#I just don't want people to be alone in writing

[mixingandmelting]

Hello! I was wondering if you'd quite something based on the bat boys (or just Jason) reaction to realizing they liked having a normal life?

Like they go to visit the readers' family for Xmas, but their family left without letting them know, so they had the whole house to themselves, so they got to play house. It was in a whole other state, so no needing to be vigilantes. Just them with their s/o getting ready for Christmas, being shown around and just living a normal life for a few weeks.

A/N: Hope you don't mind me not writing about Duke and Damian since they're both minors so legally speaking they can't really travel out-of-state alone. Plus to be real, I highly doubt Batman would want to leave Damian unsupervised considering what happens when he's alone 😔

Dick:

His whole life he was anything but normal, being raised in a circus and now, fighting crimes 24/7. Excitement, action, danger, and adventures are what defines him and how he had always dreamt of how his life would go on. But here he is, tasting “normal” for the first time in his life by spending the holiday with you in the house you were raised in. Snowball fights and building snowmen delays the process of clearing the snow. Not to forget the snow angels that are made once he playfully tackles you down into the snow after you manage to get more on him than yourself. Putting up the lights and decoration both inside and outside of the house was more fun than the times he helped out at the Wayne manor, while finding out shopping for anything during the holiday season is a battle of its own. Adding that to the daily routine that’s usually gone through on his days off every day,  it’s… quiet and peaceful. He doesn’t wake up to sirens or violence. He’s not worried about another mission, instead figuring out how he’ll get your present under the tree without getting caught. You greeting him at the door, placing a kiss on his cheeks that are slightly bitten from frost when it’s decided he’s moving the snow on his own makes him so fuzzy, he starts calling you honey over babe. The most mind boggling about this? He doesn't mind it. It’s hard to accept that he actually likes “normal”. He’s confused over liking a concept that’s completely foreign to him and with his personality, he won’t last long with living with “normal” forever. The happy couple/marriage vibe though? He’s on board and digs it, one-hundred percent. Especially in a house filled with childhood memories, it’s giving him ideas and changing what he perhaps would want in the future in ways he wouldn’t think of back then.

Jason:

Considering his childhood and how he went through the whole reincarnation cycle of dying and then reviving, it’s a desire he had as a kid but gave up right away. He didn’t even fathom that a day would come where he would experience what it would be like to be normal. Walking around and staying in the typical home most average people live in made him tense the first three days, even more so knowing this was where you lived since a child. Moving snow with you becomes his favorite pastime, where you’d distract from getting the job done and have him chase after you from the snowball that hits his back. Or bringing out steaming hot chocolate so his nose and hands would stop feeling as if they’re ready to fall off from the cold after cleaning up and helping you build a snow fort of all things. His hands are frequently on your waist from holding you up to string the lights and hang the decorations after you frown from his “aesthetic” way of placing them, pushing him to move aside so you could show how a real pro does it. It’s also his first time struggling to find time to get a present behind your back from being with you all the time. Eating meals together, taking walks together around the neighborhood and city, acting as bodyguard during grocery and Christmas shopping, spending time together as a couple in general in a house that’s warm, cozy, and peaceful as Jason Todd is a first. Not as Robin once dead and revived or Red Hood, the violent outlaw.  It’s a wish once buried in his heart on top of another where he’s spending time with you that comes true before the holiday. He’s emotional from being so happy, he doesn’t think of anything else other than wanting to live like this for the rest of his life.

Tim:

Contrary to the stereotypes depicted by the media, rich kids don’t spend time with their family; it's usually spent with their nanny as their parents leave them for long periods of time in a house too large for two people. Sure over the years he has healed with his friends and a new family. But it feels like a dream come true with you. He’s laughing and enjoying the soft fluffiness of white that gets all over him, freezing his nose and hands when he tries to clear the snow. He gets into it with you over how the lights and decorations should be placed inside and outside the house when you mentioned you want to outdo your neighbors, a set of blueprints and sketches drawn while debating that rainbow lights were better than the flickering, white ones. To much of his chagrin, he’s fumbling with all the things you toss at him when he helps you shop, him being in charge of the shopping cart as he stays in-line as you grab and bring back what’s needed in the store. Not that he’s complaining, his face suddenly tinted in red when you come back and slip your hand between his hand and the handle during the wait for the next opened cashier. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t struggle with getting you a Christmas present and placing it under the tree. He had been keeping tabs since the day after Valentine’s Day on the things you’ve been looking at while relying on your habits he memorized to time things perfectly. Similar to Jason, he, too, wanted to live normally like any other person. Him getting to do that by prepping for the holiday with you heals the child in him, making him content and wishing the time the two of you currently have lasts forever.

[h4nj1sunggg]

₁ . 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 - ( h. jisung. )

pairing: rockstar!Han Jisung x groupie fem!reader.

genre: smut, angst, rockstar x groupie to lovers

words: 5.7k summary: jisung is an idol, you are his groupie.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  . playlist. part two.

warnings: a lot of make out, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (don't be silly), dirty talks, breeding.

You're just a fan.

You’d always been passionate about music—its ability to tell stories, to evoke emotions you didn’t even realize you had. But when you first heard Han Jisung’s voice, it was like a switch flipped in your soul. His lyrics felt like they were written just for you, his melodies like they were designed to sit in your chest and echo for days.

It started with the music. Long before you ever thought about standing in a crowd or knowing his name, it was his voice that hooked you, a melodic thread weaving its way into the chaos of your life. His lyrics, so raw and unfiltered, felt like a window into his soul—and, in some strange way, yours too. Every word seemed crafted for the moments you couldn’t articulate yourself.

It wasn’t just the music, though. It was the way he performed—raw and unfiltered, like he was giving a piece of himself to the world every time he stepped on stage. You couldn’t help but be captivated.

The first song you heard wasn’t even one of the title tracks. It was an obscure B-side, tucked away on an album you stumbled upon by accident. But it hit you like a tidal wave. The layers, the emotions, the honesty—it was unlike anything you’d heard before. You remember sitting in your room with headphones on, the world around you fading as you let his music fill every corner of your mind. It wasn’t just a song; it was a lifeline. “I swear, he writes from a place most people are too afraid to touch,” you once explained to a friend, clutching your headphones like a lifeline. “It’s like he’s pouring out all the messy, beautiful parts of being human.”

Your admiration for him wasn’t the casual kind. It was the kind that had you at every concert within a hundred-mile radius, screaming his lyrics at the top of your lungs. The kind that had you pouring over interviews and album liner notes, learning about his creative process and the stories behind his songs.

Then came the rest. The way his voice could switch from a soft, whispery croon to a fiery, rapid-fire rap. The way he seemed to pour every ounce of himself into his work, leaving nothing behind. His music was like a diary you had no right to read, yet it felt like he’d written it for someone like you—someone who needed it. It wasn’t just his voice or the lyrics. It was the way his compositions felt alive. The subtle harmonies, the little ad-libs that only revealed themselves on the tenth or twentieth listen, the way every beat seemed to have its own heartbeat. His songs weren’t just music; they were experiences, stories you wanted to live in forever.

There was something deeply human about his art. 

He wasn’t afraid to explore the messy, complicated parts of life—the heartbreak, the anxiety, the longing for something more. He turned those emotions into something beautiful, something you could hold onto when your own thoughts felt too heavy to carry.

His music became your companion. On good days, it was the soundtrack to your joy. On bad days, it was the only thing that could pull you out of the darkness. It felt like he was reaching through the speakers, reminding you that it was okay to feel, to break, to rebuild.

It wasn’t just fandom—it was gratitude. For the songs that kept you company when you felt alone. For the words that gave you clarity when everything else was a blur. For the reminder that there was beauty in vulnerability, and strength in sharing it.

And so, you became a groupie—it was about chasing the feeling his music gave you. That indescribable, unshakeable sense of belonging.

Everyoe knows he has groupies, all over the cities, all over the countries. How could you even be mad at that? He is breathtaking, shockingly beautiful and sexy, a 25 years old guy that doesn’t stop to get settle with anyone. 

The night was alive with anticipation, the air buzzing as you made your way through the crowd outside the concert venue. The throbbing bass and distant cheers filtered through the walls, and with each step you took closer, your heart raced a little faster. You wore your favorite band t-shirt, the one that felt like armor, emblazoned with the words of the very song that had saved you—Han Jisung’s words.�� When you finally entered, the sea of fans erupted around you, everyone a whirlwind of excitement and energy. You found a spot near the front, right where you could see him emerge any moment now. 

The lights dimmed, and the crowd roared in unison. The atmosphere was electric, a palpable wave of passion that made your skin tingle.  As the first chords of music filled the room, time seemed to slow down. Then, like a bolt of lightning, he appeared on stage—Han Jisung in all his glory. Your breath hitched in your throat as his silhouette became clearer against the vibrant lights. 

He was just as you had imagined: effortlessly charismatic, with a spark in his eyes that drew you in like a moth to a flame.  The first song struck like a melody of memories, filling your chest with a warmth you couldn’t quite articulate. Every lyric spilled from his lips like a confession, and you sang along, the words wrapping around you like a familiar blanket. 

It felt as though he was speaking directly to you, his gaze connecting with every listener in the crowd, weaving an intricate tapestry of shared experience. You couldn’t help but get lost in the moment, your worries forgotten as you surrendered to the music.  But the magic of the night didn’t stop there. Just as the chorus of his third song echoed through the hall, Han paused. “This next one,” he said, his voice soft yet commanding, “is for anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong.” 

The room went silent, as if the world outside had paused to listen. It was like he was reaching through the ether, touching the hearts of his fans, reminding them they weren’t alone. 

That’s when it happened—something unexpected. As he sang, you felt his eyes drift over the crowd and land on you. 

For a fleeting moment, the chaos faded away, and it was just you and him in that moment. 

Your heart raced wildly, and you could swear your pulse synced to the rhythm of the song. It was surreal, a brief connection that seemed to transcend the space between performers and fans.  Just as quickly as it began, he moved on, and the moment ignited a fire deep within you. 

This wasn’t just admiration; it was a life-altering sense of purpose. After the concert, as the lights dimmed and the last notes faded, you stood there in disbelief. 

The world reformed around you, but in your heart, something had changed. Walking out of the venue, your mind raced with excitement. That fleeting connection felt too powerful to ignore. In that moment of passion, you realized that you were so much more than just a fan; you were a beacon of the change his music inspired in you. You had stories to tell, lyrics to write, and a world to explore, echoing the very sentiments that had pulled you in. Months later, you decided to attend another concert, this time less as a devoted fan and more as an artist in your own right. You took your notebook with you, filled with your own lyrics and drawings inspired by Han’s impact on your life. But this time, as you stood in the crowd again, you realized your heart wasn’t just searching for connection; it was ready to forge new paths and create beauty alongside those who inspired you.

Jisung was mid-performance, sweat glistening under the stage lights as he owned every second of the crowd’s adoration. You were front and center, screaming his name like your life depended on it. He caught your gaze for a fraction of a second—just enough to send your heart into overdrive.

The thrum of the bass reverberated through your chest as the crowd surged around you, but you couldn’t focus on anything but him. Jisung was electrifying on stage—his movements precise, effortless, and filled with a raw energy that made your heart race. The sweat on his skin caught the light with every jump and turn, and the way he commanded the stage had you completely entranced.

You screamed his name, hands stretched up toward the stage, desperate for any acknowledgment. "Jisung!" you shouted, the sound of your voice swallowed by the chaotic roar of the fans. But then, for a brief, fleeting moment, his eyes locked with yours. The world seemed to stop, the noise from the crowd fading into a muffled hum. His lips curved into a smirk—playful, confident, and undeniably aware of the effect he had on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and it felt like the entire arena had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in that charged moment. 

Jisung's gaze flickered over you, slowly, taking in every detail of you from head to toe before it lingered just a little too long. That was enough to send a jolt of heat rushing through your body, your pulse spiking in a way you couldn't ignore.

The beat of the song changed, and he moved effortlessly into his next set of choreographed steps, but his eyes never fully left you. A few seconds later, he leaned into the mic, his voice cutting through the loud cheers and claps. "I see you out there," he called out, his voice smooth and seductive. "Maybe after the show, you can come backstage and show me what else you've got."

The crowd went wild, but it was the way he said it—low, with that playful, teasing edge—that made your breath catch in your throat. Was he serious? Was this really happening?

Before you could even gather your thoughts, you found yourself nodding, heart pounding in anticipation. The idea of getting close to him—of being in his presence, no longer just a face in the crowd—was enough to send a rush of excitement and nervousness flooding through your veins.

As the performance came to a close and the crowd erupted into applause, you couldn't tear your gaze away from Jisung. He smiled and waved to the audience, but his eyes found you again, locking on you as though you were the only one in the room. 

A beat passed before he tossed the mic to one of the staff members and gestured to the side. "Backstage, yeah?" he mouthed with a wink.

Your breath hitched as you nodded once again, your pulse racing. The excitement was almost too much to contain as you pushed through the crowd, making your way toward the side of the venue, where the backstage doors loomed.

The security guards nodded at you, clearly recognizing you from the earlier moments. The adrenaline from the performance still buzzed in the air, and soon enough, you found yourself standing just behind the curtain, waiting for the moment that felt like a dream.

The door opened, and there he was—Jisung, sweat still glistening on his skin, his eyes burning with that same playful intensity from earlier. His grin was a little wider now, a little more knowing. He leaned against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but confident. 

“You came,” he said, his voice hushed but loaded with expectation.

“I said I would,” you responded, stepping toward him, your legs trembling but your resolve firm. 

Jisung pushed off from the door, closing the space between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You’re just as bold as I thought,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. The room felt impossibly small as you both stood there, the space between you charged with unspoken promises.

He reached up, his hand brushing the side of your face, his fingers cool against your skin after the heat of the stage. “I like that.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the final gap between you with a kiss that was everything you had imagined and more. Electric, heated, and completely intoxicating. You melted into it, the reality of the moment settling around you like a dream that was slowly becoming your new truth. 

"what's your name beautiful?"

"y/n", his grin deepened. “good, you’re with me tonight.”

Shivers running down your back as you’re still over the edge from the kiss that he just stealed from you, so easily, like the most normal thing in the world.

The implications behind those words swirled around in your mind as anticipation danced in your veins. Every part of you wanted to say yes—to embrace whatever adventure awaited beyond this stolen moment. 

But something deeper stirred within—a fear mingled with longing that threatened to choke back your excitement. 

“Where are we going?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for answers. His smile widened further as he took your hand gently in his own—his touch grounding yet electrifying at once. 

“my room,” he replied with an infectious enthusiasm that made you feel alive. “Tonight is ours.” 

He led you out of the cramped backstage area into the vibrant chaos of post-concert euphoria—the energy buzzing around as fans celebrated what they’d just witnessed was intoxicating in its own right. 

As laughter echoed around you both and Jisung’s fingers intertwined with yours securely, it became clear: this night would be one for the books—he’s holding you like he wants you with all his desire. 

 Each step felt like a leap into the unknown, every heartbeat resonating with the thrill of what lay ahead.

Jisung's fingers intertwined with yours securely, and the way he held you was possessive and tender all at once, as if he wanted to shield you from the world outside. “Can you believe we made it through that?” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with the afterglow of adrenaline and joy.

You nodded, unable to form words, too caught up in the moment. The night had been electric, a whirlwind of lights and sound, and now it was culminating in this moment, just the two of you. As you passed by excited fans, you felt a surge of confidence, the connection between you and Jisung felt undeniable.

Finally, they reached the door to his room, a private sanctuary away from the chaos. Jisung opened it with a flourish, and the moment you stepped inside, the noise faded into a soft hum. The room was dimly lit, adorned with posters of his favorite bands and a few mementos from past concerts. It felt like a glimpse into the soul of the man you had come to admire.

“Welcome to my world,” he said, closing the door behind you, the sound echoing in the quiet space. As he turned to face you, the playful glint in his eyes shifted to something deeper, more sincere. “I’m glad you’re here.”

With that, he stepped closer, the distance between you evaporating.

Your heart raced as he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, both of you caught in a moment that felt suspended in time. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the space between you—a tension so palpable it almost crackled.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, his voice low and inviting.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as he closed the final distance and captured your lips with his. The kiss was sweet, full of promise and passion, igniting every nerve in your body. It was everything you had dreamed of and more, a collision of desire and emotion that swept you off your feet.

His mouth moved against yours with a fervor that took your breath away, each caress sending waves of heat coursing through you. It was sweet, but it was also wild and consuming, a fierce declaration of everything you had kept bottled up. You melted against him, surrendering to the tide of emotions that crashed over you, drowning out all thought except for the intoxicating taste of him.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he couldn’t get close enough. You felt the strength of his body, the way he held you as though you were his lifeline. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the promise of something more—an uncharted territory filled with passion and urgency.

You lost yourself in the moment, tangled in the heat and desire that enveloped you both. Every touch was electric, every sigh a plea for more. It was a collision of souls, a symphony of need and longing that resonated deep within your core.

As Jisung's fingers brushed against your skin, a spark ignited, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His touch was both gentle and insistent, a perfect blend of tenderness and urgency that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the weight of his passion, each caress igniting flames of desire that threatened to consume you whole.

He leaned in closer, his lips trailing along your jaw, whispering sweet nothings that made your breath hitch. 

"I want you," he murmured, the raw need in his voice sending a thrill coursing through you. Those simple words were enough to send your mind spinning, a confirmation of everything you had ever dreamed about.

You craved more—more of his warmth, more of his touch, more of the connection that sparked between you like wildfire. Jisung's hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, igniting a fever that left you breathless. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access to your lips, and you melted into him, surrendering to the overwhelming need that pulsed between you.

“Please,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, as you pressed your body against his, desperate for the contact. The world around you faded into a blur, and all that existed was the heat of his body against yours, the intoxicating scent of him, and the electric charge in the air.

With every kiss, every touch, he pushed you closer to the edge, each moment stretching out as if time itself had surrendered to the intensity of your connection. You could feel the weight of his desire, palpable and raw, and it fueled your own, making you ache for him in ways you never thought possible.

“Let me show you how much I can be good for you,” Jisung breathed against your lips, his voice thick with longing.

Before you could reply, he pushed you back gently onto the bed. The cool sheets contrasted with the heat radiating from your body. Jisung climbed on top of you, his weight pinning you down comfortably as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, and you melted into him, returning the kiss with equal fervor.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, a predatory glint shining in his gaze. “hm, I got a pretty girl in my hands tonight didn’t I?” his chocky smile makes your heaad spin.

His lips traveled down your jawline, leaving a trail of fire as they descended toward your neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. “You make the prettiest sounds,” he teased, licking a stripe from your collarbone up to your ear.

Your back arched in response, urging him to continue. His hand found the hem of your shirt, fingers teasingly brushing against your skin before he lifted the fabric, exposing your midriff. The cool air hit you, heightening your senses as he peppered kisses along your stomach, savoring every inch of you.

“Jisung…” you breathed, your voice thick with desire.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it aside. He paused, taking a moment to admire you, his gaze heated and full of hunger. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered before leaning down to press soft kisses between your breasts – in that moment, you can see affection in his sensual actions, almost seems like he takes his good time with you.

Each kiss sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you could feel your body responding to his every touch. His hands roamed, fingers brushing against your sides, teasing the edge of your bra before he slowly unclasped it. The garment fell away, and he wasted no time, his mouth moving to your sensitive nipples, swirling and sucking until you were a moaning mess beneath him.

��Jisung, please…” you begged, your body craving more of him, more of this electrifying connection.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I want you to feel everything,” he said, moving back up to capture your lips again. His hands worked on the button of your jeans, and with a swift tug, they were gone, leaving you in nothing but your panties, exposed and longing.

“Shh, just let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers slid from your waist, trailing down your thighs, teasingly slow as they reached the waistband of your panties. He paused, looking into your eyes for permission, and you nodded, unable to form words.

With a smirk, he pulled your panties aside, exposing you to his gaze. “hot,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers danced over your folds, exploring, teasing, coaxing soft moans from your lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he commanded, his voice dripping with authority as he continued his ministrations, his fingers expertly circling your clit.

“I… I want you,” you gasped, the heat pooling in your core almost overwhelming.

“Good girl,” he said, his smile devilish as he lowered himself to the floor. You gasped as he pressed kisses along your thighs, his mouth tantalizingly close to where you needed him most. “Let me taste you.”

His words sent a wave of anticipation crashing over you, and all you could do was nod, gripping onto the edge of his bed as he finally dove in. His tongue flicked against you, drawing out a whimper as he explored your depths “Stay still,” he chuckled darkly, holding your hips down as he increased the intensity. “I want to hear you.”

With a wicked grin, he yanked your soaked panties completely off, tossing them aside. "Fuck, you're dripping," he growled, his hot breath fanning over your glistening pussy. His fingers delved between your folds, spreading your labia to fully expose your aching cunt. "Look at this pretty little clit, all swollen and begging for attention."  

Jisung’s tongue dance against your clit, flicking and sucking with temptation, he worked you closer to the edge, he looked up, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire. “You taste so sweet. Don't hold back. I want to know how good I make you feel.”

Jisung's expert digits danced over your sensitive flesh, circling your throbbing nub before plunging two fingers deep inside your weeping hole. You cried out as he curled them, finding that perfect spot that made your toes curl. He pumped his fingers in and out of your clenching pussy.

With each flick of his tongue, the heat inside you spiraled, and you felt yourself teetering on the precipice of release. “Jisung… I’m so close,” you gasped, breathless.

“Just a little more, babe. Give yourself to me,” he urged, his mouth never stopping its delicious assault.

"I... I want your cock!" you moaned shamelessly, overcome by the burning need in your core.

"That's my good little slut," he purred, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his lips. He sucked your juices off each digit, savoring your taste. "But first, I'm going to devour this sweet cunt until you're screaming my name."

And then it happened—the wave crashed over you, pulling you under with a force that left you gasping for breath. You could barely comprehend the bliss as Jisung held you through your climax, his tongue continuing to coax every last ounce of pleasure from you.

Finally, as the tide receded, you collapsed back onto the bed, panting. Jisung joined you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “See? I told you I wanted you to feel everything.”

You turned to him, your heart still racing as you caught your breath. “You definitely delivered,” you replied, a smirk forming on your lips.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even a little bit.

Jisung's eyes darkened with renewed desire as he watched you catch your breath. Without warning, he grabbed your wrist and guided your hand to the prominent bulge straining against his jeans.

"Your turn," he growled, voice husky with need. "Show me what those pretty fingers can do."

You could feel the heat radiating through the denim as your palm pressed against his hardness. Slowly, teasingly, you began to trace the outline of his cock, relishing the way his breath hitched at your touch.

Your fingers deftly unbuttoned Jisung's jeans, slowly lowering the zipper. You could feel the heat of his arousal as you slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft. Jisung let out a low groan, his hips bucking slightly at your touch. "Fuck, your hand feels so good," he breathed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

You began to stroke him, marveling at how hard he felt in your grasp. Your thumb swirled over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of precum that had formed there. Jisung's breathing grew ragged as you continued your ministrations, alternating between long, slow strokes and quicker, teasing ones. "You like that, Ji?" you purred, enjoying the way he squirmed under your touch. 

Jisung's response was a strangled moan as you tightened your grip slightly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. His hands fisted in the sheets, chest heaving as he fought to maintain control. "It feels fucking amazing," he gasped. "But I need more. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me."

With a wicked grin, you freed Jisung's throbbing cock from your grasp and planted yourself between his legs. You leaned in, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, savoring the salty tang of his skin and precum before taking the head into your mouth.

Jisung's hands flew to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he groaned at the sensation of your warm mouth enveloping him. "Fuck yes, just like that," he encouraged, hips canting up involuntarily as you began to bob your head.

You took more of him inside, relaxing your throat to accommodate his girth. The musky flavor of his arousal filled your senses as you sucked harder, your hand fondled his taut abs. Jisung was lost in bliss, eyes rolling back as he ground himself against your face.

You could feel Jisung's cock throbbing against your tongue, his breathing growing more erratic as you worked him over. Your own arousal was building once again, the wetness between your thighs a testament to the pleasure he'd wrung from you earlier.

Deciding it was time to mix things up, you released his shaft with a pop and kissed my way back up Jisung's body. You nipped at his chin before capturing his lips in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you ground your soaked pussy against the bulge of his thigh.

Jisung broke the kiss, panting heavily as he gazed down at you with lust-clouded eyes. "God, I need to be inside you," he growled, voice raw with desire."I'm going to fuck you so hard."

With that promise hanging in the air, he flipped us over and positioned himself between your spread legs.

A giggle released of your lungs at the sudden movement, he chuckle darkly too, “having fun pretty?” He hums nibbling your jawline.

You nods making him smile. 

Jisung's thick cock rubbed against your slick folds, the head nudging at your entrance as he looked down at you with a hungry gaze. "You ready for this, baby?" he purred, his voice low and rough with need.

You nodded again eagerly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. With a swift thrust of his hips, Jisung buried himself to the hilt inside you. A strangled moan tore from your throat as he stretched you open, filling every inch of your clenching cunt. "Fuck," Jisung groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he savored the feel of your pussy gripping him like a vice. 

"So tight... Perfect." He began to move then, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in with enough force to bounce you up the bed.

The bed creaked beneath you as Jisung pistoned in and out of your sopping wet pussy, each powerful thrust driving him deeper. You could feel the head of his cock rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every pass.

"u-ugh..!" you cried out, nails digging into Jisung's back as he pounded into you like a man possessed. He obliged, increasing the pace until the room filled with the lewd slap of skin on skin and your wanton moans.

Jisung leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it mercilessly as he continued to rut between your thighs. The added stimulation sent you hurtling towards another climax. "Oh god, I'm going to...!" Your words dissolved into a keening wail as orgasm crashed over you once more.

But Jisung wasn't done yet.

He rode out your climax, his cock still hammering into you as he chased his own release. 

Your pussy spasmed around him, milking his shaft for all it was worth.Jisung groaned against your breast, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

"Gonna fill this sweet cunt up," he gritted out through clenched teeth. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and held there, pulsing as he pumped ropes of hot semen deep inside you.

You could feel every pulse of his cock as it painted your insides with his seed, the sensation prolonging your own aftershocks. Jisung collapsed on top of you, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He peppered kisses across your face before claiming your lips in a deep, satisfying kiss.

"hm," he murmured against your mouth when they finally parted. "liked it?”

You nods a little as you tried to keep your breath steady, “that was, unexpected,” you mumble as he moved from top of you, laying on the bed beside you. “but I still liked it.”

Jisung’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as he propped himself up on one elbow, his dark hair tousled and falling into his eyes. He reached out, tracing a gentle finger along the curve of your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I liked it too,” he teased, his voice low and warm, the playful glint in his eyes impossible to ignore. “Gotta keep things interesting, don’t I? otherwise my number one fan might goes somewhere else.”

You laughed softly, rolling onto your side to face him. “You definitely succeeded in that department,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “But now I’m wondering what other surprises you’re hiding.”

Jisung’s grin widened as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve,” he whispered mischievously. “But you’ll have to wait to find out.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and he chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. Before you could respond, he tugged the blanket over both of you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist.

“Rest for now,” he said softly, his tone suddenly tender. “You’re gonna need your energy for whatever I’ve got planned next.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his embrace and the weight of his words leaving you with a mix of excitement and anticipation. As your breathing began to steady, you felt yourself melting into him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful calm.

The next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains woke you. You stirred, stretching your arms across the bed, expecting to feel the warmth of Jisung beside you. Instead, your hand met the cool, empty sheets.

Blinking, you sat up, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the fabric surrounding you. It was comforting and cruel all at once—a reminder that he had been there, but he was gone now.

Your gaze wandered around the room, your chest tightening when you spotted the note on the nightstand. The messy scrawl of his handwriting stood out on the folded piece of paper. You hesitated before picking it up, afraid of what it might say but needing to see it anyway.

Sorry I couldn’t stay. Early flight. Thanks for last night. You’re amazing. – J

That was it. Short, sweet, and heartbreakingly impersonal.

Your fingers trembled as you set the note down, staring at the space where he’d been just hours ago. The events of last night replayed in your mind—the way he’d held you, the way he’d kissed you like you were his whole world. And yet, now, it felt like you were nothing more than a fleeting moment, another name on the long list of people who drifted in and out of his life.

You pulled the sheets closer around you, as if they could somehow hold the pieces of your heart together. But they didn’t. They only smelled of him, a scent that would fade just as quickly as his presence had.

You had always known the truth—he belonged to the world, not to you. You were just someone he turned to for comfort in between the chaos, a temporary escape from the demanding life he led.

And yet, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself out of bed, your feet heavy as they hit the floor. You needed to leave before the scent of him faded completely, before the memories turned from bittersweet to unbearable.

Because in the end, that’s all you’d ever be—a groupie in the background of his world, left behind as he chased the next city, the next stage, the next dream.

taglist: @inlovewithstraykids

[bloodyentrails]

i think you make some very good points.

i don't really feel qualified to judge the quality of actors tbh, what i do know is that we get more private moments with dean, where he is alone with the audience and idk about anyone else, but this stuff is catnip to me.

i think there are far fewer private moments we get with sam. or maybe padalecki doesn't communicate them well enough, i have no idea.

i agree that sam isn't compassionate in the mother teresa sense, i think my tags were an (incomplete) attempt at some kind of parallel between me picking a character to relate to, and sam also finding a monster her relates to. we see something of ourselves in them, and we become emotionally engaged with their story and all of that. i think that sort of thing is very important to me.

i think for me the show is generally lacking in the kind of reflection other stories do wrt monsters. or maybe i just spend a lot of time with jungian concepts?? i spent a long time watching and waiting for any kind of identification so i was glad when it happened, and also felt like they did very little with it.

dean doesn't spare monsters at all, so far, i think until benny comes along? i think he draws such a sharp line between us and them that benny was a real surprise to me. idk if that will change in later seasons, and idk if it's necessary per se. it's like all they learn is relatively superficial, ok this is how you kill this particular monster, this is what it takes.

i don't really want to write a whole defense of why one brother is better than the other. there is something to me in having them together that makes the most sense, and i do love contrasting their ideas and approaches and whatnot. i really wish the writing allowed them to grow more as people, i feel like so far they are sort of stuck in having to be together for better or worse and not really being able to see the other. i'm curious how this will develop if it does.

i think the problem with all of the, who is the hero type discourse, is that i feel like a lot of this is ancient history and has been fought about over and over, and i'm clumsiy trying to stay away from those types of debates, because they don't hold much joy for me. but also it's a ton of doylist thinking, of how i'm supposed to see the action, how i'm supposed to interpret it, and i try to resist that too. if i can.

so, like, at the moment, i'm trying very hard to let the show speak and percolate and just sort of exist. which is hard! there is so much already being said and seemingly decided about it and the characters, and endlessly reiterated. it's hard to have a good take on it.

maybe this is me being a dumb overly literal autist stemlord who simply does not understand literary theory or some shit equivalent but why should i care about someone being coded as [X] when i can just. care about someone who is [X]. why should i care more about the conventionally attractive white woman with a job and mortgage because she's metaphorically othered due to being a supernatural creature when i could care about the actually othered addicts that she used as a source of food. help me out here.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

a/n: this is honestly a hot ass mess, and more like an info dump with some loose plot on the side. it's also ridiculously long because i have been wanting to write about this for so long, but i was lowkey too scared too. i also want to say that i don't condone the reader's actions, mean girls aren't cute nor are they funny, it's just for the morally gray plot 😭

i literally cannot stop thinking about what if Spencer Reid had a childhood best friend that was a mean girl.

realistically, i'm aware that spencer looks down on people like that, but for the sake of this au, imagine if the both of you grew up together, and you protected him from bullies and whatnot.

of course you're not a moral person, you're mean and you have a wicked tongue, and you're all around not nice, but spencer loves you.

i'm imagining a typical LA valley girl; that once you both get older, your clothing gets sluttier and you get meaner, while he gets nerdier.

your dynamic i imagine would be a really loose adaptation of the 'mean to everyone else but you' trope.

it's kind of funny to an outsider looking in, because you feel the need to protect your boy genius from people like you.

spencer helps to reel in the bitchy tendencies in you, because you typically lose your cool fast and say whatever's on your mind, which usually comes at a cost of the other person's feelings.

when you guys were younger, he was definitely scared of you.

though you were this chunky girl that should have been bullied right along with him, you were downright worse than what he had to deal with.

the poor boy nearly shit himself when you sat with him at lunch the day after you had saved him from getting his ass kicked.

he was too nervous to say anything, and you've never left him alone since.

now that spencer's older, he figures that your friendship kind of tracks; he always did attract trouble.

the strange part about it was that, yes, you were snappy, but you had never purposely tried to hurt his feelings.

he knows how you get, especially when you go on your tangents or if your buttons had been repeatedly pushed.

you lash out and say things you don't mean, then slink back into his arms with that charming pout on your face, and an apology thick on the tip of your tongue.

spencer sometimes forgets that people kind of fear you because you're sweet on him.

like let's be honest, you're a judgy bitch. no one likes those.

so when he's exposed to that side of you, he gets whiplash.

you took well to the team though, and i only think that's because you can tell how much they mattered to him.

your main thing had always been to try and defend him against people that have ill intentions.

so when see the sheer amount of camaraderie and familial energy that surrounds all of them, you ease up.

but not when they cut him off. that's when you get ugly.

you guys were in separate grades due to spencer jumping ahead, but you still hung out on a daily basis, you had heard his statistical chattering for the majority of your life.

so, you knew it was something he found pleasure in doing, and you'd be damned if someone upset him.

you really did try and bite your tongue! but sometimes morgan's ego was too big for his body, or maybe jj gave him one too many looks for your liking.

luckily spencer can catch the cat-fight bubbling in you from a mile away; he can see the way your eyes narrow first, a disbelieving smile on your face while your exceptionally done nails tap on the nearest surface in irritation.

have you ever seen a cat when its hair stands up on the back of its neck? yeah, that's you.

all it takes is a warm hand on your naked thigh and a small shake of his head to make you huff and cross your arms, the clinking of your bangle bracelets moving along with you.

of course he'll hear all about it on the ride home.

spencer's feelings for you had always been there, but there was a difference between you being his best friend and his lover.

and honestly? that grade school intimidation that he had felt would came back.

because at the end of the day you were you, and he was him.

it was a ridiculous thought, one that you had dismissed when you had confessed to him yourself.

"do you like me back or not, spence?" you had asked out of the blue one day. "because you keep looking at me and not doing anything about it. It's kind of pissing me off."

his wide, shocked eyes met yours, practically tearing his gaze away from the book he had been engrossed in.

"i... do."

"do what?"

"yes, i do like you back."

"good."

dating wasn't all that different than being your friend, he had come to realize.

the only thing that was different was that you were sweeter than ever.

always complimenting him and buying him shit, posting him all over your social media, and even making him your lock screen.

you were so proud to be his partner, that he had forgotten what being loved out loud had felt like.

your relationship came as a shock to no one, of course.

y'all are the epitome opposites attract.

your skimp wear compared to his cardigans, your bite to his soft ask, your scoff to his chuckle.

that's what spencer's come to love. the fact that you guys are so different.

yes, you're a handful, yes you're mean to him sometimes, but like i said before:

he loves you. and that's all that matters.

[stargazsblog]

how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.1 the bet

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.

ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.

ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

note: hi guys! this is the first chapter and I'm so excited this is just about how the bet starts nothing crazyyyy YET… i can’t wait to write more! merry christmas!! <3

masterlist

“I still don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” you muttered, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. The muffled thump of bass from inside the house was enough to make your ears ring, even from a distance. The faint smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer mixed with the crisp winter breeze, making you wrinkle your nose.

“Because,” Shoko said, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Deep down, you know you’ll have fun if you let yourself.” she grinned at you.

You side-eye her, “Have fun?, this is a party of drunk idiots I have to pretend I like.”

“Don't be dramatic.” Shoko rolled her eyes, patting your shoulder as she let you go. ”You spend too much time brooding alone in your dorm, anyway.”

“I call it peace,” you shot back, but Shoko was already halfway up the stairs.

The door swung open before either of you could reach it. A group of boys tumbled out, laughing and shouting, nearly knocking you over in the process. You stepped aside just in time, muttering a curse under your breath

The heat of the crowded house hit you immediately. The air was thick, almost suffocating, with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and overly sweet perfume. Bodies pressed together as people danced to the relentless beat of the music.

“Come on, let's get a drink,” she said, grabbing your wrist and leading you towards the kitchen. You stuck close to her, pushing past people in the crowd and avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

“This is a disaster,” you muttered as you reached the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Shoko handed you a bottle of water before pouring herself something that smelled suspiciously strong.

“It's just a party,” she replied.

As she took a sip, she leaned against the counter, her eyes scanning the room again. “There he is,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Your gaze followed hers, landing on a familiar figure sprawled out on the couch in the corner of the living room. Ryomen Sukuna.

He was sitting on the couch like he owned the place, his long legs stretched out, one arm casually draped over the back of the sofa. He was wearing a white shirt, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at the toned muscles underneath. His eyes scanned the room with practiced boredom, like none of it was worth his time.

A girl was sitting on his lap, twirling her hair around her finger and giggling as if he’d just told her the funniest joke in the world. She leaned closer, whispering something in his ear, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, his gaze drifted and then locked onto yours.

He grinned, a slow, cocky smirk that made something in your chest tighten not with attraction, but with irritation. It was the kind of grin that said he knew exactly the effect he had on people and loved to watch them crumble under it. He tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Caught you staring

As you looked away, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. But you didn’t turn back. You weren’t interested.

“Great,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your water bottle. “Now I have to burn this memory from my brain.”

Shoko laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Oh, come on. You’ve got to admit, he’s hot.”

“He’s insufferable.”

“Hot and insufferable. The best combination.”

“I’ll leave right now.” you turned heel, but Shoko grabbed your arm, stopping you from your track.

“Relax, I’m just teasing you.”

Your jaw tightened, but you stayed put, watching as Sukuna leaned back even further, his eyes still fixed on you. The girl on his lap pouted, clearly annoyed at his lack of attention, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I hate him,” you muttered under your breath. The words came out bitter, but they were true. “Did I mention that before?”

“Yeah, like hundreds of times,” She replied, laughing “You really hate him, huh?”

“I just don’t get how people fall for his act,” you said.

Shoko shrugged. “Like I said, he’s hot. People like hot.”

“Hot doesn’t excuse being an asshole,” you murmured, crossing your arms. “What’s his deal, anyway? Does he just sit there all night waiting for people to grovel at his feet?”

“Pretty much,” Shoko said with a shrug. “But he’s good at it. Watch.”

As if on cue, another girl approached him, drink in hand. She leaned down, her lips close to his ear as she said something you couldn’t hear. Sukuna smirked, his attention finally shifting away from you, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“See? he’s harmless,” Shoko said.

“Harmless,” you repeated, your voice with sarcasm. “Sure.”

“You know, you’re the only one who doesn’t fall for his charm.”

“Good,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I’m not about to start. I don’t need someone like him in my life.”

“You gonna keep her there all night?” Suguru asked, nodding towards the girl on Sukuna’s lap.

Sukuna smirked tilting his head back. “why not? She's comfortable here.” the girl giggled again, clearly tipsy, but Sukuna's attention has already wandered. His eyes scanned the room lazily, taking in the usual suspect, drunk athletes, and the occasional out-of-place loner. Until it landed on you.

You stood in the kitchen, keeping your distance from the chaos, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed. Your eyes roamed over the room, observing, until they met his. He caught you looking, and a smirk tugged at his lips. When you quickly looked away, he let out a low chuckle.

His friends noticed this.

“You’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes, what’s the deal?” Geto voice cut thought Sukuna’s thoughts, and he glanced over at his friend.

“I’m not staring,” Sukuna retorted smoothly, his tone laced with nonchalance as he effortlessly lifted the girl off his lap. She let out an irritated groan, before stalking off in a huff. “Just observing,”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Geto teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve seen the way you're staring at her, that’s not the ‘I’m observing’ look you usually give what’s going on with you.”

Sukuna’s gaze flickered to you once more. “She’s different,” He had noticed you around campus—the way you never spared him a second glance when you passed by, completely unaffected by his presence. Once, he’d even tried to strike up a conversation, but you had brushed past him without so much as acknowledging him, as though he were invisible.

Gojo chuckled “Different? Dude, that girl is the only one who doesn’t drool over you.”

Sukuna’s lip curled into a sly grin. “So what?”

“So,” Suguru continues, crossing his arms, leaning against the couch. “you’ve never met a girl who doesn’t fall for your charm, right? You’ve been with everyone but her? she couldn’t care less.”

Gojo snorted. “And she’s probably the only one on campus. That’s gotta sting.”

Sukuna scoffed, leaning forward slightly. “Please. She is probably playing hard to get.”

Geto exchanged a glance with Gojo, and then a mischievous grunt flashed his eyes. “All alright, how about we make this interesting? We give you ten days.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, “Ten days?’

“Yeah,” he said with a sly smile “Ten days you make her fall in love with you.”

Sukana let out a short laugh, but the challenge already sounded fun to him. He never was the type to back down from a game. “You think I need ten days?”

Suguru shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “It’d be easier if it were any other girl. But this one… she’s too—what’s the word? Stubborn. Definitely not into guys like you,” he said, “She won’t be an easy win. That’s what makes it interesting, though.”

Satoru chimes in “Yeah, man. You can’t just use your looks and charm this time. You’re gonna have to actually work for it.”

Sukana's eyes flicked back to you for a split second. You were standing there unaware of the conversation that was happening a few feet away from you. “Ten days huh?” he murmured.

“Ten days” Gojo repeated. “And if you fail you lose. It's as simple as that.”

His expression turned darker, the idea of him not winning seemed unthinkable. He wasn’t just going to prove them wrong he was going to show them that no one could resist him.

Gojo leaned back, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, and one more thing,” he added, glancing at Sukuna. “You can't be seen with other girls. It’s gotta look real, after all.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted slightly, an eyebrow raised in silent challenge. “You think I need rules to make this work?” he asked.

Geto gave a small nod. “It’s just to make sure no one gets suspicious. You’ll need to actually put in the effort.”

Sukuna smirked, unfazed. “Fine. I’ll play by your rules, but don’t expect me to go easy on her.”

Ten days to make you fall for him. The girl who wouldn’t give him the time of the day. The girl who didn’t care about his reputation. The girl who has no idea what was coming for her.

Unknowingly, you had already been pulled into his game.

“You think his shirt could be any tighter,” Shoko muttered, nodding towards a guy who was flexing across the room.

You snorted. “Pretty sure it's painted on.” leaning against the kitchen counter. Shoko grinned at your words, sipping from her cup.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, you leaned against the counter sipping on your water. Shoko perched on the edge of the sink, swinging her legs as she talked. You were nodding and listening to the story she was telling you. You hear a group of people walking in the kitchen, their laughter loud and careless. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. The weight of his presence pressed into the room like a rebound heartbeat. Ryomen Sukuna.

His graze swept the kitchen, it lingered on you for a moment too long, and a smirk appeared on his face.

“Shoko,” one of his friends called out, his tone playful, but almost teasing. “Come help us with something. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and them. “Fun, huh? i doubt it.”

“It’s better than being stuck in here,” another white-haired friend chimed in.

She rolled her eyes but slid off the counter anyway, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she said with a wink before following them out of the kitchen. And then, it was just you and him.

Great.

Sukuna didn't say anything, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, as he leaned against the counter across from you.

“Guess it’s just us now,” he said finally his voice low and smooth.

You didn't look up, keeping your focus on your drink “Lucky me,” you replied, your tone dry.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and deep. “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

When you finally glanced up, he was much closer than you’d expected. His tall frame leaned casually against the counter opposite you. Up close, the details of his features were almost overwhelming—the sharp line of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips that formed an infuriatingly smug smirk, and the mess of his hair falling carelessly over his forehead. You couldn’t deny it, no matter how much you wanted to. He was hot—like, really hot.

“You’re not exactly the first guy to try this,” you said coolly, taking another sip from your drink, your gaze steady as you met his.

Sukuna tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Try what?” he asked.

“Whatever you’re doing right now,” you replied, “the whole brooding, mysterious thing. It’s not as original as you think.”

He laughed at that, his head tilting back just enough to expose the line of his throat. It wasn’t often that people spoke to him like this, you realized. Most would have thrown themselves at him.

“You’re sharp,” he said, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. The scent of him hits you. “I like that,” he added, his voice low, a hint of approval in his tone as his gaze lingered on you.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by him. “And I don’t care.”

He paused not being he was offended, but because he wasn’t used to being dismissed, even by someone who didn't so much flinch under his gaze.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “Most people would kill to be in your position right now,” his tone quieter now, almost intimate, as his eyes locked onto yours.

You smirked, setting your drink on the counter behind you. “Then maybe you should go find ‘most people,’” you replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.”

The silence hung in the air. Sukuna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, then slowly, his gaze dipped to your lips. The smirk on his face faltered just slightly as if he was plotting something in his mind, before it returned—sharper, more amused.

“You’re different,” he murmured finally, his voice low, the words lingering in the air as his gaze stayed fixed on your lips, the tension between you growing with each passing second.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked.

“Take it however you want,” he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, his gaze still lingering on your lips as if he was waiting for your next move.

His gaze made it hard to look away. But you forced yourself to break the connection, turning your focus elsewhere. You weren’t sure what Sukuna was trying to do—charm you, challenge you, or maybe a little of both.

“I’m not interested in you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, your tone firm, making sure he knew you weren’t fazed by his presence.

He tilted his head, his smirk fading for a moment. He just looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours as if he were trying to read you.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice low and confident, before turning and walking out.

You let out a slow breath, the heat of his presence lingering in the air. Sukuna wasn’t used to being ignored, and for him, that only made you more of a challenge.

But you weren’t here to play his game.

At least, that’s what you thought.

taglist: @clp-84 @ssetsuka @lymsfm @monic19 @bol0-de-morang0 @strxberryicecream @r0ckst4rjk @gojocumslut @elliebelliegi @kazuuhali @luna-v-roiya @sussiesushi @nakiich @mourart7 @neuvilletteswife4ever @rusted-dolly @blueyesuguru @lillycore @yourhornysister @bnbaochauuu

[angelltheninth]

Every Time He Leaves

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, reunions, teasing, family planning

Word count: 0.8k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I heard that the sequel isn't coming in 2025 but that won't stop me from writing fics for this amazing man.

"Mi vida, I'm home." Miguel heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, a good sort of comfort now in your current state. "Baby? Are you asleep?" You could pretend to be. Like you pretended all those night before, then wake up in the morning and wonder if he would be there or not. No. Not this time.

You waited for him to open the door, his charming, soft smile thrown your way, almost shaking your resolve.

"You didn't have to wait up for me you know, I don't mind cuddling up next to my-" He stopped talking once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom and he saw your eyes red from crying, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You nodded. You were about to explain when he was in front of you in a flash, his hands pressing and prodding, looking you over. The bed dipped to one side under Miguel's weight, his worried expression turning a little angry, " Where does it hurt? Who hurt you? I'll make them regret it!"

You let out a long heavy sigh. Taking one of his hands you placed it above your heart and then pointed your finger at him, finally meeting his eyes with your being full of tears, "You hurt me."

"What?" He looked like you just slapped him, which would have been preferable, he would hardly feel that. But your words, they cut deep. "What do you mean? Was I rough with you last night? You told me it was-"

"Oh for gods sake Miguel, I'm not talking about that. I'm not physically hurt." You backed up a bit, putting some space between you two. It was a little empty space, easy to close, yet it felt like you were worlds, universes apart, "I don't ever see you anymore. You go on missions, you come back, you... fuck me and then you leave. Do you really not get how that makes me feel? How... used and alone I feel?"

The sex was good. The sex was damn good. Perfect even. He was so close to you, he was smiling at you, you were one with him, holding him, feeling him everywhere, kissing him. But those moments, they passed way too quickly for your liking and then you were empty and alone again.

"Is that really how you feel?" He sounded like he couldn't wrap his head around what you were saying. At the same time you could see it on his face that he was putting the puzzle pieces together. "I love you, more then anything, you're the most important person in this or any universe to me. I... would stop. If you wanted me to. We could settle down, buy a bigger house, start a family, like we talked about."

"How? How can you say that when you leave without... without even telling me? Your job is important, I understand that, but for the love of god Miguel, I'm your girlfriend! I at least deserve to know when you're leaving don't I? What if... what if one day you... what if you don't come back to me?" You started hiccuping while you cried, your body shaking from the wave of emotions that you were finally able to unleash. There was a part of you that felt like it was selfish, that Miguel wasn't yours to keep and that doing so would mean a lot of people would get hurt. Did you deserve him in the first place?

Miguel's arms wrapped around your smaller frame, you could hear his heart beating quickly, you could feel him shaking along with you while he balanced himself on his knees, his suit flickering on and off. "I would never abandon you. Even if I have to crawl back from Hell itself I'd find a way to come back to you. I made up my mind long ago, when I die it will when we're both old and I lost all my hair."

"And we have grandkids running around?" You whisper against his chest, voice still raw from crying and nose stuffed from sniffles.

"So many grandkids. We're gonna have a big family, just like we planned. I know its hard right now but its almost over okay? Then we can settle down anywhere you want." Miguel cupped the back of your head as his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for the longest time, "Nothing is more important then you. Nothing."

"I want at least three kids." He nodded, "A big house in the country side." A nod, "A big, cuddly dog." Another nod, "And you in my bed every night." He kissed you, not caring the least that you tasted like tears. But he didn't stop there. His hands lifted you up by the hips, your legs wrapping around his body as you felt yourself being lowered on the bed.

You felt his suit vanish and warm muscles take its place, "Three kids. That's a lot of work. We should practice as much as we can." Miguel smirked like an idiot while he undressed you, ready to prove his love to you.

[eurydicees]

re what they are saying about fiyero on twitter - gosh there is too much stuff. they talk about how uninteresting he is, how his presence has no effect on the leads, how he shouldn’t be elphaba’s endgame and doesnt deserve to be, how they want to delete him from the plot (somewhere along those line), how they want to block anyone making any fiyeraba or fiyero tweets or content and much, much, MUCH more like i genuinely do not understand the obsession?

i of course get not liking him, thats normal about any character lol but the way they just cannot shut up about how they dislike him is so….. like really no one is challenging your gelphie content 😭 we really are not interested to challenge your ship. you really dont need to focus on this guy 24/7 but ig you do you i hope they remain sane amidst all the apparent misery lol

well. you know. disappointed by not surprised. a partial fiyero ted talk under the cut. sorry.

it's like. it's just so frustrating to write him off as uninteresting and as having no effect on either elphaba (or glinda). like guys why is the media literacy not happening right now. also how the fuck would you delete him from the plot???? guys his plan is literally how elphaba escapes dorothy. he's the one who saves her from the gale force, TWICE. he literally sacrifices himself for her escape and its his sacrifice that makes her spiral into "wickedness" during no good deed.

also, fiyero is elphaba's endgame in part because he does what glinda cannot bring herself to do. WHICH IS SO VITAL TO THE ENDING. fiyero is the one who makes all of the sacrifices for elphaba that glinda refused, and he both pays the price for it and reaps the reward of it.

glinda and elphaba have a profound effect on each other, obviously, but it's not like fiyero is left unchanged by elphaba. i dont get where this idea that fiyero and elphaba have no dynamic because like??? that's just not true?????

fiyero goes from refusing to confront the difficulties of life to choosing the more difficult path for the sake of morality and loyalty and love because of elphaba (which is also really interesting given how he's, like, kind of a casualty of war in the book more than he is an actual rebel....mostly fiyero's book to musical adapation is #Rough but that's a cool parallel i hadn't noticed before).

glinda begins to see the flaws in the wizard's society, but she actively chooses to be a part of the system anyway. and she regrets it. that's the whole thing abt thank goodness!!!

fiyero, on the other hand, begins to see the flaws in this society and he chooses elphaba--and the life of rebellion that she's chosen--over everything that glinda admits to being unable to resist.

and GOD. guys that's so interesting. HES SO INTERESTING!!! how are you not interested by all of this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

wicked is such a cool study on morality and what the "right" thing to do in such a world is, and what it means to make the decision to do the right thing vs the comfortable thing. fiyero chooses to follow elphaba and he pays the price, but he also doesn't regret it. glinda chooses the "safe" option--but in the end, even if she chooses good then, she's entirely alone in it all.

and that's SO INTERESTING!!!!!!!!! god. whatever. twitter just doesn't get him like you and me get him, anon.

just. it's totally fine to dislike him! i'm not refuting people's right to dislike him. the nature of fictional characters is that sometimes people will dislike them. like that's fine.

but being incapable of shutting up about how much you hate a character just...it stops being "harmlessly disliking a fictional character" and starts being "you are insufferable to talk to." like sorry you're so miserable about fiyeraba but i'm gonna be over here just having fun because that's what fandom is supposed to be about :)

(also, just a major issue with breaking this movie up into two films released a year apart is that any movie-only fans just don't get the point of fiyero's character. it's kind of devastating. ik not all of the people saying that stuff are movie-only but man. the people who are...im BEGGING you to give him a chance in part 2. literally BEGGING you. fiyero is such a good character. he has so many good moments. let the green girl go lives in my head rent free and if they cut that i'll riot.)

tldr; fiyero is SO neat and twitter is just full of cowards.

[syndrossi]

Thinking about Restoration AU (again). What POV would you like to write/or are you just interested in? Well, besides Cersei :D Even for the time of the first book, she can't be called sane. Maybe Jamie? Like you said, in the first book he wasn't in the mood for redemption, but here he meets the ghost of the man he was loyal to and whom he feels he has failed (I tend to think that Rhaegar just didn't want to take a 16 year old boy to battle, so he gave him an important "assignment").

Or maybe Robert's POV during the meeting with the twins? We know that Ned is mentally praying at this time, while Robert may not remember Rhaegar's facial features and his reaction is: ho ho our noble Ned is just a man too, we're not so different.

Or Catelyn? I don't share the fandom's hatred of her, but it would be very interesting to see her thoughts, especially how she tries to recreate the image of a "rival" to Rhaegar: his looks, charming singing, soft demeanor.

Personally, I'm probably most interested in seeing Darmon and Daenerys' POV. With Darmon, it will be both painful and fun - painful because he finds himself in a world where his children aren't around him, dragons are extinct, and the Targaryens have fallen (the story of Rhaegar's death might cause a sudden painful flashback). But watching him terrorize first the people of the valley and then Volantis, who have no idea where the hell the dragon came from or what children this madman is talking about (they're already willing to give him their children just to get rid of him) would be fun.

And for Daenerys I'm just happy, she'll probably be a little scared of Darmon at first (he's a little crazy during their first meeting) but then she'll appreciate him: the fact that there's finally an older family member protecting her from Viserys, and his dragon, and the way he treats her gently (she'll 100% remind Daemon of Rhaegar, only a girl). Or Viserys? In terms of insanity it should be something close to Cersei in the last few books.

Would love to see your thoughts. By the way, have you decided whose POV will be next?

Hmm, it's less for me about POVs and more about certain story events, other than the aforementioned Cersei POV. Like, the Robert meeting the twins is an obvious one, but I don't think I'll write Robert's POV. For that, I'm leaning toward Ned's, especially because he'll get to see little!Jon/Willam staring absolute daggers at Robert, both as in the I HATE YOU sense and the DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY LITTLE BROTHER-DAD sense, but Ned will likely interpret it as "you killed our older brother! 😡" Whereas Rhaegar/Raymar is deer-in-headlights "if I don't move he won't see me" mode.

(Oh, or could THAT be our first Cersei POV? Ehh, I still think Ned, but I can absolutely see Cersei being huffy about Robert going to greet Ned's bastards after he meetings the trueborn ones, viewing it as him rubbing his adultery in her fave, and then she catches a glimpse of Rhaegar and goes why hello yes target acquired ned stark's bastards you say?

Goodness, I hadn't thought about Rhaegar becoming the symbol of the boys' mother to Cat, but he probably would, wouldn't he? Jon and Willam remind her enough of Ned, but she's staring at this dainty-looking child with the long braid, imagining the woman's silver-blond hair and beautiful eyes and quiet demeanor. Did she sing? Is that what drew Ned to her?

Okay, I may have to steal the "Volantis just starts flinging Valyrian-looking children at Daemon in a bid to appease him" bit for Daemon's reign of terror across Essos. 😂 They just round up every child that looks the least bit like him, and even throw in some dark-haired, grey-eyed ones like the other child he mentioned. Daemon is all "wtf am I supposed to do with these?" and they're all "feed them to your dragon if they aren't what you want, please just leave us alone."

I think Dany and Daemon's first meeting will definitely be a Dany POV, so I suppose that's one I'm looking forward to! I still haven't decided the exact timing there. Canonically per the book, her wedding to Drogo has already occurred by now, so either I shift the time so that Daemon can dramatically prevent it, or he rocks up on the Dothraki and starts burning until they give him his kin.

I have not yet decided which POV is next, though that's up after Knight of Stars pt2. (Assuming I don't get sucked into the "Rhaella gets summerhalled" AU I'm very tempted to write first. And we still need the wintery hot springs prompt fill! Lots to write this week.)

[hannahbarberra162]

Who do you think is meaner in bed, Marco or Izo? I think lots of people would (ignorantly) assume he'd be a sub because he's feminine only to get a shock when he flips things on them, but while I think he's a good dom I personally don't see him as being a particularly mean one. I think he'd be good at staying calm and collected and making you feel reeaally embarrassed about how easily you lose composure by comparison. Marco has so much responsibility and steam to blow off I can see it. Division commander, head doctor, has to bully the strongest man in the world into taking his meds, he's gotta take the stress out on someone. Heehee idk

It's so funny you asked this - I was already writing another Mean Marco drabble! I completely agree with you. I think Marco is very tightly wound under that calm facade. He's a doctor dealing with 997 idiots (excluding Izou and Deuce), 1 Portgas D. Ace (he's in his own category), and the Captain is a stubborn old man who won't take his pills.

I do think Izou could come off as a little mean but I agree that he mostly keeps his wits about him. I could see Izou drinking tea and watching while you ride the Sybian, noting the different sounds you make and how they differ from other forms of stimulation. Or Izou teasing you endlessly as you're bound to his bedframe spread eagle, never quite touching where you need him to, agreeing with you that yes, it is quite difficult. And no, he's not going to stop until he's done.

But Marco.

Oh, Marco.

NSFW Drabble, Marco x F!Reader , ~1k (oops), mean but consensual Marco

Stress Ball

“Marco, is - oh, I guess you’re in here alone then,” Tate said, poking her head in Marco’s office. The First Division Commander smiled as he picked his head up from some reports, his red glasses resting on the end of his nose.

“Just me yoi,” he confirmed, setting down the quill he’d been using for note taking. 

“OK, no worries. But are you alright? You looked really worked up before," Tate asked, searching Marco’s face for answers.

“Ah, you know how it is. Too many patients, not enough doctors and nurses,” Marco said with an easy smile. Tate nodded and gave a knowing laugh.

“Yeah, trust me I get it. I just think you have it harder than anyone else on board. You’re in charge of our division, you’re responsible for keeping everyone safe, you’re the primary doctor for the crew, you’re basically the First Mate, and you have to give that stubborn old man all his medicine. If I was you I would have cracked a long time ago. Speaking of, I’ve been looking for - oh, nevermind. Hope you find some kind of stress relief - I can cover for you in a bit if you want to go flying?” Tate offered her longtime friend.

“I appreciate it but there’s no need yoi. I’m buried up to my neck in paperwork and besides, I found a way to blow off some steam earlier. I’m feeling pretty good right now,” Marco said, picking up his quill once more. Tate nodded and smiled, already turning to leave the office.

“Sounds great boss…I’ll go look for her in the baths then, she said she was stressed earlier…” Tate said mostly to herself, her voice getting quieter the further down the hall she went from Marco’s office. He smiled to himself then continued to write, turning the pages slowly and straightening them as needed. After about half an hour, he heard some sounds coming from the slim coat closet set in the adjacent wall. Standing up, he stretched his arms over his head, his toned stomach peeking through as his shirt rode up. Striding over to the closet, he opened the door and enjoyed the sight before his eyes.

You were inside, head moving towards the movement of air. You couldn’t see or hear him, the blindfold and headphones he’d put on you didn’t allow for any light or sound. You were shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position but Marco had ensured there wasn’t one. You were sitting on your poor red bottom on the floor of the closet, your wrists bound to your crossed ankles. The two vibrators that Marco had placed in your holes were still going but at a low hum, your slick fluids dripping down your thighs and into a small puddle on the floor. Marco squatted down next to you, causing you to search once again for the source of the movement. 

The large spider gag prevented you from calling out to him but the drool leaking from your mouth joined the rest of the slick mess you’d been making. He noted that your chest and face were still covered in his cum from earlier as he ran his thumb through the fluids. Placing his coated thumb in your open mouth, your tongue roved over the digit and sucked as much as you could. Pleased, Marco removed your headphones, making your head jerk in his direction.

“You’re being too loud yoi. I can hear you moving around all the way from my desk,” Marco cooed into your ear. He palmed your breasts in his hands, rolling your already pert nipples in his fingers. After only a few moments of pinching and teasing you were panting and straining against the bindings he’d lovingly put on your hours before but making as little noise as you could.

“You wouldn’t want anyone to find you like this, would you yoi? You shook your head rapidly while a blush rose in your cheeks.

“Then you need to be quieter, hm? Let’s see if you can be a good little thing for me,” Marco said affectionately, petting your hair. Reaching into his pocket he removed a heavy chain with teeth clamps on either end. Putting his hand on your back for support, he dipped his head low and nipped and kissed your breast, leaving a trail of hickeys until he reached your nipple. Sucking hard, he laved his tongue over the sensitive bud until your chest was heaving. Pulling away his head with an audible pop, he quickly placed the clamp on your nipple. You whined softly as he repeated the process with your other nipple until both were clamped between the teeth of the metal binding.

“Ah ah. Not so loud or I’ll have to leave the door open yoi. You don’t want the rest of the crew to see how needy you are do you? I think another 30 minutes here would help us both, hm? I’m feeling relaxed already and I’m sure you are too,” Marco said with a grin, pulling on the chain gently. You pushed your chest up to alleviate the pain from the clamps but that caused the large plug in your ass to be ground in further. Marco looked you over, putting his index and middle finger into your fist. 

“Once for green, twice for yellow, three times for red,” he said softly, waiting for your response. You gave him two hard squeezes and he kissed your cheek.

“I felt yellow. Again, just to make sure I got the right one. Once for green, twice for yellow, three times for red,” he repeated. Just as before you squeezed his fingers twice, leaving no room for error. 

 “Doing so well, Doveling, just a little more,” he whispered into your ear. He replaced the headphones, kissed the top of your head and shut the door to the closet. Humming happily he sat down at his desk to finish the last of his paperwork. He’d be done soon and he’d make you come around his cock until you cried for him to stop. That would alleviate your stress, he thought with a grin.

[lionwitch]

Tim Drake Edits Reality

Hear me out. Tim Drake has always loved photography, that's wildly accepted and known. But what if he has powers too?

What if whatever Tim edits into his pictures becomes the truth?

The first time it happened, Tim was just starting his photography hobby. His parents bought him a camera and he was so exited! He took a picture of his mom's Rosebush, a single rose in the entire bush, half Withered.

Tim found the picture beautiful, and he started messing with photoshop, editing the withered flower back to the bright red it used to be. He decided it looked lonely and sad, the bush dry and the rose edited to be lively but alone in the middle. So he edited the dry areas of the bush back to the lively green and more roses in it. The picture looked very different from the original, but it was beautiful. Satisfied, he saved the end result.

That afternoon, when he walked through the garden, the very same dry rosebush he photographed looked just like his edited picture: lively, with rich colors and plenty of roses.

It made no sense, but he ignored it.

He kept taking pictures and editing them, though the changes were small, like the lighting and all that. Sometimes he made small changes, and he definitely noticed them and thought it was weird, but didn't quite connect the dots. He was kind of in denial. He couldn't be a meta or anything! Right?

And then his parents left for a few months and he was lonely, but he didn't want to admit it. And at school everyone was talking about their pets, and he messed up and lied. "I just adopted a Border Collie puppy!" he lied, thinking that would be it, people would forget, he would get out of the awkward situation (why did everyone have pets?) and nothing would happen. Well turns out, everyone wanted to see his puppy.

So Tim came home and prepared his camera, in his trusted tripod to look like it had been taken by someone else, and took pictures of himself, a whole photoshoot, with his arms stretched like carrying a dog, and then sitting like he was playing with it.

He searched for a perfect Border Collie puppy, one who had a whole photoshoot just for that one, so he could be sure the pictures were coherent and no one would question them. He carefully edited them and memorized every feature of his supposed dog in case anyone asked, to keep his story straight. Once satisfied, he sent them to those who asked for pictures, and received plenty of "cute dog!" compliments. It had taken him all day, so he went to bed almost immediately after, already past midnight.

He woke up to the very same blue eyed fluffy Border Collier puppy he edited into his pictures, licking his face, the same blue harness and leash hung on his door, and even the bed and bowls he put in the background were on the corner of his room now.

He freaked out, of course, but the small pup didn't seem all that worried. And apparently he now had a puppy? Well, he's always wanted one. He named her Frankie, because her multiple colors and patterns clashed like Frankenstein's monster, like she had been made for from mismatched parts.

He loved Frankie. She was so smart! And Frankie was quite loyal and enamored by him, too. He was her whole world, and she was his heart, his companion and confidant, his best friend and ally in his too-big house.

He did decide to experiment though. He needed more research.

When a boy at school picked on him, he edited his picture bald, and that same day his father shaved his hair. He tried again with another boy who picked on Jason (Jason doesn't know Tim exists yet, but Tim keeps an eye out for him), editing his hair bright barbie pink, and this time he added a date to the corner, writing the date of a week ago, two days before the pictures for his football team were taken.

When Tim saw the football team's pictures displayed at school, the boy had pink hair in them, that he didn't yesterday. He asked around, if the pictures looked different to anyone else.

"yeah, I don't know what persuaded him to dye his hair pink before picture day and the tournament."

"I asked him two days ago, he said he lost a bet."

Two days ago. Tim's mind was reeling. He asked the boy himself when he dyed his hair, and he replied with the date Tim edited on the corner of the picture.

Did Tim just... Edit reality?

He later uses this power to his advantage on patrol, and before that while watching the Bats.

Jason is surrounded? He takes a picture and edits a few goons out of it quickly. They aren't there when he looks up.

Shit Joker escaped? He doesn't have the energy to deal with it right now. He edits tonight's date on a picture of Joker sitting peacefully in his cell and a few more guards for good measure.

His family doesn't understand why he takes a small discreet camera on patrol in his utility belt

[httpiastri]

author's note: this is extremely self-indulgent and based on a boy i used to like (i've been over him for like two months already. i promise), who loves drinking. we went out together a few weeks ago (with our other friend, it wasn't a date) and oh how bad i felt for holding him back when he and i sat in the far corner of the bar alone. my mind started spinning, and i ended up with this. possibly a follow-up to this other blurb i wrote on this topic.

and with that, i just want to say happy birthday to two of my favorite people, clement and @lovelytsunoda. i hope you've had a lovely birthday so far darling! the day may be over where i am but it isn't for you (right?) and i hope it ends just how you want it.💗 (and obvs i was thinking abt you and our chats abt booksmart reader x partylover clem when writing this sooooo this is dedicated to you, my dear)

"opposites attract."

you grew up hearing the words, like an overplayed pop song on the radio, the most frequently used trope in romance movies. the nerd and the jock, the american with the brit, the dreamer and the realist; coming from two different worlds seemed like the best recipe for true love.

you never really believed in it fully, however. you couldn't understand how it would actually work in reality. wasn't it just something they say, that differences in people help even out and complement each other?

but then, you met clement, and it suddenly made sense.

you'd never before met someone so different yet so perfect for you. while he's all uptempo and impulsivity, you're serenity and thoughtfulness. when you first met him at that party one day, you'd half expected someone so free and careless to find you uninteresting. but he found himself drawn to you, unable not to fall for your unexpected wits and peacefulness. over the weeks that followed, you got to know how similar you were – but also how your differences in lifestyles affected your relationship.

to you, weekends are sanctuaries, sacred hours carved for stillness and recovery. to clement, weekends are an open invitation to laughter and neon-drenched nights. your perfect saturday consists of a good book or movie, wrapped in blankets on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate; clement's perfect saturday includes a symphony of footsteps and dj mixes, a kaleidoscope of noise and strobe lights that never seems to stop.

he's not really an alcoholic, and you're not a complete sober; he just enjoys drinking and partying in a way you likely won't ever be able to wrap your mind around. you just don't see the fun in it. how could fleeting lights and crowded rooms ever compete with nights of laughter woven into stories or the gentle comfort of a shared silence?

your friends, ever the overprotective guardians of your poor heart, had been skeptical when clement stepped into the picture. they knew how your laidback lifestyle would clash with the party animal inside of him. they said that there would be thousands of flirty strangers out there willing to lure him into going home with them instead. they explained to you that a guy like him wasn't looking for a relationship like the one you want. but you assured them that it would work.

you trusted him.

you trusted him with a certainty that felt almost reckless, as if your heart knew before your mind could even begin to argue. he had always sent you updates throughout the night; you had not once heard a single story about him crossing a line on a night out (even his female friends confirmed the fact and swore on girl code that they would tell you if anything happened); and he had always come home at the time he had promised, with a big, goofy smile on his lips and stories of his adventures.

when you first started dating him, you had tried to follow his rhythm and step into his world. however, you soon realized how you were holding him back. while you enjoyed sitting in the corner of the bar, sipping on your drink and discussing book plots, clement had a need to mingle, dance, charm. if it was possible to befriend and impress every single person in every room, clement would see it as his personal mission every night out.

it all just makes you cherish the times that he does stay home and cuddle with you, just like he treasures the times that he gets to bring you along with him out into town.

there's also a very specific upside to it all; drunk clement is adorable. you're reminded of it at this exact moment, actually. he has just stumbled into your shared apartment after an evening with james and marcus, not completely surprised to find you under the covers of the bed, some random christmas movie playing on the computer next to you. his tired eyes crinkle in the corners with his grin as he analyzes your pajamas – a pair of shorts and one of his hoodies – and he tosses his jacket toward a chair in the corner of the room before making his way over to you. he doesn't waste any time falling into your embrace, his nose tracing the soft arc of your neck, sighing contently when your nails graze against his scalp.

"mmm, missed you," he mumbles against you, beard scratching your skin whenever he moves. "so much."

you can't hold back from laughing, despite how you know he doesn't approve of you laughing at him when he's drunk. "we saw each other like five hours ago..."

"doesn't mean i can't miss you anyway." the pout is clear in his tone, and he presses a quick kiss to your jaw before removing his face from you. "did you have a good night?"

you nod, one of your hands reaching up to push his fringe back. "you and james behaved?"

"macus kept us in check."

"of course he did."

clement feels a strong urge to kiss you, and he can't deny himself the satisfaction. you stay there for a while, lips locked and hearts intertwined. when he pulls away, he flops down next to you, eyes droopy and cheeks flushed. "i want skin care," he whispers.

"i think you're too tired."

"i think you could do it for me."

"i think you always complain when i do it and you can't help out."

"i think i'm scared to admit that i just want your love and affection. and touch."

"i can touch and love you even without skincare if you want."

he stops, thoughts swirling at race car speed and yet snail pace. he shuts his eyes, sighing, nodding. "all the time?"

"every second, every day."

the answer drags out a satisfactory hum from him. "i will love you until forever." he chuckles at himself. "is that even a thing i can say?"

"you said it and it was perfect. now come here..."

and drunk clement will cuddle into your side forever, slow breaths tangling with yours and fingertips brushing against your skin. and there's no place he'd rather be – no club, no bar, no party – even if he's scared to admit it.

[mssmars]

Landduo_One-shot fanfic

Here's a little one-shot fanfic about landduo(Foolish and Badboyhalo). Characters maybe a little bit or very much OOC but I wanted to give it a shot and make one anyways. I'm not really a writer nor am I good at writing the characters personality's right but feel free to make your own twist on this or build upon it if you want.

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

-Landduo: The funeral-

Bad's POV:

Despite it being such a beautiful day everyone is in a melancholy mood and the tension is high. War might any moment, but we all were able to set aside a day to host a funeral for the king.

Bad sits on the roof of the bell tower at his cathedral, staring up at the vibrant sky in thought.

Immortality. A gift for some...and a curse for others. for me it's both. A gift that allows me to keep seeing new things...and meet new people but a curse that leaves me alone...watching everything that was created, whether it be by me or someone else get destroyed...or have me leading the dead to their afterlife.

I. A being that's been there since the beginning, that saw the start and end of the dinosaurs to the rise of civilizations. A being that started as a spectator now a pawn in the narrator's game have lived long enough to become...indifferent to my immortality.

However, there's been one constant in my life in every universe. another immortal being that always seem to come into my life. A totem shark hybrid by the name of Foolish.

A soft smile graces bad's face as he thinks of Foolish.

We've known each other for what feels like eternity...In every universe me and him. We always end up together. Either as friends, frenemies, enemies, acquaintances or whatever the narration wants us to be. He's always there, fate is funny like that.

Two sides of the same coin, yet we treat immorality different. I guess that's what lead us to this point. In every universe, even if one of us or both of us die. It takes a long time for rebirth...to reform. at least, that's what I assume. it could be different for each of us.

This time however it's different. This universe has us on three lives. three lives and then you reset. A 24 hour wait until you come back, either a new person or the same person yet changed forever by the death you've just experienced. A few people have already lost 3 lives and came back...I'm on my last life and it's made me wary. I don't want to lose this last life. I've lost a life before; I remember it a little bit...dying slowly in a flower field alone, feeling death consume me and then starting over again. My memory of that time is fuzzy, and I rather not go through that again especially if each death is 24 hours...each reset for me, might bring a different me...and it'll be an endless cycle that I rather not repeat.

Foolish on the other hand had all his lives...

Bad's eyes narrow in guilt and frustration

He had all his lives but I... I took two of them. not realizing how strong the blows my weapons would deal, would be fatal...and that brought about Foolish's idea to jump the broom and end his last life. We could've had one life together but NO. he suggested we both do it together, obviously I was against it, and I tried to talk him out of it, but he still went with it anyways. It eventually led to him being killed by Pili, a cat hybrid who was part of the hostile faction, who needed to kill someone, or they all lose a life.

I hate the fact that I couldn't kill him with an elaborate plan, both lives taken accidentally and the last life taken by someone other than me is frustrating. then another life was taken accidentally a day later by me... Maybe my immorality isn't a mixture of a gift or curse...maybe I'm just cursed to take lives and lead them on. to repeat the cycle, in a never-ending loop...

A voice from below interrupts bad's train of thoughts and as the "demon" looks down to see, the cat hybrid Pili shouting for him to come down. With a sigh Bad stands up, dusting himself off before shooting a teleportation arrow near Pili.

Pili: Bad, the funerals about to begin...are you ready?

Bad: Yea, I'm ready.

They both walk side by side as they enter the cathedral. neither of them says a word even as they walk by all the other members of the community who came to the funeral. Bad takes a seat near the front as he stares at the coffin in silence and Pili takes the stand to start the reception. Once everyone takes there turn to say a few words about King Foolish and had a moment of silence at the coffin to say they're finally goodbyes it finally became Bad's turn. As he stood up to walk towards the coffin, He thought of everything he wanted to say and everything he couldn't. He stops in front of the coffin staring at Foolish's body for a minute. taking in every detail for a minute before turning to the audience and begin to give his finally words.

Bad: My beloved...Our beloved king was a selfish tyrant who...died unrighteously by an unknown assassinator...and even though he has died...he will not be missed.

He gives a humorless laugh before continuing, unaware of the murmurs that begin to fill the crowd.

Bad: But make no mistake he will be back...

Pili speaks from the crowd.

Pili: Um bad behind you...

Bad: Yes, yes...I know my beloved king lays behind me but fear not he may not arise from the dead today, but he will...

Foolish: Um, what's going on? Who are you people?

Bad swipes a fake tear from his eyes.

Bad: you know...it's kind of crazy, but it's like I can still hear his voice...right behind me...

A hand drops onto his shoulder startling the "demon" out of his "Monologuing" and he turns to the owner of the hand with wide eyes.

Bad: What the fudge! Foolish you're alive!

The demon exclaims before pulling the totem into a hug, forgetting all about the audience behind them. Bad pulls back to look at the totem with a smile but the totem only stares at bad in confusion.

Foolish: Um I'm sorry but do I know you...?

The question freezes the "demon" to his core and his expression drops as he pulls back from the totem fully. His expression tight as he answers the question.

Bad: ...You did...I guess you're a blank slate this time around...

The expression the totem gives bad remains confused but before he could question it any further a cry from the audience catches his attention and then he's being pulled into another hug by Ros and any other member that was a part of his faction. Bad seeing the opportunity decides to give them all space and leave the cathedral for some alone time.

-Time skip later, that night-

Bad finds himself at the King's bridge. sitting on the edge as he stares up at the night sky, the stars shining bright, the fish making ripples in the water and the cold night air causing a slight shiver to run up bad's spine. Bad knows Foolish has long since retired to his bed chambers and he knows other people have done the same. He however couldn't help but want to watch over the king and the kingdom's grounds for a bit.

He sits out there for a few hours before he here silent footsteps approach and a familiar voice speaking up behind him.

Foolish: Couldn't sleep?

Bad turns to him with a slight smile. Bad: I suppose not...what about you?

Foolish walks closer to bad before leaning against the railing besides bad and looking up at the sky aswell, mirroring bad.

Foolish: You can say something like that...or you could say I had a feeling that made me want to take a stroll.

Bad glances to Foolish with a huff.

Bad: A feeling?

Foolish lips pull into a smirk as he meets his gaze.

Foolish: Yup! A feeling.

Bad: ...right? you mind sharing what that feeling is?

Foolish: Maybe, but I'm sure you may already know. After all you are the one who took both my lives.

Bad scoffs as he turns fully to Foolish.

Bad: First, they were accidents and...wait...you remember?

Foolish's smirk turns into a full-blown grin as he turns Bad, crossing his arms.

Foolish: Maybe...

Bad exclaims in fake annoyance as he slaps the other man's arms in turn Foolish puts his hands up in a placating manner.

Bad: You ragga-muffin! When did you get your memories back!?

Foolish: hmm, around evening, but I wanted to let you sit in the guilty for a little while...you know to think about your actions.

Bad's shoulder's start to shake from annoyance, anger and maybe a little bit of happiness as he stares at Foolish in silence, deep in thought. Annoyance that Foolish would take a chance to pull something like this (Even though he should've seen it coming) and happy that he didn't have to start over on rebuilding their complicated relationship. It was hard to figure out what exactly made him angry he figures that maybe it's just the entire situation itself, but he could dwell on that later for now things would go back to normal or at least as normal as it could be with the two of them.

Foolish watches Bad, watches the emotions flickering in his eyes and he can practically feel and hear his thoughts but before he could speak again Bad lets out a sniffle and as Foolish looks closer, he can see the beginning of tears form in Bad's eyes. With a sigh Foolish pulls Bad into a hug and they sit in silence in each other embrace.

Neither know how long they stayed like that, in each other's embrace, letting the small amount of vulnerability show in each other's presence before Bad speaks up.

Bad: You had me worried...You raggamuffin.

Foolish lets out a small snort before responding.

Foolish: In every universe, right?

Bad hums before pulling back away and staring at the stars again, two stars shine the brightest and Bad smiles before responding.

In every universe.

The End.

or is it?

Anyways um...I put too much effort into this.... I might make more...I might make shorter ones...this one shot been on my mind since 7am and ...idk...but like if you like it feel free to make something similar to this, build upon it or take inspiration. there isn't a lot of landduo Fics, and I felt like making one after reading one that someone posted on twitter the other day. It was really good to read, it's called no universe. Every universe by (cereuleanskies). They inspired this Fics and inspired me to actually go through with making it. Along with what some people have been saying on twitter about Foolish coming back with amnesia.

Anyways Thanks to anyone who read this, and I appreciate feedback lol!

[loveafterdeath-if]

Truly, genuinely, I looooove what you've got written and all the love interests (and...former love interest 😭😭😭)!!

But also omg the pressure on mc is absolutely killing me, I think if someone told me I should start dating again within TWO MONTHS?? of losing a life partner I would absolutely lose my shit 💀💀 that timeline is crazy. I know there's absolutely people who say things and function like that in real life and everyone's grief journey is different but like...that is such a small time frame to even adjust to the reality of losing someone, let alone recover enough to feel prepared to date a new person 😵‍💫

(also to be clear I absolutely don't mean this as criticism of your writing or of people who would be okay doing so! it's just mind boggling to me haha)

Firstly, thank you so much! And secondly, don’t worry—entering a route won’t suddenly make MC and the chosen RO date out of nowhere. I want to ensure that the romance feels natural and doesn’t rush anything!

[stupidlittlespirit]

Hello!

Sorry if this has already been asked before, but do you have any tips for writing Ford?

Thank you and I'm sending you a virtual hug <3 🫂

Hey!

Thank you so much <3

I'll put some of the stuff I find helps me below here. I find it really hard to describe sometimes so if it doesn't make sense or if you want clarification then let me know :)

Be familiar with the source material. This might sound silly but I've seen fics where the a/n is like 'yeah I haven't read Journal 3 or finished the show but I wanted to write-' .....Please. Just. Finish the show and the Journal. The Journal gives you TONS of useful insight into Ford's actual personality and I think you see a lot more of his mannerisms in it. Rewatch his episodes. Use what you've got of canon stuff.

Watch other stuff with JK Simmons in. It'll be helpful for you to pick up how he sounds and then make it easier replay his tone in your head and make your dialogue more accurate. I don't actually know how helpful this tip is bc I brought this up to my partner (RE: Hearing the character's exact voice in your head as you write) and they said this isn't really something people do, so I'm not sure if I'm alone in that technique or not....? (also sorry Mr Simmons but a lot of your movies are d o g s h i t! So, suffer through them as much as you can for the sake of research. Whiplash isn't in the bad pile though btw, it's one of the greatest movies ever made. Just watch that 14 times in a row until you can quote the entire thing by heart. Or use Portal/Cave Johnson audio. Much more fun.)

Know the Ford you're writing. Is he younger, likely at college? Is he research-era? Is he post-portal? Ford presents (at least to me) as multiple different versions of himself over the course of his journey. He has fundamental traits but the degree to which he displays/shows/acknowledges/applies them varies dramatically depending on where he is in life and who he's around.

Balance him. He's strict and sharp and sometimes rude, but not so much that he's devoid of all other emotion. He's funny and he likes to get silly sometimes. We're literally told that exact thing (quite a lot actually) in the canon material. This is especially relevant if you're writing post portal Ford or pre-Bill/pre-obsession-with-work Ford. Again, he isn't all the time but he definitely is more than people give him credit for. If you're writing Ford during his Bill obsession stage then he's going to be erratic and harmful, more than anything to himself. He's going to be acting poorly because he isn't in his right mind, so extend some sympathy to the guy. You don't have to make it okay that he might be lashing out and hurting others, obviously, but there's a reason behind why he's acting like that. He isn't just 'a bad guy'.

However, he is also an asshole sometimes. Everyone can be. He's very diverse. This diva HAS the range! (He experiences the world in a very different way to most other people, I think, so his behaviour can be perceived as difficult to 'normal' people).

Ford is never one emotion at a time. No character is. If he's angry, there's going to be a reason behind that anger and then several emotions behind that reason. Is he telling someone off because he's intrinsically and irrevocably an asshole? No! He might have been afraid of them getting hurt and snapped at them, and the fear shows as anger. Maybe he's frustrated with them and doesn't know how to appropriately address that frustration. There's always a reason.

If he is just being a bit of jerk, because that's plausible, it's not going to be the case that every time he does something that can be perceived as being jerky, that he is being so.

He is very full of love. For his family, for his work, for his friends, for his object of affection (these tips apply to him in general, if you're writing ship stuff or reader stuff or gen). He is full to the brim with it, he just struggles to identify it, to know how to show it and how to express it.

I think that for Ford, acknowledging his feelings is a bit like touching a hot stove: He recoils from them immediately because feelings are painful and intense, and they're hard to handle. They hurt and he's going to be loathe to keep touching the thing that reliably burns him every time he goes near it. Ford isn't very good at being bad at things and he IS bad at emotions. Really bad. They're not finite or logical or able to be proven like science is. They're artistic and available for interpretation, and they're often nonsensical. That's hard to get your head around for someone who likes to view everything from a black and white perspective.

If you think he has a disorder (autism, BPD, NPD, HPD, whatever) and you yourself don't have that thing, then RESEARCH THE FUCKING THING! Ask people who do have it for advice. Treat it with respect. People that have 'negative traits' from these types of disorders (and believe me, people do think you're awful if you have a personality disorder or autism) are not inherently bad people and them enacting their symptoms doesn't make them evil, provided they know how to acknowledge their wrongdoing post behaviour and try to do better in the future. If I split on someone and act out by starting a fight, it is my responsibility to return to that person and apologise for inappropriately starting a fight once I've cooled down. It can be hard, it can be done through gritted teeth, it will be uncomfortable, but it must still be done because I'm an adult. Obviously, when it comes to things like this, we're always working on a sliding scale because people with complex mental health issues don't always know they've made a mistake so they may not feel like they need to apologise/may not even know that they've done something wrong if they're in a really bad episode. That's difficult to get right however, and I would not recommend writing intensely detailed stuff like that unless you're very used to/accustomed to the disorder.

HE KNOWS HOW TO SAY SORRY and he knows when he's fucked up. This is a skill he's learnt better over time. I think it would be most relevant to use if you're writing him post-portal, though. I don't think this was a skill he had when he was younger/pre-portal and if he did apologise, it was something that had to be really dragged out of him.

Show that he's tender and capable of empathy. I think it was only really during his obsessional years that he locked off that part of his brain, and even then it was more out of pure delusion and trauma/self-protection than it was an inherent drive to be evil. He's never been evil, just misguided, betrayed and a bit of an ass at times.

He does more through action than through talk. In comparison to Stan, who is all mouth and uses verbal communication frequently, Ford is more physically inclined. He tries to be very esoteric but he gives away a lot in his behaviour instead of talking. I don't actually think he knows he does this and that's why he thinks he's super mysterious.

If you're stuck on a scene, play it out as him. Not yourself. It's not so much how am I going to do this, but how is Ford going to do this? What do you think Ford would do in that moment, according to what you've seen him do in the show?

Don't be afraid to make your own Ford, to a certain extent. I'm not writing about a strictly canon!Ford. He's informed by canon for the most part, but he's also my little barbie to dress up and be silly with. I don't necessarily have to solely make him do what I think his canon counterpart would do. I think canon!Ford is aroace/just not interested in romantic or sexual relationships. I don't think he has interest in much of the stuff that my fanon!Ford does, but this is fantasy land and Ford isn't real so we can do whatever we want. He'll feel more real if you give him his canon traits and then add some of your own spices to the recipe on top.

Be nice to him. This isn't advice, I'm just begging you LMAO. When you're writing him talk about his science stuff or whatever, have your other character (reader, I presume?) be engaged and happy to listen to him. I wouldn't be interested in someone who annoyed me with their passions, so don't write it as though he pisses you off because the audience can tell if you don't actually like him that much. They will pick up on how you really feel about a character as the author unless you're an excellent liar and it's really hard to actually lie like that and retain a sense of genuine love in your story. Just treat him with love and care. Treat any character with it.

Okay anyway WHEW that's a lot! Sorry. These are just things that I do and they're not my view of how to write Ford 'correctly' or anything, they're just what I find helps me characterise him for my fics. I'm sure plenty of people would disagree with my interpretation and that's fine, we're all receptive to art in different ways so there's not really a 'right' way to be for the most part. Just listen to what he tells you/shows you about himself and the way in which other characters speak about him truthfully.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Your eyebrows furrowed as you glanced around a bit trying to see where he ran off too. That's when a gruff voice spoke right into your ear, "You've been following me, darlin'"

This whole scene, please, I’m sweating at the thought of him whispering into my ear 🥵

Until he let out a sigh, "You really do hate me huh?"

"What?" You weren't sure what you were expecting him to say, it just wasn't that. Yes, you hated him but you never thought you'd have to explain that to someone. Especially not him. Especially when you thought it was a mutual feeling.

"You hate me, don't you?" He said matter-of-factly, like he already knew your answer.

"I-" You stumbled over your words.

It's alright, I already figured as much." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, Merry Christmas."

Awwww my pookie, I could never hate you 😭

"I don't hate you, sugar, quite the opposite actually. And I haven't been avoiding you, Tommy asked me to cover some of his shifts so I've just had a bit of a different schedule than usual."

Please, he’s so cute, I just can’t 🥹

He laughed at your reaction, "Yes, my schedule. Although it is very endearing you thought it had something to do with you. Trust me, darlin', if I could see that pretty face every second of the day, I would."

Omg I’m going to melt in a puddle 🫠

I've never hated you. I just never knew how to handle my emotions. Didn't know how to do that even before the world went to shit, let alone now when no one can trust anyone. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable so I avoided you and trust me it was hard because sometimes I just to tell you everything."

😭😭😭

I was right, this is perfect for me because I’m actually introvert so it’s pretty much on mark with me having miscommunication, especially with people I fancy 🤭

The thought alone that someone was writing something for me was so endearing and beautiful and this is such a precious gift, so adorable and sweet and I loved it so much!

Thank you thank you thank you 🥹

(now I'll imagine all evening that from friends we will become lovers 😏💖)

Happy holidays to you, I hope you’re having a wonderful time 🥰

Cat and Mouse

A post for @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the Pedrostories Secret Santa event!

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Synopsis: Joel hates you. You hate Joel. But maybe you don't?

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: not really any Ellie, Christmas themes, hatred, mentions of alcohol, miscommunication

All gif credits to owners!

Winter in Jackson was cozy. Fires burned and snow padded the ground. Although, Christmas had lost a bit of it's magic after the outbreak, everyone in Jackson worked hard to still bring a bit of warmth to the holiday season.

There were parties and gift exchanges. Most gifts were handmade but that meant more anyways. This year they decided to have a "Secret Santa" event and you got the worst possible option. Joel Miller.

The man was impossible. Cold, calculated, and didn't really give a damn about anyone but himself. And, maybe, his brother. Besides not knowing what to get him, you never really liked the man to begin with.

And it seemed the sentiment was equal, because anytime you were near him he'd seem to distance himself or brush you off like you didn't exist. That was the beginning of your loathing of Joel Miller. His constant obsession with pretending you weren't standing right there. Like you weren't actively trying to have a conversation with him.

Then there was the looks. The sideways looks he'd give you, then when you'd notice them he'd scoff and look away like he hadn't just been boring holes into the back of your neck.

It was irritating, so after a few months of this cat and mouse you came to the conclusion that you in fact hated Joel Miller.

So, when you drew his name from the raggedy Santa hat Tommy was excitedly holding out to you, you couldn't help but let your face drop. Out of all the people in Jackson, why him?

Tommy seemed to notice the change in your disposition, because his smile faded as well, instead his face turned into question. You wiped the disappointment off of yours and smiled up at him the best you could muster. Trying your best to brush off what you knew would be a never ending string of questions. Tommy would never be able to understand your hatred of his brother and it wasn't worth the pushing that was bound to come.

So instead, you went to Maria, convinced that she would know what to get her brother-in-law for Christmas. But as you asked Maria, she shrugged and said that she didn't know much about him either.

"He's a secretive man." Maria said simply, as she scrubbed the dishes in her sink. You sighed at her response and left soon after.

As you made your way home you contemplated what you would do. After much thought you came down with two options: observe Joel as much as you could in the next week or attempt to talk to him.

The second option obviously wasn't your favorite option and it would be a bit suspicious. Especially because for the better part of the past year, you'd been actively avoiding him as well.

So, observing him it was.

Five days past of watching Joel Miller. You didn't think he had caught on but honestly you didn't care much. You would watch him during dinner or follow him to the bar. You kept a distance and would talk to people to make it seem less obvious.

And even after all that you were still drawing a bit of a blank. That was until tonight.

You were currently standing leaning against the wall of the bar. A glass in one hand as you watched Joel sit at the bar top. He got what he always got and sat there as silent as he always did. The man was almost too routine, too boring.

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your drink. Just as you were bringing the glass back down you noticed Joel was no longer sitting at the bar.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you glanced around a bit trying to see where he ran off too. That's when a gruff voice spoke right into your ear, "You've been following me, darlin'"

You swallowed harshly, it was Joel, standing right behind you, talking right in your ear. Even worse, he had caught onto your stalking. You turned around to face him.

"What?" You did your best to feign ignorance, but you knew you couldn't fool him.

He let out a half scoff and smirked at you. "Don't play dumb. I've noticed your little game. What's got you so interested little mouse?"

Now it was your turn to scoff, "Little mouse? Isn't it the cat that usually chases the mouse not the other way around?"

"Fine, sugar, lets say you're the cat. What's got you so curious?"

"Not you." You say simply and take another sip of your drink, turning back to scan the bar as if you were waiting for someone.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know?" Joel said directly into your ear again and stalked off. Leaving the bar completely and leaving you absolutely dumbfounded.

That was the most words Joel Miller had ever said to you.

The conversation somehow brought to light to what you were going to give Joel for Christmas. Although you still knew little to nothing about the man, you did have a bit of an evil idea for a gift. He was so convinced he was the cat, you were going to give him something that would solidify him as the mouse.

So now you were sat in your living room sewing together some leftover gray yarn into the shape of a mouse. This wasn't the most work you'd put into a gift before but it sure was more than you'd like to put in for Joel. But now you were determined to see the look on his face when he opened it.

Attaching a makeshift key ring to the knit mouse, you smiled at your handiwork. Eat it, Joel Miller, you are the mouse in this game.

When the Christmas party came around, you were getting a bit excited about your gift. You put it into a little box with some crafted paper bow to try and make it look a bit festive and left it on the gift table as discreetly as possible. You figured Joel would know quickly who his Secret Santa was but that didn't mean you still didn't want a bit of an element of surprise.

The party continued for about an hour as the rest of the off duty members of Jackson filtered in. When it seemed as if most had arrived, Tommy called into the crowd, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Maria patted him on the shoulder in thanks and addressed the room.

You watched as Maria gave a bit of a speech about how this past year has been, but you were too distracted by watching for Joel. He had yet to arrive and you really wanted to see the look on his face when he opened his gift.

Just as Maria was finishing her speech and beginning to explain a bit about Secret Santa, Joel slithered into the room. He slipped in so quickly you almost didn't notice. But as he leaned against the wall close to the door, you scanned his appearance.

Normally he wasn't very put together but there was something different about this Joel. His shirt seemed freshly pressed and his hair was styled a bit differently than usual. He almost looked han-

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts? Were you seriously just about to think that? About Joel Miller?

Dragging your eyes back over to Maria, you tried to distract yourself from the weird thoughts you had just had, afraid you might puke if you were to dwell on them too long. Maria finishes speaking quickly and crosses the room to the present table to help hand out the gifts.

Joel was now standing near the table, you weren't sure when he had moved, but you also didn't care. He stood on the other side of the table, eyes following you as you settled into the crowd surrounding it. His hands in his pockets as he looked you up in down.

You gave him a sideways glance, but were drawn out of it by someone calling your name. It was Maria holding out a small burlap sack to you. You took it with a grateful smile and moved back into the crowd a bit. Trying to distance yourself from the people, or Joel, you weren't too sure.

So, in your secluded corner, you untied the twine around the sack and pulled out your gift. It was a piece of whittled wood in the shape off...a cat? It was definitely a cat.

Your eyes snapped up only to be met with Joel's deep brown ones. He held up your knit mouse and shook it a bit, a knowing look donning his face.

You didn't do anything, just stood there in shock. Not only did Joel as have you as his giftee, he had given you almost the same gift. And it was as handmade as yours was.

Dropping the wooden cat back into its bag, you shoved the item into your pocket and made your way through the crowd. The minute you were met with the crisp winter air outside, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"It's cold out here, sugar." It was Joel, right behind you again. Sneaking up on you again.

"Joel." The words were almost a whisper as they fell from your lips.

The two of you sat in silence for a second. He had saddled up next to you, no words broke the coldness in the air. No one looked at the other. Just the sound of breathing and the whistle in the wind.

Until he let out a sigh, "You really do hate me huh?"

"What?" You weren't sure what you were expecting him to say, it just wasn't that. Yes, you hated him but you never thought you'd have to explain that to someone. Especially not him. Especially when you thought it was a mutual feeling.

"You hate me, don't you?" He said matter-of-factly, like he already knew your answer.

"I-" You stumbled over your words.

"It's alright, I already figured as much." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, Merry Christmas."

And with that he left you alone, standing there confused.

The next week, Joel was almost nowhere to be found. He barely came to eat and never came out to the bar anymore. You weren't missing him but you sure were noticing.

Half of you was nervous it had something to do with you. You never meant to hurt his feelings. No matter how much you didn't care for the man, you still didn't want him to feel hurt.

So, at the end of the week, you decided to be the bigger person and go to his house. You were both adults after all. Not everyone liked everyone and he would just have to get over that.

With a deep breath that led to a sigh, you knocked at Joel's door. And as you sat there in the cold, you almost wished he didn't answer it.

But as the door crept open and Joel came into to view, your confidence faltered a bit. His brows furrowed when he caught sight of you, obviously confused on why you were here.

You didn't give him a chance to ask and began to go through your practiced speech instead. "We are both adults. We didn't talk much before this, obviously didn't like each other but after you asked and didn't even let me answer, you've been absent. It's not like you avoiding me is anything different than before, it's just more intense this time. We are grown, we can accept the fact that we hate each other, without avoiding each other like we are some stupid high schoolers."

He gave you a minute to make sure you were done. You caught your breath, obviously saying all of that in one go. And as you gave him a look as if to finally say something, that's when he took the hint and did.

"I don't hate you."

That is not what you thought you'd hear after all that. You thought maybe he'd yell back, start some sort of argument. Or maybe even call you an idiot and slam the door in your face. But that? That was unexpected.

As if your shock was obvious, he repeated himself, "I don't hate you." This time the tone was even more serious than prior.

"What?"

He laughs this time, knowing he has to repeat himself once again.

"I don't hate you, sugar, quite the opposite actually. And I haven't been avoiding you, Tommy asked me to cover some of his shifts so I've just had a bit of a different schedule than usual."

"You-you what? Your schedule?"

He laughed at your reaction, "Yes, my schedule. Although it is very endearing you thought it had something to do with you. Trust me, darlin', if I could see that pretty face every second of the day, I would."

Now if you weren't shocked before, this would've been the frosting on the cake. You were now in a state of shock you hadn't been in since the beginning of the outbreak. Not only did Joel Miller, the center of your hatred for the better part of a year, just admitted you were alone in that hatred. But he also said you were pretty in the same sentiment.

He seemed to sense your lack of being able to form words, so he continued.

"I've never hated you. I just never knew how to handle my emotions. Didn't know how to do that even before the world went to shit, let alone now when no one can trust anyone. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable so I avoided you and trust me it was hard because sometimes I just to tell you everything."

"You-you never hated me. You never wanted to avoid me. I've hated you on my own? I spent all this time hating you over a miscommunication?"

"And you were standing there telling me not to act like a high schooler."

You gave him a warning look to which he held up his arms in surrender.

"I'm just saying, you could've came storming up to my door sooner and I wouldn't have complained. Although, I'm not sure I would've had the confidence to say all of what I just said." He looked down at his feet. You had never seen Joel Miller nervous before.

"So what you're saying is I should probably stop hating you and maybe have a conversation or two?"

"Something like that. It is Christmas time after all. Isn't that perfect time for new friends?"

"I guess it is. Alright Joel Miller, you get a second chance, don't waste it."

"I won't." His words were almost a whisper as if he didn't believe you agreed so easily.

You turned and walked down the steps that led to his front door. He watched you intently as you did.

But just as you crossed the icy path of his front lawn, you turned back around to look at him. Only half surprised to see him still standing there.

"You know?" You called out to him. "Maybe you were the cat all along."

A/N: And there she is! Another @pedrostories Secret Santa down in the books! So grateful to them for doing this once again this year! I haven't been writing this past year as much as I'd like to be but this gave me the inspo I needed to get myself motivated!

To my giftee, V, I hope you have an amazing holiday season and Christmas. I hope you enjoy this story! Thank you!

[s1lv3rp4w3dc4t]

shout out object shows with canon queer ships. I'm talking on screen kiss or even just verbal confirmation. all things considered it's a bit strange you don't really see them that much when you think about how gay everyone here is. I love you ii but c2bc did what you didn't and I think that's actually really nice.