! (I simply hadn't finished the podcast yet and she was warning me of spoilers).

Then we got her TMBS fics, and the worst part is I cannot even TALK about all her tmbs fics because Sophie has written THIRTY FOUR OF THEM. That's right THIRTY FOUR. At this point, she might as well be called Sophie the librarian, because she could just open up her own tmbs library. You want to see these kids in angsty situations? She's got tons of it, especially for Reynie and Sticky. My favorites are Dr. W Dex (Sticky angst, she has a lot of that), Testing the Truth (Kate angst), Sparks (Reynie angst, she has a lot of that too), and Families of Choice (Constance angst).

But she's got angst about the executives too: Innocent or not, you're not a bet I care to take, was a gift fic for me that is FANTASTIC and Out Cold is great if you wanna scream about SQ being left on an island.

Pretty much, if you want angst for any character, Sophie has it, but that's not all she has on her AO3, oh no. Worried these tmbs fics are too angsty? Don't worry, there's also this one about a chicken: Her Imperial Highness the Empress of All Fowl. 🐔

And HOW can we talk about fic without talking about I don't wanna know I'm not capable, the best OCD representation of all time? We can't. Because it's the best OCD representation of all time. Go read it right now!

There's also this one with cute fluff about the kids: Firefly Nights, and this one where Reynie nearly dies in a snow storm: An Averagely Cold Winter Storm, and this one, where Sticky gets amnesia: Swept Away, and this one where we find out what happens to Jackson and Jillson in the show: The Door Is Open (Except when you're in jail).

I'm throwing these at you like grenades! They're flying through your windows!

AND THIS ONE! Oh my goodness how could I forget about this? THIS ONE RIGHT HERE. IT HAS MY FAVORITE THINGS. Sibling angst? Check. Dramatic irony? Check. Nathaniel being a villainous theater kid and calling his brother's house just to leave fake threatening voicemails? Check: After the Beep 

SO GO AND READ THESE NOW, BECAUSE IF SOPHIE IS NOT GONNA HYPE HERSELF UP THEN BY GOLLY, I WILL.

(in all seriousness, I love your writing. Have a nice evening my friend).

[runningwithcoffee]

Welcome Home

Author's pre-ramble: Teaser for when I finally manage to write this damn fic. Warning: here there be smut.

She's gorgeous.

Ben lay on his bed and admired her in his bathroom doorway, the morning sun nicely lining her curves. She'd looked stunning the night before, he had appreciated the new lingerie that showed off those curves....

...but this was her, his girl, nothing hidden. Nothing between them, just her soft skin and her warm eyes and blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, and her standing there, leaning on the doorway, relaxed and smiling at him, all warm and ready and wanting what she'd been missing for the past two weeks. 'Going on tour'; necessary, but trotting around the States to drum up business for his club's new owners wasn't exactly high on Ben's list of favourite things to do, although do it he would, if he had to, someone needed to go along and keep an eye on the kids.

(When had he stopped being one of the kids?)

He wanted her more than he could say.

So show her.

Ben smirked at her, and slowly drew back the covers, loving how her eyes followed eagerly up his body, then back down again. Why shouldn't he show himself off? He was happy with his body, and she was loving the view.

Oh baby, you try to hide it, but you know what you want, don't you?

He took himself in his hand, slowly stroking, taking care to give her a good view of what he knew she'd been missing. Knew, because he had missed her, too, more than he'd expected, more than he'd realised he would miss any girl. They'd exchanged photos and messages, sure, but Alyssa, for good reason, wouldn't send anything too explicit. Maybe that was a good thing, he'd seen what happened when you left your phone unlocked. He didn't really think any of the Chelsea boys would go too far, probably not more than a few jokes at his expense... but deeper than that, part of him felt strongly that that this was private. This was his, not because he'd taken it, but because she'd given it.

All his.

He watched eagerly as her eyes practically dilated there and then, her hand almost unconsciously slipping over her breasts and down her stomach, before she dived back into the bed, crawling over and lowering her body over his. Ben let go of himself and moved his hand instead up her back, pausing to give a teasing slap to that nice round arse, causing her to giggle before she pressed her mouth hungrily over his.

He bucked his hips up, loving the friction between their two bodies as she kissed him, her legs either side of him, pinning him in place as she propped herself up on her elbows, breaking away from his mouth to plant soft kisses and licks all the way down his neck, whilst one hand gently but firmly forced its way down and in between them, finding the tiny sensitive nipple, playing with it gently, but then with more force as it hardened under her touch. Ben threw his head back, moaning almost inaudibly as she explored him, finding all the places he loved to be touched, but then, as he relaxed against the pillow again, something caught his eye...

...oh fuck me, does she KNOW I can see that?

He wanted to see more, right now.

***

Author's Note: Yeah, this is a terrible title. I'll think of a better one when sober. ETA dear God that was a horrible title, now changed.

Author's Second Note: Well, eh. I still need to write the angst-ridden fic in which these two idiots finally get it togther. It will happen sometime... honest. Also, this isn't set at the present time, it's set in happy-la-la-land where boring American tours are the worst things Chelsea's players and fans have to tolerate.

[maybege]

Birthday Parties - FBI 10

Summary: It is your birthday and it does not go as expected. (Part 10 of FBI)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k | Rating: T

Warnings: we all hate Josh and we will swoon over Hotch

So, uh, welcome back, I guess. I hope you are all doing well! I am slowly working on fics besides my thesis and it was a lot of fun to get back to Hotch. I hope you are still somewhat interested because I promise, things are now going to be heating up a little 👀 As always, please let me know what you thought in a reblog or a comment, to hear from you truly means the world to me!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“You are distracted today, why?”

You looked up from your screen to find Hotch standing beside your desk, mustering you quietly. Great. That was the last thing you needed.

These last two weeks had been pure hell. Very stressful hell. First, there was stress at work, which was something you were used to by now. But then there was stress at home and that was a factor you hadn’t been prepared for and something you, therefore, could not handle. At all.

Josh had decided to fill every little slice of free time you had at home with inviting people over – from the quiet but okay John to the absolutely unbearable Amber – and there wasn’t one minute you had to yourself. Even with limiting your time in the shared rooms and just quickly whipping something up for dinner before hiding in your room to the tunes of The Nanny title sequence, you could still hear Amber’s annoying chatter more than you’d like.

Add to that your mother who had decided that you, in fact, did not know what you were doing and the best thing would be to insinuate that you should come home at every phone call, safe to say your life was pretty miserable right now.

At this point, all you wanted was some peace and quiet as you attempted to watch Bridget Jones’s Diary for the umpteenth time.

And today was the worst day.

“I am not distr-“

Hotch threw you what Reid had previously called The Boss Look – absolutely unconvinced and with his eyebrow cocked up as he still held the file in his hand – and you faltered. Remembering the look he threw you when you had brought yet another load of banana bread to the office kitchen to him, you decided that it wasn’t worth lying to him. He could read you like a book anyway.

“It’s, uh, it’s my birthday,” you admitted shyly, not knowing if he was really interested in your personal life woes. Probably not. But he had asked for it and you knew Agent Hotchner would only ever be satisfied with the truth.

“A-and my roommate, well my best friend, he organized this dinner for me and –“

Hotch cocked his eyebrow even more and you grew quiet. “Sorry. I, uh, I will make an effort to have those reports finished, Sir. I promise.”

Hotch nodded, though he didn’t look very happy, and the moment he walked away, you internally cursed yourself. Clearly, this had been oversharing on your part. Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut for once?

“What was that about?” Derek asked you, setting down the coffee he had just gotten on his desk. You knew he meant well, Derek Morgan always did, but you had just learned your lesson and just shook your head with a smile. “Nothing really,” you murmured, “I just need to focus on these reports if I want to leave early today.”

It took you another two hours and a copious amount of tea to get the texts to a level that was at least somehow acceptable. With a look at the time, you knew it was now or never.

Hotch’s door was slightly ajar and you peeked your head inside. “I got the reports finished.”

He nodded, not looking up from whatever he was writing. “Great, put them here with the others, please.”

Your heels made a dull sound on the carpet in his office, echoing your heartbeat. It had been weeks since your case in Fargo and weeks since he had shown you the kind of affection that let you hope he might like you in any way, shape or form. Sometimes you wondered if he was avoiding you but then you remembered that you were the one who ran around like a headless chicken in an attempt to keep control of your unravelling life.

The papers added another inch to a pile of files that were already too high for your liking.

“And what?”

Your head shot up, meeting his eyes. He was sitting at his desk, his hands still posed over the reports, looking at you as if it was clear what he had been asking. “What?”

“You didn’t finish your point earlier,” he made a loose gesture with his hand and you tilted your head.

Did he really want to know about your personal life? You eyed him for a moment, expecting him to burst out laughing and tell you it was all a joke. The moment never came.

“Josh, uhm, I think he wanted to do me a favour so that people are there as I … haven’t really found a new friend group since moving here but,” you sighed, for the first time showing your disappointment openly, “It’s just his friends from work and he knows I don’t even like them. So, it’s just,” you let out another deep breath, avoiding his eyes, “I am not looking forward to it.”

He made a non-committal sound at the back of his throat, leaning back in his chair. “Why not tell him you would prefer not to have them invited?”

“Because that’s still a better option than spending the evening of my birthday completely alone,” you admitted, knowing it would make no sense to lie to the man in front of you. He could read you like an open book anyway and this way, at least, you’d have control over how much you humiliated yourself in front of him.

“If you would excuse me,” you murmured, not giving him the chance to reply, “I have a birthday dinner to attend to.”

*

Hours later, you were wishing yourself back to the office and working on all the reports Derek didn’t want to do. At least you wouldn’t have to endure this.

“So, uh, what do you do?”

“I work for the environmental law department,” John explained to the group of guests Josh had invited, and you felt excitement bubbling up in your chest, “A few months now, it’s really exciting.”

“Oh wow,” you exclaimed, genuinely impressed, “So what kind of cases does that entail? That’s so interesting!”

“It is,” he smiled, “Currently, I am working on a case involving the –“

“Ugh, this wine really isn’t very good,” Amber jeered next to you, looking down at the glass in her hands. John paused, clearly surprised by the sudden interruption as was the rest of the group.

“Amber, it’s your second glass of that wine,” you replied, unsure of what was happening.

She shrugged, “Can you get me another one? Do you have any red wine?”

You hated red wine.

John looked at you with sympathy and you threw a look at Josh who just stared at the bottom of his glass as if that would somehow give him the answer to a question he had posed. No one made a move.

You sighed, pushing your shoulders back and throwing her an extra wide smile, “Sure, let me take a look in the kitchen.”

Amber only nodded at you.

You made your way to the kitchen, hating how you were barefoot when all the guests had decided to leave their shoes on. The entire evening was a disaster, you felt. No one had even known it was your birthday and you had the sneaking suspicion that Josh had just told that story to you so he could have a party without feeling bad about not spending time with you.

So here you were, trapped with his friends and him in your apartment with no excuse to just retreat back to your room and watch a sad movie so you could cry your heart out.

How could you feel so lonely in a room full of people?

You threw open the door to the fridge, looking at the different bottles Josh had stocked there only to find out that he had taken your ice cream from the freezer to make space for ice cubes.

Tears stung in your eyes, frustration building up as you grabbed a bottle of white wine from the fridge. That was your emergency ice cream for a bad day.

“Hey, hon,” Josh chirped as he entered the kitchen, going to the freezer and getting out the ice cubes as if nothing was amiss.

“Why did you pull out my ice cream?” you asked, hating how small your voice became now that you were confronting him.

“I needed space for the ice.”

“You could have taken out your ice cream,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “And why is Amber acting like this is her apartment?”

He frowned, “She’s not. She’s just comfortable around us, that’s a good thing.”

“Josh, for once, could you just – “

The doorbell rang.

You took a deep breath, pressing your hand against your chest as you tried to just calm down. This did not have to be miserable. This could be nice. You just had to go out there and smile and pretend everything was all right when you really really did not feel like it.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Josh said, his voice sincere, “Here, I will get the wine to Amber and you get the door, does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” you muttered under your breath when he had already left for the living room, “I don’t even know how many people you invited to this fucking thing.”

You did not feel any better as you stood in front of the door, opening it with a greeting on your tongue that dried out the second you saw who was standing in front of you.

“Hello!” Derek slipped through the open door as you gawked at them. At all of them.

They were all here.

There was Derek, dressed casually as always, sending you a blinding smile as he held up a six-pack of beer. Next, Garcia in her ever colourful dress carried a big wrapped present with a mismatched bow on top.

“Happy birthday!” JJ exclaimed, pulling you into a one-armed hug as she raised the bottle of prosecco in her other hand, “I got you the good one!”

“Uh, thanks,” you stuttered, watching her follow Morgan and Garcia to where the food was.

One by one they filed past you grinning at you, and – in Reid’s case – waving at you excitedly as he eyed the pictures in the hallway.

“I hope we aren’t too late,” Hotch’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts and you turned back to the door, seeing that he was the only one left standing there, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“No, I –“ you swallowed back the tears, “You – you told them?”

He didn’t answer but that was already answer enough. Something warm bloomed in your chest at the thought that he had done that for you.

“Uh, Rossi mentioned that flowers might be nice,” he held up a bouquet. It was so enormous you were surprised you had not noticed it until now.

“Thank you, Hotch,” you brought out, taking it from him and letting him step inside. His fingers brushed over yours and a shiver went through you. Suddenly, even the wide hallway seemed too small for the both of you.

“You look nice,” he commented suddenly, a friendly smile on his face that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking down at the dark red slip dress you had donned for the occasion. It reached just a little past your knees, the skirt flaring every time you made a spin (which had also been the reason you had bought it in the first place – you loved a good twirl).

It was the first time that evening someone had paid you a compliment.

“You didn’t have to, you know,” you tried to say, “But I really appreciate it.”

“I wanted to,” he replied, still standing in front of you.

Then he turned around, making his way to the others and you found yourself reaching for his arm, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Thank you Hotch,” you murmured, avoiding his eyes to not let him see just how close you were to crying, “It – You have no idea how much this means to me.”

His big hand clasped over yours, squeezing softly. “Anytime.”

In the living room, the arrival of your colleagues had not gone unnoticed.

“Um, Josh, everyone, these are my colleagues from work,” you said with a proud smile, gesturing to the group of newly arrived guests. Garcia smiled excitedly at everyone. “And uh, this is Josh,” you said, pointing to him, “My roommate.”

“And best friend,” he added, smiling politely at all of them, “Pleasure to meet you.”

From then, the conversation continued as usual. Everyone split off into smaller groups and you were happy that you did not have to talk to Amber anymore. You even got to finally taste some of the appetizers in peace, already eyeing the cake you had gotten from the bakery around the corner.

You were joking with Emily and Garcia bout the next girl’s night when you heard a comment from right behind you.

“To be honest, I am surprised you would even show up. It’s not like she’s a star agent or anything.”

Josh.

You frowned, seeing a similar expression on Garcia’s and Emily’s faces before you slowly turned around. He was right behind you, his back to you which explained why he had felt like he was safe to make such a statement.

Did he believe what he had said?

He was standing in a circle with Amber and John as well as another couple of his friends, but most importantly, you found Hotch and Derek staring right back at you. Josh had said that to them. To your colleagues and, most importantly, your boss.

Heat crept up your neck, flooding your cheeks and ears as you found shame spreading all around you. You felt paralyzed by his words. By your best friend saying something so … demeaning about you.

Yours and Hotch’s eyes locked and he must have seen something in them because he took the largest gulp of scotch you had ever seen him drink.

“On the contrary, she is a very capable agent,” he stated dryly, “Her presence in the team and her additions on the field are irreplaceable just like everyone on this team is. If she is not a star agent then none of us are.”

“That’s true!” Reid piped up, “Uh, for example when it came to the Headless Killer, she was –“

“Who’s the Headless Killer?” John asked innocently and you winced when Reid went off into a long-winded, untypically graphic and completely fabricated story about some serial killer off in North Dakota. You could spot the amused glint in his eyes and even Hotch looked like he was hiding a smirk as Josh’s guests shifted uncomfortably.

“That much for party conversation, huh?” Derek joked, taking a long sip of his beer. But even as the tension dissolved, most of Josh’s guests going back to their previous conversations, your eyes were still on Hotch.

He was looking at the floor, hand around the whiskey glass in his hand as JJ told him something and he nodded, looking serious as ever. Heat rose into your cheeks. Why did it feel like he had defended you just then? Had he defended you?

Josh passed you, clearly on his way to the kitchen and you excused yourself from Emily and Garcia before following him. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you gathered the courage to confront him. Humiliation was still burning in your stomach and it didn’t help that he – the one person who you thought was your best friend – was the source of it.  

“Josh, that wasn’t an okay comment to make,” you opened, remaining standing in the doorway as he stood in front of the kitchen aisle, not even really acknowledging it.

“It was just a joke, hon,” he shrugged off, opening a cabinet, “Do you know where we put that spare bottle opener?”

“It was not a funny one, then. And I would appreciate it if you stopped making jokes about my work. Or about me.”

“Look at that Miss Innocent finally found her claws,“ he groaned, “Seriously, did we get it out already? I could’ve sworn, I put it here.”

“It’s right here,” you said, opening the drawer closest to you, and bit your lip. You wanted to say more, wanted to get him to apologize, to see how wrong he was. How he had hurt you. But, as it often was, the words wouldn’t leave your mouth and so you just watched him smile at you, shaking the bottle opener in his hands before leaving you alone in the kitchen.

You took a deep breath, staring into your glass, and trying to gather the courage to go back and face everyone.

“You alright, kid?” you turned to find Morgan leaning against the door, obviously having noticed your confrontation – if it could even be called that – with Josh. You sighed, bringing your wine glass back to your lips.

“He means well,” you tried to explain, although the more you had to think and say it this evening, the more you doubted it.

“My experience is that the people we need to clarify that about usually don’t care if they mean well or not,” Morgan said, tilting his head as he looked at you inquisitively.

You were certainly not in the mood to discuss your deteriorating friendship with Josh. You heard shuffling in the hallway and frowned, peaking your head out of the kitchen to catch your colleagues regrouping in the tiny space in front of the door.

“Penelope, what are you doing?” you asked the woman who shouldered her bag.

“We are going out.”

You felt something inside you shatter. Probably your heart.

But who could blame them, honestly? It was a horrible dinner or party, whatever it would end up being.

“Oh of course,” you nodded, swallowing back the anxiety.

Hotch met your eyes over her shoulders and you could see his throat bob as he swallowed. He didn’t say anything but you imagined seeing a little bit of doubt in his eyes.

Apparently, one did not need to be a profiler to notice the sadness on your face because the blonde technician rolled her eyes good-naturedly and grabbed you by the arm. “And obviously you are coming with us, silly!”

“Me?” you stuttered, “B-But the party –“

“Yes,” Emily appeared by your side, “You need to celebrate, not mope around with these strangers.”

You were not going to lie, celebrating sounded kind of nice.

“Okay,” you murmured, seeing Reid and Morgan grin at your agreement, “Let’s go celebrate.”

You turned to the living room where Josh was in an avid discussion with Amber. “Josh, I will go out with my friends,” you said, your heart skipping a beat at calling these people your friends. But they were right and at the moment even more your friends than he was. “I hope you don’t mind, I know you put a lot of planning into –“

“Sure thing,” he called, waving you off, “Have fun!”

And at that moment, you decided, you would have a lot of fun. Even if it was just out of spite.

[bubacorn]

alright, so this is gonna be so cheesy, but i wanna make a post with some of my favorite ST fics i've written this year, if for nothing else, just to remind myself that i can arrange words around, and they can come out half-decent. so, yeah, sorry in advance to anyone who has to see this, i wouldn't dare put the fandom fanfic tag on this, this is only for my dear followers, you are lovely, i apologize if this appears on your dash.

Come Beside Me (This Won’t Hurt I Swear) okay, so i remember being so in love with the last part, especially the whole morning sunlight thing. that was (is?) my favorite piece of writing at that point (which really wasn't hard, cause there wasn't much to pick from yet)

God Gives His Toughest Flus to His Sleepiest Vessels this is just pure mush, but stubborn sick Vessel being taken care of is very close to my heart

And I Don’t Wanna Get in Your Way this all started with the "Get comfortable" "I am" and the "You're allowed to take up space". in my mind, they're watching either The Matrix or John Wick at the end for some reason

I Got Problems Down in My Bones gods, this one. the little parts just wrote themselves and there was this common thread between them and i loved this one so much (still do). there's some pieces of me in this and it makes me feel sad, but seen that people related to this one (i love you, i hope you're doing well)

I Will Shield You from the Waves, if They Find You this is very sweet and all, but i always think of it more as sad

Break and Bend to My Basic Need didn't plan on writing this, but the brainworms made me and then it turned out kinda good

It’s All Your Fault, Even When You Don’t Mean To this. this and the next one are twin fics for me, i always think of them in pairs (probably cause i wrote them back-to-back). can't articulate, but it's also very close to my heart. IV holding the back of Vessel's head and wiping his tears and making him feel worth it make me feel very normal, i almost feel like it wasn't me who wrote it

This Is the Start of Something this!!! i made them watch worst cooks in America cause why not. this one's also very close to my heart, definitely one of my favorites i've ever written

I’m Frantic in Your Soothing Arms okay, the implication that Vessel knows nothing makes the transformation easier from his own experience suffering, but he still tries anyway, cause he would take a tummy ache from III without hesitation, if he could. also, rubbing his stomach is just so intimate and he's so desperate to help, even though he knows he can't, but still tries. and Vessel calling III 'my heart' and 'my III' just came to me and they made me lose my mind so of course i had to include them. feeling very normal about this one, too

And the Pain Still Hates Me for some reason i love the base idea of this, i don't even know how it appeared in my head, but i'm so glad it did. blowing kisses was a last-minute addition, also didn't know where that came from, but it's so cute

And Honey, I Only Appeared So I Can Fade Away this one! i had half an idea for this and like one sentence typed in, then just started writing and i loved writing this, it was so much fun and i adore the end product, one of my favorites. now that i'm thinking, maybe i could expand on this

I Believe I’m Not Alone this was kinda based on one of those posts that was like 'you deserve to be loved and chosen, not almost loved and almost chosen' and my brain went 'Vessel!' and then i wrote this. again, pieces of me, pieces of him

Come Squeeze the World and Drip It Down My Throat Again i was a bit afraid with this one, cause i felt it was a little clumsy (?), with the way the smaller parts revolved around a main idea but weren't all very closely connected. but gods, i made my own heart hurt with this one a lot. also, love this title, some of my favorite lyrics. loaded with layers of trauma, but it's very dear to me

I’m Doing What I Must, Which Is Attempting to Kill the Little Boy Inside (But as Hard as I Try, the Child Will Not Die) again, loosely compiled together around an idea, but this took a shorter time to write i think. it flowed well for me, and again, it hurt right in my meow-meow, but i love this a lot. also, the title just wouldn't leave me alone and i wanted to use it for something and i felt that this was a perfect fit. then at the last moment i added a parallel, cause my brain thought it would be nice. i have to say, it is

okay, so this is just pure self-indulgent rambling about my Sleep Token fics, but writing gave me a lot these past months and i really love it and still have ideas that i wanna share. huge, huge thank you to everyone who's read anything i wrote, left kudos and comments, you are wonderful, i hope you are doing okay! 💕 drop by my dms/tag me if you want to yell at me or something

not gonna say have a great next year or anything like that, cause i don't like making a big deal out of the beginning of a year, as it just puts pressure on it and that's so unnecessary. have a lovely day, i hope you got some rest and could do something you enjoy and i wish all the best to you! see you around! 💖

[nerdyvocals]

I'll Cut My Hair (To Make You Stare)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandom: Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies (TV)

Relationship: Lydia/Cynthia Zdunowski

Characters:, Cynthia Zdunowski, Papa Zdunowski, Jane Facciano, Olivia Valdovinos, Lydia (Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies)

Additional Tags: Fic Exchange, hair cutting fic, cutting someone's hair can be so sapphic, The Pink Ladies know, Sleepovers, closet makeouts, they deserve normal high school experiences dammit, minor language, meet the parents, first "i love you's", Cooking Dinner Together, what if I shove a bunch of tropes into one fic, who would stop me, hair is an important part of Cynthia Zdunowski's identity, Fluffy, Cynthia Zdunowski has sensory issues, Betaed

Language: English

Collections: Lynthia Fic Gift Exchange 2023

Stats: Published: 2023-10-02, Words: 7,610, Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Your appearance is the ultimate expression of who you are, and something as simple as a haircut can change your life.

(Title from "This is Home" by Cavetown.)

Notes: For penguinwritesbooks.

My only instruction was to have fun, and boy did I! Penguin, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

When the ends of her hair touch the base of her neck, Cynthia knows it’s time for a haircut.

To be fair, there are other signs as well, many of which that come well before this point, but haircuts were a tedious chore, and the problem with these early signs was that they were easy to ignore. Cynthia liked her hair cropped short; a little shaggy around the ears, with bangs that fell just to her brow. Whenever her bangs encroach on her vision, it was a sign she needed a trim. But she could steal grease from the boys to push them back, and she wouldn’t notice. The next sign came when her ears disappeared fully under the mass of strands. But she could tuck the wayward locks behind her ears and forget their length.

The back of her head, however, was hard to ignore when overgrown. She didn’t pay it much attention at any other time. She couldn’t see the back of her own head, so why should she concern herself with what it looked like? But overgrown was another story. Overgrown meant itchy strands creeping under her collar, brushing across the nape of her neck, scuttling across her skin like phantom bugs, and sending horrible little shivers down her spine.

So when she woke to that familiar, creeping scratch, she knew it was time. But of course, the thought came along with the realization that she’d forgotten to set her alarm clock the night before, and now had a mere ten minutes to sprint out the door if she wanted to make it to school on time. Somehow, she didn’t think she could fit a haircut in that window.

Cynthia jolted out of bed with a start and flew to her closet, grabbing and shimmying into the first shirt and skirt her hands touched; a horrible clash of color and pattern that Nancy was sure to give her shit for later. From there, she hopped down the hall to the bathroom, pulling socks she hoped were clean over her feet as she went, vaguely aware of the phone ringing and her dad’s voice answering. In the bathroom, she squeezed a drop of Ipana onto her toothbrush from a tube that was long past the point of needing to be replaced. She scrubbed at her teeth for approximately three seconds before spitting the foam down the sink. Reaching for her comb, she spared herself a glance at her reflection in the mirror, and yeah, she definitely needed that haircut.

The sides of her hair almost reached her chin. Or at least the right side did; the left side was sticking straight up where she slept on it. Her bangs were long enough to be ruffled by a particularly strong huff of breath. She didn’t want to think about what was happening in the back at this point. If she had a hair ribbon, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was able to tie at least part of it up in the world’s worst ponytail. This was, without a doubt, the longest her hair had been in years. How had she let it come to this?

Continue reading on AO3

[lunarriviera]

2023 ao3 wrapped

last year @programmedradly and i asked each other some questions, rather than try to field the entire thing. so we did the same thing this year! and here are my answers. i had a wild little annus mirabilis and somehow posted more work than i ever have before, so there was lots to choose from.

•

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

tragically, one of my dead doves: the wu xie/li cu fic “you bear your scars, you've done your time.” no one reads it because it's an age-gap pairing, and it's inherently tragic (post-sha hai fucked-up wu xie). it has 17 whole kudos and it fought for every one. but like a lot of my badwrong pairings, it's honestly some of my best writing. i wrote it fast and the action scenes are solid, the dialogue is good and even funny, and the sex scenes are miserable and scorching. oh well, they can put it in my norton critical edition after i'm dead lol.

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

readers seemed to like the pingxie kissing fic, which was funny to me because it's literally just…kissing. (i wanted to put in plot and/or sex but mumble was very stern with me: “this is a KISSING fic.”) i guess we all are still battered by canon and just want wu xie dozing by the carp pool and getting kissed.

6. Favorite title you used?

“the subtle fire," with its title from the calamus poems by walt whitman; all its subheadings are from whitman too. sadly otherwise this was the year of taylor, and i exhausted midnights and all the vault tracks. new year's resolution: moratorium on fic titles from tay.

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

somehow there were 18 dmbj fics. 😳 pingxie won out with 9 fics, followed by 6 heihua fics and then a smattering of rare pairs (not to say dead doves lol). there were 5 under the skin fics; at this point i post one of those like every two damm weeks because i'm down that bad.

10. What work was the quickest to write?

probably either of my drabbles—a little rpf prose poem for zhu yilong/unnamed photographer (still my most beloved pairing) or shen wei smoking a cigarette and zhao yunlan being horrified (and a little turned on).

11. What work took you the longest to write?

without a doubt, the 31k guardian fic i just posted. i got freaked out by its complexity and dropped it for a year, and then had to TOIL over all the canon details, because i didn't remember ANYTHING apparently (zhang shi who? fu you? li qian? what?). it took for fucking EVER to finish and i will NEVER write such a plotty monster again. the worst part was when ma gui randomly said, “oh there's a fifth hallow” at which point i was like “there's a WHAT NOW.” ironically that turned out to be the title. i hate characters that TALK and SAY SHIT.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

the pingxie epic 😭 i'm not sure if i even can ever finish it because it involves google searches like “recent tomb discoveries china” and “can you survive c4 explosion.” also it'll be another dead dove because it starts with wu xie divorcing bai haotian, and the iron triangle being broken up. and that's just the beginning. everyone will hate it, and instead read cute fics about liu sang being a fox, probably.

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

it's gotta be du cheng from under the skin. he embodies what is turning into my favorite character archetype, Big Dumb Hot Cop. so butch. so loyal. so stupid. just a blast to narrate. wu xie and hei xiazi have similar idiot energy but are also paradoxically very intelligent so that's more challenging. (writing xiaoge's dialogue is difficult as fuck. he can't just say "wu xie" ALL the time.)

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

possibly, after everything, the end (for me) of the zhu yilong/unnamed photographer series. other people may keep adding to it but i needed to let them go. they exist in such a liminal unsettled never-together bittersweet place for me and i felt grateful to have spent time with them, as weird as that is to say. i'll always love unnamed photographer, and his aesthetic yearning. MY ONE RPF SHIP THAT WENT CANON. 😭

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

indulging myself and submitting a few:

Even Huos had to sleep sometime, or hang upside down, or whatever it was they did to restore themselves. [x]

•

Once he has him flat on his back again, with breathtaking pragmatism Shen Yi drips lube all over him, sinks down on him and then rides him so hard Du Cheng sees not just stars but entire constellations. [x]

•

Xiaoge kissed his hair. "Hold still," he said, and Wu Xie could do that, no problem. He fell asleep that way, curled against Xiaoge’s naked skin, and dreamed he was watching Xiaoge plant moss in the moss garden, in impossible colors: turquoise, bright orange. A richly saturated luminous violet. [x]

•

Xiazi added so much condensed milk to Xie Yuchen’s coffee that he finally had to arrest his hand forcibly. “Stop trying to give me diabetes.” Xiazi’s smile was worse than the cloying milk. “It’s to match the sweetness in your soul, my little flower." “Oh my god,” said Xie Yuchen faintly, as Geya listened, to all appearances visibly entertained. “What do you want? Because I assume you want something. Money? Work? Is this a hostage situation?” Xiazi just smiled harder, but at least he put the milk down, in favor of giving Xie Yuchen another pain au chocolat. “Why does he get all the pastry?” Geya said, sounding disappointed. “It’s to build his strength,” Hei Xiazi told him, and the patently, horribly uxorious look on Xiazi’s face made Xie Yuchen want to hit someone.) [x]

•

Xiao Hua manages to bite back a tart comment about how challenging it is to keep looking younger than forty when one’s companion will never look any older. It takes more than expensive rose hip and argan oil and ceramides; it takes never skipping the gym, and always skipping dessert. It means going to bed at nine-thirty when he’d rather stay up reading, and above all it means not letting Hei Xiazi know about any of these little maneuvers, lest it not seem effortless. [x]

•

As Wu Xie started enthusiastically laying out the details—and why was he awake at this miserable hour?—Hei Xiazi pulled the pillow away from his face and started gently hitting Xie Yuchen with it. “Wu Xie, let me call you back later,” he said, arresting the pillow’s movement with one hand. “I have something I have to deal with here.” “Sure,” said Wu Xie, cheerful. Then: “I bought Pangzi an espresso machine, and he taught me how to use it! Xiaoge’s not here, I wish he’d come home. I had five cups! You should take Hei Xiazi with you, just in case things get complicated. They might. Get complicated, I mean. I'll tell you all about it. When will you call me?” Xie Yuchen fought not to laugh. “After sunrise, probably. Drink some water. And tell Pangzi I’m going to kill him.” [x]

•

Su Wan seems lost in thought for a minute. “I always thought maybe one day I would like guys, but I don’t.” Li Cu elbows him. “What about Hei-ye?” Su Wan looks horrified. “Yali, no! What a thought!” “Okay, okay,” says Li Cu, and drunkenly tousles his hair. “Calm down.” Yang Hao puts out his hand for the bottle. “Hei-ye is pretty cool, though,” he says, which is high praise from him. It’s true. They sit without saying anything for a moment, in silent contemplation of Hei Xiazi’s inarguable coolness. [x]

•

The things about you that other people find unsettling, those have somehow never bothered Wu Xie. You’re spooky, Hei Xiazi told you frankly, once. I am too, but I drown it out by talking. You’re so silent, our little Yaba Zhang. People are afraid of you. Xiazi had been right, and you knew it. But Wu Xie has never been afraid of you, not even once. You think about the first time you came back from behind the gate, how furious and desperate he’d been to know why you hadn’t come straight back to him. Demanding answers, wanting to know why you went, what you saw. And you remember gazing back at him, still mute with the magnitude of it. He could never have understood, but no one could, not even Wu Xie whose intelligence shone as clearly as an aura around him, glowing, burnished—still innocent, still young enough to be passionate. Whereas even at the time you felt every single one of your hundred years lying on you like a burden, like fallen trees pressing you into the loam, the moss, the muck. [x]

•

He’s still half-asleep, is the only thing that could possibly explain why Zhao Yunlan ducks under some low-slung branches and strolls right up to the water’s edge only to see Shen Wei, stripped naked, hip-deep in a pool of still clear water, combing through his unbraided hair with his fingers. Why is this a surprise. What was he thinking. And above all, why is he still walking towards him on automatic, as if drawn toward him, as if not caring whether Shen Wei would see him or stop— Shen Wei startles and looks up, motion arrested. He’s bent at the waist, rinsing bits of dirt and bracken from his hair, skin glowing like wet marble, and Zhao Yunlan suddenly wants him so badly he couldn’t make a fist if he had to. Shen Wei smiles, and Zhao Yunlan will never get enough of that smile, artless and full-hearted. All he can do is smile back, helplessly. [x]

[ladyknightellen]

⭐️ (but can I specify RWRB?)

Hi!!! Thank you so much for the ask! And yes, I will absolutely do one of my RWRB fics!

Okay, so I will try not to make this post too long, but ‘tell me about your writing choices’ is a question that I am basically BEGGING everyone to ask about anything I’ve written.

In my most recent fic ‘The Next Step Is All You Can Take’ I wrote probably one of my favorite couple of chapters I’ve ever written and it also draws on a lot of my own experiences as well.

My absolute favorite thing to do when writing fanfic is to take something from canon and kind of 'twist' it slightly or 'mirror' it in some way so that it feels similar, or has the same vibe, but it happens in a different way or in a different setting.

This is what I was doing with Chapter 4 and the very beginning of Chapter 5 in this fic. It's meant to mirror the Kensington scene in the book in many ways.

In the context of my fic, Alex has yet to truly allow himself to process what's happened to him and he's desperate to focus on anything at all besides confronting the reality of his blindness. Hence the title of the chapter 'Drowning' which is also a nod to the line in the book about no one seeing how hard he's kicking underwater.

Much like the Kensington scene in the book, Alex and Henry are in an incredibly charged moment where they are both in rather different places emotionally. There's a push and pull in both a literal sense and a metaphorical sense. In the book, Alex is uncertain if this is the last night he'll have with Henry ever, and in my fic, Alex is uncertain about the trajectory of his life which has now been irrevocably altered. In some places I even took lines straight from the book and I really enjoyed using those moments to portray a very different scene, and yet still keep certain elements of the tone from the original.

My absolute favorite part to write was the moment that Alex finds his glasses on his nightstand and as he crushes them in his fist and that transitions straight into the moment that came almost word for word from the book where they grapple around on the floor for a moment and then Henry lifts Alex onto the bed. (There is also a very vague homage to one of my favorite movies ever, Ice Castles, in this chapter)

Where I've diverged from canon is the reason it's happening and the aftermath, as well as what it represents for Alex in my version of the story. Basically, Alex can't keep pretending he's fine anymore. He never let anyone see him with his glasses because he doesn't want anyone to know how much he needs, and when he's holding them in his hand in that moment, he has to confront the reality of how much his blindness is going to change his life. And that's a common thread throughout the story as Alex learns to let people help him, but also how to set his own boundaries and find a healthy and realistic balance between what he can do for himself and what he needs help with.

The grief that comes with the realization of how much your disability has irrevocably altered your life is something I struggle to come to terms with even to this day. And while my personal story differs from how I've written Alex in this fic, the emotions he feels and navigates in this scene, and throughout the story, are mine. It's a chapter where Alex feels like he's being dragged beneath the waves, because that's what it felt like for me. And the story as a whole and it's overarching theme of 'take it one step at a time' is pulled straight from my own experience of using exactly that advice to talk myself down in some of my worst moments.

So even though it's heavy and it's sad and I might have cried a little (a lot) while writing it, there was something so cathartic about it and it's a section that I'm super proud of writing and I really hope it resonated with my readers.

[callsignspark]

Ik this isnt part of the ask game, but would you consider showing us how you outline in Trello?? It looks so freaking effective!

I have been waiting for someone to ask me this question. thank you so so so so much you’re going to regret asking lmao

so as I said before I use Trello - a free cloud based project management tool - to outline and write my fics (and also for my to do list and my Christmas present shopping and vacation planning and literally everything) because, to be 100% honest with you, I have no chill. I have never been relaxed about anything. ever. not a single day in my life. and therefore I marinate on fic ideas in my mind for months (sometimes years!) before I start doing anything with them. this is my process I use for everything I write and we’re using Mar[r]y Me as my example!

the first thing is the idea. I get an idea and I word vomit vibes into the closest thing (notes app, google doc, scribbling into my work notebook, texting a friend) and then I marinate on the idea. I first had the idea for Mar[r]y Me on January 25, 2023. it went through several iterations as I shaped what it was going to be and below is what I sent to Jordan in June 2023 and it’s the basis for the story we’ve all been following. (or mostly, it’s changed quite a bit since then.)

once I’m ready to start writing I create a board in Trello. think of a board like a white board, you then add “cards” which I think of as sticky notes except with a lot more features. also my process is the same no matter if it’s a one shot or a multi chapter fic, it just depends if it gets its own board or it goes into my one shot board. (which is filled with ideas waiting to be written lol) anyway. this is the Mar[r]y Me board!

for a multi chapter fic like this each chapter gets a card in the IN PROGRESS list (they move to the right as things get written/posted). each card follows a template: title, due date (loosely assigned to get an idea of what a posting schedule may look like), a label (always being with need to plan), and a checklist. also the chapter outline - obviously.

before I get into the outline, I use the labels as a nice visual representation of what the status of everything is. as the screenshot below shows, the each writing stage has its own color (and I use the color blind color schemes so I get the fun patterns too!) and it gets changed as we go along. it helps me know at a quick glance where everything is at the moment.

I also love the checklist feature, see below. which basically has all the steps I need to follow once I have a chapter written and ready for final editing. it may seem like overkill but I work long hours and you’d be amazed at how easily my brain forgets things lmao. so this ensures nothing is missed when I’m getting ready to post.

now onto the outline. my outline goes from something super basic, to a few bullet points, to an in depth summary of what’s going to be written. using chapter one as an example of this progression.

1. this is the og outline for the whole story. just a dream and a vibe and one sentence. literally.

2. the expanded outline for chapter one

3. just a small section of the final outline I used to write the chapter. a lot of my final outline ends up being actual sentences that I use in the final draft, I basically write the chapter in bullet points and unfinished sentences.

4. I use the very expanded outline to write the actual chapter. following along bullet point by bullet point. an example from chapter 9 since that’s what I’m writing rn.

5. once everything is written, all the bullet points have been used up or ignored, I transfer it into google docs and read it to myself, editing as I go. once I’m happy with my final rough draft I use grammarly to idiot check things because I’m an engineer not an English major. then I start using the checklist (teaser posting, creating tumblr post, etc.) and then the worst part. I walk around my home office and I read the entire chapter out loud to myself and make final edits as I go. is it excruciating to have to listen to myself speak the flirting I’ve just written out loud? yes. have I made myself cry multiple times? yes. do I find a lot of rough spots and smooth them out? yes. that’s usually done on Thursday nights.

6. from there it’s all final editing and formatting and scheduling the final post. I also have to create the accompanying recipe post for Mar[r]y Me so I do that too. and we post on Fridays! sometimes I share the google doc link with friends so they get an advanced copy of the chapter and sometimes they get to be surprised with everyone else (I’m running behind schedule and don’t have time to share it lmao)

it’s a lot of work for something I’m producing for free but I genuinely love it so much and it helps me keep everything straight. there would be so many lost ideas and abandoned thoughts if I didn’t do it this way. it’s crazy that this the first fic I’ve ever written and that I’ll probably be close to 90k words by the time it’s finished.

if you’ve made it this far thank you for indulging my very intense brain and it’s processes. I love the community we’ve created here on this blog and I’m so excited to keep writing and sharing. and I especially want to give a big thank you to my very good friends Ames, Alexa, and Jordan. Mar[r]y Me would not be the story it is without them and I can’t thank you enough for your love and encouragement during this story.

[synthapostate]

Return of the Ever-Expanding WIP List

I'm doing this again. Organizing the list is part of my process I guess.

Resist Psychic Death - Possessed Newt. Next chapter: the Geiszlers arrive in Hong Kong.

The Tropes Nobody Asked For - A bodyswap AU. This would be complete if I could come up with a concluding paragraph to wrap things up. (It's been months, man, get it together.)

I could be writing sweaty nerd sex like a normal person but no - Maybe if I changed the title I could wrap my head around this? (I should just scrap this and be done with it.)

Heating Pad - A cat adopts Hermann.

Miserable, Lonely and Depressed (Pathetic) - The return of Cool Uncle Newt. (He’s not cool, he’s possessed.)

Vampire AU - I mean obviously I had to write a vampire AU at some point. (Comedy.)

Some Days You Just Can’t Get Rid of a Bomb - Newt tries to solve capitalism. I don’t think this is even going anywhere, but I like the title too much to let it go.

Cold as Ice - Hurt/Comfort? Something. Contains no hurt/comfort and has nothing to do with cold or ice, but…it’s…something. A convergence of “whoever will take him” and (numbers) “will never betray me”. Hurt people hurt people, but survivors can be kind. (I wrote to what I thought was the end and nothing was resolved, so now I don't know.)

Newt’s Passion - A sex pollen fic. (No, it isn’t.) (Zom com.)

Here Begins the Land of Phantoms - Vampires, full horror. Gore, angst, little bit of body horror. Next chapter: Tendo Choi is a really nice guy.

Consent is Sexy - A team-building exercise leads to certain confessions that would not be made while sober.

Cold as Ice 2: Alaskan Boogaloo - It's not set in Alaska. I struggle desperately to get these men into the situation they need to be in, to no avail.

The Worst Thing I Can Possibly Imagine - My genuine attempt to work through something, but then I thought of a punchline so now it’s a funny little shitpost.

Splash - A…feelings thing. The first tentative steps toward getting along.

Caffeine Blues - I swore I would never write a coffee shop au, but…One chapter to go? December is becoming a monster chapter that might have to split again. Next chapter: Newt finally sees Hermann in those tights.

Stop You Have Enough WIPs - Some silly fluff for these stressful times.

Shoes - Newt’s past catches up with him. Hermann is intrigued.

Groundhog Day - Hey man, these sci fi tropes exist for a reason.

Newt and Hermann Go On Six Dates - I write fluff now. Next chapter: An impromptu road trip takes the fellas to the state fair.

Hermann Gets Shot - It is so dangerous to start a fight in an elevator when one of the people you’re fighting has a gun.

Return to Sender - Newt leaves Hong Kong to work for Shao. Angst. Uhhhhh I used that title for something else. What’s another song about letters?

Find Me in the Drift - Sequel to Dinner With a Friend. Haven't decided yet if I'll make the next part a second chapter or its own fic, but, next chapter/fic: Mako can believe that Newt has become a capitalist douchebag who buys his own hype, but alarm bells ring when Hermann returns from Shanghai with an easygoing smile and a positive attitude. Why is he trying to get along with everyone?

The Curse of Gottlieb Manor - In which I actually try to write horror on purpose, and give myself the most intense nightmares I’ve had in years. I’m toning it down for the actual story.

Painting the Kitchen - About finding a future after the apocalypse is averted.

Total Eclipse of the Heart - Jake Pentecost doesn’t trust Newt, decides to keep a close eye on him to guard Hermann’s back, and accidentally ends up with two new dads.

A Kidnapping - Um…it’s a kidnapping.

Wake Up, Dr. Jones! - More trauma. Possibly too much trauma actually. Scrap this?

Space Opera - When the first kaiju comes through the breach, Newt fires off a plea for help into deep space. There can’t be just one alien race out there, right? Maybe some of them will be on our side.

Third Act Breakup - I hate romcoms. Let’s do this thing.

Sweet Siren Song - Newt is doing his biology thing in the Atlantic, Hermann is an inexperienced sailor who shouldn’t be out alone on a day like this, they both get caught in a storm, turns out mermaids are real. (Romance.) (Accidental horror.)

What’s Your Angle - Turns out mermaids are real. (Horror.) (Accidental romance?)

Etiquette and Protocol - Loosely based on a dream, the boys are forced to take an etiquette class because anger management isn’t working. (Protip: if you encourage me to add something to my list, I probably will.)

Am I Blue - In which Newt learns how far Hermann is willing to go to save him.

Mr. Cellophane - Post-war, they go their separate ways, but when Newt is involved in an unlikely lab accident, obviously his first thought is to go to Hermann for help.

Hanahaki - Still angst but I have entirely dropped the hanahaki premise.

Time is On My Side - I reuse the tag “Hermann Gottlieb bends all of time and space to his will for the man he loves,” whether it's applicable or not. Next chapter: Newt attempts to tell Hermann about their future; Hermann puts all his energy into solving this time travel thing because enough is enough.

Chuck Punches Hermann in the Face - He was aiming for Newt.

I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm - In which Newt owns a space heater, and Hermann does not.

Marriage of Convenience - Lars Gottlieb has a scheme, Hermann will do anything to get out of it, Newt is an agent of chaos, fake dating ensues.

The Allegations - In which Hermann is not beating them. (Note: this time the allegations are that Hermann is a robot.)

Perspective - A very nice day. :) (Lie.)

Regency - In which I decide not to let all the meticulous research I've done go to waste. Apparently I'm writing a full regency romance novel, and it will be held to Harlequin's publication standards. (For historical accuracy. I already know I'm too gay for market.)

Alternate Universe - Hermann Gottlieb bends all of time and space to his will for the man he loves. Again.

Genie in a Bottle - I'm putting Hermann through too many shenanigans. It's only because he's my favorite.

Straight to Voicemail - An urban fantasy AU. Possibly horror. We'll see.

Spacewalk - In which the Shatterdome is a deep space colony ship, and I pay homage to my favorite sci fi author.

Search Party - Post-precursors recovery fic, in which Newt relearns that he is the good man Hermann says he is.

Hospital Whump (Take Two) - In which I will NOT get sidetracked by feels, and they WILL end up in the hospital, and there will be both hurt and comfort.

Hermann Holds a Baby - Too dark, might delete.

Blue Christmas - Because I love working on things that wouldn't make sense to post yet.

Dragonslayer - High fantasy AU. Obvious premise, but what the hell, dragons are cool. (First section is almost complete!)

I'm the One You're Looking For - This Fallout fusion is going to be an epic multichapter adventure story after all. Next chapter: Newt sees the stars for the first time.

Apocalypse - Their disaster of a first meeting is the worst day of Newt's life. Partly because their attempt to storm away from each other is interrupted by a zombie outbreak. Now Newt is stuck with the guy who hates him, and they're barely one step ahead of the hordes of the walking dead hungering for human flesh. It's so unfair. (Originally a concept for the Halloween zine, but the wordcount got away from me.)

First Contact, Cynical Edition - Am I filling eleven year old prompts from a dead kinkmeme? Maybe! Newt and Hermann's first meeting takes place at Area 51. Sort of X-Files vibes, among other things.

Rock! - More post-Uprising angst. Not everyone is willing to believe that Newt is not responsible for the precursors' actions, no matter what Hermann says.

Halloween - No kaiju au, originally intended for the Halloween zine. Hermann agrees to babysit Mako and Jake over the weekend when their father is called out of town. Since Halloween is coming up, they watch a scary movie together, only to be interrupted by the creepy upstairs neighbor. (Despite the title, has nothing to do with the films of John Carpenter. I was thinking more like Ringu.)

Cabin - Another no kaiju au originally intended for the Halloween zine. As their relationship starts to get serious, Newt and Hermann go away for a romantic weekend in a cabin in the woods. Nothing bad ever happens at an isolated cabin in the woods.

I Already Forgot - Years after the war, two old friends have a drink together and reminisce.

Phantom - My actual fic for the Halloween zine. :)

(Honorable mention: Drift Swap fic. Talk about this someday.)

[f-oighear]

For the ask game, how about 16 for Where The Heart Is, 17 for I'll Follow, 22, 25 and 26, 30 for the SAU ✨

Heyyy! Thanks for the ask! All about the Soulmate AU, huh... Obviously, spoilers for the entire AU under the cut. Also, it'll be a long post. I'm rambling quite a bit.

WTHI- 16. Talk about the fic’s biggest moment & how you came up with it It has to be the confession... That's the scene I wrote and rewrote the most in WTHI. I came up with it quite early in the AU iirc. I had it almost from the beginning— you can tell from the title drop and the callback to the first chapter...

I knew what I wanted Nozel to say, but I didn't want it to be perfect. So they had an absolutely awful date before to counterbalance everything fhdkkhfds. Also, I think that... had they had a good date, he probably wouldn't have said anything. I think that the fact that they got stuck in the rain and the date went horribly made Nozel think he had nothing to lose anymore. The birb was far too anxious to do anything right— he needed to lose some of that pressure. (I mean. Imagine you have one person. only one. you can truly connect to. andyou have a Nozel mentality which is if I fail once the world will end. ofc you'd be beyond stressed). So, I needed this extra element as a push for him to make a move. As we know, that worked splendidly!

What else can I say about the confession... It was first written in Nozel's point of view (which is why there's a sudden shift in the pov at the belvedere), but then I thought. We already know what's inside the birb's head. We don't need to know more. And so, I wanted to have Vanessa's reaction to it.

IFW- 17. Talk about the fic’s ending. Why did you end it where you did? I suddenly can't remember how I'll Follow ends. Sorry. Okay. Reread the last chapter and how could I forget! I love that scene!

I'll Follow is probably the gloomiest part. There are very few happy moments and even the happy moments we get are tainted and most of them are more... bittersweet than anything. It's quite heavy (and god knows it was heavy to write...). So I wanted to end on a good, refreshing note... A party! I thought that New Year was the best moment to do so. (which is why the events at the end of I'll Follow are all crammed so tightly in so little time— I wanted that symbolism). Let's be honest, everyone involved in this Soulmate mess has just had the worst year hgjfhkjdg. It was time to start anew and let go of the past year's difficulties.

A small detail about the very last scene because it still makes me smile every time I read it. Nozel says that the bottle is half full. Not half empty. Half full. That means everything to me.

SAU- 22. What is something you learned about yourself as a writer from the experience? That I cannot be trusted when it comes to how I feel about my writing fjdjsld. There was a point when I was publishing chapters because I had to and I, uh, hated them haha. I had spent too much time editing and doubting. I probably should've taken a break back then but oh well.

So now, I try to yeet the fics in the wild even if I'm not 100% satisfied with them and remember how much fun I had when I was plotting and writing the first draft.

SAU- 25. Share your favorite line Favorite line in the entire AU? That's tough! I' happen to have been rereading've reread the beginning of Your World lately and I had completely forgotten this bit that made me laugh out loud, so here it is:

True, the night before had been, for Zora, the first time he ever celebrated Vanessa’s birthday [...], but he [...] had collected insights; these parties were ‘something’ (Finral’s word), ‘useless’ (Gauche’s word), ‘fun’ (Luck’s word), ‘a blur’ (Magna’s words), ‘never again’ (Noelle’s words), ‘embarrassing’ (Grey’s word, although Zora learned nothing from that intel) and ‘hell’ (Nero’s word, although she had participated as a bird so Zora wasn’t sure what that meant). So, Zora thought he knew what he was getting into (a mess). But it ended up worse than expected (the biggest mess). 

SAU- 26. Share your favorite detail Again: in the entire AU?? hjkfdkhjs. I wrote the last chapter a good while ago and I have Swiss Cheese Brain so that'll be challenging to think up a detail.

OH. I HAVE ONE.

Noelle fiddles with a bracelet at the end of They Don't Need To Know and the beginning of Stargazers. This is the bracelet Nebra gives her in Your World, the one that belonged to Acier. I'm pretty sure I've already said this somewhere— if I didn't straight up write it in the text— but that's a nice detail I remember...

SAU- 30. Would you ever return to the story’s universe and write more?

Well... Brittlest is still ongoing (I know— one chapter a year isn't a wonderful publication rate but it's still something!) and I'm technically still planning for the Yamichar part... Still, nothing's planned in the immediate future for this AU.

It was a fun AU to make though, and I hadn't planned writing a bad ending for the Nozessa part during Angstpril either, but it somehow happened sooooo who knows.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

oooh got tagged by @hash-slinging-slasher-trash

tag game: 20 questions, fic writing edition

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

31 on my main

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

On my main AO3, 257,414

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Anything I'm interested in can get these hands. Naruto, Fruits Basket, Free!, Haikyuu, JJK, CSM, Genshin Impact, OLBA/OLNF, FMA, SNK, BNHA. I've written for a lot of fandoms. I remember even trying to dabble in writing fic for Ojamajo Doremi because I was obsessed with shipping them with the Flat 4. Honestly, I might write something for that just to indulge Kid Nyla who never got to write any lmao. Same for PPGZ

My main tumblr is called themultifandomnerd for a reason fjdnfkj

4. Top five fics by kudos

I'll do a mix of fics from my main AO3 (my oldest account, I think I started writing fic for Free! on it in high school) and my tumblr fics AO3

The Different Rules of Summer (VLD - Lance/Keith)

‘Okay so you think ghosts are fake but totally think that bigfoot and mothman are real?’ Lance scribbled furiously on the piece of paper in total disbelief. ‘Ghosts are total BS, man’ Keith look disinterested. ‘This is why you’re single' Lance didn’t expect that his summer vacation would be spent at a library arguing with his deaf co-worker about why cryptids totally aren’t real. Keith volunteers at a library to keep himself out of trouble while his brother works. The worst part of his day? Explaining to some moron why Mothman is definitely a real entity and why the first moon landing was fake. Funny enough, this is the highlight of both of their summers.

Se réjouir, se réjouir (Genshin Impact - NeuviFuri)

The sun; Neuvillette is the sun. And Furina? She’s not fit to even be the moon. There is a surprising loneliness to freedom.

A Little Pain (Naruto - Sakura Haruno/Hinata Hyuga)

At the age of 7, there were a few things Hinata Hyuga was sure of. One, her father, Hiashi Hyuga, was the strongest shinobi she knew. Second, just the thought of her having to one day make decisions for her entire clan terrified her beyond belief. Third, her younger sister Hanabi, at the age of 2, was very easy to impress. Hinata Hyuga never wanted to lead her Clan and when she is stripped of her title and essentially an outcast in her home, she finds solace in the brief comforts of a pink-haired girl named Sakura. Though little did Hinata know that losing her heiress title would send her life spiraling down a path of self discovery, bravery, and the realization that changing yourself is a possibility is the most powerful jutsu of all. But... perhaps stopping yourself from fainting whenever you happen to be around your crush is a start. And convincing the entirety of Konoha that it's first all-kunoichi team won't be a complete and total failure should be prioritized before any of that.

Man is the Breast, Heaven is the Playground (CSM - Makima/Reader)

You might be the only one in your division not utterly smitten with your partner, Makima. Call it disinterest, call it being observant that her smiles never reach her eyes. Either way, you have no interest in bridging the gap between you both. But one day, an attempt is made, and it isn’t by you.

A Blazing Star Sought Refuge in My Chest (CSM - Makima/Reader, sequel to Man is the Breast, Heaven is the Playground)

Your contract was simpleー the Control Devil would not use her powers on you, you just needed to stay with her forever.

5. Do you respond to comments?

That I do!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think maybe the ending for my oneshot I Cherish You, Halcyon Days which I'm actually turning into a full-length fic now (and it will have the same ending). But fate of the Reader is written out quite clearly: you will be killed by someone precious to you.

On my main AO3, maybe my TOH series where Halloween Night went wrong and the portal closed after Belos entered and the Hexsquad has to make happiness where they can on Earth may be a close second?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think most of my fics end on a pleasant note save for a handful.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I was gonna say "no" but yeah, some butthurt NaruHina fans that were commenting on my SakuHina fics for no reason? Like, go read about NH instead of looking at what I'm typing up smh, damn time wasters. It isn't often though, most of the time I only hear positives

9. Do you write smut?

Occasionally I dabble in smut

10. Craziest crossover?

A Haikyuu/Boku Dake ga Inai Machi Xover that still occasionally gets comments despite only one chapter being out. I've been thinking about rewriting ch1 and finishing it because honestly it was a crazy good idea in my biased opinion.

Presently I'm working on a JJK/The Summer Hikaru Died Xover but considering what happened to Suguru, I'm not sure if that's truly that crazy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, hopefully that's a good sign.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A long time ago in the HQ fandom, although it was never completed. I've thought about rewriting it with better quality and with some more passion but considering a lot of the plot was made by chatting with my at-the-time-friend well, I don't wanna take full credit for the half that wasn't my contributions. I still think about it from time to time though and think about the what could have beens *sigh*

14. All time favorite ship?

... that's gonna be a very very VERY hard choice. I have a top handful of ships because they all have specific aspects of them that I like, I'm not sure if I'll be able to

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Haikyuu/BDGIM Xover OTL

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm fairly good at descriptions? I also do REALLY good research. For an FMA fic I wrote/am still slowly writing, my OC became an automail engineer so I did a lot of research concerning biomedical engineering, electrical engineering, prostheses, metal processing, alloys and so on and so forth in order to accurately choose the type of metals involved in whatever automail the OC and Winry were crafting.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Procrastination lmao. I try to absolve this by writing non-linear at times

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I only do that for languages I'm proficient in like Spanish, Portuguese, etc. But I've never written a fic entirely in any of the languages I know. Maybe one day I'll embrace that challenge! Japanese would be the most challenging though honestly

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Naruto or Fullmetal Alchemist when I was in middle school, but I can't remember which.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

That's gonna be impossible to narrow down, but I'll do my best

Main AO3: No idea jnkjfnd

FFN: A Fangirl's Dream

Tumblr Fic: My Makima duology I listed above

And that's all she wrote for this one! I'll be tagging @cafedanslanuit @ainescribe @sweet-evie