#I’ll put a bandaid over your heart to make it better

[parkjayist]

TFWILY (psh) ONESHOT

sum you're a florist at a small flower shop. while the shop isn't the most popular, you've made connections with many regulars who come by to say hello and buy some flowers. park sunghoon, slightly clumsy, enters the shop and accidentally breaks a vase ... and a friendship blooms from there.

pairing park sunghoon x florist!reader

genre soft love, fluff, strangers2lovers, just two awkward people bonding over their awkwardness

an hope you enjoy it, i'm pretty proud of this one hehe

tagged: @jjongscardigan @nxzz-skz

wc 2.3k

i. TFW i trip in front of a cute florist

in the heart of a lively town, hidden between tall buildings and busy streets, stands a quaint flower shop adorned with colorful plants. you were proud to call this place your own, getting support from family and friends to open a floral shop. although it was difficult to juggle both college and work at the same time, you’ve managed to make some friends at school that helped you run the shop when you weren’t able to. to put it simply – you were content and happy with your current life. you weren’t too lonely, visiting your parents by train every weekend, hanging out with your friends occasionally, and talking to regular customers that came in and out of your shop. you even met your best friend and platonic soulmate, yani, because she happened to stumble across your shop one day. you wouldn’t trade this life for anything else. 

“yeah, it was such a weird–” yani stopped mid sentence and looked at the time on her phone. “oh shoot, it’s almost 2pm! i’m almost late for an event. i’ll see you later (___)!” she waved at you as she rushed out of the shop.

you chuckled at her messy state and how she almost tripped over nothing. you decided to get back to arranging a bouquet for a customer, humming a small tune from one of ella fitzergald’s songs. you were so focused on making sure that the bouquet looked visually appealing that you yelped in shock when you heard a loud crashing sound. 

you quickly looked up to see a tall man with a distraught look on his face. you followed his eyes to the ground where you saw the disaster he caused – a vase from your mom shattered into pieces. 

“oh my …” you rushed over ready to reprimand the man for damaging your property, before you caught a better look at his face. 

“i’m so so sorry,” he frantically apologized, his eyes furrowed with sincere worry. “i’ll clean it up immediately … um, i’ll even pay you for the damage … again, i’m so sorry,” he bent down and started quickly picking up the pieces and before you could even stop him, he cut himself on the sharp glass. he let out a quick hiss before trying to wipe off the blood. 

“sir … stop, just stop,” you pulled him up. “you must be a very clumsy person … first you knock over my vase and now you hurt yourself!” 

the man didn’t even have a chance to respond before you pulled him over to sit down, quickly getting out a small bandaid that had a cute flower on it. 

“miss … the broken pieces are still there,” he quietly said. 

“it’s fine, i will clean it up myself,” you responded, still focused on disinfecting his cut. 

he went silent, watching you gently put the bandaid on. once you were done you looked at him – his face flushed pink at the close distance between your faces. you took note of his beauty marks that complemented his face gracefully. 

“a … alright, i’m done. hopefully you don’t mind the bandaid,” you murmured, rushing to clean the shards (and to hide your strawberry face). 

as you busied yourself sweeping up the broken pieces of the vase, you stole glances at the mysterious man sitting on the chair. despite your initial impression, there was something intriguing about him. perhaps it was the way his eyes shined with sincerity, or the faint hint of a smile that played on his lips as you tended to his small wound. 

“thank you,” he spoke, breaking the awkward silence. 

you smiled and hummed in response. once you finished cleaning up the mess, you turned back to him, noticing he was still sitting there, almost as if he didn't want to leave just yet.

"is there anything else i can help you with?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. “did you come here to buy flowers?”

the man hesitated for a moment before shaking his head, “no, i was just curious because i’ve never seen this shop before … i should probably get going.”

you nodded, understanding. "alright then. take care, and watch your step next time," you teased gently, a playful glint in your eyes.

he chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally stood up. "i'll keep that in mind. thanks again." with that, he made his way out of the shop, leaving you standing there with a faint smile on your lips.

you stood there, letting his lingering cologne fill your veins before you go back to working – your rants to your friends about this encounter will have to wait. 

ii. classroom at noon

as weeks passed, the memory of sunghoon park gradually faded into the background of your bustling life. your days were filled with the usual routines of managing your flower shop, attending classes at university, and spending time with friends and family. yet …  there was always a lingering curiosity about the man who had stumbled into your shop that day.

one afternoon, after a particularly long lecture at university, you found yourself making your way to the library, eager to catch up on some reading and maybe even get started on your next assignment. as you entered the quiet sanctuary of books, you couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over you.

finding a cozy corner tucked away from the prying eyes of other students, you settled down with your books, stretching and ready to lose yourself in the world of academics. but just as you were about to immerse yourself in your studies, a familiar & deep voice interrupted your thoughts. 

"excuse me, is this seat taken?"

you looked up to find none other than the man from a few weeks ago standing before you, a small smile playing on his lips. he looked much more put together – his hair was styled and his outfit fit perfectly with his vibe. surprise flickered across your face before it softened into a warm smile of recognition. 

"oh, hi! no, it's not taken. please, have a seat," you replied, gesturing to the empty chair across from you.

he nodded gratefully and took a seat, setting his bag down beside him. "thanks. i hope i'm not intruding in your studies grind.”

"not at all," you assured him, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest at the unexpected reunion. “i didn’t know you were a university student.” 

not many people do," sunghoon chuckled, flipping through the pages of his notebook. "i like to keep a low profile."

you nodded, understandingly. "fair enough. what are you studying?"

"business management," he replied, closing the book momentarily to meet your gaze. "and you?"

"botany," you answered, a hint of pride in your voice. "i guess you could say it comes in handy for running a flower shop."

sunghoon's eyes lit up with interest. "that sounds fascinating. i'd love to hear more about it sometime."

for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you as you both immersed yourselves in your respective studies. but as time passed, you found yourselves stealing glances at each other, a silent curiosity lingering in the air.

finally, unable to resist the urge any longer, sunghoon spoke up. "hey, i never properly introduced myself last time. i'm sunghoon park."

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his cute gesture. "nice to officially meet you, sunghoon. i'm (___).”

the conversation flowed effortlessly between you as you both delved into your studies, occasionally sharing snippets of your lives outside of university. hours passed in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it, the sun had begun to set outside the library windows.

as you gathered your things to leave, sunghoon hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "hey, (your name), i was wondering if you'd like to grab coffee with me sometime? you know, as a thank you for letting me share your table today."

a warmth spread through your chest at his invitation, and you couldn't help but smile. "i'd love to."

"great," sunghoon grinned, relief evident in his eyes. "how about this weekend?"

"that sounds perfect," you agreed, exchanging contact information with him.

with plans in place for your coffee date, you bid each other farewell, anticipation bubbling in your chest at the prospect of spending more time with sunghoon outside of the library.

iii. please just stay with me

the day of your coffee date arrived, and as you walked into the café, your heart fluttered with excitement. you scanned the room until your eyes landed on sunghoon, who was already waiting for you at a table near the window. he looked up and flashed you a bright smile as you approached, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at the sight of him.

"hey," he greeted you, his smile widening as you took a seat across from him.

"hi," you replied, returning his smile. "thanks for meeting me here."

sunghoon nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling out a bouquet of flowers. your favorite flowers, to be exact. you couldn't hide your surprise as he placed them on the table in front of you.

"how did you...?" you started, trailing off as you looked at him in confusion.

sunghoon chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. "well, i noticed there was a vase of these flowers on your desk at the shop, so i figured you liked them. i did a little research," he explained, a hint of bashfulness in his tone. "are you proud of me?"

you felt your cheeks heat up at his words, but you couldn't help but smile. "yes, i'm very proud of you. thank you, sunghoon."

the rest of the coffee date passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. after you finished your drinks, sunghoon suggested going for a walk, and you eagerly agreed. as you strolled along the quiet streets, the atmosphere between you was a mix of excitement and nervousness. you both kept stealing glances at each other, your hands occasionally brushing against one another. each accidental touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building in the air.

eventually, sunghoon's hand brushed over yours, and this time, neither of you pulled away. instead, you intertwined your fingers with his, your heart pounding in your chest as you shared a shy smile. awkwardness filled the air, but it was a sweet kind of awkwardness, the kind that came with the excitement of new love. 

"you look radiant today," he began, his voice soft but sincere. "not that you aren't always beautiful, but today... you're truly glowing. like, back when i saw you in that flower shop, it just felt right– you belong there. you have this aura, this… this flower aura."

his sincere words caught you off guard, and you felt a rush of warmth spread through you. "flower aura?" you repeated, unable to hide the amusement in your voice.

"yeah," he continued, his cheeks tinted with a hint of pink. "it's like... you're surrounded by this natural beauty, and it's captivating."

your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. "well, in that case, you're like a prince charming, sweeping me off my feet with your compliments."

sunghoon's smile widened at your response, his eyes sparkling with affection. "i'm just speaking the truth," he said earnestly. "you really are something special."

and with that, the awkwardness between you dissolved, replaced by a newfound sense of closeness and understanding. you continued your walk, hand in hand – you felt something new blooming in you. 

iv. that feeling when i love you

as you stood behind the counter of your flower shop, lost in the delicate dance of arranging petals and stems, the familiar chime of the door announced the arrival of someone special. you looked up, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw sunghoon walking in, a warm smile lighting up his face, his fangs poking out. excitement bubbled within you, and without hesitation, you set aside your work and hurried over to him, enveloping him in a tight embrace.

"hey pretty," he greeted you, his voice soft with affection as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

a wave of warmth washed over you at his gesture, and you couldn't help but smile up at him, suddenly feeling grateful for his presence.

"hi handsome," you replied, your voice filled with love as you rested your cheek on his chest. 

“baby, i was thinking... would you like to go on a date with me?" he asked, his eyes shining with anticipation. "there's a flower garden event being hosted at the nearby park, and i know how much you love flowers. i thought it would be the perfect way to spend the evening together."

your heartbeat soared at his thoughtful suggestion. "that sounds wonderful," you replied, a smile spreading across your lips. "i'd absolutely love to."

sunghoon's face lit up with pure joy, his eyes glittering with delight. but then, as if realizing the weight of the moment, he suddenly seemed flustered and unsure, his cheeks and ears turning a bright shade of red.

"um, yeah, great!" he stuttered, his voice a bit shaky. "i'll… uh, i'll swing by after you close up shop. can't have my girl seeing me like this."

your heart melted at his adorable nervousness, and you couldn't help but giggle at his sweet attempt to play it cool.

"sure thing," you said, trying to contain your own excitement. "i'll be waiting.”

with that, sunghoon bid you a slightly clumsy goodbye, almost tripping over the steps of the shop. had he not learned his lesson from last time, this would’ve been deja vu. you let out a laugh at his clumsiness, and he looked back at you, his smile a mix of excitement and embarrassment as he hurried out of the shop. 

you watched him go, feeling a surge of affection for the endearing man who had captured your heart simply by breaking a vase. 

masterlist

#parkjayist #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon fic #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon oneshot #enhypen oneshot #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios

[lucivinyl]

lovesick

pairing : lucifer x gn!reader

summary : you put a bandaid around lucifer’s ring finger (and his heart does a somersault)

note : inspired by the card chat ‘before the big day’

For a demon like Lucifer, a paper cut should be no more than an itch, something that shouldn’t even warrant a reaction. But when he felt the sharp edge glide across his finger, he still couldn’t help but let out a pained wince.

You poked your head up from behind the leather armchair where you’d been lolling in, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he frowned at the red forming around the thin line. “Actually, can you get me a tissue?”

“Sure,” you grabbed the tissue box and walked over, eyes widening when you spotted the cut. “You’d better get that bandaged.”

“It’s just a small cut.”

“A small cut that will sting like hell when it comes into contact with water,” You leaned against the desk, took his hand and started examining the wound. “And you could get an infection.”

An argument was already building on his tongue, but he decided to stay quiet as you moved on to dab the blood off, eyes narrowed in concentration, making sure you weren’t pressing too hard. A few strands of hair had fallen in front of your face, but your sole attention was on the cut.

It felt nice to be pampered once in a while.

Discarding the red-spotted paper, you placed your hand under the adjacent drawer to open it. Panic set in, and he scrambled to push it back. The wood slammed shut with a loud thud. 

“What?” You turned to him, startled. “I’m just trying to get you a bandaid!”

“I don’t have any in there.” The lie slipped out easily. “It’s really fine, it’ll heal soon.”

You gave the drawer and his guarding hand a pointed look, silent skepticism spreading across your features. Then you shook your head firmly, stubborn as always. “I’ll just go grab mine.”

His eyes followed as you walked out of the study, hand only lowering once you were out of sight. That was a threateningly close call. Had you seen what was inside the drawer, everything he’d been planning would've gone up in flames.

Just to double check. He opened a gap wide enough for him to peek inside. The warm light spilled in, revealing a red velvet box sitting serenely atop other miscellaneous objects. He drummed his finger against the wooden board and, giving in to his uncertainty, pulled out the box. The ring was still inside– the band a pale silver, twirling up to enclose a sapphire that was catching light on all sides. 

He sighed and returned it into the drawer, slamming it into the dark.

He'd bought the ring for a good while now, just about long enough for it to collect dust. While the purchase had been done on a whim, he confessed that the possibility of marriage had been stuck in his head like a rowdy tenant unwilling to move out.

And of course, you were the one who'd given rise to the idea. He could still remember how you'd woken up that day, dazed still by sleep, and upon recognizing him, pulled away and buried your face into the pillow almost in annoyance. He'd been offended, but after some insistent pestering, you finally explained that you'd dreamt of marrying him.

"It was such a sweet dream, and you had to go ahead and ruin it!" You'd complained, looking off to the side with a stubborn frown, but it didn't take a pair of keen eyes to notice the way your ears burned. To make it up to you, he'd vowed to make it a reality one day. It might've been a light-hearted promise at that time, but it would soon bloom into a question that lodged itself into his heart, making it hard to breathe without first getting it out.

He owned exactly three white suits and had to put them all away, because every time he opened the closet and caught sight of them in his periphery, his mind would just go haywire. White suit, wedding, flowers, rings, vows, promise of a lifetime . He would never admit it, but the mere imagination he conjured in his head was enough to make him giddy. He would put an unhealthy amount of sugar in his tea just so the sweetness would taste realer, would run into doors while still donning a tooth-rotting smile.

Simeon was worried that he was sick, but if it really was an illness, he didn't want to get rid of it. Not when you were both the cause and the remedy.

It wasn't always pleasant though. Dreaming was the easy part, but when it came to taking actions, he was in a bind. He wished to make the proposal as memorable as possible, but he had no idea how to. Either he accidentally let the perfect moment pass by or the time and place just didn't work. The world seemed to be against him this time, throwing curveball after curveball on his quest to pop the question. The only thing preventing him from giving up was the unbudging certainty that, yes , he did want to marry you and live out the rest of your lives together. That was enough to keep him going.

At the nearing footsteps, he reluctantly pulled himself out of his thoughts. You came back with a pack of bandaids decorated with pink hearts. 

"What?" You chuckled at the appalment dimming his eyes. 

"Couldn't you have gotten the less cutesy ones?" 

"They were the only ones lying around."

You were obviously lying, but he bit his tongue once again, watching as you peeled the backing. 

"Your hand, please."

He complied. You tilted your head to get a better angle and placed the soft cotton on the cut, the skin surrounding which had started to bloom red. Then his eyes trailed up, and realization dawned on him.

The paper had grazed his ring finger, which shouldn't have been a big deal, but his heart still jumped out of his throat. Suddenly he was hyper aware of your hand working around the wound, wrapping the sticky surface around the base of his finger. You didn't do it very well, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he watched the hearts adhere to his skin.

One day, it would be just like this, except he would be the one holding your hand like it was glass, and instead of a band aid, it would be a ring. He could already see it happening before his eyes– your finger slipping into the ring of perfect size, the happiness blooming on your face, then your hands fitting perfectly together.

It was only when he felt your touch on his face that he snapped out of the images, feeling the smile etched on his face. Softly you asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"How dumb this bandaid looks."

"That’s not what your face says," you mirrored his smile. "At least wait a few days before you peel it off, okay?"

Instead of answering, he turned to kiss the center of your palm, his smile growing wider. He knew that he wasn't taking it off any time soon.

#obey me x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me #elfwrites #obey me shall we date

[box-of-roses]

୨⎯ "Would You Fight for Me" ⎯୧

Characters: Daichi, Sugawara, Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Hinata

Warnings: Fights, blood, injuries

A/N: I’m coming back slowly but surely from my writers block 😭 the request -> Intimidating S/O

Daichi

Definitely gets worried about all the fights you get in. Don’t worry though, he eventually learns to keep bandaids and gauze pads on hand at all times.

Your first date he was a little shocked when you walked over to him in your full goth makeup and outfit but quickly got over his shock. Thought you looked really good and wondered how long it took you to get ready

Tried to do your makeup one day and it make both of you laugh

The minute someone even thinks of making fun of you he’s on it. He knows you can handle yourself but you’re his partner let him do this :)

“Eww, look at them. Why is he with them?” His head whips around so quick. Holds your hand and you two share a look. You nod to let him handle it this time with a little smirk on your face.

“I’m with them because they make me laugh and make my heart flutter. They also have good taste which is something you’ll never have.” You smile and wave at them and blow a kiss before continuing to walk with Daichi

Sugawara

Saw you outside of school first and he’s definitely one to want a goth partner. I can’t explain he just gives off those vibes

Kisses your hands after fixing them up when you come back from a fight

So much chaos. You two pull pranks on everyone

The minute someone tries to insult you the both of you are laughing as he watches you handle them.

He finds it hot when you fight people

“Those two are so different. How did she bag him? Their makeup is too much, and look at how bad it looks! I could be so much better with him.” You turn and Suga just crosses his arms and smiles.

“At least I don’t look like I got dressed in the dark. I mean come on, those earrings with that makeup? It’s hilarious that you think you could have a shot with him. Maybe you should check how caked your makeup looks before commenting on other people’s makeup.”

Suga gives you a kiss before walking away with you. “You’re so hot when you do that.”

Tanaka

Begs you to do your makeup on him

Like he’ll see how good you look with it and is like “Please baby!!!! I wanna match with you!”

Leads to you going to a thrift store to get some stuff for him

Didn’t think he would enjoy it as much as he does

You hand him a couple band tees, button ups, and some leather pants. “Go try these on love.” He smiles as he goes into the changing room and sees how it looks.

“I look so hot babe!” You chuckle and roll your eyes a bit.

“You gonna come out and show me?” The curtain flings open and he flexes and poses as he shows off his outfit.

“My ass looks so good in these jeans!” He does another spin. “Now jewelry and makeup and we can match.” You hand him some jewelry you found and he puts it on excitedly.

“Go change back and we’ll get that. When we get back home I’ll do your makeup and we can go out tomorrow to show it off.”

Nishinoya

Much like Tanaka he wants you to do his makeup

You think you fight a lot? He’s backing you up in all of them. You don’t need it but he can’t help it. Someone fights with you they get him too. Package deal right there

You both go to the nurses office way too often

She knows you both by name now. Literally just sighs when the two of you walk in with bruises and cuts

“Wait on the beds and I’ll bring the supplies back.” You and Noya hobble over to the beds and wait for the nurse to get back.

“You looked so hot babe! When you hit that guy and he ran away!” Noya smiles at you as you roll your eyes. “Why are you kinda….”

“Yeah, yeah, pack it up!” You say as the nurse comes back and fixes the both of you up.

“Could you two please fight less? I’m running low on bandages again.”

“We’ll try!” You both say as she sighs.

“You kids have fun this weekend.” She puts away the first aid kit as the both of you walk off hand in hand.

Hinata

Brags that he got a s/o before Kageyama

“Guess who got a partner. This guy! They’re literally so Wow! You know?” Noya and Tanaka understand as he goes on describing how he feels so “woosh!” Are you and how being with you makes him feel like playing volleyball.

“How did you bag them?” Is what everyone is thinking as you walk in bruised with bandaids and cuts on your face and hands. Speaking of your hands you have a bento box in them. You smile as you walk over to your boyfriend.

“Hi love, I brought you a snack since I know you get really hungry during practice.” The jealousy is radiating off of literally everyone as Hinata smiles and hugs you before taking the box and beginning to eat. You stay around and watch the rest of practice.

You two go on the best dates

He goes with you to all of your concerts.

You wanna see this person? Suddenly he has two tickets. Where did they come from? Don’t worry about it

Starts listening to goth music so he can understand when you start talking about your bands

RULES NAVIGATION

#hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #tanaka x reader #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya x reader

[jaebeomsbitch]

Puppy (R.R) Smut

Pt.I

Summary: Sending Roman a present turns into a sexy phone call

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Masturbation, degradation, phone sex?, guided masturbation, dom/sub dynamics.

Authors Note: God was so fun to write this. The virgin Eddie fic is like 90% done!

Roman was used to meeting the world with witty quips and that smug smile on his face. He never registered it as awkward as it is. Everyone around him could see how he was shouldering the pain away. Shoving against it like a football player during practice. 

He doesn’t see you again until the day of his fathers funeral. Until you’re getting the police to open up the fence and drag him up off the floor, pulling him into his Escalade and sitting in complete silence as his driver takes you both to his penthouse.

You gently clean up his wounds, undress him, hand him some pain killers and water then tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t understand it. Why would you randomly come back to take care of him like this? You’d just left like it was nothing, it really was nothing. It was some flirting at best but here you were toeing off your heels and digging through his closet for a sleep shirt. 

You knew he’d never have the courage to ask you to stay. So you slip off your dress and put on his shirt sliding into the cool sheets of his bed and pressing him against your chest like a mother would to a child. It’s not long until he’s uncontrollably sobbing in your arms. He babbles incoherently as you rub his back. You hold him for what seems like hours until his tears are dried and the shirt you borrowed is full of snot. The bandaid on his face falling from his face. 

You stand up pulling a bandaid out from your phone case. You’d have it there for emergencies, in case your heels cut up your ankles. He sits there sniffling trying to push your hand away as you place a blue bandaid on him. It’s got a fat puppy all over it, like snoopy but different. 

You let him tucker himself out until he’s passed out on his bed, his fingers clutched to the shirt you’re wearing, red nosed, and puffy eyed. 

When you wake up he acts like nothing happened but he’s dressed differently. He’s no longer adorned with opulent suits but instead in baggy shorts and a T-shirt. He sips his coffee, that same smug smile adorning his face as he asks “ So how’d you sleep last night?”

You smile, seeing past his façade, seeing that scared little boy from last night. “Better with my kitten” you say in an annoying tone slipping back into teasing each other. You hug him tightly, almost spilling his hot coffee onto your arm. He’s trying not to laugh. 

“Well I’m not a kitten, I’m a tiger if anything. I’ll fuckin’ rip you to shreds” he scoffs sipping his bitter drink, pushing you off of him even though he craves the heat of your skin. 

“Fine, you’re my puppy then” you laugh, opening his refrigerator and grabbing an orange juice. He doesn’t say anything, he eyes you wearily. Sipping his drink but internally his heart pounds against his ribs.

You sip your drink watching him as he watches you like you’re in an old western movie ready to draw your guns. You silently finish your juice washing the cup as Roman makes a comment about how only peasants wash their dishes. 

Before he knows it you’re dressed and ready to slip out of his apartment and probably out of his life again. A part of him wants to beg for you to stay but his fragile ego won’t let him. He’d begged Gerri to stay and she threw it in his face. He couldn’t risk being hurt again and yet as you leave reminding him to call a doctor to stitch him up, his heart aches. 

He didn’t get to ask your name again. Miss Business and Pleasure… He wants to know who you are. Even if you’re just some low level employee at Waystar trying to kiss ass to climb the ladder. He sits on his his couch like Bella in Twilight, memories of the funeral, of his fuck up eating away at his soul. Any obligation to follow your orders and eat breakfast is long gone since you left. He feels that ache in his stomach and welcomes it. He deserves the pain for being useless. Everything was bullshit but most of all Roman was bullshit. 

He was always a pawn in a game he could never win. The court jester sent to fuck clients like a common whore despite his inability to get hard. 

Then there’s a package at the front desk. His mind racing, what could it be? Maybe another condolence gift, fuck em. Who cares? His father was dead and he was finally free of the cage and yet he could feel the familiar press of metal against his skin. He can practically see his siblings taunting him for being a weakling, dog bowl full of chow and water ready for him to dig in. 

The Gojo deal goes through he feels empty and free but chained… to what? Who knows. Like he'll never truly be free of the dog cage he grew accustomed to. The package sits in a pile until he finally decides to open them. Most of them have cards obviously written by personal assistants by rich fucks who can’t take the two seconds to write ‘sorry your dad died :/’ followed by bottles of expensive booze. Like that’s cured the crater in his chest. Maybe they wanted him to become an alcoholic. “34 year old Roman Roy found dead, choked on his own vomit,” he could almost imagine it. Taste the bile in his throat and the burn of the liquor in his chest. 

He gets to the last package opening it without a care. He rips through the tissue paper, the unfamiliar feeling on his fingertips before he registers what it is. It’s a blush pink collar. Why would someone send him a dog collar? Wait, this one was bigger and thicker… there’s a golden name plate that hangs from the middle of it, “Puppy” it reads. The metal jingles as he holds it up closer to his face.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles. 

Fingers searching through the packet until his index finger hits a corner of a paper. He pulls it out, a pink letter addressed to Roman well… to Puppy. He rips open the paper. There’s nothing on the paper, well no words it’s a phone number. 

Before he can think he’s dialing the number like he’s just a normal schmuck. He should probably at least Google search it but the phone is ringing and his heart pounds in his throat. He knows who this is from. 

“Romulus, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say picking up on the third ring. 

“It’s you” he says, taken aback. 

“So it is. I take it you loved the present” you say, smirk on your lips. That familiar smug tone in your voice. 

“You want me to bark and sit on command too?” He asks, joking around with you. 

“I take it you didn’t see the back of the card” you reply. His hands go back to the note flipping it. 

“Sex dwarf by Soft Cell” it reads and then “send me a photo of it on, Puppy” all in your hand writing. 

“As if I’d do what you told me” he scoffs.

You laugh, “Why do I have a feeling you’re already hard imagining yourself on your knees for me? Crawling around your kitchen on all fours all pretty for me” 

“Seems like someone’s got a sick fetish. You’d like to break me down or something? Too bad I’m more emotionally stable that your fucking Psychologist,” Roman says. 

“We’ll see,” You say smugly over the phone before hanging up. Roman’s heart pounds, what the fuck did that mean? Would he see you again? Would he really have to wear the collar?

Weeks go by, his fingers itch to call you again. To hear your voice even over the shitty receiver of his pissed on phone. He doesn’t though, there’s a certain challenge between you going on. Like whoever contacts the other loses and yet, he knew if you reached out first you’d still somehow be winning. It was Roman who had all to lose in your invisible competition. Maybe it was all in his head?

There’s another box brought to him, this one a matching leash to his collar. His body can’t help it. He flushes with color imagining your red bottomed heels digging into his back, pressing his face to his tiled floor as you call him sick names, the leather biting at his skin on his neck. Before he knows it he’s walking over to his bedroom taking out the collar and matching leash and touching himself imagining it. His head tipped back, imagining the curl of your lips, that look of disgust on your face and then he’s coming all over his sheets. The collar and leash dripping with cum. He takes a photo and sends it to you waiting for a response like a puppy waiting for his owner. 

“See, I knew you liked it” you text, and then it's radio silence. Until his phone is ringing through the silent room. His fingers shaking, pants still down his thighs. 

“If it isn’t my owner,” He says sarcastically, fingers smudging the cum into the leather. 

“Put it on Romulus,” You say sternly over the phone. 

“That’s fucking-” He tries to protest. 

“Put the collar on like a good boy or I’ll have to punish you,” You say. 

“Oh I’m fucking trembling, what could you possibly do?” He says sarcastically. 

“I’m not asking again. Put the collar on or you’re never hearing from me again Romulus,” You say with a finality. He gulps, weirdly turned on by your threat despite jerking himself off less than five minutes ago. He puts the phone down, hands grabbing the collar and tightening it on his neck, his cum smearing all over his throat. 

“I’m not doing it,” He says, trying to sound stern, hand already playing with himself as he grabs the phone. You don’t say anything, his hand grabbing his hard cock and stroking himself slowly. 

“Mhm sure you're not,” You say condescendingly. 

“I’m holding it in my hand,” He quips back, fingers teasing the head of his cock before going back to stroke himself. He tries to keep his voice steady and breath even but the collar is doing more to him than he’d like to admit. 

“I know you Puppy. I know you’re touching yourself right now, imagining me telling how fucking disgusting you are. You’re a sick fuck Roman. Touching yourself while wearing my collar, you want to be owned don’t you? Want me to force you to admit how much you like this,” You say seductively. 

You hear him shudder as he hears those words. You hear him moan as he imagines you towering over him. Calling him your filthy and disgusting puppy. 

“Shit” He says, trying to hide the lust in his voice. 

“How’s it feel to touch yourself with your puppy tag bouncing on your throat? You’re my fucking toy to play with Rome. Let me hear how good it feels to fuck your hand while thinking of me,” You say. 

“You’re disgusting,” he says, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s now wearing the collar. You can hear as he tries to hide how much you’re turning him on, his face flushed.  You can hear the jingling of his collar and a puff of breath with his every movement.

“How did you know I was wearing it?” He asks you.

“Cause you want to be called a good boy,” You chuckle. Chills trickle down his spine, his face red as he strokes himself faster, teeth clenched trying to hold back his moans. He can’t hold back for much longer. You know you can just keep driving him further and further and he knows too. He’s at your mercy, has been since the first night you met. 

“You’re right,” he says. His voice is shaky and weak and he’s breathing very heavily.

“You’re disgusting Roman. You’re a sick fuck, God if you’re father knew you were jerking off with a dog collar on he’d smack you in the face,” you say into your phone. You knew he liked degradation from the way his breath hitched over the receiver.

“Let me hear how good your hand is making you feel Puppy,” You command.

“F-Fuck,” He moans, the jingling becoming more aparrent. His moans are mixed with the squelching of his hand on his cock. His precum dripping out, stomach tensing as he feels the burn in his belly. 

His eyes are closed. You can almost hear the blood coursing through your veins as his breaths get heavier. God what you wouldn’t do to see him right now. Cock in his hand, thighs quivering, head tilted upward trying to hold onto a semblance of himself as he fucked his fist as you tell him what to do. 

“Oh God,” is all he can manage to say. “Fuck- Fuck– m’disgusting,” He pants, the tingle at the base of his spine feeling electrifying. 

“That’s it pup, you’re close aren’t you? Let me hear you. Fuck, wish I could see those big puppy eyes begging me to let you cum” You say breathily. The jingle of his collar ringing in your ears.

His orgasm builds and builds until his thighs are trembling like he just ran a marathon, a mixture of moans and curse words spilling out his lips. He’s in pure heaven, hand stroking over himself as he spills onto his thighs, eyes rolling back, mouth open as moans spill out. 

“F-fuuuck” he pants as he relaxes against his bed. His phone pressed to his ear. 

His phone still pressed against his ear, he struggles to catch his breath. He listens to his own heavy breathing. He can feel the chills going down his spine as his chest rises and falls. His breathing is shallow, short and fast as his brain is completely fried. He can’t think about anything other than the pleasure he just felt. 

“Oh God,” he says again, trying to find words to show how he’s feeling. But he can’t say anything else. Not after what you just did to him.

“Good boy, Romey” you coo. 

“Fuck you,” He pants. 

“You wish,” You chuckle. 

“Now, follow your commands and send me a photo,” You say not letting him answer as you hang up immediately. Roman’s brain is complete mush. Fuck you, who did you think you were demanding a photo? A part of him also wanted to comply. The deep rooted feeling of wanting approval gnawing at him. Why did those two words from you send a shiver down his spine? God was he doing this? What if you sent this photo to someone else? 

Nonetheless ten minutes later your phone buzzes with a text. It’s a photo of Roman, his face cropped out but his neck adorned with that pink collar covered in his cum, his torso covered with a dress shirt, slacks down just enough for his cock to be free. He completely ruined his expensive suit, it’s all painted in his cum. 

“Good boy,” You reply. 

Roman had found himself in a completely different dog cage. One without his siblings cackling at him and forcing him to bark on command. Now you were outside the cage, images of your body clad in lingerie, insults passing through your lips, taunting him from outside of his metaphorical cage. Roman was your wholly devoted Puppy even if he wasn’t willing to fully admit it. 

#roman roy #succession #succession hbo #succession roman #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #roman roy / reader #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader smut #romulus roy #sub and dom #sub and dom dynamics #roman is a sub #roman roy x female reader #roman roy au #slight angst #slight fluff #logan roy funeral mention #Spotify

[geralt-of-baevia]

Call It What You Want: Chapter Five

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

pairing: nooutbreak!joel x f!ofc (Violet Fletcher)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 3.1k

summary: Seeking solace from a painful breakup, Violet relocates to a tranquil town, purchasing a neglected house to renovate. In her new neighborhood, she befriends Harlow, who introduces her to Joel, a gruff and seasoned contractor with a heart of gold. Despite Joel's initial grumpiness, Violet finds herself drawn to his expertise and hidden kindness.

As Violet immerses herself in home renovations alongside Joel, their dynamic begins to shift, with Joel unexpectedly opening himself up to the possibility of love. Their budding relationship faces challenges as shadows from their pasts emerge, testing their newfound connection.

warnings/tags: hints at a daddy kink, groping, dry humping, grinding, etc.

a/n: alright, something FINALLY happens! yay! and oooo drama is staaaarting. i love it.

In the first week of our deal Joel and I were both very busy. I had made french dip, beef stroganoff and so many breakfasts and pastries. All while he had patched my deck, put up a new shower curtain, fixed part of my roof and fixed the air conditioning with his brother Tommy’s help. 

There was constant commotion at the house, but it was something I thrived on. It was nice to have something do do every day. To have a reason to get up and bake. I hadn’t done much of that since I had sold the bakery six months before. I didn’t realize how much I had missed it.  

I learned that breakfast was Joel’s favorite meal very quickly. Since we were both early birds, most mornings I had coffee and food ready to go when he got to the house. Friday morning I decided to make my favorite; biscuits and gravy. When Joel came through the kitchen door, I was just pulling the biscuits out of the oven.

“It smells amazin’ in here,” he said, setting his toolbelt down next to the door in a thud. “Whatcha making?”

“Biscuits and gravy.”

“Mmm, my favorite.”

A silly grin spread across my face. “It’s mine, too.”

Joel came over and made our cups of coffee while I plated our food. We took our breakfasts and headed out to the sun porch to eat. Earlier in the week Joel moved a couch and coffee table into the once empty room for us. It was such a nice place to sit and look outside and enjoy company. I loved our little routine.

“How is your arm feeling this morning?” he asked before shoveling a bite of food into his mouth. I could sense something was up with Joel by his body language, but I couldn’t tell if I was making it up or not. 

“It’s getting better. I’ve been doing my exercises and stretches that the doctor recommended. And I haven’t had to take a pain pill in at least three days,” I told him proudly. My forehead was healing nicely, too, it only needing a bandaid over the stitches.

“Well that’s very good to hear.”

As we ate our meals in silence, I could sense something was definitely making Joel apprehensive. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” I asked through a bite. 

“Hmm?” he asked, turning to face me. It was like I had snapped him back to reality. 

“Is everything okay, Joel? You’ve been acting kinda odd since we sat down to eat,” I explained. He sighed in response. 

“Everythin’s fine,” he stated. I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’ve just been meanin’ to ask you somethin’ since yesterday, but I couldn’t get the nerve up to last night. So I told myself this mornin’ on the way here that I was gonna ask ya.”

My heart began pattering in my chest.

“Well, just ask me then.”

“Um, I have a buddy from the school I work at that’s getting married this weekend,” he started, “and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”

I gave him a coy smile. “Like as your date?”

“Yes, as my date,” he said, nudging his shoulder into mine. 

“How fancy are we talking?”

He paused. “...is that a yes, then?” 

I giggled. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”

He beamed at me, and his face softened with relief. It was adorable. 

“So, how fancy?” I asked again, “Like, do I get to see you in a tux or something?”

“No, not that fancy. But it’ll definitely be a dres nice for the occasion type of wedding.”

“When is it?” I asked before taking a drink of my coffee. 

“It’s tomorrow at 11am in the town over. I’d pick you up around 10:15. Is that okay?” he asked. 

I nodded. “That sounds great.”

The next morning I rushed around trying to get ready. I had decided to keep my hair and make up simple, but I was still nervous. Thankfully Harlow was coming as well, and Joel’s brother Tommy as her date. 

I looked myself over in the mirror, fiddling with my hair and smoothing my light pink dress over my thighs. I hadn’t been to a wedding in a long time. The next one was supposed to be my own, but that had obviously changed. 

At almost 10:15 on the dot, I heard Joel’s familiar knock at my door. After looking myself over once more, I ran downstairs. I opened the door, it revealing Joel looking as handsome as ever. He had on a green plaid shrit with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his forearms, a pair of nice jeans and boots. His curly salt and pepper hair was combed back, and his facial hair freshly tidied. 

“You look so handsome,” I told him, the words falling out of my mouth before I could stop them. His face lit up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Um, well thank you,” he said timidly, his bashfulness coming out. “You look gorgeous.”

My cheeks grew hot and my eyes met the ground. 

“Thank you,” I told him, chewing nervously at my bottom lip, “It’s not too much?”

He shook his head, his brow knitting together. “Not at all. Are you ready to go?” 

“Yes, let me grab my bag.”

I grabbed my purse and my shoes and locked up the house. Joel and I got into his truck and pulled out of the driveway, off in the direction of the wedding. I threw my shoes and purse on the floor before turning in my seat to face him. I rested my back against the door and pulled my feet up to rest on the space between us, hugging my knees. 

“You comfortable?” he asked sarcastically. I pushed his thigh with my foot. “Hey! That’s my driving foot.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, dad.” 

His eyes snapped over to me at my comment, his eyes stern. It was a look that made the space between my thighs surge with heat. 

“So um,” I started, shifting in my seat a little, “How long have you known the couple getting married?” 

“I’ve known Bill and Frank for at least 20 years. We first met through an old friend,” he told me, taking his eyes off the road occasionally to look at me while he spoke. I nodded. I could tell there was apprehension in his voice. 

“...and?” I asked, knowing he had more to say. 

“...and they’re getting married because Frank is sick and they want to get married before he passes away,” he concluded. My heart dropped into my stomach. It was so bittersweet. 

“That’s - heartbreaking,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I heard him sniff, so I learned forward and put a comforting hand on his knee. “But it’ll also be beautiful.”

He looked over and me and gave me a have smile, his eyes brimming with tears. I gave his knee a squeeze before he took it in his own. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. I smiled. 

“Thank you for comin’ with me.”

“Of course.”

The wedding was absolutely beautiful. It wasn’t anything spectacular or over the top. Just a simple wedding in the backyard of Bill and Frank’s beautiful house. There was maybe only about 30 of us there in total, and not one of us had a dry eye by the end of it. I had packed tissues in my bag and I had never been so thankful I had done so. 

After the ceremony everyone mingled and ate finger food while Frank rested for awhile. I stood in a corner of the garden with Joel, his brother Tommy, Harlow and their friend Ellie, one of Harlow’s students. She had practically adopted Ellie, and hence so did Joel and Tommy. They were this little blended family that I couldn’t help but admire. 

“So, Violet?” Harlow started, pointing an accusing finger at me, “Joel told me the other day that you used to have a full ass bakery?”

“Mmhmm,” I said with a nod, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. I didn’t really want it getting out, but I also didn’t tell Joel not to say something. I couldn’t get upset at him. 

“Girl, I have known you for almost four months and you’ve never said anything about it to me? That’s a big deal!” she stated. I shrugged. 

“It just wasn’t a big deal to me at the time to talk about,” I said. Tommy smacked Harlow in the arm. 

“Did you ever think Harles that maybe she didn’t want to talk about it then?” he asked her, attitude dripping all over his words. She rolled her eyes. 

Harlow had been weird to me the entire time at the wedding, and now she was calling me out about something silly like this? I didn’t know what was up, but I didn’t want to worry about that right now. I just wanted to enjoy the wedding with Joel. Joel turned to me, blatantly ignoring the drama from his brother and Harlow. 

“Do you wanna go get a beer with me?” he asked. 

“Sure,” I said, giving Harlow a side glance. He slipped his arm around my middle and led me away from the group and over to the house. 

“Is it just me or is Harlow bein’ weird?” he asked, still looking ahead. I glanced up at him and sighed. 

“No, she’s being weird,” I confirmed. We went into the kitchen and Joel grabbed us each a beer from the large cooler by the sink. He opened both of them on the counter before handing me mine nonchalantly. 

“Did-did you just open those on the edge of the counter?” I asked, my jaw a little slack. He smirked at me as he took a swig from his beer and shrugged. 

“Maybe I did,” he said with a quick wink. The butterflies in my stomach awoke. 

Before either of us could say anymore, Bill wheeled Frank into the kitchen from the living room. Frank was looking much more rested than he had after the ceremony. 

“How ya feelin’, buddy?” Joel asked Frank. 

“Much better, thank you,” he said with a kind smile. He turned his eyes to me. “I didn’t get to meet you before the wedding. I’m Frank.”

He held a hand out to me and I closed the distance between us to shake it. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, I’m Violet,” I told him. His smiled widened. 

“She’s Harlow’s neighbor,” Joel explained, “Her house is the one I’ve been working on.”

“Oh, so you’re the one who made those croissants then, aren’t you?” Frank questioned. He glanced at Joel with a knowing look, their eyes meeting. Joel blushed, coughing to mask the embarrassment. 

“Yes I was. Did you like them?” I asked. Frank scoffed, looking back at Bill with a sarcastic look. 

“Tell her Bill, did we like them?” 

Bill cracked a small smile on his stoic face. “Violet, those were some of the best damn croissants we’ve ever had.” Frank turned back to me.

“Is there any way I could persuade you to make more for us?” he asked, rubbing his hands together excitedly. I giggled. 

“Absolutely. You can consider them a wedding present,” I told him. 

“We look forward to it,” he said, “but if you’ll excuse us we have more guests to thank for coming.”

“Of course you two,” Joel said. Frank took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. 

“It was very nice to meet you, Violet,” he said while making unwavering eye contact with me. His eyes were so kind, and his smile one of the most genuine I’d ever seen. It broke my heart that he wasn’t going to be around much longer. 

“You too, Frank,” I said, trying to push down my somber thoughts. 

As the afternoon continued on, all of the guests wound down and Bill and Frank did some usual wedding traditions. They cut the cake together, folks gave toasts, and finally they had their first dance. Yet again there was not a dry eye in the house as Joel and Tommy helped get Frank to his feet, aiding him in having his first dance with his new husband eye to eye. I would never hear the song ‘That’s How Strong My Love Is’ by Otis Redding the same way again. 

After their dance, Joel came back and sat next to me as others joined on the cement patio to dance. 

“Hi you,” I said as he wrapped an arm around me, resting it on the back of my chair. He was a little out of breath and rubbed one of his knees with his free hand, muttering about it under his breathe. I giggled. “That was very sweet of you, you old man.”

He gave me another stern glance, but couldn’t hold it for long, cracking a small smile. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

We sat together and listened to the music, watching people dance and interact. Joel hummed along with each of the songs, tapping to the beat on my shoulder. I couldn’t help but want to melt back into him and feel the vibrations of the humming in his chest. While I was lost in my thoughts, the song changed. I didn’t notice until Joel got to his feet and held a hand out to me. 

“Would you like to dance?” he asked. I nodded, realizing the song was The Mamas & the Papas’ ‘Dream A Little Dream Of Me.’

He helped pull me to my feet and then led me over to the patio. I turned around to face him and he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling my body close to his. He took my right hand in his, resting it on his chest before putting his hand over mine. I interlaced our fingers as I wrapped my free hand around his neck. He looked down at our entwined hands and smiled. As he began to sway us back and forth, I rested my head against his chest. 

I felt him let out of sigh of contentment, pulling me closer to him even still. His fingers dug into my side, like he couldn’t get me close enough. I pulled my head away from his chest to look up at him, my green eyes meeting his deep, dark brown ones. He rested his forehead against mine, slipping his other hand down around my waist. I reached up and linked my hands behind his neck; neither of us breaking eye contact. 

When the song was over, it felt much too soon. Without saying a word, Joel broke apart from me and immediately began tugging on my hand, leading me somewhere away from the patio. I followed as he led me to the side of the house, his footsteps impatient. Before I was able to ask him where he was taking me, he turned me around and pinned me to the wall with his hips. 

Our eyes met again as I looked up at him. I watched as his gaze flashed down to my mouth and back to my eyes. I nodded my head ever so slightly, giving him permission to do what I know he wanted to do. My heart began pounding as his hands cupped my face, my breaths shallow. 

 Joel closed the gap between us and crashed his lips against mine. My chest felt like it was going to burst at the seams. I grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer to me as his fingers twisted in my hair. His hands left my face, exploring my body as he deepened the kiss. I gasped for air as his lips trailed down my jaw and neckline, his mustache prickling my skin along the way. 

I grabbed my arms around his neck as he began hiking up my dress. Heat pooled between my legs as he reached his hands under my thighs and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his as he pinned me to the wall again, this time grinding against my center. He moaned against my neck, and I could feel him hardening underneath his jeans each time he dipped his hips into me. My head rested back against the siding as he kissed and bit at my neck greedily. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

We both jumped so hard I almost fell out of Joel’s arms and to the ground. We whipped our heads around to see Harlow standing by the corner of the house, her mouth agape. Joel set me down and helped me with my strap as I pulled my dress back down over my thighs. 

“Harles, listen-”

“Don’t Harles me, Joel. I don’t want to hear it from you,” she said, pointing a drunken finger at him. She turned her attention to me, her eyes narrowing at me. 

“I can’t fucking believe, you,” she said, pausing before the word ‘you’ for emphasis. 

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Joel asked, his tone serious and stern. 

“When I introduced you guys I was trying to be helpful to you both, not have you go behind my back Violet and fuck him,” she stated flippantly, “and even here? At Frank and Bill’s wedding of all places? You two just had to sneak off like goddamn hormonal teenagers?”

“Harlow, we’re not-”

“Save it, Violet. I saw you come home from staying the night at his place in his clothes,” she accused, scorn in her tone. 

“Harlow, this is none of your goddamn business, none,” Joel stated firmly, taking a step between me and Harlow. 

“It is my business, Joel. You have been my goddamn older brother since Lucas died. I have seen every woman who has used you in more ways than one, and you always get hurt,” she spat at him, “I just never would have thought that you would be one of those girls, Violet. I’m done here.”

She turned on her heel and left us standing there, dishelved and gobsmacked. Joel started to follow after her, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. 

“Joel, don’t. She’s drunk and needs to cool off.”

He nodded in agreement, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breath. I reached down and grabbed his hand and giving it a squeeze. We went back to the party in silence, and I tried to avoid looking in Harlow’s general direction. The knot in my stomach only got bigger as the afternoon went on. 

Once the reception was finally wrapping up, Joel and I said our goodbyes to Bill and Frank. After we got in the car we sat in silence, my brain wracking over what Harlow had said. 

“Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“What did Harlow mean by other girls using you?”

He sighed a knowing sigh. 

“That’s a story for another day.”

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x oc #no outbreak au #no outbreak!joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us

[seriouslysam8]

Sorry Teagan or Sirigan fans but I’m going to have to politely disagree with all of you…

Here's the deal, Sirius hasn't had a proper chat with Marlene, but from the few conversations they've had, it's pretty clear he's not over her. There's this undeniable chemistry and magnetic attraction between them that remains unspoken. Enter Teagan; she's not a balm, more like a quick fix, a band-aid. The thing is, at some point, you've got to rip off that band-aid and let the wound properly heal. Marlene's got the tools to mend his wounds, but is Sirius ready for that? Nope. So, he's a bit like my two-year-old when he gets a scrape; he rushes for the band-aid, thinking it'll magically make everything better. But every time, I've got to gently explain that bandaids don't heal, they just protect your wounds. When I bring out the "boo boo supplies," as my son calls them, he freaks out because he knows it'll sting a bit, and the healing process will take longer, he doesn’t have the patience for that because he’s a ball of energy. You know who else is like that? Sirius, hence what Teagan's doing – she's protecting him, not healing him.

Teagan's no fool; she's a smart woman who can undoubtedly see that Sirius is still carrying a torch for Marlene. Strangely enough, she's okay with it because she's using him just as much as he's using her. She's gradually developing feelings for him, but deep down, she knows this can't be a long-term thing. It wouldn't shock me if we witness her taking a step back at some point. Ultimately, she's a mom first and foremost, and she needs to be at her best for her daughter. She understands that a broken heart won't allow her to do that.

But here's the thing, Marlene deserves someone who truly loves her, and that someone is Sirius, always has been, and always will be. She knows how to mend his wounds, what will make him lose his cool and what will bring him back to his senses. Likewise, he knows how to heal her, and she needs him to do that as much as he needs her. Is he a good fit for her right now? No, because like my 2 year old son he will put the bandaid on himself he runs off as soon as he sees my “boo boo supplies” to his grandparents house across the street (in reference to Sirius running off to Molly’s as soon Marlene gave him the look she she saw him and Teagan getting cozy).

I like Teagan as a character but I’ll love her more when she’s not with Sirius lol. Jokes aside, she deserves someone who isn’t going to be thinking of his ex and can give her and her daughter everything they deserve and more. I love Sirius, but he isn’t the guy for that. He’s got his own priorities, headaches, and wounds to deal with.

And yes, I did just draw a comparison between Sirius and my two-year-old. It's pretty hilarious how much grown men can sometimes resemble kids, isn't it?

HECK YES!

Sorry, guys, but you can all act like children sometimes. They call it a man cold for a reason. 🤣🤣🤣 We still love you though, just like we love Sirius!

I LOVED the comparison between Sirius and your two-year-old!

I think everyone can see that Tegan and Sirius are using each other. It’s why the fuck buddy situation has worked so well. But they’re both starting to open up and catch some of the feelings. Which, naturally, is going to happen.

The question is… how does it all shake out in the end?

Seriously, tell me, because I don’t know!!

But I love the arguments on both sides. It’s making me THINK and is making me realize I need to decide on an endgame.

[winterzsurprise]

Loving You Was A Losing Game || Karl Jacobs

Pairing: c!Karl x Gender-Neutral! Reader (It's in the past), c!Quackity x Reader x c!Sapnap

Summary: In all of the universes he has visited, why is the one where you lived peacefully have to be you as his best friends' fiance?

Tags: Universe-traveller! Karl, Coffee Shop Manager!Quackity, Nurse! Sapnap (not specified tho), Polyamorous established relationship, Angst, Us against the world but the world won trope.

Words: 736

Was inspired by the shit ton of Dr. Strange and Christine edits floating around my Tiktok fyp. Might open request soon.

Like always, feel free to give me constructive criticism since I want to better my writing. Other than that, enjoy!

----------

The doorbell chimed, then came the tinkles that didn’t come from the hanging ornament above the entrance but from someone’s lips that chattered off to their companion.

It was incredible that the aching dullness of his heart stuttered in its rhythm upon hearing your honeyed voice pierce through the calm melody playing on the speaking that drowned the space in its tunes.

“Darling!”

When you smiled, the winter snow that covered his heart thawed to make way for the patches of flowers that bloomed in his chest that withered as fast as it came.

Because there’s no one you could call darling other than the other man behind the counter.

“Mi amor, mi corazon, are you guys going to work already?”

The café branch manager, Quackity, answered as he crossed the distance between the backrooms and the counter to reach over and hug you tight before turning to your companion.

It was shitty of him to forget that there’s another person involved.

But can you blame him? Out of all the universes he had visited...

“Can I get a large coffee with two bagels?”

He didn’t even notice you move in front of him, shocking him back from his thoughts that would’ve dragged him down into an endless void he so desperately tried to erase.

Your voice was the incarnation of every sweet thing that exists in the world. Your kind eyes that glanced at him for a mere second held every star he hand-picked out from the sky from every other universe he has visited.

It was lovely and absolutely stunning, but also hurtful.

Because unlike the other universes he travelled to just to meet you once more, he dared to come to this reality, where your eyes only glimmered whenever you looked at them.

“Sure, can I get this gentleman anything?”

Shaggy pinecone brown hair hidden under the obsidian VANS cap, a fresh bandaid pressed across the bridge of his nose and a fair length of peach fuzz on his jaw and chin. 

Fire smoldered deep within his guts when his green eyes practically dribbled in adoration while staring at your ever enthusiastic form beside him 

“Nah man, I’m good. I already ate before I left.”

“What name do I put on your cups?”

“Y/N, then he’ll go with—”

“Best Fiance.”

“Put Sapnap please.”

Karl let a smile breakthrough his impassive face, it was ridiculous.

When he started jumping from one universe to another with the same desperation of a grieving lover who wasn’t able to say his goodbyes properly, he saw miscellaneous realities where you took form in miscellaneous ways.

A human, an alien with multiple limbs, a dog, a tailless cat, a mermaid, hell, even a rat.

Even with the odd science of those universes, he stayed beside you. But with every failure, every jump that exhausted his body, mind and soul, he saw the horrors of the world and the cruelty of fate.

“You take proper care of them, alright man? I have some inventory arrangements to do.”

With a pat on the back, the man waved his beloved goodbye before running back to the door behind them.

Out of all millions of worlds and dimensions, your lives never dragged on for long. Your wishes of exchanging the bustling city into a lonesome yet happy lifestyle in a cabin in the woods were never fulfilled.

To see you unable to achieve your dreams crushed his soul, much more when he realises that there is no timeline out there where he’s someone you could call yours.

“I’ll call you guys when it’s done.”

You clung to Sapnap’s coat-covered arm as you moved away from the counter.

Karl has seen many horrors in his immortal life, experienced many heartbreaks from unique events that occurred in his life.

Yet nothing prepared him for the hammering ache that penetrated his heart when he caught the glimmering stones that shone around your finger. 

To be precise, two overlapping rings decorated your ring finger.

His eyes followed you both as you left his vision before letting out a shaky exhale. He didn’t even notice his hands gripping tightly on the marble counter that it turned pale with his veins bulked out.

How cruel can the fates be? How can they make a universe where you lived happily and will die with age be the only reality where you can’t be his but for his best friends?

#karl jacobs #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #sapnap x reader #karl jacobs angst #us against the world but the world won trope #dream smp #dream smp fics #mcyt #karl jacobs imagines #sapnap imagines #quackity imagines

[buttermynutter]

Signed, Viktor | 15/18

Transcript:

My personal magician,

I have been unbelievably stupid. I realize that being under stress - especially caused by physical ailments - is supposed to make oneself rash, but this truly wasn’t a mistake in the realm of falling into a lake or accidentally lying that you’re a council member to a council member that caught you after hours.

Maybe I shouldn’t be writing this lightheartedly already, but truly, the relief I feel is enough to heal me of anything. I cannot fathom my luck in that you came across me, though I still wince at the fact that you had spent a night by the bridges just to wait for me. I didn’t consider how easy it would be for you to make the choice to make a journey yourself; leaving you behind put you in harm's way much more than I realized. Either way, my heart is in your hands - even if I survived the serum, the night air would've gotten to the last of me.

The staff has informed me that Singed’s formula was indeed made to augment one’s performance, but only for a short period of time until it results in a downwards spiral, which explains why I was able to make it to as far as the bridges. Although they also told me it addles the mind, I’m afraid that all the choices I made leading up to it were my own. I wear constant reminders of it, as my veins have darkened tremendously and absolutely everything is cold to the touch, but I suppose you already knew that.

It still pains me to think that you had to bear the brunt of my audacity, so it surprised me a bit that your letter was of only concern without any sort of malice - though, knowing you, I should have expected it.

I very much don’t deserve it, but a tremendous weight was lifted off my shoulders as the nurse presented me your note. It was an even better feeling than opening my eyes to the light and realizing that I had been given another chance, no matter how dismissive of myself I was before. Holding that letter felt like it was a pane of glass that could shatter in my hands at any time, though I did damage it a bit with my tears. However, I realize mine have only made your burden heavier, so I will try my best to explain the unexplainable.

First of all, I have been told that I should recover from this specific calamity. I will be prescribed medication for blood pressure; it won’t be a cure-all, but I’ll no longer have to worry about bloody noses, headaches, and my bouts of dizziness. Of course, the problems run much deeper than that, so it would be a bit like putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

But, since I’m a unique case - in Piltover, at least - a Noxian consultant that was already visiting the hospital will be sent into my ward later today. It’s rumored they’re a sorcerer, so their help may be all I need. Naturally, I cannot simply ask them to help me using magic (legally, but when has that stopped me). However, if magic can scourge cities and breathe life into rocks, surely it can into my inconsequential self. If it can't, then, well. We'll just cross that bridge when we come to it, though I'm sure the both of us have faced enough bridges in these past few days.

Not to mention, I rather not have false hopes of my recovery to begin with. Either way, they have been to the edges of Runeterra from Ionia to Shurima, so I’m sure they have seen enough to have at least some solution, if not just to extend my life expectancy - I have been given a month or two to live on, but there are far too many things I want to do with you to merely pass without a fuss.

Don't fret too much at this information, I myself am not despairing. If even after all of this, after you miraculously came across me, after the serum was successfully drained from my body, and the strings on my soul are still cut, then it must be truly meant to be, as we were.

More importantly, I am sorry. One thing has weighed heavily on my mind, and my worries about it were certified once it was mentioned in your letter - the “Love”. No, I was not second guessing my feelings for you, and it pains me to know that I’ve caused you to think that. If there was any grip of reality I had during that episode, it was my affection for you. The only reason I had altered my salutation was because I didn't want it to come across as just trying to soothe the blow of the letter's contents; even now, I want the ability to take full accountability for my mistakes.

To be honest, I think a small part of me also wanted you to be angry at me. The last thing I'd wish for is you to blame yourself, and anyhow, any negative feelings directed towards me would be warranted.

I hope I haven’t worried you further with a lack of response these past few days, this is the first time I’ve woke since the bridges. This sickness may not be my fault, but my poor reception to it is, and I can only carry it with me.

I thought that maybe if such drastic measures were effective, then our days could go unchanged, that you would see me to be as strong as I see you. All my life I have been doing things alone, and I suppose I wasn't used to the fact that I didn't have to anymore, that I had my best way of living in front of me. Yet, I still tried to keep that way safe, forgetting that they could not only do so themselves, but would just as soon run into the danger on their own.

I will take care not to throw away my life so quickly in the future - I only wanted to be the best I could for you. Every time I look at you, every time you laugh, every time you plants with such care it’s as if you were watering paper, I believe more and more that you’re the one for me until I can’t remember there even was a time that I didn’t think you were. I just couldn't stand the a possibility that someone as wonderful as you would be stuck with somebody who can't even stand up on their own, much less accompany you on your adventures. You’re simply so full of life, and I am nothing if not the opposite.

Now, I know that none of that quite matters, because the most I can do is love you with all I have, both in ability and time.

While unconscious, my mind was still very much active - of course, mostly with thoughts of you. If it had not been, I don’t doubt that I would’ve merely let go. I already have an idea of how to repay you - it's not nearly as much as you deserve for all your suffering, but it's a start. Hopefully, I'll be here long enough to enjoy it to its fullest potential with you.

If it’s anything to you, I’m able to receive visitors starting tomorrow. Just know that there’ll be two cups of awful hospital coffee and a bedridden admirer waiting.

Love love (extra for compensation),

Viktor

━━━━━━━

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#signed viktor #arcane viktor #viktor/reader #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fic #arcane fanfic #arcane league of legends #netflix arcane #league of legends x you #league of legends x reader #league of legends #league of legends fanfic #viktor the machine herald

[stardewgay]

hm okay I wrote this a while ago might delete later bc I suck at writing byeeee

TW self harm & suicide mentions

***

I was just about to leave the saloon early when that new farmer girl walks in. What’s her name? Something with an R. I shake my head and finish off my last swig of beer. I pushed off the wall and headed for the door. I’m way drunker than I thought. I focused as hard as I could, staring at my shoes as I moved one foot in front of the other…then I slammed into something. No, someone.

“Shit..” I stumbled backwards, “will you fucking watch where you’re going?”

“You first, asshole” snapped the farmer. I blinked hard, looking at her this close for the first time. Messy and bright pink hair, a soft t-shirt, shorts, and a look that could kill. Her brown eyes bore into mine, face scrunched up in anger. A smattering of freckles covered her cheeks and she had dirt all over her. I just gaped.

“Ok. Good talk.” she pushed past me roughly with an eye roll. From behind me, I heard Em call out “Hey Rowan! How are ya?”.

Rowan, that was her name. I rubbed my face with one calloused hand and pushed open the door, slamming it behind me.

I didn’t make it very far before I tripped and fell. Grumbling, I sat up and examined my knees. They were both skinned. I looked up dejectedly, not having the energy to stand up. I heard the saloon door open and close. Before I knew it, Rowan was standing in front of me. She had a to-go container in one hand and a cola in the other.

“Just how drunk are you, Shane?” she spat. She knows my name? While I was too shocked to respond, she sighed and shoved her cola in her pocket haphazardly. She thrust her hand out to me. I stared for a what felt like forever. She wiggled her hand impatiently, so I finally took it. Her arm muscles rippled as she pulled me up from the ground. I winced at the pain in my knees.

“C‘mon, I’ll get you cleaned up. You have to carry my drink though.” She pressed a cold can into my hand, wrapping that arm around my waist. I leaned against her, probably too much.

“I’m sorry” I mumbled. She ignored me, just patting my back and leading me along.

Soon enough, she was leading me into a small cabin. Her cabin. If I wasn’t drunk I’d be panicking. She sat me down on her couch. She put her takeout on my lap and opened the box. It was pepper poppers, my favorite.

“Eat some. Gus gave me extra, I’ll never finish them all. Be right back.” She took off towards her bathroom. I grabbed one of the peppers and took a bite. Damn Gus is good.

Rowan reappeared with a first aid kit in her hands. She sat and patted her thighs, signaling me to prop my legs on her. My face was hot as I followed her instruction. I watched bashfully as she gently cleaned up my knees.

“You’re good at this.” I slurred, watching her work deftly. “You got some nursing under your belt or somethin’?”

“Something like that.” She sighed as she smeared neosporin on my injuries. She covered them with bandaids and looked up at me. “Better?”

I nodded. “Thank you Rowan, really. I’m sorry I’m such an —hic— asshole.” She didn’t respond. She took a pepper popper out of the box on my lap and put the whole thing in her mouth. I couldn’t help but laugh. Her cheeks her so full when she looked at me, snorting. “What?”

“You really like pepper poppers. Girl after my own heart.” I chuckled again. She rolled her eyes, chewing strenuously until she finally swallowed.

“I wanted to share them at the saloon,” she said quietly. “But then you were an asshole.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. All of a sudden I was all too aware that my legs were still in her lap and she was resting one hand on them. I quickly pulled them away and planted them on the ground.

“Why would you want that?” I responded, equally as quiet.

She fell silent for a moment, thinking. I was about to stand up and apologize and make a beeline for the door until she spoke before I had the chance.

“I thought we could be friends.”

I blinked hard. This was a prank, right? Some elaborate, fucked up prank. The only person I could consider a friend was Emily, but she was my bartender. I had to converse with her. Rowan broke the silence again.

“I think we could relate more than you think.” I snorted at this, and she shot me a deadly look.

“You? How could a beautiful, self sufficient, independent farmer relate to a sad fat alcoholic?” At this point, I knew it was a joke. God, she was making fun of me. I stood up quickly, throwing her pepper poppers all over the floor. “Fuck, shit..” I pressed my hands to my face. “I’ll go get you more. I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry.” I tried to make a dash for the door when she grabbed my wrist. Her hands were rough from work.

“Shane,” she said softly “it’s okay. Please sit.” I shook my head and tried to pull away, but she gripped me harder and yanked me back onto the couch. I felt her arms snake around me in an awkward hug. My face was burning up as she pulled away. “Why would you want to be my friend?” My voice was shaking. This was so embarrassing. “How could you relate to me? I’m a sack of shit.”

“So am I dude. I take five medications so I don’t kill myself. I’m so good at ‘nursing’ because I had to clean myself up after really bad nights. Jesus, I was discharged from the psych ward four months ago.” She swallowed hard. Tears were forming in her eyes. Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her as close as I could. She smelled like dirt, sweat, and pepper poppers. She breathed me in, burying her face into my neck. I could feel that my shirt was wet with her tears. I rubbed her back, feeling so terribly awkward but I just wanted to be here for her.

“Fuck man.” she pulled away, rubbing her eyes. “I’m so sorry. You don’t need that shit.” I took her hand gently. “It’s okay. I promise. I get it.” I tried to slur as little as possible. She nodded. Cautiously, she laid her head on my shoulder. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. It’s nice.” I smiled softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a real friend.”

“Me too. Thanks, Shane.”

“Thank you, Rowan. Thank you for wanting to be my friend.” I quickly wiped away my own tear that escaped

#sdv #stardew valley #shane sdv #shane stardew valley #sdv farmer #shane x farmer #farmer rowan #my writing

[homeahoy]

Black Coffee & A Smile

Warnings: Fluff, talk of abusive exes.

Chapter 2

Mike had kept his promise, he made his appearance just after the lunchtime rush making it much easier to speak to Bill.  When he had said he would return the favour and take him out to dinner he had meant it to sound like he was hitting on him but deep down he knew he had been and the surprise lunch had been a perfect excuse to ask him out.  Wait what if Bill just thought he was being nice? No, no he was pretty sure the young man would know that he had been flirting with him and this was a date. If not it would be pretty obvious by the end of the date.  All that didn’t matter anyway he had to get him there first and the key part was making the arrangements.  Mike inched towards the counter and immediately caught Bill’s eye. Smiling he said “ Am here to arrange our date,  sorry dinner” that smile still playing on his lips as he spoke. “I was thinking about Friday around seven, at the nice little French place down the street?  I can pick you up or meet you there? I’ll also need your phone number”

So this is actually happening and it’s definitely a date, he said it was so it must be the tall blonde thought to himself. “Yeah seven is fine. I’ll meet you there, I don’t want you going out of your way for me. Here give me your phone and I'll put my number in.” Bill replied, flashing that bright smile of his, the smile that tugged at Mike’s heart, one that he was pretty sure that he would never get sick of seeing. Quickly they exchanged numbers before Mike Smiling whole heartedly back he closed out the conversation with “I better get back to work before Dave comes looking for me but I'll see you Friday at seven.”  As he leaves he gives a little wave as the bell of the bakery door tinkles overhead. 

“So it's definitely a date,” Eoin says as he round’s the counter and comes towards Bill.  He had heard the whole conversation as he had been clearing tables nearby.  “Seems so” Bill says with a shy smile, heck this is what he wanted but why was he so terrified at the thought of going on a date?  Maybe it was because in the past he hadn’t had much luck.  The dates had either gone terribly with him and the other person not connecting at all or the person had just been wanting to sleep with him.  Bill wasn’t like that; he preferred to only be intimate with  someone he had a connection with. Not that he hadn’t ended up in some terrible relationships, his last had been the worst.  His ex had been a shade taller than his own six foot one frame, muscular and with a nasty temper.  A temper he had taken out on Bill and despite his six Bill had submitted to the treatment.  He was a sensitive soul, a soul who liked baking, snuggling and reading books in bed.  It had been nearly a year and half and he hadn’t been near anyone since.  Maybe it was because he was afraid or that he just wasn’t ready but now he was willing to try, try for the man who had him daydreaming nearly every day about what it would be like to kiss him. 

By the time Friday had come Eoin was pretty sure he was going to have to scrape Bill off the ceiling with the amount of nervous energy he was giving off.  They had closed early so Bill could go home and get ready for his date. Eoin was about to suggest some dutch courage but thought that Bill might accidently take it too far and show up blind drunk and any way he was a big boy he was sure he could handle himself he just needed to bite the bullet and get it over with.  Like ripping a bandaid off.  Eoin was privy to Bill’s last relationship and knew that this was what was causing the anxiety and stress.  He had a feeling that this would go much better than that, Mike didn’t seem like the kind of guy who ruined people’s lives and if he turned out to be? Well Eoin would set Paddy on him, because no-one I repeat no-one got to break his friend’s heart, not ever again. 

Bill stood outside the restaurant hoping he looked okay. He was worried he didn’t look good. He had opted for black jeans and a white shirt rolled up to his elbows, and shoes, a blazer draped over his arm in event the weather turned colder.  It was different to his normal attire of t-shirts, cosy jumpers and flannels. With doc martens normally adorning his feet. His ex had always hated the way he had dressed, which made him a little bit paranoid.  It was around five minutes after he had arrived that he saw Mike striding up the road. God he looked good in a relaxed fit suit and black shirt that was open at the collar. Mike waved towards Bill when he saw him and when he drew close enough, “Hey there hope am not late I had trouble getting parked anywhere near here”   “No right on time” Bill smiled back. “Good, shall we then?” Mike asked as he pulled open the door to the restaurant.  Bill walks inside and waits at the host stand until Mike comes to a stop beside him and says, “Reservation for two under the name Sadler”  “Ah yes, Follow me” The young female host says and then leads them to a quiet corner when a perfect cosy little table is set up for two. 

As soon as they are seated they pick up the menus and begin to read through them, making small talk about work and how things are going with their respective businesses, Only stopping when the waitress comes and takes their orders. Leaving them to talk until the food arrives.  “Can I ask you a question?” Bill asks.  “Sure, go ahead” Is the answer. Bill takes a deep breath, he is pretty sure Mike likes him but he is wary and needs reassurance that he isn’t reading this whole thing wrong. “Did you mean to ask me out on an actual date or is this just like a friends thing?” he winces as he says it, got could be any more awkward. Mike lets out a little huffing laugh before saying “I was thinking date, date.”  He watches as he sees the tension go out of Bill like he’s letting out a sigh of relief.  He had spoken to Paddy who was also privy to everything Eoin knew and knew that the cute awkward man across from him was nervous.  He found it adorable. What he didn’t know was about Bill’s past, Eoin and Paddy had kept that secret feeling that he would tell Mike in his own time if this went anywhere. 

“Go.. good, I was hoping that” Bill said, as he spoke he fiddled with the cutlery on the table before looking up at Mike. There was a distinct blush across his face, a blush that MIke couldn’t help have certain thoughts about, like how it would look on his face when they slept together, but that was far off if it even happened. Reaching across the table Mike steady the fidgeting hand with his own, gently stroking his fingers over Bill’s. The light touch stopped Bill in his tracks and he felt that familiar feeling of butterflies again.   He had never really had that feeling before with anyone, not even when he had his first kiss. It was new and exciting.  The feeling stopped when their food came and Mike took his hand back. 

They ate and talked about all the things they liked, finding common interests and talking about what plans they had for the future. Mike wanted to travel more and find someone to settle down with,  Bill wanted to discover new ways of baking, to own a nice little house somewhere that would be filled with laughter and love.  They both found out they liked the same kind of music, had a love for the city of Paris, and both hated cats but loved dogs. The gentle probing and gathering of information lasted until they finally came to settle the bill.  Mike kept his promise to treat Bill to dinner and settled the bill. 

They left the restaurant just outside. “Thank you for dinner,” Bill beamed. It went well. He didn't know why he had been so nervous. Okay he did know, Mike was insanely good looking but he was as it turned out incredibly sweet.  It was almost at odds with his job, where you expect a burly manly man who was grumpy and a bit of a nightmare. He hoped there would be a second date, third even.  Mike was having similar thoughts about Bill. He knew he was sweet and cute, if anxious and sensitive but it was what he liked about him the most.  That and he seemed like the caring kind of guy who was without pretence. “It was my pleasure” Mike replies to Bill’s thanks. “Do you need a lift home?” he added. “Um if it’s okay.” Bill answered shyly.  “It’s not trouble at all,” Mike said, grinning at him. They made the quick journey to the car, their hands and fingers occasionally brushing but neither being brave enough not just quite yet to take hold of the other’s hand. No being brave would come later on, when the time was just right. 

The journey to Bill’s was a quiet one, with him giving directions when needed. It was a relatively quick journey too. When they pulled up Bill turned to Mike and said “Thanks again for tonight I really enjoyed myself”  One hand still on the steering wheel Mike turned to face Bill with a devastating smile and said “Me too, i’d like to do it again” Bill smiled at this and blushed that of so appealing blush of his before turning to leave the car, as he did so he felt an hand on his arm and Mike say “Wait” turning back to face him, he was shocked to feel Mike press a kiss to his lips.  It was gentle, sweet and filled with what Bill could only describe as love. While it was only a mere brushing of lips both would have told you they felt electricity pass through them. Pulling back Mike muttered a hasty “Sorry, but you just look so cute when you blush”  “It’s fine” Bill answered back.  

When both of them finally made it inside their respective homes and into bed they both fell asleep with a smile on their faces and making mental plans for more dates.

#sas: rogue heroes #sas modern au #modern day au #mike x bill #fanfaction #fluff

[thisisprettybroken]

The Future of This Is Pretty Broken

Wait is this textwall asking for money?

Noooo, and as you will soon see I'm doing great tbqh. I just wanted to rip the bandaid off, lose some followers, and explain why this blog is changing formats from a personal gallery to something actually personal. TL;DR: My hyperfixation changed.

Whered u go?

After GAID 2016's gallery show I was halfway through a year of drawing every single day. This practice prestiged my glitch art into furry art wherein I had trouble keeping commissions open as they'd sell out within seconds. A single, somewhat popular pokémon comic did not help with this, so I raised my prices several times in an attempt to get less people to commission me so I could keep comm slots open for longer than literally 10 minutes. At $200 a drawing it just kept selling out. This was good as my partner in art and life ended things, found new roomates, and told me to get out in a week all within 12 hours of my coming out as bi and trans because this made them uncomfortable.

A lot of my furry art... I hope it offended someone. Not in an edgy way, as I aimed to make something explicit but not titillating nor societally reprehensible. My personal furry art was supposed to make a statement about the absurdity, insidious effects, and hyperfocusing tropes of adult-oriented amateur art on the internet. As with glitch art, and all art, furry art is art and I aimed to take it seriously. Oddly, despite the stuff I was outputting on my own, I got ENTIRELY SFW comms and learned that the outward-facing, perverse furry scene we know is hiding a lot of earnest and thoughtful souls behind it.

It was ultimately a phase, and it didn't make "affluent in a big house" money but it did just scrape five figures across the whole of my efforts. That's not lifechanging money spread put over several years but it allowed me to pursue a lifelong love of music for serious. 3 years ago this was, I started transitioning and sought a better way to express myself.

I made 3 albums of what was in my heart with a 4th coming soonish. I wrote a ton of LGBT articles on defining one's identity and self expression.

So anyway I bought Pukicho's Subharmonicon which puts me right about here.

Love wins or... something. Furries were good to me and I love all your little hats.

So What's Changing? Basically this is a personal blog now. I want to interact with the tumblr community instead of speaking in codes from behind distorted preexisting images because it's the best social media community running. 2015, heck, 2012 is so long ago. I watched this whole community grow up with me from a naive twentysomething wasting time at work to someone making the noise they've always yearned to make albeit still working in between because even furries can't save you from the bourgeoisie.

Yet.

Send asks, send hate, I'm just gonna post whatever from now on and it'll probably have lots of synthesizers in it. I'll still make glitch art now and again I promise as I've backed up all of my old Processing 2+ scripts in a portable install environment and the fact that my posts are STILL circulating tells me that they've brought a lot of joy and I want to bring some of that back with me.

Thanks for reading, and I look forward to actually using this account for interacting instead of lurking. And thank you for 6 years of saying my work is real cool. It makes me feel cool too. ♡

#personal #im back baby

[r3b00tp03try]

7 Love Letters I’ll Never Send

An Original Poem about my best friends throughout time, how intensely I love people, and how it kind of hurts.

1. The One From Long Ago

A fuzzy memory in the back of my mind,

A ray of sunshine with a name,

Kindergarten with a playground that towered above us,

A big world for small hearts.

I don’t remember you,

Not really,

But there’s a tiny piece of my heart,

Branded with your name.

A friend that meant the world,

Who joked about love,

When we didn’t know what it meant.

2. The One That Changed

American girl dolls and kiddy science kits,

A dollhouse that I thought was the coolest in the world,

Jokes about Girl Meets World,

And staying up watching it together.

Third grade in a new situation,

A best friend who felt like the brightest light,

We’d take on the world together.

Tragedy struck,

And I lost contact with you,

But I can’t bring myself to judge or hate you,

Whenever I hear what you’ve become.

3. The One I’m Still Being Asked About

Sometimes your memory tastes like bitter ash in my brain,

Because I know it’s neither, and both, of our faults.

Pokémon and Magic: The Gathering,

Card games and video games,

A fluffy dog who I thought was the cutest in the world,

But a storm cloud over both of us.

I was bullied and I got mean,

We started to learn we weren’t compatible,

Your new friends weren’t comfortable to be around,

And my new friends weren’t new.

The nail in the coffin,

Will always be the blatant rejection,

Of a core part of my identity,

A final proof of not caring.

I wish you the best, though.

4. The One That Hurt

My memory of you used to burn,

A bitter anger from an infected wound,

But as wounds do,

It’s started to heal.

There are times I think it’s my fault,

I gave you my everything, all my time,

And you lashed out,

When I started giving other people pieces of my patchwork heart.

You flipped my world upside down,

I know in a sense you’re the reason I am who I am,

But I was so afraid for so long,

To think of myself in any positive way.

An insult that burned a hole in my self esteem,

And I still don’t forgive you,

But I’m way past hating you.

Thank you for what I learned,

And I’ll forget you for how I hurt.

5. The One I Definitely Thought Was Love

Memory of the back seat of a bus,

Wearing each other’s jackets,

Because we were too stubborn to let the other be cold,

As we drove away from that news studio.

Constant affection that I loved,

But never really able to type more than ‘ily’,

A certain happiness, a certain anxiety,

An understanding now that some people just aren’t meant to be.

I hold no negative feelings for you,

In fact you’re one of my dearest friends,

And I love you in a better way.

6. The One That Definitely Is (Platonic) Love

My biggest supporter when I was figuring myself out,

One of my best and brightest friends,

One who carved such a place in my heart,

And didn’t leave it behind.

Plans for the future that we kept,

Now abandoned but the love still there,

A platonic soulmate and a best friend.

You are the brightest person I know,

And I admire your ambition,

I know you’ll take the world by storm,

And be the brilliant man you’re destined to be.

You stitched together my patchwork heart,

Time and time again.

I do my best to place bandaids on wounds,

Made by a moron who never deserved you,

And I’ll steal things away from his memory,

Because I love you and you deserve the world.

7. The One Who I Love Like A Sibling

Video games,

Late night talks,

Heart to hearts,

Someone who I love like a brother,

Even when you drive me insane.

Even with the assumptions we have to endure,

Repeatedly despite our denial,

I wouldn’t trade you for the world,

I wouldn’t trade you for anything.

Anxiety plagues both of us,

A myriad of issues we have to work through,

A couple lessons about pride we have to learn,

A bunch of choices we’ll have to make.

You’re crazy and I adore you,

A platonic love that feels forged in a metal tested by fire,

Only time can put it to the real test.

I can only hope it survives.

This was bittersweet to write, because the first four are still kind of bitter subjects. It was nice though, reflecting.

#poems and quotes #sad poetry #poem #original work #original poem #original poetry #love #platonic love #bittersweet #love poem

[pinkja]

Also I forgot to ask you this a while ago but after reading "Waiting" I just had one quick question. Who gave you the right to come into my house, step into my room and rip my heart out like that?

- 🐝

IM SORRY I HAD TO DO IT! IF I DIDNT WRITE IT THE IDEA WOULDVE WENT AWAY AND I JUST COULDNT HAVE THAT!

However, I as the author declare that I am delusional and refuse to believe in the fate of my own work :).

✨We can always pretend~✨

#asks #🐝 anon #I’ll put a bandaid over your heart to make it better #I don’t think I can ever read it without going OW!!! #even if I wrote it #although in my mind Nora’s alive and you said yes and y’all abandon the wolves and you and Nora have a nice baby girl bc Nora’s trans #y’all name her Millie after Nora’s grandmother and she took Nora’s name for her middle one #Abby’s the godmother and manny’s The Godfather #Mel and Owen are also the godparents but it was an all out battle to see who came first #they all cried when holding Millie for the first time

[inhuman-obey-me]

Excuse me! it’s just me, this blog’s stalker because your works amazing. I kinda am in love with your demon’s nature series. I if I could request something. Could you possible do MC seeing the brothers do something that is “demonic”. Similar to what happens in the series. Thank you!!!!

Hello!! Haha, thank you -- we’re so glad you like our content! ;u;

And I’m glad that you enjoy the Demon’s Nature series! It’s been a lot of fun to write.

Sorry this took a bit! I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be something with one of the brothers or all of them, so I ended up doing little short blurbs for each of the brothers and MC accidentally catching them doing something demonic/violent. Tried to keep them all pretty short, which was hard.

[Mod Cosmos]

MC accidentally catching the Demon Brothers being Demonic/Violent

content warning: blood/gore, body horror (especially in Beel’s), and general violence

Note: This is through the perspective of an MC that knows that the demons do their thing, but perhaps doesn't want to see it happening in front of them.

LUCIFER

You were supposed to go shopping together after meetings for the day were finished, and he had told you to just wait an additional thirty minutes so that he could finish up some business. Thirty minutes passed, but there was still no word from him, so you decide you’ll go and see what was holding that workaholic up. You soon realize that was a mistake.

You hear muffled cries, and a familiar deep voice. Cautiously, you approach the source of these sounds -- a room located off a dark corridor. You didn’t think there were any classrooms here, and your curiosity got the better of you -- so you approach the door, peeking through the crack. You recognize the intimidating silhouette and --- there’s blood. There was another figure in the room, their body limp on the ground in a puddle of red, the mighty first-born’s claws tearing through flesh. A loss of balance in your surprise results in you tumbling into the room, earning a sharp turn from Lucifer, whose crimson eyes were wide in surprise. His wings spread out to try and shield the unsavory scene from you.

“MC, you were supposed to wait for me.” His voice is stern, but there’s a gentleness to it. He sees the queasy look on your face, and decides he can put this torment to an end. With a swift motion, he fully blocks your line of sight before slitting the lesser demon’s throat. He then turns back to you, lightly embracing your body with black feathers. His voice is soft as he did not want to frighten you. “I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to see that. Let’s get you home, shall we? I’ll make you some tea.”

MAMMON

It had just been a scratch. A low-level demon had taken a swipe at you in passing, but hadn’t been able to cut too deep. Mammon insisted he was just running off to get a bandaid after you insisted he didn’t need to go after the other demon. He said that he’d be right back--”I’m just gettin’ a bandage, I swear!”-- and told you not to move an inch. But this bandage quest was taking longer than it should have, so you go after him, pressing a loose cloth against your wound. And there he was, having cornered the offending demon. He seems to be staking the demon in the arm with a sharp metal object, speaking in a tongue you couldn’t understand.

You hadn’t even realized you had dropped the Majolish bag from your hand, not until it hit the ground with a thud and Mammon whipped around to see you there. A flash of guilt appears on his features, his eyes going between you and the lowly demon. He drops them, though he can’t resist one more swift kick to their chest before running back to you.

“I told ya I’d be right back!” He’s about to cup your face in his hands, but retracts them as he realizes they’re covered in blood. “Uh, okay, let’s go get that,” he motions to your injury, “...taken care of, yeah?” He mumbles a sorry as he picks up the bag you dropped before ushering you away from the scene, promising he’d do whatever he needed to do to make up for having to witness it.

LEVIATHAN

You’re browsing games at a shop, having tagged along with Leviathan who had been raving about a new release. At one point, however, Leviathan had vanished from your side. You now realize it’s been … quite some time, actually. You wander about the store, unable to find him anywhere. Did he step outside? You decide to check, missing the anxious glance from the clerk behind the counter.

You hear some sounds from the alley by the shop. Is that … someone choking? Worried, you round the corner to make sure whoever it was is okay -- only to see the one doing the strangling was Leviathan himself. He had his tail tightly wrapped around the other demon’s throat, and … what, what was that inky substance leaking from their eyes? Leviathan caught your shadow against the alley wall, turning to you with a slightly panicked look.

“M-MC!” His tail quickly slithered off and away from the demon’s throat, leaving them to collapse to the ground. He’s suddenly at your side, hands on your shoulders as he turns you around and makes you walk out of the alley with him, murmuring something about how the venom will take care of the rest. “S-sorry about that, MC. You look a little sick … let’s get that game and go home and play, okay?”

SATAN

You had been ambling through an aisle in the grand Royal Library, wondering what random book you should pick up next to flip through idly. Satan had wanted to spend a quiet day reading and studying together, to which you readily obliged. But it was easy to forget just how large the Royal Library was -- what floor were you on again? -- and you wonder if you should head back to where the two of you had set up. Then you suddenly hear a distant crash. It seemed to be coming from one of the meeting rooms at the back, and you couldn’t help but want to take a peek to see what had happened.

“Fuck you!” You knew that voice, and you knew that anger. There was a muffled yell, and what sounded like shattering glass. Then there’s a chilling, mocking laughter, and you can feel the goosebumps starting to cover your skin. You nervously approach the slightly ajar door, and there he is, his tail impaling another demon with its sharp ridges. Oh, there is fury burning in those eyes -- ones that shift to land on you, and that glowing fury is replaced with exasperation.

“MC!” Your name comes out as a hiss, but he quickly tosses the other demon, slamming them into the wall. “You…” He’s unsure what to say, his wrath calming at the sight of you, especially with that look on your face. “I … I’m sorry, I just had to take care of something. Please, let’s go. We can talk about this later.”

ASMODEUS

The music is loud, the drinks are pouring, and you’re having an absolutely wonderful night out clubbing with Asmodeus. You were returning from the bar with two drinks in hand for the both of you, thanking one of the security guards on your way for managing the crowd of fans that had now dispersed, only to find that Asmodeus was not to be found at your table. He had left a note-- “BRB! ♡”--with lipstick on a napkin. You waited, sipping your drink as you demon watched from your seat. Some time passes, and you realize you’ve finished your drink a bit more quickly than intended. There’s still no sign of him, so you might as well go get another.

On the way to the bar, however, you pass by what you assumed was the hall to the restrooms, and you hear a desperate “I’m sorry!” cutting through the heavy bass. Should you be concerned? Well, you decide to at least be nosy, so you slip into the hall to see what was going on -- and are met with the sight of Asmodeus holding a heart he had carved out of some poor demon’s chest. In your shock, your empty glass slips through your fingers and crashes to the floor, earning your demon’s attention.

“Oh, MC!” Despite his surprise to see you, he gives you a smile -- one that gives you chills as you see blood spattered on his face. “Ah, what a mess…” He lets the lesser demon slide to the floor, debating on what to do with the organ in hand, but hides it behind his back for now, coming over to place a quick kiss on your cheek. “Sorry about that, darling. I’m just going to go clean up, so wait for me at the table, ‘kay?”

BEELZEBUB

You had agreed to go with him to Madame Scream’s after finishing up classes for the day, but he was running late. He’s not picking up any calls, either, so you decide to go to where his last class would have been -- maybe they were just running way over, and he hadn’t realized the time? The hall is quiet, and you end up reaching an empty classroom. Walking back out, you decide to try calling him again. Ring, ring. After a moment, you realize you can hear Beelzebub’s ringtone in the distance, and you follow your ears to where his D.D.D. and ultimately he himself must be.

You weren’t prepared for what you saw next. A head of bright orange hair buried in a lesser demon’s abdomen, the sound of squelching and slurping from his feasting sounding so much more insidious than usual.

“Beel!” You can’t help but cry out his name in shock, which causes him to jolt upright -- with intestines still hanging from his mouth. Oh, you were going to be sick …

“MC … sorry, Lucifer always says I need to work on my table manners … “ He gulps down what was left hanging, but his eyes widen when it registers just who caught him in the act. “Oh, uh, guess that’s not the point, huh … “ He sheepishly wipes at his mouth with some torn cloth that you can only assume came from his victim, standing up and walking around to block your view of the mangled body. “I’ll clean this up, and then … well, we can do whatever you want to do. Sorry, MC …”

BELPHEGOR

You’re looking around for where Belphegor could possibly be napping. Beelzebub had to go to Fangol practice and asked that you make sure his twin got home, as he had seemed even more tired today than usual. He’s not in the Western Courtyard, so you head to the Southern Courtyard next. You think you remember him saying that was one of his favorite spots…

You perk up as you spot the ever-familiar cow patterned pillow, but you fail to see the demon that was usually attached to it. Peering around the area, worry starts to set in -- and then you hear a scream. It certainly didn’t belong to Belphegor, but the gears in your mind start turning and you run to where the scream came from. Of course, no one else was around here -- it wasn’t the busiest area on campus in the first place. Turning a corner, you see just what you feared -- Belphegor had his claws at another demon’s throat, his barbed tail wrapped around their body and squeezing them tight. You feel weak, the scenario a bit too close for comfort as you recall what he had done to you in the past.

“MC?” Belphegor turned to see you, his eyes wide. He must have sensed your presence at some point, or maybe your heart was pounding much louder than you realized. He drops the other demon, growling something you can’t make out to them, and then slowly approaches you. He sees you tense up, causing him to stop in his tracks. He averts his gaze, not wanting to meet your eyes as he tries to figure out what to say. “I just … had to deal with something. You … you can head on home first, if you want. I understand.”

#obey-mes-treasure #obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #gn!reader #gn!mc #demons being demons #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos #ask and ye shall be answered

[rightsforbrunomadrigalonly]

Head canons of Bruno with a S/O who suffers from chronic illness.

{A/N: ✨⌛️Here I am, suffering at work yet again dreaming about Bruno being here at my side once more. I adore this man so much and I think about the non stop comfort and compassion he’d show his significant other. Of course I’m self projecting my misery into my work again, but what else is new here el oh el ✨⌛️}

{Word count: unknown I never keep track on head canons lol}

{Warnings 🚨: talk of chronic illness}

I want to start this off by saying, he knows his sister cannot fix chronic problems like the ones you suffer from, and he feels incredibly guilty about it.

It’s not like it’s something he can control, just like your sickness isn’t something you can control, but the idea of living with a healer who can’t help eats away at him.

He’d still ask Julieta to cook you something to alleviate your symptoms and pains. While her food can’t permanently rid your body of it’s suffering, her meals are like a little bandaid for the problem.

He’d be patient and tender towards your emotions when you feel so uncomfortable and irritable. Anything you need he’s so attentive and eager to help with.

Every time you’d whimper and groan, complaining reflexively, he’d just push your hair back from your face and kiss your forehead.

Bruno: “I know mi vida, I know. Try and get some rest, okay? We don’t have to leave the bed today if you’re feeling so miserable, we can just lay here all day. Oh! I could put on a performance for the latest chapter of Todos Mis Hijos Rata! It’ll be great, just what you need to feel better! See Erika just found out that her prima Vanessa has been sleeping with the father of her children, Juanito! Just stay right there get comfy, I’ll go get the rats!”

Every little bit of effort the man goes through to make you feel better, sends your heart flying. Plus his telenovelas are a great way to distract your brain from the pain.

I cannot stress this enough, but he is SO good at validating your feelings and pain. Even if it’s not something physical he can see, he always makes sure it’s clear that he knows you’re suffering.

You don’t have to overthink things around him. If you say that you feel sick, he’ll accept that answer and immediately work towards aiding your discomfort. He never once questions how you feel. It’s a relief not to have to over explain that you feel sick because you have a silent illness that doesn’t show.

On your bad days where you suffer from intense flair ups, he doesn’t leave your side. He’d do anything and everything humanly possible to make you feel better. He makes sure you stay hydrated and brings you food from Julieta every few hours. Even if you feel like you can’t eat he makes sure your body is holding the nutrients it needs.

Bruno: “here mi vida, Julieta made this for you. Try a bite, it may make you feel better….I know you feel sick to your stomach but hey, a little food may make you feel better. It’s just a bland arepa no queso. The dough should uh um…should absorb some of the extra acid in your stomach and uh make you feel a little better…that’s what my sister said at least, and I-I trust her. Eat up my vida.”

You can’t help the way your lips fight their way into a smile. While you most likely won’t eat a thing, you appreciate the efforts. For his sake you’d at least nibble the arepa throughout the day.

If you're suffering through a flair up and you've got important plans you cant cancel, he'll make sure to stay close in case you need him.

He's constantly covering for you to help ease any embarrassment you may feel about disappearing for long periods of time to alleviate yourself.

If somebody notices your gone, without hesitation he’d come up with an excuse, even if he is a terrible liar.

Antonio: “where’s Tia? We were just gonna start playing fetch with Pearce.”

Bruno: “O-oh, Tia had to u-uh take care of something really quick. How about I step in for a bit until she comes back? Sound good, kiddo?”

You feel so safe venting and sharing your problems with the man. He’s an amazing listener. He never interrupts and will let you ramble on for as long as you need.

He always says the sappiest cutest things at the end. Guaranteed to make you smile like an idiot.

Y/N *tearing up a bit*: “I feel bad whenever I have to bail out on your family, mi amor. What if they hate me for it? I just- I feel guilty. I wish I didn’t have to disappear all the time and I wish I could be there more. God it’s so embarrassing when I just have to get up and leave in the middle of a conversation because I’m in agony.”

Bruno: “Don’t feel guilty mi vida. I know you can’t control these things, it’s okay. Nobody’s perfect ya know? A-And at least you only disappear for like 10 minutes tops, I disappeared for 10 years and they still welcomed me back like nothing ever happened aha….I’m just saying mi vida, my familia is pretty understanding and if they aren’t? Well, I’ve learned that getting my family’s approval is something I can live without. If they don’t like you for something you can’t control, forget them. I-I don’t care what they have to say about you, and neither should you Y/N. Illness or not I think you’re perfect.”

Why is he just the perfect man!!

You could literally climb into his lap and cover his face FULL of kisses.

You do. Without hesitation. Flustering the man silly.

You’re absolutely blessed to have a partner so understanding and loving.

#bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x oc #bruno madrigal x reader #encanto bruno #bruno encanto #bruno #encanto #bruno x reader #encanto bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal headcanons #bruno madrigal encanto

[seijorhi]

Finders Keepers

the long awaited (sorry!) zombie au. hope y’all enjoy

Seijoh 4 x female reader & Miya twins x female reader 

TW Blood, gore, angst, um... toxic relationships?

“Let me see.”

It’s little more than a murmur, but in the quiet stillness of the night your voice carries. It hardly matters; Oikawa has you close, tucked under his arm with his injured leg stretched out between the two of you. He could stop you if he really wanted, but he only watches, those tired, wary eyes fixed on your face as you reach for his pants. 

“It’s fine,” he grunts out, yet he can barely get the words out before he’s hissing through his teeth – a knee jerk reaction to the scrape of rough fabric against his wound. His fingers are digging painfully into your arm, and it doesn’t make a difference how gentle you try to be, how many stammered apologies fall from your lips, your fingers are stiff and clumsy and his pants are caked with dried blood and grime, hindering the process.

Pursing your lips, you glance up. “This would go easier if you took these off, you know.”

He cracks a smile at that, strained and tense, but your chest still flutters at the sight of it. “If you wanna get my pants off so badly, cutie, all you had to do was ask.”

“Tooru,” you begin, but he sighs heavily and that brief flicker of mirth glimmering in his eyes fades. Reaching over he picks up his hunting knife, pressing the handle into your palm and letting his fingers slowly curl around yours. The weight of it feels unwieldy and foreign in your hand, and you can’t quite say for sure if the way your breath picks up and hitches is due to your nerves or the way Oikawa’s watching you, his warm hand still wrapped around yours.

“Cut it, then.”

The knife helps, shearing through his pants like butter, but the wound itself is messy – torn threads plastered to congealed blood and dirt – and blunt fingernails sink into your skin and Oikawa grits out a curse when you try to gently ease them free. 

It’s worse than you’d thought. A lot worse. Raked over his right knee, five gouges, jagged and gruesome, raw flesh and muscle exposed beneath. Your stomach roils at the sight of it, bile creeping up your throat, and for a moment you’re astounded by how calm he is, sitting there beside you. 

If it were you, you’re fairly sure you’d be rolling on the ground howling by now, but the only hint of pain Oikawa’s face betrays is the tightness of his jaw, teeth clenched even as he looses a shuddering breath.

“I-I’ll go see if I can find something to…” to what? Clean the wound? Stitch it? You’re not an idiot, unless this little cottage has an incredibly well stocked first aid kit, you know you’re in trouble. And even if it does, beyond the very basics of clean, disinfect and bandage, you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to fix this.

Iwaizumi was always the one to stitch up their wounds, muttering obscenities under his breath and glaring at them the whole time. It was their own idiot faults for putting themselves in a position where they could get hurt in the first place, he’d say, they could deal with a little pain while he fixed them up. But as you stare at the grisly mess of Oikawa’s knee, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this might be beyond even Iwa’s level of expertise. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Iwa isn’t here. 

Makki and Mattsun aren’t either.

And strangely enough, it’s not the fear of the creatures lurking in the woods that’s gnawing at your gut. It’s Oikawa’s injury, the blood and mangled mess that you can’t even begin to fix, the thought of the trap that’s awaiting the others back at the sanctuary. It’s that feeling of helplessness that’s tightening around your neck like a noose.

“Hey,” Oikawa calls, snagging at your wrist when you try to pull away. “They’ll find us, have a little faith.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. “I know.”

You don’t have the guts to tell him that that’s only half the problem.

Making do with vodka and some old bandages you’d scrounged up from a first aid kit under the sink, you do what you can for Tooru’s knee. Working by the light of a few flickering candles, your hands shaking like a leaf, it's a job easier said than done, and you can’t help but wince at every pained hiss and grunt that escapes him. 

It’s a hack job, a bandaid over a gaping wound, but he thanks you for it anyway, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple as he drags you closer once more. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he murmurs, and the words hang heavy over the both of you; a promise and a sobering reminder in one.

Tucked up in his embrace, you shut your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep. 

Yet the moment you do, you’re right back there again: the hallway doors bursting open and the undead pouring through. Rotting and snarling, the sound of panicked shrieks tearing through the sanctuary in their wake.

Tooru’s hand in yours, yanking you along as he ran. Your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you gasped for breath, your chest burning. And the fear, the horror that threatened to choke you as the others fell behind, their frantic pleas turning into agonised screams.

Everybody else first. The words spoken before any one of them left the safety of the sanctuary; you’d always assumed it was a grim kind of joke between the boys, a good luck charm. How many times had you heard Mattsun laugh it, clapping Iwa on the shoulder, or Makki for that matter, or Oikawa?

‘Come home safe’, you’d thought it meant, not ‘rip the guns out of other survivors’ hands and throw them back into the path of the oncoming undead’.

And then you’d stumbled, tripping over your own two feet. You remember Oikawa cursing, the pain that radiated up your knees and the palms of your hands as you hit the floor hard, and the absolute, bone chilling terror that surged through you when you looked up and saw one of the undead creatures lunge for you; jaw hanging loose, more ripped flesh and gristle than an actual mouth–

Oikawa was too far away, too slow, and even if he wasn’t, you’d just witnessed the lengths he’d go to for self preservation. You’d screamed for him anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and praying you’d go quickly when those fingers and yellowing teeth dug into your flesh and ripped you apart.

And in the space of a single petrified heartbeat, three shots had rung through the air, a warm wetness splattering against your cheek. Tooru was there, kicking the rotting corpse away from you and hauling you back to your feet, back safely against his side.

But the next one was quicker, leaping over the husk of its fallen friend, snarling and bloody and savage, and then it was Tooru who was screaming, undead fingers sinking into the flesh of his leg, ripping as it tried to claw him back.

Heart pounding viciously, your eyes shoot open in the darkness.

Even with the reassurance of Oikawa’s frame pressed up behind you, his breath warm against your skin, sleep doesn’t come easy, and the dawn brings little reprieve.

Stupidly, you’d hoped – prayed – that somehow through the night he might’ve gotten better. It was early in the morning when you’d felt him start to shiver against you. You’d tried to roll away, to give him space so you wouldn’t accidentally knock his leg, but Tooru was having none of it, burrowing in closer, his grip tightening.

And when you’d felt him start to sweat, his arms becoming sticky and clammy, his shirt dampening at your back, that slow, cloying sense of dread took root inside of your stomach.

Under the first rays of morning light, the true extent of Oikawa’s condition is unignorable. Without the luxury of being able to properly close the wound, blood’s seeped through the bandages overnight, leaving them a mottled, macabre red. His face is pale, a thin sheen of sweat dotting at his brow and with every shallow, rattling breath he takes, his body trembles.

It’s more than just simple blood loss.

You think for a moment that he’s unconscious, long lashes fanned out over flushed cheekbones, but the moment you reach for the bandages, his eyes snap open. “Don’t,” he rasps.

You frown, “Tooru–”

“No,” he says. “It’s fine. Leave it alone.”

Between him and Iwaizumi, and to a certain extent, Makki and Mattsun, you’ve never had much of a say in how things are run. You’ve never questioned that they’re the ones in charge, Oikawa most of all. They’re the ones who’ve kept you safe, kept you alive all this time, and all they’ve ever asked of you is that you do what they say.

And you have. Always. Because without them, you’d be dead. You don’t have to pick up a gun and fight, because they do it for you. You don’t have to go on supply runs because they take care of it, they take care of you. And it’s never mattered whether it’s just been the five of you out there alone, or if you were banding together with other survivors; that’s never changed – no matter how many dirty looks it earned you from the others.

You are their responsibility, but in return, you do what they tell you without question.

But this–

This isn’t like that. This isn’t you begging Iwaizumi to take you with him on perimeter patrol because you’ve been cooped up for what feels like weeks, or pouting because they’re deliberately keeping things from you again. 

And maybe they have kept you in the dark, but you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. The reality of this situation hasn’t escaped you. 

The sanctuary’s overrun, and if – when – Iwa, Makki and Mattsun make it back, they’ll be walking into an ambush. Even if by some miracle they do manage to all make it out unscathed and somehow figure out a way to pick up your trail, there’s no telling how long it’ll take for them to find their way back to you.

(You can’t bear to think about the possibility of them not coming home; you won’t.)

Right now, it’s just you and Oikawa, stuck in some abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rifle and a baseball bat between you. You have no food, no supplies and he’s getting weaker by the minute.

You’re terrified.

And you don’t have the luxury of sitting back and letting somebody else take care of you anymore. You don’t stand a chance of survival without Oikawa, and right now he doesn’t stand a chance without you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head. “Okay, I won’t touch it, but I’m not just going to sit here and watch you get worse.” Smoothing your palms over your lap, you take a deep breath in through your nose. “There’s a prison–”

“No.”

“Tooru–”

“I said no,” he snaps.

Biting back a sigh, you try again, “Tooru, there might be supplies there,” you plead. “Painkillers, antibiotics, something that might help–”

“I don’t need antibiotics and you’re not leaving. We need to stay here where it’s safe until the others find us,” he grits out, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Normally, this would be the point that you’d back off, running off to lick your wounds before he decided to get mean, but even as some part of you cowers at the mere thought of upsetting him, this time you don’t back down.

He watches warily as you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, gently smoothing damp brown locks back from his sweat slicked forehead. “I don’t know when Iwa’s coming back,” you murmur. “But until he does, the prison’s our best chance, if I can just–”

“No!” he snarls, cutting you off once again.

His eyes are manic now, blown wide and glazed over, he’s shivering, his breath a faint rattle – but his grip is iron, long fingers clutching at you desperately when you jerk back with a gasp.

“You don’t leave me.”

You don’t want to. 

It’d be easy not to, to sit and stay with him and pretend that your world isn’t falling apart and he isn’t dying. You’ve never been a fighter, always too soft, too weak, too naive to survive out there on your own. The thought of setting one foot outside of that door without him by your side fills you with absolute terror, but what other options do you have?

He might not like it, but you’re out of time – this decision isn’t his to make anymore.

“Tooru, I-I have to, you know–”

“No!” he snaps, dragging you closer. “You’re not leaving me, I won’t fucking let you!”

Your hand trembles when you reach up to take his, easing it from your shirt and bringing it to your lips. Tears spill from your lashes, falling in heavy droplets against the back of his hand as Oikawa makes a pained sound.

“Please don’t go.”

You both know he can’t stop you.

“Keep the gun,” you tell him, mustering up a tight, watery smile. “Anything but Iwa and our boys comes through that door, shoot it.”

—

It seems a cruel, twisted joke that you find a perfectly good truck sitting a little ways up the driveway, just begging to be used – with no way of getting it started.

Mattsun always made hot wiring look so easy, tossing you a wink when the engine rumbled to life, as if it was a neat little party trick he’d pulled out just to impress you. He did it so quickly, so smoothly, ripping the wires out and sparking them like it was second nature, but he’d never bothered to actually explain what he was doing to you.

And why would he? Between the four of them, there’d always be somebody else to take care of it for you. It’s the same reason they never taught you how to shoot, never taught you how to fight beyond the very basics of self defence.

Now, trudging along the side of the barren road with nothing but your baseball bat and a canteen of water slung over your hip, you find yourself wishing you’d paid a little more attention. Ten miles hadn’t seemed that far on paper – it was less than the trek back into town and you’d figured a safer bet, but walking around in broad daylight without any kind of real protection feels like you’re begging to be preyed upon. Yet by some stroke of luck (and despite that persistent nagging sense that you’re being watched) you manage to make it to the perimeter gates without coming across another soul, dead or alive.

The towering brick walls topped with spirals of barbed wire that line the prison complex are as imposing as they are unbreachable, and for a moment, standing there staring up at them, you feel a crushing sense of disappointment. You’ve walked over two hours, left Tooru in pain and alone for nothing. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to scale those walls, and without any kind of bolt cutters or firepower, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to get past the front gates. 

Iwa would’ve known that. Iwa would’ve been better prepared. 

But as you draw closer to the guardhouse, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it’s not a problem. The heavy wrought iron gate’s already unlocked and open, creaking in the breeze. And really, that should have been the first warning sign, but you’re too busy thanking your lucky stars as you slide on through to pay attention to things like that.

The courtyard is just as deserted. The crunch of gravel underfoot echoes too loud, setting your nerves on edge as you make your way towards the imposing structure. It’s quiet, eerily so – even the birds seem to have disappeared. Is this how all raids feel, you wonder as you climb the steps towards the door. This sense of foreboding dread that settles in your stomach, the goosebumps that prickle down your arms? 

Your grip tightens around the handle of your bat and you press gingerly against the door – just like the guardhouse gate, it gives under your touch, swinging open wide. It’s dark inside; you hadn’t thought to bring a torch and with the absence of any windows lining the corridor it’s near pitch black. Your heart hammers inside your chest, every cell in your body screaming at you to turn around and run back to Tooru, but you’ve come this far already. 

The undead flock to fresh, living meat. It’s been months since the outbreak began; anyone unfortunate enough to have found themselves trapped inside when it happened is probably long dead, and any of the undead likely long gone.

It’s just a little darkness. 

Steeling your nerves you creep through the black, clutching tightly at your bat, toeing your way down the corridor waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dim. Every breath you draw in feels too loud, every step too obnoxious. Deserted or not, the sooner you can find the med-bay, get what you need for Oikawa and get out, the better.

The layout’s simple enough – five looming multi-storied wings breaking off like fingers from the central watch-tower, but you don’t have a clue which one holds what you’re seeking. Your only option is to search them one by one and hope for the best. 

You’d expected steel bars and heavy locks, but the prison reminds you strangely of a school instead; long hallways lined with doors, each with a tiny window to peek through. They’re all open now of course, whatever locking mechanism keeping them shut having failed when the generators ran out. The first few are empty, barren and stripped of everything but soiled mattresses – it should be a relief. 

There’s nothing waiting for you in the darkness but empty halls and emptier rooms. If the others were here, they’d be teasing you for sure. Or Makki and Mattsun would, at least. You always were such a scared little baby – their scared little baby – you’d jump at your own shadow if you didn’t have them around. 

And it’s easier to keep going imagining them there by your side, the jokes they’d crack, the warmth of Iwa’s hand in yours, or Makki’s arm slung over your shoulder. You’d feel safe with them. You wouldn’t need to feel afraid.

But no amount of pretend comfort is enough to allay the heavy sense of dread that’s sitting in your stomach, growing harder and harder to ignore with every passing minute. And the problem, you realise, with the prison being so deadly quiet is that every noise, no matter how quiet, echoes.

Climbing the stairs in the dark, you don’t notice the slickness on the walls either side of you, the red handprints smeared messily over white paint. You don’t see the broken, bloody fingernails littering the steps beneath you. 

You hear it though, when you reach the landing. It’s soft. A quiet, wet squelching, ripping–

There’s no screams accompanying it like there were back when the sanctuary was overrun, but it’s not a sound you’re gonna be able to forget any time soon. In the dark you freeze, not daring to so much as breathe as you peer down the endless corridor, trying to pinpoint which of the cells it’s coming from. 

In the end, you decide that it doesn’t matter. 

They’re quicker when they’ve fed, stronger too, and there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to be able to fumble past in the dark without drawing that thing’s attention. The wooden bat in your hands feels heavy, your palms already slick with sweat. You weren’t quick enough back at the sanctuary; without Tooru, that thing would’ve eaten you. And suddenly it seems laughable that you came out here, that you genuinely thought you could handle this – fight one of them off if it came down to it.

Tooru needs those meds, you know that, and you might be useless and weak and absolutely paralysed with fear, but you’re not stupid. You can’t help him at all if you’re torn apart by one of those creatures.

Your pulse racing, a potent mix of adrenaline and sheer, unrelenting terror coursing through your veins, you draw in a quiet breath, slowly lifting your foot to back away. It hasn’t heard you yet, and so long as it’s distracted–

“Oi, hurry up! I know what I saw, she came in this way.”

“Jesus, just shut up for a sec, wouldja! Ya don’t need to keep yellin’ at me, I’m comin’!”

Through the grate at your feet, you see two beams of light break through the darkness, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps echoing down the wing. Icy claws tighten like a vice around your heart and you still once more, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen, praying…

The squelching’s stopped.

Grip tight around the handle of your bat, your entire body quaking with fear, you watch with wide, stricken eyes as one of the doors halfway down the block slowly creaks outwards. 

For a heartbeat, there’s nothing, and you try and convince yourself it’s just the wind, that you’re imagining things and your mind is playing mean tricks on you–

A feral snarl rips through the air, and before you can so much as scream it’s crashing through the open doorway, head swivelling as it searches for the source of the disturbance. In the dark you can’t make out much, only that it’s huge, half its flesh torn and decaying, smeared with blood and filth – but you see it when those white, cloudy eyes fix on you, its rotting mouth bared and salivating.

And this time you do scream. You scream for Oikawa, for Iwa, for Makki and Mattsun and the faceless strangers on the floor below as you cast your bat aside and run. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you take the stairs two, three at a time, slipping and slamming into the stairwell wall, a sharp burst of pain radiating down your shoulder – you can hear it giving chase, the rabid growls and snarls too close for comfort.

Tears flood your eyes, your chest heaving with every desperate breath as your feet hit solid ground once more and you take off.

“Please!” you sob as you run, blinded by the brightness of the torch beam as it’s shone in your direction. “PLEASE HELP ME!”

You can’t outrun it forever. Even now, you hear it gaining on you, its hot, foul breath puffing against your back – it’s just like back at the sanctuary. It’s gonna catch you, rip into you and feast while you choke to death on your own blood and screams, and this time you won’t have Oikawa here to save you. You’re going to die in agony, torn apart and devoured, and it’s all your own stupid fault.

Your throat tightens, more tears springing free. You can’t see anything beyond those two blinding lights, moving now, dancing across the field of your vision. “PLEASE!” you shriek, desperate and hoarse as the undead creature behind you readies itself to pounce.

Please don’t leave me here to die.

And for one heart wrenching second, you think back to your boys, and the words they’d said before kissing you goodbye. Everybody else first. Maybe this is some kind of divine retribution, you think. Maybe when the world went to hell people became cold and selfish and you deserve this for sitting back and letting others die in your place.

“Get down!” the voice yells, and you don’t even stop to think before you drop, sliding across the floor. There’s another blinding flash, a shot fired into the dark and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hug your knees to your chest as the creature snarls in anger and jerks backwards, a gruesome spurt of blood spraying over you.

“Ya fucking missed! How could ya fucking miss?!”

The gun cocks and reloads, another deafening shot ringing out above you and you flinch, your nails biting into the soft skin of your palm–

But this time the bullet hits its mark. The creature crashes to the floor with a loud thump and doesn’t move again. 

You don’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, launching yourself into the arms of your saviour. You don’t care that you’re crying, that you’re covered in blood and filth and god knows what else, you cling to him like he’s a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder. And instead of pushing you away like he probably should, he lets out a short huff that sounds almost like a laugh, his arm curling around your waist.

“I’m the one who shot the damn thing,” the other mutters sourly.

The man holding you snorts, “Nah, yer the idiot who missed.” Belatedly, you realise that he’s still gripping his gun, the brightness you’d assumed to have come from a torch actually from a light mounted to the barrel. He slings the rifle carelessly over his shoulder, drawing back slightly to appraise you. “Now, wanna tell me what a sweet thing like you’s doin’ all alone in a place like this?”

With your eyes now adjusting to the light, you can see that the two of them can’t be much older than you. They’re both tall, broad shouldered and handsome, the same jawline, the same slope to their nose, nearly identical hooded eyes – brothers you decide, maybe even twins. And they’re both smirking at you, not with the relief of just barely escaping a brush with a particularly gruesome death, but with an odd sort of lackadaisical amusement, as if this – skulking through dark, abandoned places, killing the undead – is nothing out of the ordinary for them. 

And from the ease with which they carry their weapons, maybe it isn’t.

Oikawa warned you about men like them. Men in general, really. Even the ones who smiled at you back at the sanctuary, the ones who offered to help you move heavy supplies when they saw you struggling – at least, until Iwa or one of the others stepped in with a poisonous glare. Anyone who wasn’t them was dangerous, a threat, just waiting in the wings to take advantage of a pretty, dumb little thing like you.

And maybe he’s right, but when the one holding you instead drags you closer, wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins to lead you back towards the guard tower as his brother falls into step on your other side, you don’t shrug him off. 

Oikawa isn’t here, and they have just saved your life. That has to count for something, right?

“I-I thought it’d be safe,” you confess breathlessly, trying not to focus on the thumb sweeping over the curve of your shoulder. “Well, empty at least. I didn’t have a choice.” And they listen, sharing glances in the dark as you tell them about what’d happened at the sanctuary, about Oikawa and the desperation that’d led you to leave him and walk miles alone to try and find some kind of medicine–

Until a snicker interrupts you. “Sorry,” the blonde mutters, though he doesn’t look all that sincere when your eyes flash to his. “It’s just…”

“Anythin’ worth taking woulda been snatched up months ago,” the darker haired one interjects.

“There ain’t nothin’ here but the occasional idiot tryna set up camp an’… Well, ya saw how well that turned out.”

It hits you like a gut punch, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh, gasping breath. There was never anything here, everything… all of it was a waste. You came all this way, left him feverish and screaming himself hoarse for you, risked your life, almost died and–

It was all for nothing.

Fresh tears sting at your eyes, they’re still talking but it’s just white noise washing over you. You don’t even realise they’re leading you back outside until you’re walking through the doors, the sudden burst of sunlight making you flinch. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.

You’re an idiot.

A naive, dumb little girl who was stupid enough to think this half cocked plan was gonna work. That you would make it back to Tooru in one piece, medicine in hand to save the day and prove you weren’t the helpless damsel they’d pegged you for. 

You’ve wasted so much time, for nothing. 

There’s no drugs, no food, nothing that’s gonna help either one of you make it through the next few days and suddenly you’re drowning under a wave of hopelessness and bitter disappointment. You fall to your knees in the dirt, taking both your saviours by surprise, and let out a painful, heart wrenching sob. And once you start, you can’t seem to stop. It’s overwhelming, every emotion you’ve bottled up and shoved aside over the last two days suddenly forced into the light. You cry for yourself, for Tooru – for Iwa and Makki and Mattsun. You cry until it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, and then there’s rough calloused fingers brushing your tears away.

You look up through wet lashes to find the dark-haired man crouching before you, his expression sober. “Ya don’t need to cry, sweetheart, we’re not monsters y’know.”

His brother chuckles behind you, “We’re not about to leave some pretty little thing all alone out here to starve to death.” His hand’s resting atop your head now, smoothing down the hair at your crown. It’s soft and soothing, and you’re so attuned to seeking comfort that you can’t help but lean into it, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “We’ve got some friends nearby, a nice little hideaway stocked full of all kinds of shit. Everything ya could possibly need.”

“Y-you mean it?” you ask, wide eyes flickering to the dark haired one, who smiles at last. “You’ll share them with me?”

“‘Course we do. Meds, food, weapons. Whatever ya want, it’s yours.”

You take the hand he offers to help you stand, your limbs trembling once more – but this time it’s not from fear or exhaustion, but the overwhelming rush of sheer relief. You could kiss him, kiss them both, but you don’t.

Instead you settle for throwing your arms around them once more, breathless thanks falling from your lips faster than they can catch as you hug them tight. They don’t seem to mind though, sharing almost identical smirks as the three of you head out to an old, beat up camaro parked out by the entrance to the prison. While the blonde slides in the driver’s seat and his brother takes the passenger’s side, you climb up into the back seat. 

“Is it far?” you ask as he kicks the car into gear and peels out onto the deserted road. Hopefully it’s not, the sooner you can get back to help Tooru the better. 

“Nah, not too far. We’ll be home before ya know it.”

Of course, they’re driving you to their friends, but they haven’t promised anything about driving you back to the cottage and Oikawa–

Which is perfectly fine! You’re not going to push your luck, they’re already doing plenty for you. More than they really have to. You don’t even need that much – just some medicine for Tooru and enough food for the two of you to get through the next few days, and you’ll be fine. Whatever you can carry, which, admittedly isn’t much. There’s still a few hours of daylight left, if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it back to him before nightfall.

Things are gonna be fine. You’ll bring the medicine and once he’s better, the two you can head out to find the others. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’ll be better when you’re all back together, the way things were meant to be. 

You need them, if anything this little venture’s proven that much at least. 

They’d promised that it wasn’t far, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion of the last few days creeping in, or the gentle hum of the engine as the car drives along the long, narrow stretch of road, but your eyelids start to droop, your breath evening out as sleep beckons.

And you’re just dancing on the edge of consciousness when a hushed voice breaks through the comfortable silence, dark eyes flickering up to watch your slumbering form in the rearview mirror. “Ya think Kita’ll be pissed?”

There’s a snort, “Nah. He’s always had a soft spot for strays, ‘specially the pretty ones.” He’s quiet for a moment, almost contemplative before he opens his mouth to add, “‘Sides, we’re gonna take real good care of her, ain’t we, Samu?”

The only reply he gives is a soft grunt of acknowledgement. 

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere osamu x reader #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere matsukawa x reader #yandere hanamaki x reader #tw blood #tw gore #angst #toxic relationships #i honestly do not know how to tag this #at this point it's practically sfw #if you ignore all the blood and injuries and zombie stuff