#aging ungracefully

[mamahex]

[dificultosa]

Yeah, I did physically peak in my mid-20s, but I was a dumbass, so it evens out.

[obscureoldguy]

This! This is GREAT!!!

The Unapologetic Self as the Truest form of Self

[qazastra]

my favorite division is fling posse i like them all but my favorite guy is ramuda but i also think a lot of mtr music bangs (so in terms of music they were def #2 until dh and bat got more songs now im not so sure) and i like doppo and hifumi. and then also sasara a lot. samatoki is fun asanuma is one of my favs to watch during the lives tbh. just some information about me. for those in the know. i dont think it would surprise anyone (even if they hadnt seen my hypmic reblogs) that ramuda is my guy

[yuujispinkhair]

College Boy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up

A while ago, I saw a post that asked which of our faves accidentally knocks us up, and I answered it with "CollegeBoy!Sukuna." So here is the fic about that ;)

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. College AU. Light angst with a happy end. 2k words. Pregnancy, mentions of Sukuna smoking a cigarette. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples

"Damn, princess, how long does that shitty thing need?"

Sukuna has dropped his usual act of aloofness. For once, there is no teasing comment coming out of his mouth, no arrogant smirk, no flirty wink, and no charming look out of those beautiful maroon eyes. Your usually so arrogant and tough bad boy is scared shitless.

For the last few minutes, he has been playing with his tongue-piercing continuously, driving you almost insane with the constant noise of the metal barbell connecting with Sukuna's teeth. But you can't blame him. You are even more nervous than Sukuna.

You lean closer to the old couch table again, looking at the pregnancy test that's lying there, and your stomach twists painfully. There's a change now. A second line has appeared on the little test strip. You feel your heart drop.

The alarm on your phone goes off right at that moment, making you jump as you grab the test with shaky fingers. Holding the sheet with the instructions in the other hand, you read them feverishly as if you haven't already learned them by heart. As if you don't already know what the two lines mean!

Sukuna leans across the table, too,

"What does it say?"

But you only hear his voice muffled as if you are underwater. You stare at the two lines on the pregnancy test, feeling your head spin. Sukuna's large hand darts out and wraps around your trembling wrist, pulling your hand and the test towards him while repeating his question more urgently this time.

But you can't say anything and just throw the test in Sukuna's lap. He grabs it and stares at it, his maroon eyes going wide as comprehension dawns on his beautiful, tattooed face.

"Fuck."

That's all he says, and then he looks at you with wide eyes, shock and fear written all over his face. He looks younger somehow, like a scared little boy. His lips open, but no words come out. He closes them again and gulps hard.

And then Sukuna gets up from the couch and practically bolts from the small living room, walking so fast that he has reached the apartment door before you even realize what he's doing.

His large hand is already on the door handle, pushing it open when your mind finally catches up with what is going on, and you feel like tumbling into darkness.

Sukuna is going to run, isn't he? Of course, he's going to leave! Of course, a guy like him is only interested in having fun but no responsibility! Of course, he will always stay the bad boy who just likes to party and fuck and do whatever the hell he wants! And a pregnant girlfriend is the last thing he needs!

Your hands ball into fists. You're about to scream at him or cry or break down.

But before you can do any of that, Sukuna stops in the doorway.

He is standing there with his back to you, so tall that his hair is almost brushing against the doorframe. You watch him fumble ungracefully with his cigarettes in a way that is completely untypical for him, nearly dropping the pack and needing several tries to light a cigarette before he brings it to his lips with a shaky hand and takes a deep drag.

You let out a slow breath, slumping back against the couch.

He didn't leave.

Sukuna turns his head slowly to look at you over his broad shoulder. Suddenly, his eyes widen, and he bangs the door shut and quickly strides back to the small living area, bending down to hastily stub his cigarette out in the ashtray on the couch table.

"Shit, I forgot that I shouldn't smoke when you are...," he stops mid-sentence, and his eyes wander to your belly, "when you are... ah fuck..."

Sukuna runs a trembling, tattooed hand through his pink hair. You both stare at each other for a long moment, both unable to say the words out loud. But your mind screams them at you:

Pregnant. You are pregnant with Sukuna's baby!

You have no idea how it even happened. Were Sukuna and you not careful enough? Maybe too horny and too drunk after one of the various parties you went to? Did a condom rip, and you didn't realize it? Maybe if it was any other month, things would have gone differently, but you had exams and were in a constant state of stress. You simply didn't have the mind to worry about anything else but studying and then fucking like bunnies for stress relief!

You feel so stupid. You were always so sure that something like this would never happen to you. An accidental pregnancy was something that only happened to those girls in those trashy reality TV shows!

Well, now look at you.

Pregnant from your college sweetheart, the bad boy with the face tattoos. The guy you are head over heels in love with but who you didn't even dare bring home to your parents yet because they took one look at a picture of the two of you, saw Sukuna's tattooed face and his pink hair, and deemed him a troublemaker who will only drag their sweet daughter into the gutter with him. And now he even managed to accidentally knock you up, and it will just be the cherry on top!

Finally, the tears spill over, and a sob escapes your trembling lips. Instinctively, you hug yourself, but your arms get pushed away just a second later, when Sukuna is pulling you to your feet and into his strong, tattooed arms, pulling you against him, holding you so tight you find it hard to breathe.

His lips press against your forehead, leaving little kisses and murmuring against your skin,

"I am sorry for almost running out that door like a fucking coward. I'm sorry, baby."

"It's ok, Kuna. You stopped and came back. That's what counts. But... I... I am so scared."

You sniffle and press yourself against Sukuna's tall, muscular body, seeking the comfort of his broad chest and his strong arms, which feel like home, letting your tears soak Sukuna's t-shirt that smells like him, like cigarette smoke and cherry blossoms and his typical sexy cologne.

Sukuna's arms tighten around you, and he makes a choked-up sound that you have never heard from him before. You feel him gulp hard, and then he speaks up in that low, velvety voice that sounds so much more serious than ever before,

"I promise I won't run. We're in this together. I got scared, too, because I am not the dad type of guy. I don't even have any idea how a dad is supposed to be because I've never had one. I mean, fuck! I am a mess! I don't even know what I want apart from living in the moment, having fun, being with you, and spending time with my brother. But you're my girl, and I'll be damned if I leave you alone with this! I won't run, princess, I promise."

You hear a strange noise, only to realize that it is coming from your own mouth, a strangled sob. You snuggle closer against Sukuna's chest, hiding your face in his t-shirt, clinging desperately to him, overwhelmed with the situation. But he is there for you. He rests his chin on top of your head and holds you, swaying you slightly from side to side.

His low voice is calm when he asks,

"Do you want to keep it?"

"I... I didn't even have the right mind to think about it yet."

Sukuna nods, and his arms tighten around you,

"It's ok. Take your time. If you want to get rid of it, then I will drive you to the hospital and take care of you afterward. And if you decide to have the baby... then I will be a dad. I never imagined myself with a kid, but this is different. This is our baby. And I know what it's like to grow up without parents. I don't want that for my child. My grandpa did a pretty good job with Yuuji and me before he became sick, but it's not the same as having a mom and a dad, I think. I won't let that happen to our kid."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a huge weight leave your shoulders at Sukuna's reassurance. You can see things a bit clearer now. And maybe it's not as hopeless as you thought.

Technically, you are old enough to be a mom, and you could just pause your studies for a semester or two and then return to your classes. Of course, things won't be as carefree anymore, and you will have a huge responsibility. On top of that, you really have no idea what life with a baby will be like. But you know now that you won't be alone with it.

You will have the boy you love by your side. No, you correct yourself, not the boy you love, but the man you love. Because the way Sukuna reacted so maturely and responsibly showed you that he isn't a boy anymore. He is a man. Your man. And you are even beginning to be able to imagine him as a dad. He is doing a pretty decent job as Yuuji's brother, too, after all, isn't he? Sure, Yuuji is the same age as Sukuna, but Sukuna still always acts like the big brother. So protective and caring, in a grumpy way, but sweet nonetheless.

Suddenly, the thought of a miniature version of Sukuna running around doesn't seem so scary anymore. You catch yourself wondering what your baby would look like if you decide to have it. Will it have Sukuna's eyes?

You lift your head to look up at him, and Sukuna's gaze meets yours. He looks deeply into your eyes, almost making you nervous with how intense those beautiful maroon eyes look at you,

"If you want to keep it, I will make damn sure you and the kid have it good. I promise you, princess. I am not going to run like some loser. I will learn everything about taking care of a child and how to be a dad and get my shit together. I will even stop smoking. I just... I love you, and this will be our little family, and I will fucking protect it with my life! We will make this work. We can move in together. We can ask Yuuji to babysit, and I can take the little gremlin to classes with me. I had someone do that in my history class, you know? Had his ugly little brat in a baby carrier. I could do that, too. Only difference is that our baby will be super pretty, of course."

You chuckle softly despite the shock, a mix of a sob and a laugh, feeling lighter now that you know your boyfriend will be there for you.

"I love you too, Sukuna. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We will get through this together, no matter what you decide."

You snuggle against Sukuna's tall, muscular body and smile shakily up at him, sure that your pupils must have transformed into little hearts from the way your chest feels as if it's overflowing with love for your boyfriend. Your arrogant, rude, bad boy of a boyfriend, who, deep down, is such a good guy for the people he loves.

You smile and get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Sukuna's tattooed jaw, a tender lingering touch, before you tell him softly,

"Let's sleep over it for a night or two, and then we'll decide what to do. But either way, I want you to know that you sound like you would be an amazing dad. I guess having your baby would be quite nice."

You can see Sukuna's gaze soften, and then he smirks that attractive smirk at you and pulls you even closer against him, leaning down so his lips brush over yours when he says,

"Let's see if you will still say that when the little brat turns out to be anything like me. I wasn't an easy child."

And you laugh and reach up to ruffle Sukuna's pink hair affectionately, tangling your fingers in the soft, pink strands,

"Well, how lucky that I have you by my side to look after Sukuna Number 2 then."

You feel Sukuna grin against your lips, and then he kisses you, slow and tender, and you practically melt against him.

You are still nervous but not as scared anymore. Sukuna is right: You are going to do this together. No matter what, you have Sukuna by your side. And, even though he doesn't look like it, your bad boy is actually a good man.

And maybe your decision is already made because the mental image of Sukuna going to class with a baby carrier strapped to his broad chest just won't leave your mind anymore.

SIGHHHHHH I think I would want his baby 😭

Thank you so much for reading! I love the mess that CollegeBoy!Sukuna is. He is very dear to me 💗 I am so proud of him for being so mature about this!! A good man and a good soon-to-be daddy.

In my head, I was singing "Papa, don't preach" the whole time while writing this ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

Update: Part 2 Option A (Reader has an abortion) Part 2 Option B (Reader decides to have the baby)

[atomicseasoning]

[hiraethwa]

how to kill a god

zero from <the collection — how to kill a god>

pairing. gojo satoru x reader

cw. non-canon compliant, childhood friends(?), hella issues, special grade sorcerer!reader, satoru is a snobby kid, non-canon lore!

wc. 1.5k

all the legends are true.

gojo satoru remembers when he first met you at the age of ten. the cherry blossoms have finally bloomed a few days prior with the onset of spring on his family estate, soft pink petals scattered in large off-centered circles around the gracefully twisted trunks. 

the ever changing faces of the rotating guards and servants no longer faze him. he has long since stopped trying to remember their faces or their names, knowing there is barely any point with how frequent they come and go, from dying to protect, or kill him.

he didn’t care to ask for your name that day either, dismissing you as yet another fresh face following him around like a shadow. though he especially didn’t appreciate the way you are graceless, stepping so heavily behind him, each step loud and obnoxious, slowly ticking him off. so unlike the previous servants who were assigned to him, quiet to the point that he forgets about them.

a very loud and unorderly shadow.

he didn’t even need to have heightened hearing to be aware of exactly where you were behind him, your footsteps gave everything away. 

the obi on your kimono is tied haphazardly, as if you have never had to wear one before. he glances back at you, eyes falling on the fabric panels that are coming loose from the way you walk so very ungracefully, and sighs heavily. 

the petals crumple under your heavy steps, leaving behind small oblong footprints from your zori sandals. he doesn’t bother to explain himself at your confusion when you notice how his steps leave them untouched. 

satoru wonders the kind of upbringing that resulted in the unrefinement that is you. a thought pops into his head, annoyance lining his nerves from your disruption to the peace and quiet of his structured daily life. whoever had you assigned to him needs to rethink their choices, fast.

his infinity had been keeping steady for a few hours now with his training to hold it each day becoming longer and longer while he’s walking, sparring or learning. though sometimes it flickers just as an object enters its field and he fails to hold it firmly, resulting with the object, a dagger on a handful of occassions, whizzing by his head, missing him by just a couple of inches, as his infinity buys him some time. 

it would be interesting to try if it holds against you. purely for that reason of course, he would never stoop as low as to knock you off your feet just to delight in the confusion on your face, maybe a tear or two, because of how much you are annoying him. 

he would never.

satoru stops in his steps abruptly, coughing to cover up the snicker that slipped from him. you stumble into him, hand catching on the sleeve of his kimono to steady yourself. 

he almost shoves you off of him, whirling around instantly, features schooled into neutrality, the only disbelief showing when he blinks twice in rapid succession. wha— impossible. he peers down at you, and then at his feet, lifting each side for confirmation. 

the petals remain perfectly untouched.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, concerned for him. your eyebrows furrow, leaning into him to survey the path in front of you. your attention returns to him, head tilted to the side as his eyes lock onto yours, a nerve twitching near his eyebrow.

his infinity is perfectly intact. it has not faltered or dropped at all where he is concerned, fully aware of the cursed technique he kept active this entire time. and still here you are, your slender fingers latched on the thick kimono fabric, now running through his hair, with awe written all over your face at the sheer whiteness of it.

“get off me.” he bites out, unimpressed by your commonness. the audacity you have to even lay a finger on him, when no one, not even his biological parents whom he hadn’t seen in a year, lacks the sensibility to keep their hands away from him.

you scramble away from him at the sourness of his tone. he almost feels bad. almost. 

how did you get past his infinity? 

he crosses his arms at you. “what’s your cursed technique?” 

you look back at him in confusion. oh god, a commoner and an idiot. “well? cat’s got your tongue or something?” he taps his foot impatiently at your lack of response. there’s absolutely no way the clan would hire help with no knowledge of the jujutsu society. 

“satoru.” the current clan head appears behind him, stern voice calling out to him.

“yes, father?” he has addressed him as his father ever since he could remember, the act itself feeling more natural than calling his blood parents the same. 

“i see you have met your shadow.”

“she is extremely loud and ill-mannered, could you not have assigned someone else?”

he chuckles at satoru’s words. “for now, yes. but she will learn our ways and become what she was born for.”

“surely you do not mean that i have to put up with her indelicacy any longer than i already have?” ten year old satoru had impeccable manners from his extensive schooling. he knows that as the heir apparent, his wishes are granted most of the time, when it doesn’t concern his education and safety.

the clan leader glances between him and you, eyes lingering on your disheveled appearance, noting that perhaps you would be a bad influence for satoru if you stayed by his side during these crucial developmental years.

he slides his gaze back to satoru. “it is her purpose to be your shadow, satoru, but i am sure we can work something out in the meantime.”

satoru huffs in relief, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. thank god. he couldn’t stand another day of you trailing behind him, constantly reminding him of your presence. 

and so you are gone after that, barely an imprint in his memory. 

until you come stumbling back into his life almost three years later to be his sparring partner. your pudgy limbs grown from your adolescent years, having a good six inches on satoru, grinning as you kick his feet out under him. 

he bares his teeth at you, bouncing back on his feet and throwing a punch at your face. you dodge quickly, though your speed is no match for satoru. his knuckles graze your cheek. 

a triumphant smile threatens to break from him, but it seems that you will be having the last laugh, having given up your attempt to fully evade his attacks and throwing your own fist up in his abdomen instead. 

thirteen year old satoru doubles over coughing, having his breath knocked out of him unexpectedly. you had opted to tank a partial blow from him and gambled on landing a full forced hit on him. 

“well met, gojo satoru.” you offer him a hand as his instructor watches on from the sidelines. 

he narrows his eyes at you, his competitive nature refusing to take the loss and admit defeat. he should be the strongest. he is born to be the strongest, goddamnit. 

but he lets you believe that he has lost, accepting your outstretched hand. the corner of his mouth twitches upon finding his opening as you hoist him up. 

he yanks, hard, without the intention of pulling himself up. 

your golden eyes widen in shock as you lose your balance. satoru grabs his opportunity to sweep your feet out from beneath you, sending you to the ground flat on your back. 

those golden eyes. satoru blinks, images of a clumsy servant resurfacing in his sea of memories. you.

“the fight’s not over until sensei says so, shadow.” he crouches down, the words a whisper in the wind, though the smug smile he throws your way is unmistakable. his six eyes flare bright in response as yours dull. you look away, getting back on your feet as the instructor calls you over.

he frowns at you, wondering what exactly his clan elders are playing at now. 

you don’t spare him another glance as you quietly follow another instructor back into the main quarters, your behavior largely subdued in comparison to the person he sparred with just moments earlier. 

so it seems that you have learnt your manners in the time you were sent away.

he racks his brain in an attempt to recall your name. what is it? his father had called you his shadow, but someone must have said your name that day. though he wonders why your demeanor dropped when he referred to you as such. 

gojo satoru learns much later on what being his shadow meant—to protect and serve, and to be ready to lay down your life before his in a heartbeat. 

taglist.

@inlove-maze @regalillegal @danielmarie @lvrellie @suniix @madaqueue @celloccino @kalsplace @sharkiethrts @corvid007 @reactwithjan @cookielovesbook-akie @itsdragonius @hiraethwrote @nyahctrl @starlightanyaaa @just-pure-trash @ladygojooo @noble-17 @box-of-roses @fushitoru @mintgrumpy @hatsukeii @bakery-anon @daisy-room (open! add yourself here)

a/n. evil giggles, ohhhhh the lore i have in mind heheeee, hope you enjoyed! i also made a. yn moodboard hehehe

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)

[usedtobecooler]

(I know you don't write for Steve but this just came to me) What about Steve teaching virgin!reader how to blow virgin!Eddie?!

Pairing | Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), handjobs, blowjobs, inexperienced virgin reader, inexperienced virgin eddie, experienced pushy steve, awkward boners, bullying, mutual pining.

Word Count | 2.8k

A/N | i've never written for steve before and i took this and ran with it lmao, i hope i did your prompt justice!! if any of you see any mistakes, no you didn't, this wasnt proof read.

Eddie and Steve's relationship had always been odd. You'd noticed it from the first time you'd ever hung out with them, when Robin had dragged you along to meet her friends. You hadn't known her for long, but Robin was loud and unabashed and adamant you had to come hang out with her outside of work.

When you'd first clapped eyes on them both, you noticed the air seemed thick between them. The way they'd bite at each other constantly, bicker and call each other names, the way Steve's eyes would linger on Eddie's lips a second longer than what would be deemed appropriate.

It seemed like a constant fight for dominance, especially when the kids were around. A battle of who Dustin loved more, who Mike looked up to more, who Max harbored a secret 'big brother' liking to more. It was a constant game, and you wondered if they even liked each other.

Then, sometimes, they'd be sweet with each other. Steve would knock Eddie back with a gentle hand when he was about to stumble over a curb, Eddie would grab Steve a burger even when he said he wasn't hungry. Steve would even help him set up the D&D table, he didn't understand what it was about and never played, but he'd help anyway. Even when Eddie bitched that the way he did it was wrong.

So, it was weird. The more time you spent together, the more you found yourself being sucked into the dynamic unwillingly. Robin said she could tell Eddie had a crush on you, which made you blush -- he was cute, and surprisingly really nice despite the hard exterior, but Steve caught onto it pretty quickly and used it to his advantage during their bickering.

You'd walked in on them arguing about you one day, when they clearly thought they were alone. You stood behind the doorway, eavesdropping;

"What would she want with you, Munson? You're a twenty year old virgin, trust me she's not interested."

"Oh yeah? As opposed to what, exactly? The town slut? As if you're any better than me because you've fucked every girl our age."

"At least I didn't jizz in my pants when she gave me a hug."

"That didn't fucking happen, and if you tell her that I'll kill you."

"Ooh, scary."

The admission of Eddie being a virgin was unsurprising, chicks weren't exactly queuing up outside his trailer to fuck him. But, he was pretty, like devastatingly so. Once you got to know him he was a great guy, smarter than he made himself out to be and nothing like the people of Hawkins claimed he was.

The next time you all hung out together, three joints deep and a bottle of scotch being passed around, you made a point of also admitting to being a virgin, to make Eddie feel better. Steve had stared at you open mouthed and flustered, Eddie had choked on his gum, Robin had watched it all unfold and let out a loud barking laugh.

You'd hoped that it would settle Eddie's mind and maybe get Steve to back off and stop hounding him about it, particularly in front of you.

And now, how you ended up in this situation is fully Robin's fault and she'll get told that when you next see her. Her and Nancy had bowed out of your designated movie night ungracefully, claiming to be slammed with babysitting Holly at last minute, but you knew better.

The three of you were crammed up on Steve's bed, and you're wondering why he and Eddie willingly chose to sit next to each other, so close their arms were squashed together and their legs knocked. You were watching The Lost Boys, at Steve's adamance, because apparently it was the horror movie of the year, but you begged to differ, nothing exciting had happened yet.

It gets to a sex scene, and you awkwardly shuffle from where you're sat next to Eddie, cheeks burning hot as you avert your eyes from the screen. Neither of them notice, enamored with seeing a pair of tits on the screen like a pair of twelve year olds.

Your fingers accidentally brush Eddie's own, and you shoot back like you've been scalded, "Sorry, Eddie." You whisper quietly, settling back into your pillow with an inch of space between your bodies for safe measure.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, which catches Steve's attention, making him turn away from the screen to look at you both, eyes flitting back and forth. Then, a scoff escapes him, "Trust you to pop a boner at a pair of fucking tits, Munson."

You furrow your brows, glancing down to where Steve's eyes wandered and oh. Eddie was hard, straining against the loose plaid pyjama pants that he always wore when you guys hung out at night, refusing to buy a pair of sweatpants.

Eddie's face is flushed a dark red, you can see it as clear as day from the glare of Steve's TV, "Fuck off, Harrington. They're a nice pair of tits."

"You're such a virgin, you want some help with that?" Steve wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and you think it's meant to come out as a joke but the way Steve says it seems anything but. He looks at you over Eddie's shoulder, motioning towards him, clamping a hand down on his leg, "Don't you think it's about time he got touched by something that wasn't his right hand?"

You flounder a little, unable to form proper thoughts at what Steve is insinuating, "What do you mean? That I should help him with that? I'm the unwilling third party here, keep me out of your homoerotic bullshit."

"We could both do it, silly. Was it not totally obvious that he's got a massive crush on you?" Steve shrugs like it's nothing, and you feel Eddie tensing up next to you, can see his cock straining further in his pants out of the corner of your eye. In that moment it clicks for you that they're both into this, have probably been waiting a while to find themselves in this situation, with you specifically.

"At this point I think you have a crush on him, you're so obsessed with him it's hilarious." You snark, leaning forward a little until you're crowded back in Eddie's space, hands bumping each others, "What do I get out of this, exactly?"

Steve looks you up and down, a cute grin gracing his face, "Trust me, you can have anything you want."

You chew on the inside of your lip, genuinely thinking about it. Did you really want your first time doing anything sexual with another person to be in a threesome? You clench your thighs at the thought, a wave of heat flushing through your body at the thought of being touched by four hands at once, two mouths.

You wonder how Eddie feels, he's uncharacteristically quiet. You hazard a glance back down, and Eddie has his hand clamped over Steve's own on his thigh. So, yeah, clearly he's into it too.

"Aw, c'mon, don't you want to show the freak a good time?" Steve asks, a smirk overcoming his features — it's disgustingly attractive, a far cry from the usually sweet Steve you knew when Eddie wasn't around, but it did things to you, made your tummy clench.

"Steve, I've never done this either... you know that," You pull your bottom lip with your teeth, chewing anxiously. It's not as if Eddie had anything to compare you to, you were both a pair of bumbling touch starved virgins, but you didn't want it to be bad for him, either.

"Harrington, if you don't stop rubbing my thigh I'm gonna cum in my pants," Eddie's voice cuts through the air, loud enough to knock you out of your trance and making you look up at him, taking in just how disheveled he was already from the merest touch.

"I'll show you how to do it," Steve says, completely ignoring Eddie's protests, never taking his eyes off of you as he brushes his hand up Eddie's thigh even higher, knocking his clothed hard dick with the back of his hand. Eddie hisses, Steve grins and lets out a cackle, "Won't take much, anyway, not if this is anything to go by."

"I am right here," Eddie balks, throwing his hands up in the air. Steve shushes him, shoving into Eddie's space like an eager puppy to grip at his pants and pull them down his thighs.

Of course Eddie doesn't wear underwear under them, why would he? His cock springs out, flushed and hard, the tip a pretty pink colour that makes your mouth water, a small amount of precum blurting out of his slit.

"You guys good with this?" Steve double checks, Eddie whines a little, which is enough of a reply for Steve. You don't even reply, batting Steve out of the way with one hand and wrapping your other one eagerly around the base of Eddie's dick - which to your delight elicits the prettiest little moan from his mouth.

"Eager little thing, isn't she?" Steve smirks at Eddie, which in return has you rolling your eyes and Eddie nodding his head fast. You slide your hand up the length of Eddie's cock slowly, shocked by how your fingers don't even wrap around it fully, all girthy and nice to touch.

"Right, you've not got enough lube for your hand to glide properly, here," Steve leans forward, mouth just mere centimetres away from Eddie's dick, and he lets out a glob of spit onto the head.

"Fuck, what the fuck," Eddie's words comes out erratic, eyes wide as he watches Steve spit all over him without a care in the world, like this was normal and something 'bros' did. Your hand squeezes the base of his cock a little to focus his attention back on you, hand sliding up to rub in the mess of Steve's spit and get him all nice and wet.

"There you go, see? Much easier." Steve's cocky demeanor is starting to diminish, you can tell by the way his voice comes out softer as he watches your skin connect with Eddie's, the slick slide of your fist up and down his cock. You feel Steve's large hand ghost over your lower back, under your shirt. You gasp quietly at the touch, the burning heat of his skin on yours making you shiver.

"Does this feel okay?" You ask Eddie quietly, ignoring what Steve just said because what the fuck would he know, it's not his dick being touched.

"Feels good, sweetheart, cross my heart." Eddie's cheeks are tinged rouge red, neck veins popping a little as he clearly struggles not to blow his load. You can see Steve looking back and forth between you both with curious eyes, smile still on his face, clearly enjoying watching a pair of virgins going at it like a creep.

"Do you want me to use my mouth?" You ask tentatively, cocking your head to the side as you keep eye contact with Eddie to try and gauge how he feels. It's meant to be innocent, comes out dirty. Dirty enough that Steve's hand moves to grip at your waist slightly, a soft sigh escaping him.

"You'd like that, right Eddie?" Steve's smile is sickly sweet, but you can tell he's starting to fold because he's using Eddie's real name, not his last name or a stupid nickname. Eddie nods silently, eyes shutting and head thumping back against Steve's plush headboard.

You slide down the bed quietly, shuffling until you're nestled in between Eddie's spread legs at an angle that meant you could just lean forward and slide your mouth over his length, "Tell me what to do then, genius."

"Take your hand off him, I'll do that, you just put your pretty mouth to use," Steve's slender fingers move yours out of the way until you're releasing Eddie's cock, his own large hand wrapping around the base and squeezing, making Eddie whimper.

Steve guides Eddie's dick over to rub the tip over your closed lips, smearing precum all over them. Your tummy clenches, ridiculously turned on by what you're doing, unable to stop your mind racing. You feel dizzy, like this is a dream you'll wake up from any moment.

"What're you waiting for? Wrap your lips around the head, give it a try." Steve's demanding, his voice firm with you, so you lean down and close the distance, opening your lips and sinking down onto the head, hot mouth engulfing Eddie's cock.

"Jesus Christ, fuck," Eddie cries out, can't help but open his eyes to look at you, has to see what you're both doing. The sight of Steve's massive fist around his cock, jerking it lightly into your mouth, you sucking and licking at him - he's teetering on the edge dangerously fast.

"Feels good, right?" Steve chuckles a little, looking between where his fist and your mouth meet and Eddie's blown out, wide eyes, "She didn't even need any help, knew just what do on her own like a good girl."

You and Eddie both moan in unison, the vibration on Eddie's cock enough to have his hips bucking up wildly, which in turn causes Steve to reach his free hand out and push him down onto the bed harshly, "Don't cum yet, Munson. Don't be a little bitch."

Eddie chokes out a little sob, whining at Steve being mean to him. It makes his body run hot, the coil in his tummy tighten. You glance up at him, mouth still full of his cock, just to make sure he's okay, and the bit of eye contact has Eddie losing it.

"Sorry, fuck, sorry, I'm cumming," Eddie grips at a chunk of Steve's meaty thigh and he comes with an embarrassingly loud yelp, Steve's hand tightening as he jerks Eddie's cock into your open, willing mouth, swallowing his release down like you'd done it a million times before.

You kitten lick at the head until Eddie shakes with sensitivity, popping off with a little grin, "You good? Back down to earth yet?"

Eddie smiles dumbly, saluting at you with two fingers, body completely sagged into Steve's plush sheets, flaccid cock still out, "Alive but barely."

You clamber up the bed, the sudden urge to kiss him overtaking your body. You fist a hand in his messy curls, pulling him up to kiss you. Eddie wraps an arm around your back, kissing you all sloppy, teeth and tongue, to an outsider it probably looked gross, but it was so hot to you that you wanted to cry.

You break apart to catch a breath, forehead to forehead with wild eyes and stupid little smiles on your faces. You ache with how much you like Eddie, a love for him overtaking your whole body. Steve clears his throat at your side, pulling you out of your trance, making you turn to look at him.

He's got a firm hand gripped into the arm of Eddie's shirt, you can see his own cock tenting in his loose sweatpants and God, it's big and intimidating, even through his clothes.

"Don't be greedy, share it with me," Steve closes the space between you both and smashes his lips onto yours, licking into your mouth expertly to swipe over your tongue. You moan into the kiss, cunt clenching at being used in this way. He kisses more firmly than Eddie, more sure of himself, it's nice in a different way.

Just as you're getting lost in it Steve pulls away, a whine dying in your throat when you open your eyes to see his face gliding closer to Eddie's, and then they're kissing too. Steve grapples for your waist with closed eyes, tugging you even closer to them both.

They're animalistic with each other, like they're both angry and filled with pent up rage. Eddie grips a hand in Steve's mane of hair, has him groaning into the kiss that's all teeth and grunting. You watch through hooded eyes, unable to take your gaze away from them, wetness pooling in your pretty underwear at the sight of them both.

A whine escapes you, the noise filling the air and cutting off their kiss, both of them looking at you with differing gazes. Steve looks like he wants to pin you down and fuck you into oblivion, Eddie looks like he's in love. Steve sits up a little, grabbing at you and Eddie with every free bit of his big hands, fingers roaming unabashedly.

Steve glances at you both, a smirk back to gracing his features, "If you think I'm done with you two yet, you're sorely mistaken."

[1080drgn]

The air in here ages me ungracefully.

[perotovar]

this protector — oneshot

moodboard by me

pairing: dieter bravo x din djarin rating: E (18+) content: slight angst, mostly fluff and smut, weed, dry humping, heavy makeouts, unprotected p in a, anal fingering word count: 3.1k dividers: @/saradika-graphics beta: @for-a-longlongtime (ily)

a/n: written for @burntheedges 's Roll-A-Trope! i got "dieter + only one bed". apologies for this being a couple days late! 🥺

summary: dieter and his bodyguard, din, get the wrong hotel room. i wonder what happens...

masterlist | follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifs ♥

“I don’t see an issue.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make the best of the situation!” Dieter exclaimed, planting himself on the lone bed in the hotel room then flopping onto his back.

Dieter’s bodyguard, Din, felt like he’d aged ten years in the last five minutes. He exhaled a heavy breath and watched the actor’s form carefully.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m taking this threat seriously. I get death threats on social media all the time,” Dieter scoffed, sitting up to cross his legs on the mattress. 

Din blinked, looked toward the ceiling, and rolled his eyes. “I wish you’d take this one a little more seriously. They had addresses.” Din made his way to the table in the corner of the room and removed his backpack, taking out his supplies for the evening. His hands brushed over the cool metal of his sidearm at the bottom of the pack. Hopefully he won't need it this evening.

“We’ll be fine,” Dieter groaned, rolling across the bed to ungracefully get back onto his feet. “I’m gonna take a bath, go ahead and do whatever it is you do!” The hotel bathroom door slammed shut shortly after, leaving Din in the room alone. 

“I’ll be calling the hotel staff because they didn’t give us the right room,” Din grumbled, punching the numbers on the room’s phone.

Dieter was more worried than he let on, but he knew he’d be okay. Din was his personal bodyguard and had been longer than anyone else. Dieter knew he could be a lot for some people, but he was glad to see Din’s professional stoicism outlasted any personal issues he may have had.

Resting in the hotel bathtub with some 90s R&B playing quietly from his phone, Dieter exhaled a heavy breath and shut his eyes. 

The threat came from an account that had his own face as their profile picture. He knew his fandom was just as weird as he was, but he didn’t think they’d threaten his life or his career like that. Unless the person was pretending to be a fan of his. Somehow, they knew which hotel he’d be staying in and where the film would be shooting, so he had to have Din attached at his hip at all times. Not that he was complaining, Din was hot as fuck. 

Who was he kidding, Din had never given Dieter the indication that he ever wanted to sleep with him. Did that hurt Dieter’s feelings a little? Obviously, but he wasn’t going to let anyone know that.

After spending long enough to prune up in the tub, Dieter got out, wrapping a towel around his waist. 

When Dieter came back into the hotel room, Din was focused on his phone, typing away. 

Sometimes, when whatever upper he’d taken earlier in the day had worn off, Dieter would come back down to his normally introverted self. He quietly made his way to his bag and put on some pajama pants and comfy socks. He decided against wearing a shirt tonight.

“Hotel won’t give us a room with another bed,” Din sighed, looking away from his phone and setting it down on the table next to him. “They say all the rooms are booked for the next couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” Dieter hummed quietly, pulling out a baggy of weed and his favorite pipe. 

“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Dieter frowned as he cracked open the hotel window. Crawling onto the bed, he got all the pieces necessary laid out in front of him. “You don’t have to do that,” he said softly.

Din’s face was always hard to read, but it was especially so now. “Are you suggesting we both sleep in the bed… together?”

Dieter took a hit, held it for a moment, then exhaled. The smoke hovered around him as he shrugged noncommittally. “Why not? I’m not going to… do anything to you so,” he coughed.

Din blinked, his eyes softening slightly. “I didn’t think you would, I just… I figured it would be unprofessional.”

Dieter’s head started to feel a little lighter, fuzzier, and that made him chuckle. “Yeah, because that’s so easy with me,” he rolled his eyes, taking another hit. 

“True,” Din huffed and stood to take out his own pajamas from his pack. “I’m going to change in the bathroom.”

The bathroom door was shut before Dieter could protest.

Everything Din did was efficient. His nightly routine took exactly twelve minutes, but this time he stayed in the bathroom for three minutes more.

Sleeping in the same bed with Dieter, technically his boss, wasn’t how he was planning to finish his evening. He knew Dieter, probably better than most people, so he knew the actor was harmless.

But Dieter had this boyish charm to him that Din couldn’t fucking resist. He couldn’t believe he voiced that he was worried about things being unprofessional. He wasn’t worried about Dieter breaking any unspoken rules, but himself. 

Din always kept a respectful, professional distance between him and the Oscar-winner and it worked for him. He hated that he fell for Dieter’s charms like so many others. The only difference was that they all had just an idea of who Dieter was, whereas Din knew his true self.

Dieter’s true self was sweet, shy. Definitely eccentric and weird, but he had an incredible sense of humor and great taste in music. Din wasn’t very good at… people, or talking, so he never really engaged in Dieter’s excited rants about things, but he always appreciated them from the sidelines.

A knock on the bathroom door startled Din out of his thoughts.

“Hey, are you done in there? I gotta pee so bad!”

Din couldn’t stop the smirk from growing on his face.

An hour later, Din was laying on the bed close to the edge with the hotel blankets covering him from the waist down. He was checking in with Dieter’s manager and signing off for the evening. Dieter was curled up next to him a respectful distance away.

“Hey, Din?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” Dieter mumbled.

Din plugged his phone in and set it down, looking back at the actor with a frown. “What for?”

Dieter sighed. “Making you share a bed with me, I know it’s not… I know you probably don’t want to.”

“You didn’t make me do anything, Dieter,” Din said softly. “Besides, this is my job. If anything, I can guard you easier from here.”

A flicker of sadness crossed Dieter’s features before he chuckled humorlessly. “True. G’night, Din,” he mumbled, turning onto his side away from Din and turning the lamp off.

Din bit his lip in thought, but ultimately didn’t push anything. “Goodnight, Dieter.”

3:37 AM

Din has always been a light sleeper, but especially so when on the job. So, when he hears Dieter moaning and groaning in his sleep, it doesn’t take much for Din’s eyes to open.

Dieter was often very cuddly, but he always kept a respectful distance from Din. Din supposed that changed once he was asleep, because it wasn’t long before Dieter was curling his arms and legs around the guard’s entire body and squeezing tightly.

Dieter made a satisfied hum in his sleep and cuddled closer, resting his head on Din’s broad chest.

Din froze, then subtly moved his arms so it was more comfortable. The actor made a quiet noise in his sleep, making Din watch him carefully. Dieter’s hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions. Din thought it was adorable, and before he could stop himself, tangled his fingers into the thick curls. 

“Mm, keep doing that,” grumbled Dieter, voice thick with sleep.

Din froze, tugging on Dieter’s curls in the process. A quiet gasp left Dieter’s lips, making the actor lift his head to blearily look at his bodyguard. 

“Wha’ y’ doin’?” Dieter slurred, rubbing a big hand over his face.

Din’s face was like stone, but he blinked rapidly as his cheeks warmed. “Um. Y-you were cuddled close and it woke me up,” he whispered.

“Ohh, sorry. I can move–”

“No, it’s okay. Just– Just go back to sleep, Dieter.”

Dieter furrowed his brows, assessing Din’s motives before a smirk grew on his face like he’d just clocked Din from across the room. He saluted Din sleepily and giggled. “Sir, yes sir!”

Din rolled his eyes, but smiled to himself when Dieter rested his head on his chest again.

“You’re warm,” Dieter hummed. It wasn’t long before he was snoring again.

Din snorted and shut his eyes. “Thank you.”

Din woke up at 6:30 every morning. It would be a miracle if Dieter got out of bed before 10am. Thankfully it was a day off, so Dieter didn’t have anywhere important to be for once. 

Even though Din’s eyes were open and he was awake, he didn’t move. Couldn’t move, actually.

Dieter was clinging to him and subtly, well, humping Din’s thigh. There was no way Dieter was fully conscious. 

Din took a deep breath and steeled himself. He looked down and the sight before him was probably one of the most erotic things he’d seen in a while.

All in Dieter’s sleep, the actor was rolling his hips against Din’s muscular thigh and burying his face into the bodyguard’s torso, mouthing at the thin material of the shirt. Din was sure if he weren’t wearing anything, there’d be a hickey on his chest.

“Mm,” Dieter moaned quietly.

Din blinked, then looked towards the growing bulge in his own pajama pants. 

“Dieter,” Din whispered. When the actor didn’t respond, Din tried again, voice sharper.

”Huh? What, what happened?” Dieter stirred awake, eyes still mostly closed.

”Um, y-you…” Din gulped, unsure how to say anything. This was probably the least composed he’d ever been on a job.

Dieter squinted at him, trying to figure out what was wrong. When he felt something twitch against his leg, he looked down, then froze. Dieter slowly looked back up, but never removed himself, his leg still curled around Din’s waist. 

“You, uh…” Dieter cleared his throat, a shy smile gracing his features. “You want some help with that?”

Din’s eyes widened as his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Dieter giggled, leaned over, and kissed the bodyguard languidly. Din made a noise in the back of his throat, but slowly melted into it, kissing the actor back. Dieter hummed happily, crawling onto Din’s lap properly.

”I have lube, gimme a sec,” Dieter breathed and nipped Din’s bottom lip. He quickly got up from the bed and tossed his pajama pants to the floor, leaving him stark naked in the hotel room as he dug through his bag for the lube.

”D-Dieter, wait, this isn’t��“

”Do you not want to?” Dieter asked, standing over his bag, hard cock protruding proudly from between his legs and lube in hand.

Din blushed. He looked away for a second and asked whatever god above that would listen to make this not weird afterwards. He exhaled a heavy breath, and turned back to the actor.

”I do.”

Dieter felt like his face would split in two from smiling so hard.

They’d been making out for what felt like hours. Din’s cock was starting to throb between them. Dieter had removed Din’s pajamas like he was a piece of precious art and Din wasn’t sure how to react to that.

”Din, please, I’m ready,” Dieter pouted, humping Din’s thigh impatiently.

Din chuckled and nodded. “Alright,” he paused, holding Dieter’s pudgy hips. “Hand me the lube, please.”

Dieter grinned and leaned over, passing the bottle to Din’s strong hands. Din drizzled a generous amount onto his two middle fingers before pulling the actor closer to him. The sensitive heads of their cocks brushed against each other, making Dieter gasp weakly, and Din hiss in pleasure.

”C’mere,” Din grunted, pressing Dieter’s chest against his own so the actor’s ass was poking out and slightly spread from how he was sitting. “Relax for me,” he whispered.

The first press of Din’s middle finger against Dieter’s rim had the actor’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. The temperature difference between the lube and Din’s warm body had him shuddering hard. 

“That’s it,” Din hummed, pressing his middle finger inside to the second knuckle.

”F-fuck—!” Dieter gasped, his face buried in Din’s neck.

”Mhm,” the bodyguard grinned, slowly working Dieter up to a second finger. It wasn’t long before Din was pumping his two middle fingers inside Dieter’s tight hole, the lewd squelch from the lube nearly echoing off the hotel walls.

Dieter moaned, rolling his hips back against Din’s fingers as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits. His eyes were half-lidded and his cheeks were flushed, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the handsome, competent bodyguard underneath him.

His cock oozed pre-cum onto Din’s belly, the head flushed a deep red color. “Want you… inside me,” Dieter panted, biting his lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

Din watched Dieter closely, fucking his fingers at a steady pace. “That what you want?” He asked, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried his best to keep a cool head, but Dieter could tell from the sweating beeding at his temples that he was holding back a lot. The actor wanted to see him let go for once.

”Y-yes. Please, Din,” Dieter pleaded, leaning over to kiss the guard’s neck tenderly.

”Alright,” Din groaned, slapping one of Dieter’s cheeks, but not enough to leave a mark. Maybe next time, Dieter thought. “Get up. You wanna ride me?”

Dieter’s cock twitched hard between them. “God, yes, more than anything,” he groaned.

Din got comfy against the pillows and squeezed Dieter’s thighs. “Go slow, okay? I don’t…” He bit his lip in thought. “Don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

A crooked smile grew on Dieter’s face. “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy,” he winked. Dieter knee-walked until Din’s shaft was nestled between his ass. He hummed at the feeling and relished in Din’s big hands on his hips and thighs, but he could tell Din was a little nervous.

Dieter cupped Din’s face and kissed him properly, easing Din down from whatever ledge he’d led himself to. “I’ll be okay,” he whispered, lifting his hips. He reached between his legs and slowly, carefully sank down onto Din’s cock.

A punched-out groan left Din’s lips at the tight heat enveloping him. He breathed hard, closing his eyes. Dieter smiled, his chest heaving as his body grew accustomed to the stretch.

”It’s… It’s been a while, gimme a sec,” Din wheezed, pressing his head into the pillows underneath him. 

Dieter hummed happily and ran his hands over Din’s strong chest. He did this often enough that his body was already starting to relax. This particular stretch though, knowing it was Din’s cock inside him, had Dieter going a little lightheaded. 

Din nodded and looked up at him. “Okay,” he smiled shyly. “I’m ready.”

”Good, because I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” Dieter smirked. He lifted his hips and slammed them back down, making himself moan out loud.

Din joined him, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and lips parted in shock.

Before either of them knew it, Dieter was treating Din like his favorite dildo, fucking himself like his life depended on it. He rode Din’s cock lewdly, his own dick bouncing between them and covering their skin with pre-cum.

Dieter tossed his head back as Din’s cock hit his prostate. “Mm, fuck,” Dieter giggled, resting his weight onto his hands on Din’s chest. He rolled his hips, watching Din’s fucked out face closely.

”Fuck,” Din breathed. “You’re so…”

Dieter’s breath hitched a little and he smiled, wrapping his arms around Din’s neck. He kissed the bodyguard’s cheek. “So what, huh?” He teased.

Din groaned and gripped onto Dieter’s pudgy hips tightly, digging his nails in. “C’mere,” he growled, planting his feet onto the mattress to get better leverage. He lifted Dieter’s body enough so he could fuck up into the actor’s body.

Dieter moaned out loud, throwing his head back. Din set a punishing pace, fucking Dieter hard. “D-Din! Fuck,” he gasped. He could feel the weight on his tummy and thighs jiggle with each of Din’s thrusts and it made him blush all the way down to his chest.

A loud smack broke through the heavy, sweaty air as Din lost himself in the pleasure. Dieter felt a sting on his left ass cheek and it made him bite his lip. 

“I’m gonna c-come, Din,” Dieter whimpered, feeling his cock throbbing between their bodies. 

“Good,” Din growled again, holding Dieter’s soft body close against his hard one. “Come for me,” he panted, not letting up on the pace he had.

Dieter whimpered into Din’s neck and stilled, coming hard over Din’s chest and tummy. He moaned weakly in the aftershocks as Din followed the waves with his thrusts. 

Dieter deflated against the bodyguard’s broad chest, catching his breath. Din pet his hair, moving the sweaty curls off his forehead. “Did so good,” he hummed happily. Dieter’s eyes lit up with the praise and it made his head go a little fuzzy. 

”Now you. Wanna suck you off,” Dieter decided, voice full of determination. He was down there between Din’s legs before he could protest.

Dieter hummed appreciatively and curled his fingers around the thick shaft, lightly tapping the head against his tongue

”Jesus, Dieter,” Din groaned, hips bucking slightly. Dieter engulfed him in one fluid motion, bobbing his head in a steady rhythm. Din moaned, arching his back off the mattress. His fingers tangled through Dieter’s curls and tugged hard. Dieter whimpered, his whole body shivering in response. 

His cock twitching heavily and before he could warn Dieter, Din came hard down the actor’s throat. Dieter moaned in shock, but swallowed everything down happily. 

Dieter lifted his head off of Din’s cock with a lewd suck and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He grinned and crawled up the bed to cuddle against Din’s chest. “We’re doing that again.”

Din laughed low in his chest. “Not anytime soon, gimme a minute,” he chuckled.

Suddenly, the hotel room phone started ringing, startling them out of their afterglow. “I got it,” Dieter said, standing next to the bed and answering quietly. He hummed along in response to the hotel clerk before saying, “Oh, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.” He hung up shortly after.

”What was that?” Din asked, stretching his body like a lazy cat against the sheets.

”Oh, a room with two beds opened up,” Dieter said, jumping back onto the bed.

Din blinked, his brain slowly catching up with itself. A smile slowly grew on his face when he realized Dieter turned it down. 

“C’mere, you.”

Dieter giggled as Din pulled him close.

[omega-e123]

Everything started to blur. Peoples voices were now pretty much muffled nonsense unless they were practically shouting in your ear or within three inches of you. Coordination? Thrown out the window. Hell, you would have fallen straight to the floor if it weren’t for the table keeping you upright.

In your drunken stupor, you nearly clocked Knuckles. Spinning around too fast to face him after he tapped your shoulder. Luckily the only casualty was a glass of water, now on the sad dirty floor of the bar.

It was easy to tell that you’ve had one too many with how aggressive and pouty you were getting. Off to the side, your partner was chatting with Rouge. A lopsided smile plastered on his face. He couldn’t help but stare at your form as you argue with the nearly equally drunk echidna.

Sonic rushes to the conflict, half attempting to simmer it down. Naturally, neither you or Knuckles were going to listen to him. If anything, Sonic’s mild teasing made it worse, but now you two had a common enemy. Green eyes silently plead to two/thirds of Team Dark to wrangle their partners back.

Rouge shakes her head and begins to stand up but was forced to sit back down. A puzzled look appears on her face.

“Wait. I wish to spectate just a bit more,” Shadow simply answers.

Emerald eyes roll in disbelief as he slowly backs up and continues to talk. Sass after sass, you and Knuckles inch towards him. When Knuckles threw the first punch, Sonic stepped to the side, allowing his friend to stumble forward.

As you were about to also attempt to get the jump on the blue blur, a pair of strong arms envelops you.

The result: screaming and cursing. Now you were more agitated.

You flail your arms and try to turn around and face the perpetrator. Instead, you’re scooped up bridal style. “Get your fucking hands off me! If I don’t kill you, my boyfriend will!”

His chests rumbles in laughter as he carries you off without another word to his “non friends.”

After putting enough distance Shadow kisses the top of your forehead and replies, “I am your boyfriend.”

Violently you shake your head ‘no’ and lightly hit his chest. “No you’re not!”

“No?”

“He is ten— no a thousand times more handsomer than you!“

Amused by your claim, he asks,“Is that so?”

“I know so! Where are you taking me!? Put me down!”

Without noticing, you’ve already been chaos controlled to your shared bedroom. “As you wish, my love,” Shadow grants, plopping you ungracefully on top the mattress. It bounces and creaks under your weight.

The world feels like it’s spinning a thousand miles a minute. In order to stave off the nausea, your eyes focus on a single point on the ceiling.

Shadow, completely out of your field of vision. One by one your shoes are taken off and put aside the foot of the bed. You don’t even fight it. Your brain is too focused in that speck of dirt above. Or is it a bug? Unsure, but somehow it’s completely captured your attention.

Creaking fills the silence as he joins you in bed. Warm blanket pulled over you and him. He renters your sight momentarily to press a good night kiss atop your nose.

“Shadow!,” you squeal out in delight. As if you haven’t been in his arms two whole seconds ago. Turning to your side, you snuggle in close to his body. How you don’t suffocate in his chest fur is a mystery for the ages.

‘You’re absolutely ridiculous,’ he thinks to himself, ‘and I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

[alwaysmicado]

Sunshine

6.7k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 7

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, alcohol & painkillers, a little kiss, lots of sarcasm, angst, jealousy (reader would never!) Summary: A spontaneous meeting in a bar lays bare some uncomfortable truths. A/N: Why be sad when you can just turn off your feelings and not be sad anymore? It’s so easy. /s I can't tell you how much your messages about this series mean to me!! I love talking to you about it and I appreciate your enthusiasm and support soooo much!! Enjoy this part and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

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The Birds Don’t Sing, They Screech in Pain

– Werner Herzog

– – –

You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart. The world is a joke and nothing you do matters.

And you got a great ass. 

So fuck it.

You close the mirror cabinet and look at your reflection. The steam from your recent shower lingers in the air, creating a hazy atmosphere around you. With a determined gaze, you meet your own eyes, trying to convince yourself of what you so desperately want to believe. 

You. Don’t. Have. Feelings. 

Sighing exasperatedly, you leave the bathroom to go get dressed. You eye the empty space on the wall where the mirror used to hang in passing and can’t help but smile sardonically at the clean floor below. Who knew you had such a talent for cleaning blood? 

If your current job doesn’t work out in the long run, crime scene cleaner could be a viable alternative.

You rummage through your drawer for a fresh pair of panties, a soft bralette without any bothersome hooks, and a flowy dress you can easily pull over your head. Comfort is key today. Your morning shower proved tricky enough, but you managed somehow, maneuvering very ungracefully to keep your injured hand dry. 

Thankfully, you were smart enough to go to bed early last night and get up in time this morning, allowing you ample time to change the bandages and dress yourself with just one functional hand.

Exhaustion still lingers in every single one of your bones, but you’re determined to not let it get you down. Not again. So, you pour yourself a cup of strong coffee, sit outside on your balcony, pop the painkillers you got at the emergency clinic on Sunday, and browse the internet for a new mirror.

The sun kissing your skin feels nice, and the fresh air invigorates your senses. There’s even a flock of birds doing their choreographed dance in the sky. Just for you. You’re living in a goddamn dream, aren’t you? 

You scoff, down the rest of your coffee, cough when it goes down the wrong pipe, and go back inside once you don’t feel like you’re choking to death anymore. It’s time for work.

Your boss graciously let you work from home on Monday and Tuesday, but since there’s an important meeting scheduled this morning, she’s asked you to come to the office today. The meds should get you through the day, you’ll just have to figure out how to do your job effectively without the ability to type with your right hand.

You could try to push some of your workload onto the new intern who’s been unsuccessfully trying to flirt with you for the past month, but he strikes you as the type to show up with flowers and a teddy bear after you compliment his sneakers once — it’s probably not the best idea to entertain him.

An office romance sounds hot on paper, but your job is the only halfway stable thing in your life, so you don’t want to mess it up for some guy. Especially if said guy looks young enough to get carded in bars.

Why can’t you just not need money and not have to go to work at all? Is that really too much to ask? 

“Get your shit together,” you murmur to yourself as you grab your bag, your keys, and quickly check your appearance in the bathroom mirror. Eh, you look fine considering the messed-up past few days you had. The black wrist brace is kind of derpy—you can already see Kristen giggling at it and very much not believing any excuse you invent for it—but the smile you force onto your face looks virtually natural. 

What a little sunshine you are. 

Sandals on your feet, sunglasses sitting on your nose, wireless earbuds in your ears, your top three songs of the week on a blissful loop, you start your walk to the office. Nothing bad can touch you when the rhythm of your favorite beats courses through your veins, encapsulating you in an invincible cocoon.

For the first few minutes at least.

Your pulse quickens and your chest tightens as the gas station, where Joel could barely wait to pull out of you before gushing about his date, comes into view. And of course, Chris, the clerk, steps outside right as you pass it to inexplicably water the two withered plants next to the entrance.

You attempt to speed walk, hoping to avoid an embarrassing encounter, but where’s the fun in that, right? Sure enough, you hear him calling after you.

You roll your eyes behind your glasses and reluctantly stop, pulling out one of your earbuds as you turn to face him. His eyes fixate on the black brace around your wrist.

“What happened to your hand? Too much fun on the weekend?” he asks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

You sigh, not in the mood for a detailed conversation, and also very much aware of what he’s probably insinuating. “Just a little accident at home,” you reply, keeping it vague. “Don’t do yoga if you’re drunk.”

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.” When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, he’s nice enough to not keep you any longer. “Well, I hope it heals soon. And let me know if you, uh, need anything. You know where to find me.”

You nod, offering a polite smile, and continue on your way, reinserting the earbud to drown out the world. You turn up the volume, lip-sync, and ignore Joel’s call without missing a beat.

– – –

“Please, tell me. Please, please, please. Come on…you know you’re gonna tell me eventually, so let’s just save us some time and get it over with. You know I can keep a secret.”

As expected, Kristen is very intrigued by your wrist brace. In fact, she has been switching between begging for you to tell her what happened and coming up with some outlandish theories since you sat down at your desk four hours ago. To nobody’s surprise, they all involve some sort of sex accident. 

It’s kind of funny, though, that none of the elaborate stories she imagines come close to capturing the absurdity of your reality. Oh well, you’re used to it by now. And yet, there’s no way in hell you’re going to divulge one of your most vulnerable and embarrassing moments to her. Not a chance. 

“I already told you,” you say without stopping your one-handed typing. “I got drunk watching The Bachelor and then my genius brain decided that was the perfect moment to try out some new yoga positions. It’s a miracle I only sprained my wrist and didn’t break my neck.” You put on your most convincing smile and look at her. “It’s embarrassing as shit, okay? I mean, look at this thing,” you point at your injured hand. “I look like a kid who fell off a swing on the playground.”

Kristen giggles and is about to say something, but right at that moment, she receives a phone call from a client. She sighs, narrows her eyes, and mouths, “This is not over.” You wink at her and go back to typing with your left hand, occasionally swearing under your breath when you hit the wrong keys. This is all so much fun. 

The rest of the day goes by in a blur of emails, phone calls, bad coffee, painkillers, Kristen putting a heart sticker on your wrist brace, another meeting, and your phone lighting up with new messages from Joel. 

By 5:30 p.m. your brain is about to explode, so you decide to call it a day and leave. There’s a frozen pizza waiting for you at home and you can hear your pajamas and sofa calling your name. Sweet, sweet solitude; it’s so close you can feel it. You just have to walk out fast eno–

“Drinks.”

“Did you seriously just hide behind that plant and jump out?” you chuckle, and Kristen’s grin tells you that is absolutely, one hundred percent what just happened. 

“Drinks,” she repeats. And when you open your mouth, she says it again, but this time she gives you her most adorable pout.

“Okay, okay,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. “You can stop the puppy routine.”

“I love how easy you are,” she beams at you and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Let’s go!”

The warmth of the summer evening envelops you both as you step outside. The sun, still casting its golden hues across the city, paints the urban landscape with a vibrant palette. Kristen, with a fancy sun hat perched on her head that perfectly complements her black hair, looks for bars near you on her phone.

As you try to decide on a bar, the balmy air carries the distant sounds of the city’s summer symphony. The occasional laughter from a nearby cafe mingles with the hum of traffic, creating a lively backdrop to your anticipation.

Amidst the ambient noise, your phone buzzes with Tommy’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hi Tommy.”

“Hi honey,” Tommy’s voice comes through, the background noise indicating he’s at a lively place. “Just calling to ask how you’re doing today.”

“You know you don’t need to call me every day to ask me that, right?” you chuckle, still unable to understand why he even cares. You don’t deserve him.

“Come on, it’s the highlight of my day,” he says in mock offense, and you can perfectly picture the grin on his face. 

“Well, if it’s that important to you…” you say, a smile on your lips. “I’m good. My friend and I are going for drinks. Just need to decide on a bar first.”

“What a perfect coincidence! I’m at this new place right now. They got great burgers and drinks, even non-alcoholic stuff,” he tells you excitedly. “Oh and Joel’s here, too.”

Your heart skips a beat at Tommy’s words. Joel is there, at the same place. The thought of seeing him again stirs a concoction of emotions within you — longing, uncertainty, and a subtle yearning for things to be okay. There’s an undeniable pull. You miss him.

As you take a moment to think of your answer, Kristen mouths, “Who’s that?”

“It’s my friend, and he’s inviting us to join him at a bar,” you explain to her.

Tommy’s voice perks up on the phone, “Come on, it’ll be a blast. The more, the merrier!”

You look at Kristen questioningly, and she gives you two thumbs up and a big smile. 

You sigh and look up at the sky. There’s a big bird chasing a smaller one. “Okay, we’re in,” you say to Tommy, and his excited shouts in your ear make you giggle. He sends you the location and you immediately order an Uber for you and Kristen. You don’t have to wait for long.

Sitting in the car, your initial, albeit reluctant, excitement has turned into annoyance as the hands of the clock seem to move at an agonizingly slow pace. What was supposed to be a ten-minute journey has stretched into an interminable thirty minutes, courtesy of the unrelenting rush hour traffic. 

The air inside the car feels stifling, even with the AC humming, and the incessant chatter about football between the driver and Kristen becomes an indistinct drone. Your lack of interest in the sport combines with the whirlwind in your head, making their conversation an incomprehensible blur.

As your stomach churns, a sense of queasiness settles over you, intensifying the already uncomfortable ride.

By the time you make it to the bar, you’re tired, cranky, and wish you had just gone home after work. You could be lying on your sofa right now, stuffing your face with pizza, watching Netflix, and testing your new vibrator before falling asleep in your soft bed. But no, you just had to be social, hm?

As you enter the crowded and lively bar, the buzz of upbeat chatter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic thump of music surrounds you. Everyone’s loud and happy, and you’re just not in the right mood for it. Slowly making your way through the sea of faces with Kristen trailing behind, you spot Tommy seated in a cozy booth.

The mere sight of him puts you at ease — for about a second, that is.

Your eyes fall onto Joel and the woman who’s casually touching his shoulder, comfortably nestled against the plush cushioned seats. You’ve never seen her before, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a sober brain to figure out who she is. What is she whispering into his ear now? He’s laughing. You can see his eye crinkles from where you’re standing.

The sight is like a punch to your gut.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place, and the urge to turn around and run away grips you. Unwelcome emotions and memories surge back, catching you off guard and leaving you breathless. Just as you contemplate an escape route, Tommy spots you from across the room, his face lighting up. 

“Sweetheart,” he shouts, rising from his seat and waving enthusiastically. His excited shout draws the attention of everyone around him, including Joel. Your eyes lock, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades. The corners of his lips instinctively turn upwards as he looks at you, but after spotting your wrist brace and the pained look on your face, he furrows his brow.

What the hell happened to you?

In the blink of an eye, you flip a switch in your brain, put on the most radiant smile you can muster, straighten your shoulders and cross the room. Joel’s concerned eyes don’t leave you for a second.

“There she is,” Tommy says, genuine warmth in his voice as he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek, followed by a tight, comforting hug. “It’s so good to see you.” 

“You too, Tommy,” you murmur, a sense of momentary relief washing over you in the wake of his presence.

He pulls away from the hug, extending his greeting to Kristen, before introducing you both to the beautiful brunette sitting next to his brother. Draping his arm around your shoulders, he tells you with a smile that, “This is Jan, an old school friend of mine. We actually didn’t plan this whole meeting with everyone, somehow we just all ended up here. Funny coincidence,” he chuckles and you strain the muscles around your mouth so hard it hurts.  

“It’s nice to meet you, Jan,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand. She reciprocates your greeting and gives you a charming smile. 

“And I don’t need to introduce you to this guy, huh?” Tommy grins, squeezing your shoulder.

Your gaze shifts to Joel, who’s caught in the limbo of whether to remain seated or stand up, so he ends up awkwardly half-standing, caged in the narrow space between the bench and table.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, your eyes lacking their usual vivacity—a detail not lost on him.

He settles back into his seat, audibly clearing his throat. “Hi, darlin’.”

He studies your face as you settle down beside Tommy. You look as beautiful and glowing as always, but the longer he looks, the more cracks in the carefully put up facade he can see. Your smile isn’t genuine, your eyes look a bit swollen—like you’ve been crying or not sleeping well—and your body language screams unease.

The others may not notice, but he does. Because he knows you.

Kristen takes a seat beside Jan, seamlessly weaving herself into the ongoing conversation with Joel. Her ability to navigate social dynamics with such ease leaves you marveling – how is she so good at this? Her charm extends, connecting the trio in animated small talk.

Your body eases into a semblance of relaxation as Tommy pulls you closer and presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, a tender reassurance that brings a sense of solace.

Sitting up straight, you return his smile, gratitude evident in your eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Tommy beams at you, momentarily lost in the exchange, before redirecting his attention to the group. “Are you guys ready for a first round of drinks?” he asks, the unison response from everyone echoing with enthusiasm, a collective “yes” that adds a burst of energy to the already vibrant atmosphere. 

– – –

After three rounds of drinks (you very responsibly decided to change to coke after one mojito), burgers, nachos, sharing the epic tale of how you managed to hurt your hand doing yoga, Jan gossiping about the guy her adult daughter brought home last week, Tommy sharing hilarious stories from his and Joel’s workplace, and everyone seemingly having loads of fun, you let yourself relax a bit.

It’s nice witnessing Joel’s laughter and enjoyment. A warmth spreads through your heart at the sight, a flicker of happiness for him. Yet, the subtle discomfort lingers as Jan’s touch becomes a constant presence on his arm. Rationalizing it as a casual gesture during conversation and under the influence of drinks doesn’t fully erase the twinge of unease settling within you.

But you can handle it, you convince yourself.

Until you can’t. 

You can’t handle it when Jan’s hand finds its way to Joel’s thigh and her lips brush the shell of his ear.

You glance at Joel, searching for a reaction, a flicker of discomfort perhaps, but his response is subtle. A shift in his seat, a movement so slight it could be mistaken for a casual adjustment, yet there’s a discernible change in his demeanor. It’s a momentary pause, a beat in the rhythm of the evening.

The weight of the scene bears down on you, and you feel a pang of vulnerability, a subtle ache in your chest. In that split second, a mix of emotions surges within you – a tinge of hurt, a brush of jealousy, and a sting of betrayal.

Emotions you haven’t felt in years. Emotions you have sworn to yourself you’d never feel again.

Why does it bother you so much? Is it because it reminds you of how you touched him, how you ran your hand further and further up his thigh when he was taking you home for the first time, teasing him until he couldn’t take it anymore, pulled his car over and fucked you in the driver’s seat? Has she done that with him? Is she as addictive as you are?

This close to a full-blown panic attack, you jump up from your seat to the surprise of everyone at your table. You make brief eye contact with Kristen, who shoots you a sympathetic look. 

Excusing yourself, you navigate through the bustling crowd towards the restrooms, located downstairs and accessible via a staircase. There are three separate spacious restrooms, and you choose the first one. Inside, you immediately head to the sink, running your left hand under cold water. The sensation helps to calm you down.

Closing your eyes, you take deep breaths, reassuring yourself that it’s not a big deal, and that it’s exactly what it was always meant to be—probably even for the best.

Then, as you try to find composure, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

“Occupied!” you yell in response to the knock, and then you hear Joel’s deep voice saying, “It’s me.” 

Of course it is.

You sigh exasperatedly and shuffle to the door to let him in. Joel enters, swiftly locking the door behind him.

“There’s two other restrooms, you know,” you murmur as you walk back to the sink and divert your attention to your reflection in the mirror, concentrating on fixing your hair. 

“Yeah, well, I specifically want the one with you in it,” he says with a little smirk, his eyes searching for yours in the mirror. As your gaze meets his, he’s taken aback by the lack of the usual sparkle that used to light up your eyes at the sight of him. The absence of that adoration he’s grown accustomed to leaves a void, and a tinge of concern creeps into his expression.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, his voice softer than before. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

You look at him, and the weariness in your eyes doesn’t escape his attention. There’s a distant quality to your gaze, and it sends a pang of worry through him. The connection he once felt in your eyes seems to have dimmed, and he can’t help but feel a sense of loss.

It’s the same expression you had when he last saw you. He hates it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you respond, putting on your fake smile again, but the lack of conviction in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel’s concern deepens as he steps closer, the teasing smirk replaced by genuine worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t responded to any of my texts or calls.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his brow furrowed. “I was worried something happened, and—he points at your injured hand—my feeling was right.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “What happened?”

You turn around and lean against the sink, holding your right arm with your left hand, your eyes revealing a complex mixture of emotions. “I told you already,” you say nonchalantly. “Getting drunk and trying to do elaborate yoga poses is a dumb idea if you’re as clumsy as me.”

Joel raises his eyebrows, not believing a word you’re saying. “That’s not all, is it?”

“What do you mean?” you say, feigning ignorance.

“You don’t seem like yourself and I’m…worried about you.” Joel’s concern etches lines on his forehead as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes, usually warm and comforting, narrow slightly as he studies your seemingly cheerful facade.

“But this is myself.” You point at your smiley face with your left hand and tilt your head. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head, a subtle sigh escaping him. “That’s not what I said. I just feel like something’s off.”

“Is it because I’m happy?”

“It’s because I don’t believe you’re happy. I know you too well, baby.”

You scoff, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’m happy? Do you want me to be miserable?”

“No, sweetheart. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy. But you’re lying to my face right now and I don’t appreciate that.”

You turn your head to avoid his gaze, your silence speaking volumes, your hand tightly gripping the flesh of your arm as if to contain the emotional turmoil threatening to spill over.

Stop it.

“Darlin’,” Joel says gently, closing the physical gap between you two, and reaching out to place his warm palms on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

A shiver runs down your spine and tiny goosebumps instantly form on your skin. You’ve missed his touch more than you care to admit — to yourself or to him. His touch is tender, a plea for connection, but you hesitate. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, revealing the deep sadness you tried to conceal.

What happened to you? Whatever it was, it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there to protect you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks softly.

“Not everything’s about you, Joel.”

“I know that. I just…wish you would let me know what’s going on.” His touch becomes a subconscious reassurance as he absentmindedly rubs your arms, as if trying to make sure you’re really there in front of him.

“Why do I owe you that? Why do I owe you every shitty detail of my life while I know virtually nothing about you?” you say a little sharper than intended. 

Joel takes a deep breath. “You don’t owe me anything. I just thought–” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I miss seeing that spark in your eyes when you look at me,” he admits, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I never fully realized how much it meant to me until now.”

You take a moment to process his words and his touch as frustration bubbles up inside you. Your heart aches.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Doing what? Caring about you?”

“Ruining the mood.” You shake your head, swallowing what you actually want to say, any traces of happiness erased from your face. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad, it’s starting to work.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to understand what’s happened since the last time I saw you.” He tilts his head and studies your face, genuine concern in his eyes. 

All you can see, though, is disappointment. He’s disappointed in you, you can sense it. And how could he not be? You’re a liability, a mess. Looks like he’s finally seeing you for who you are, and that’s why he replaced you.

“And now’s the best time to do that?” you scoff, averting your gaze and looking around. 

“What am I supposed to do when you don’t respond to me for days on end and this is my only chance of talking to you?”

You look back into his eyes. “How about leaving it alone?”

“I can’t do that. Not when it comes to you,” he says, shaking his head and moving closer, his cologne filling your senses like a familiar embrace. His hands trace the contours of your neck, a gentle and deliberate touch that ignites a cascade of sensations. His thumbs brush your cheekbones with a tenderness that speaks of longing, his gaze dropping to your lips before finding your eyes again.

In that charged moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken desires before you both succumb to the magnetic pull drawing you together. Your heartbeat quickens, matching the rhythm of anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, he closes the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The familiar sensation of his lips on yours is both electric and comforting, and you allow yourself to get lost in it for a bit.

As he eases away, his fingers trail lightly down your neck and arms, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. There’s a soft smile on his lips as he breaks the silence. 

“I mean it when I say I care about you and want the best for you, darlin’,” he murmurs. “And you don’t have to tell me any details about what happened if you’re not ready yet, but I need to know what made you not want to call me. We’ve been there for each other in difficult situations before, so I just really don’t get it.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, frustration and anger intertwining with the lingering memory of his lips on yours.

“Why in the world would I ever call you while you’re on a date?” you say quietly, a steely edge in your voice, no trace of a smile to be found on your lips.

Oh. So it did bother you. 

Joel’s expression shifts from concern to a momentary realization, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I would always drop everything to be there for you. No matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

You laugh wryly. “Joel. Seriously. Are you really trying to tell me you were oh so worried about me while you were fucking someone else? And that you’re worried now even though she’s currently upstairs, desperately waiting for you to take her home? Come on, don’t insult my intelligence.”

He stares at you in utter disbelief and takes a step back, as if physically recoiling from the weight of your words. “That’s not what–”

“Look, Joel,” you push yourself off the sink, straighten up, and walk past him towards the door. “It doesn’t matter. You can fuck or date whoever you like. Jan seems nice and like a good match, so I’m very happy for you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not doing any of that. You misunders–”

You turn around sharply to look at him. “I misunderstood the woman who’s had her hands all over you the whole evening?” 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, trying to get through to you. “She’s drunk as hell and probably doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. And I’m not interested anyway.”

“Sure. That’s why she’s here right now.”

“I had nothing to do with that. Tommy invited her without telling me,” he says, running his fingers through his hair as his stress is mounting. “Darlin’, please. This isn’t even about her; it’s about you and me. And maybe it’s time to stop pretending everything’s okay when it’s clearly not.”

You turn your head, deliberately avoiding the intensity of his gaze as the weight of his words settles in. His plea sends palpable waves of discomfort through your already wounded emotions, causing your chest to tighten further. Why is he doing this? Is this fun for him? 

“So you’d rather keep pretending everything’s fine?” he presses, his tone a mix of concern and urgency, the edges of his patience beginning to fray. 

Okay, now you’ve had it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Joel. What do you want from me?” you hiss at him, frustration dripping from your words.

Joel is momentarily taken aback, but his own agitation prevents him from fully grasping your distress. A deep sigh escapes him as he props one hand on his hip, rubbing his eyes wearily with the other.

“Since when does it matter what I want?” he murmurs.

Ouch.

That hurt.

Your face falls, and you feel like he just slapped you across the face. The sting of his words cuts deep, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

Joel’s eyes widen in shock when he sees the look on your face. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers, realizing the impact of his words a moment too late. “I’m sorry, baby, I–” his voice trembles with regret, desperate to undo the damage he’s done.

“Is that how you really feel? That I don’t care about what you want?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“No, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so–”

“But that’s how you feel? Deep down?”

Why are you acting so surprised? Were you really naive enough to believe him when he said he was happy with you? God, you’re dumb.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he reaches out to wipe away the tears that are making their way down your cheeks, but you push his hand away.

“I came here for you, Joel,” you blurt out, your raised voice startling him. “And I–I spent the last three hours making conversation with everyone, including the woman you’re fucking, because I care about you and want you to be happy, even though my hand is killing me and I’m so drained I have to force my eyes to stay open.”

You express yourself with animated hand gestures as you talk through your tears, your voice breaking. 

“I had a horrible weekend and needed some time to recover, but I was so fucking happy to see you tonight because I’ve missed you and I’ve–I’ve never hidden how much I like spending time with you. Why is that not enough? What more do you want from me?”

Your big, watery eyes pierce Joel’s, and the fact that he’s the reason for your tears pierces his heart.

“Darlin’, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t right what I said.”

He takes a step closer to you, the desperation in his eyes matching the pain in yours, intending to pull you into a comforting hug to calm you—and himself—down. However, you immediately take a step back, creating a physical distance between you two.

“Do you want me to cry ‘cause seeing you with another woman breaks my heart? Is that it?” 

Joel stares at you incredulously, your accusing tone making him wince. “No, of course no–”

Your heart is racing, and you can feel the tightness in your chest growing with every second you’re looking into Joel’s eyes. Eyes that—until now—have always made you feel so calm, so safe, so…loved. Your hands tremble slightly, and a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to speak.

“Do you want me to make a scene in front of everyone ‘cause it physically pains me to think you’re touching her the same way you touch me?”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, a fleeting impulse to express himself and try to console you, but he catches himself, realizing that uttering those words might inflict more damage than repair right now. 

“Do you want me to beg you not to leave me ‘cause I can’t even imagine my life without you anymore? Is that what you want?”

“Sweetheart...” He takes a step towards you, his eyes pleading, but you cut him off.

“No, I’m fucking sick of this,” your words spill out between sobs as tears stream down your face. “It’s always the same. I’m good enough only as long as I act the way you want it, and the minute you get bored or realize I’m not as perfect as you imagined, you replace me with someone better. Everyone always fucking leaves and I’m so sick of it.”

“Darlin’, I swear that’s not what’s happening,” Joel implores, his whole body so tense and hot he’s sweating through his shirt. “I’m not leaving and I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

You sigh deeply, grab a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, blow your nose, and dry your tears.

“I knew this was gonna happen and I still let myself believe I could be enough for once,” you murmur more to yourself than him, your head pounding painfully.

Serves you right for having feelings.

Joel says your name gently, trying his best not to spook you. His words hang in the air like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to mend what is broken.

“You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I’m so sorry for making you feel otherwise.”

Your head is spinning, emotions tumultuous and unyielding. In dire need of fresh air and distance from Joel, you stagger towards the door. His voice follows you, pleading.

“Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going to leave you. And I’m so incredibly sorry for upsetting you, I just–” he exhales deeply and clears his throat. “I wanted you to be honest with me about your feelings, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. I’m sorry.”

The door swings open, and you turn around, the forced smile from before back on your lips. 

“Well, congratulations, Joel,” you say, your tone laced with a mix of bitterness and anguish. “You got what you wanted. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Joel stunned, alone with the haunting echoes of shattered trust and unspoken pain, the distant thump of music mirroring the beating of his remorseful heart.

As you make your way back upstairs, the residual heat of the argument lingers on your skin. Taking a deep breath, you enter the lively space once more. Tommy, who’s standing at the bar, notices you, concern etched across his face.

“Hey, is everything okay, honey?” he asks, his voice soft with genuine worry.

You manage a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. My hand’s just hurting really bad now and the meds make me dizzy, so I’ll head home.”

He furrows his brow. “Joel’s my designated driver, but I can take a cab, so he can drive you home.” He looks around, searching the bar for his brother. “Where is he anyway?”

“There’s a huge line in front of the restrooms, he’s probably still waiting. And it’s okay, Tommy, really.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, seeking solace, and bury your face in the crook of his neck. He responds by pulling you into a warm and reassuring embrace, a gesture that speaks volumes without the need for words. Luckily, he’s drunk enough not to smell his brother on you.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your eyes closed. 

Tommy strokes the back of your head and chuckles. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

He pulls away far enough to look into your eyes, giving you the brightest smile. “Tell you what. You come over for dinner on Friday — no ifs, ands, or buts. Maria’s been wanting to see you, and we just finished our patio, so it’s perfect.”

You pinch his cheek and shake your head at him. “It’s not fair that you’re this charming, you know? How could I ever say no?”

“Don’t say no, then,” he says playfully,  a hint of worry still in his eyes.

You sigh exaggeratedly. “Okay, okay, I won’t.”

“Attagirl. And you’re sure you don’t want Joel to drive you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I always find my way home somehow.” You plant a kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and he finally agrees to release you from his embrace after securing a pinky promise that you ‘a hundred percent won’t flake out’.

You walk over to Kristen and Jan, who are still sitting at your table, engrossed in an animated conversation. Observing them for a moment, you find yourself captivated by Jan’s effortless charisma. She’s a real sunshine — and unlike you, she doesn’t have to fake it. Had you met her under different circumstances, you might have liked her. 

Kristen’s eyes meet yours, and her brow furrows slightly, registering the expression on your face for a fleeting moment. Swiftly, you put on a polite smile and step closer, masking the momentary vulnerability with practiced ease.

“Ladies,” you say, a touch of self-deprecating humor in your tone, “I know I’m lame, but I’m actually going home already. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

Jan answers first, surprising you with a warm smile. “Oh, that’s not lame at all! You’re just smarter than us.”

You hold up your injured hand and deadpan, “Yeah, I’m a real genius, aren’t I?”

Jan and Kristen giggle, and you join in, sharing a brief moment of camaraderie. You’re so good at this. Almost believable. 

As you look for your bag on the bench, contemplating the logistics of your departure, Kristen catches your eye and winks at you.

“I’ll come with you,” she says, giving you a reassuring look. “Our boss is gonna have a fit if I fall asleep at my desk again, so…I guess this is what being a responsible adult is,” she sighs. She hands you your bag, downs the rest of her drink, and the two of you say goodbye to Jan, who’s now getting up to search for the Miller brothers.

Kristen takes you by the hand, gently leading you outside. The cool breeze brushes against your face as the sun starts its descent, offering a much-needed breath of fresh air. Settling down down on the curb together, you find a comfortable spot, trying your best not to inadvertently flash someone as you adjust your dress. 

“I’ll call us an Uber,” Kristen says, her tone comforting. You appreciate the warmth of her presence as you wait for the ride, the fading sunlight casting a soft glow on both of you.

“Done.” She wraps her arm around you, providing a supportive shoulder for you to lean on. The two of you sit in silence, the ambient noise of traffic and distant chatter from the bar filling the air, serving as a backdrop to the racing thoughts in your mind. Eventually, Kristen succumbs to her curiosity. 

“So…” she starts, her voice carefully navigating the sensitive terrain. “That’s him?”

You chuckle faintly. “Yup. That’s him.”

“Hmm, I get it now. He’s hot as fuck,” she says, happy that she can make you laugh. “Do you think he’d be up for a threesome?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d be up for it. I’m just not so sure about his heart being able to take it. Or his back. Or his knees.”

Kristen giggles and then looks at you for a moment, fascinated by this evening’s revelations. “It’s so interesting, I had no idea you were into older guys.”

“I, uh, didn’t know either before I met him.”

“I see,” she nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. Another minute of shared silence passes before she decides to just come out and ask you the one burning question on her mind.

“Do you love him?”

You don’t need a second to think about your answer.

– – –

Thank you for reading!! 🤍

→ part 6 || part 8 || series masterlist

tagging: @koshkaj-blog @paleidiot @pattwtf @tuquoquebrute @witchofthedeepwoods let me know if you want to be added!

[unholyhelbig]

I’ve always been curious about Kate bishops background and would love to hear a paraphrased version if ur okay with it

[Absolutely I can! Just a little disclaimer, I'm doing this mostly from memory, so I may get a few things wrong. But I promise the gist is there, and this has gotten way too long, so uh... part one? I guess? I didn't even get to the vampires. If people are into this. I'll keep going.]

Okay, let’s start with Kate’s backstory.

The Bishop family has issues. Eleanor, Kate’s mom, is distant but portrayed as a generally good person. She and her husband Derek have an estranged relationship. She travels a lot and is regarded as an activist throughout her life until her untimely death when Kate is still just a kid.

Kate develops admiration for her father. He’s a publishing magnate but it’s soon revealed that he has ties to the crime world. Kate, despite her young age, follows her father to a meeting with El Matador. While there, she gets captured by the crime lord to be held for ransom.

This is where she see’s Clint for the first time, who saves her with the rest of the avengers. She took an instant liking to him because he was the only human on the team without advantages. At this point, she does make Clint her role model and starts to distance herself from her family to focus on activism like Eleanor.

Kate didn’t’ truly start training in combat until she was attacked in Central Park. This kicked off her love of self-defense. She originally felt isolated and in some cannon media, this moment in the park still haunts her beyond belief. (Young Avengers Special #1 [2005]  is a great comic that’s stand alone & shows the mentorship between Jessica Jones and Kate. TW for SA.)

Que the Young Avengers.

(My personal favorite Kate Bishop Design)

Kate has an older sister that’s been completely written out of the MCU adaptation. Her name is Susan, and she doesn’t have the greatest relationship with Kate, they’re not openly hostile, but they don’t enjoy each other either. Still, Kate is in Susan’s wedding party.

During the wedding, the church comes under fire and the Young Avengers swoop in to save the day. But they awkwardly become hostages themselves and Kate uses one of Patriots throwing stars to get them out of the situation before the police show up.

Kate very ungracefully demands to become a part of the Young Avengers (The original team is: Cassie Lang, Eli Bradley, Tommy Shepard, Billy Kaplan, Nate Richards, and Teddy Altman). Kate originally doesn’t have a hero identity, so she raids the Avengers Mansion and dawns Mockingbirds staves and mask, swordsman’s sword and belt and Hawkeyes abandoned bow.

Captain America and Iron man were not happy about the team and demanded that they disband. But eventually gave in after the Young Avengers refused to back down. Kate was the only one to stand up to Steve and demand that they get better training. He agreed and put Jessica Jones in charge of the team. This is when Kate becomes Hawkeye. Steve gives her the title and the bow. She’s the unofficial leader of the Young Avengers.

What about Clint?

Dude is dead in the Young Avengers run. Clint makes his valiant return in the massive Civil War event that Marvel comics created. He was resurrected and is absolutely pissed when he finds out that Steve gave his name and his bow away.

Clint actually attacks Kate while she’s on a date with Eli Bradley in Central Park. He’s officially Ronin at this point and is impressed by Kate’s skills after she breaks into his place to steal her bow back. He unofficially (but also totally officially) allows her to take the mantle.

The Children’s Crusade

I’m skipping a lot of small side quests that Kate takes (even though they’re a lot of fun) because Children’s Crusade is possibly the most important part of her journey, and by the looks of it, is the basis for where the MCU is planning to go in the next few years.

Kate has a really strong friendship with Billy Kaplan, aka Billy Maximoff. He’s the strongest magic being to ever inhabit earth and when his powers become dangerous the Avengers decide to lock him up. That didn’t slide with Kate, and they ended up breaking him out of the tower and entering alternate timelines in search of Billy’s mom- Wanda Maximoff.

This was pure, time-warp chaos. Wanda had forgotten who she was and was about to marry Doctor Doom when the Young Avengers showed up and pulled her out of it. She regained her powers and her memories, coming to terms with Billy and Tommy being her sons.

Once in their original timeline, a massive fight breaks out between the Avengers and the x-men. It’s a whole thing that ends up killing Cassie Lang. Her death ends up disbanding the original Young Avengers who go their separate ways to come to terms with how dangerous being a hero really is.

Matt Fraction? Matt Fraction.

Listen, if you’re looking for the inspiration behind the general vibe of the show Hawkeye, this is the run for you. If you read anything from Kate’s comic journey, let it be this. You don’t need any prior knowledge to Kate or Clint to enjoy this one and the artwork heavily inspired the intro to the show.

In this series, Clint is the owner of an apartment building that’s since been taken over by the tracksuit mafia. Kate and Clint have an established friendship and the dynamic is very much like the show. But grittier. The series leans into Clint’s deafness and Kate’s trauma. It’s a basis for their relationship.

Los Angeles, baby

Kate goes to LA a lot. It’s her home away from New York and her arcs there are some of my favorite (it’s a guilty pleasure, honestly). During her run with Matt Fraction’s Hawkeye, she has a particularly bad fight with Clint. She takes Lucky and jets off to the beach to find her niche.

Kate becomes a very cool, very chill private eye for her first solo run; Hawkeye Private Eye. While she does eventually go back to New York to help out Clint, she starts her own business in Los Angeles where she teams up with Jessica Jones and Laura x23. Very fun, very goofy series.

[This took...hours. Literal Hours. But I have access to all the digital archives for Kate so, I'm more than happy to keep going lol]

[nonexistent-introvert]

Jealousy

Pairing: Joel Miler x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Content: non-established relationship, third party, jealousy, hurt/comfort?, fluff, Joel is one dense idiot, confessions

A/N: This was the outcome of my drinking coffee at 10pm and not being able to fall asleep after that till 3am

Being dragged to a party was enough to ruin your day. It was already a taxing day, you had gone out for patrol early this morning and couldn’t even catch a break when you returned. Since the clinic needed extra help since it was flu season. When you were finally on your way back home, ready to crash into bed early today. You bumped into Tommy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, insisting that you must turn up for the party that Maria organized to welcome the new people into town. 

   The woman that was basically glued to Joel’s side did not help matters at all. Her arm was on Joel’s bicep as she laughed into his shoulder. You stood in the corner, annoyance clear on your face as you finished the bottle in your hand. Your vision was going blurry and the room spun around you. Your body was slumped against the wall, all the warning signs going off in your head that you should stop with the alcohol. 

  The only thing that was still clear in your mind was the vision of the two of them. The obnoxious laughter erupting from her and how her hands traveled Joel’s arm. 

  “Hey hey.” A hand waved in front of your blurry vision, making your head hurt even more. “It’s Tommy.” Tommy’s hands firmly gripped onto your shoulders, grounding you to reality. Your words slurred together as you muttered a greeting to him through your drunken stupor.

  “Jesus, how much did you drink? What has gotten into you?” Tommy exclaimed in disbelief over the loud music. You merely laughed in Tommy’s face, trying your best not to puke your guts onto him. 

  “I’ll take care of her.” Even in your drunken state, you recognized that voice immediately. “No.” You blurted out. “You don’t need help?” Tommy asked for good measure, Joel merely grunted in response. He put your hands around his shoulder to help you stand. The woman he was with appeared in your view again and you were suddenly reminded of the reason why you were in this state in the first place. “Fuck off.” You cursed, pushing Joel away from you before stumbling into a wall. Your head was spinning as you watched him get held back by the woman as you clumsily made your way out of the pub. 

    Joel calmly helped hold your hair back. You were bending over the grass, emptying the contents of your stomach into the field. A small hint of annoyance on his face at the fact that you had pushed him away and told him to “fuck off”. Concern was more evident on his face as he watched you. A series of curses escaped your mouth as you coughed, you felt humiliated that he had to watch you ungracefully vomit onto the grass. 

   Joel quietly handed you a bottle of water that he had brought. You gulped it down, the water sobering you up. Letting you comprehend the weight of your actions.Before you could do anything to push Joel away again, he swiftly bent down and wrapped your legs around his hips. “Don’t be difficult.” Joel warned, standing up to his full height with you on his back. 

==================+

   Joel woke up with a grunt, stretching his sore back. He really was getting on age. His first instinct was to check on you. He stood up, towering over you on his bed. He snickered upon watching you while he gently tucked you properly under the sheets. Joel should wake you up for patrol but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when you would probably wake up with a bad hangover and you’re sleeping so soundly in his bed. His eyes stared at the mattress that he had slept on, it wasn’t like the both of you didn’t share a bed before. You slept in his bed often, he would wake up sprawled out in bed with his arms around you and your chin on his head. However, he still felt that it was wrong to be sleeping in the same bed as you when you were drunk. Especially when you had muttered to him drowsily, “You’re so handsome, I want to kiss you.” He shivered slightly at the memory of it, his whole body burning up and turning red at just the thought of it. 

    Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t survive the night if he had slept next to you. 

   Joel went to Tommy first to explain the situation. Tommy only sighed in defeat, telling Joel that he and any other available men were due for a visit to the dam to ensure that everything was ok for the winter. “You could just not do it today. I’ll send a bigger group tomorrow instead.’ Tommy suggested. There was an unspoken rule in Jackson, no one does patrols alone. “I’ll look around.” Joel replied he wasn’t one to put things off, preferring to get it done to prevent matters from snowballing. 

   Joel went around town, Jesse was busy with the preparations for the dam. Ellie was still knocked out from the party yesterday. He was at wit's end as he contemplated if he should wake you up instead. 

  “Joel! You’re up early.” Joel gave Julia a polite nod. “I have patrol,” he replied. Julia grinned, putting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Stay safe.” He nodded, about to stride past her when the idea popped into his head. “Do you mind going to patrol with me?” he asked. Julia’s face brightened, a slight flush on her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah sure!” She agreed with no hesitation. 

   Julia was new. She doesn’t even know the route that Joel was taking today nor did she have the skills to ride a horse which was required for the longer route. It was the whole reason why Joel had told her to ride with him. “Stay close to me ya hear?” He instructed as he swiftly hopped onto his horse. “You say that like it’s a hard thing to do.” Julia smiled shyly. Julia was flirting with him. He cleared his throat awkwardly, averting his gaze elsewhere to distract himself. 

   His breath hitched in his throat when he saw you. You were dressed in his winter jacket, your eyes were on him. He watched as you turned away from him and walked away before he could even call you over. Joel chewed on his lip, he will talk to you when he’s back. 

=========================================

    The hangover was bad. Bad enough for you to not remember a single thing after you had blacked out on Joel’s back. Bad enough to not make you want to get up. You recognised the bed, it was Joel’s considering that it was a queen size bed. Yours was merely a single. You weren’t a stranger to Joel’s bed, you frequented it rather often for someone who wasn’t even in a relationship with him. There was mattress pulled out beside the bed, you assumed  Joel had slept on the mattress on the floor from the untidied blanket. You took the hangover pills that Joel had left for you at his bedside, heart warming at his small gesture. 

  The clock on his bedside reminded you that you woke up just in time to make it for your patrol. Despite feeling like there was someone pounding in your head, you still felt obligated to turn up as Joel’s partner. It was a responsibility and duty after all.

 You trudged in the cold snow, zipping the winter jacket that you had stolen from his closet. It was times like this that you wished you weren’t such a responsible person. You wished you would just stay in the comfort of his bed and rest. Joel was already saddled on his horse, behind him sat the woman from the bar yesterday, her arms wrapped tightly around Joel’s waist. You clenched your jaw, kicking at the snow at your boot. 

  He could have said something. You thought bitterly to yourself. Your gaze lingered on him, he must have noticed it considering how his eyes met yours from a distance. You turned away before you could gauge his reaction, dragging yourself back into the comfort of your own home.

==============================

   Joel stood at your door, holding onto a box filled with some cake. Maria baked the cake today and set Joel on the mission to bring you some as well. Although Tommy’s expression might have given away Maria’s hidden agenda. Joel likes to believe that he wasn’t dense, but he really can’t recall what he did to piss you off. However, it seems that Maria already knew from how she practically ordered Joel to bring you cake as a peace offering. 

  The first thing Joel noticed when you opened the door was your scowl. You usually smiled when you saw him. “I brought cake.” He announced, lifting the box in his hands. Your hand almost slammed the door right in his face upon hearing that. “Give it to Ellie.” You said, your eyebrows furrowing further. “Is this your purpose for visiting me?” You asked, Joel stumbled over his words in surprise. “Yea-” You took the box from his hands. “Thanks,” You forced out, “You can go now. Bye.” Joel's eyes widened as you closed the door on him. 

    “Hey!” Joel pushed against your door with his hands, stopping you. “What is your problem?” He snapped. You scoffed, “Since we are both so mad at each other, let’s just cut this interaction short.” He shook his head, “I just didn’t like how you’re treating me alright?” Joel defended, “We should be talking, stop acting like a child throwing a petty temper.” Joel scolded. You glared at him. Joel pushed past you, ignoring your glare, and sat down on your couch.  He patted the seat beside him, demanding that you sat next to him and talk to him. 

   “The hell was that? The hell is wrong with you?” He started. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his tone. “Let’s just say I’m not interested in the stupid cake she made for you.” You snarked. Joel tilted his head in confusion, “Maria?” he muttered, not understanding you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment, it was Maria who made the cake. “No- just-” You groaned in frustration. He waited beside you while you find the words to express yourself, his eyes scanning yours for any hints of what had made you upset. “I just thought you would have at least informed me beforehand.” Joel ran his hands through his hair, trying to tell what you were referring to. His eyebrows furrowed even further, “Oh, patrol. You’re upset that I left without you?” Joel asked, remembering how he had seen you turn away from him and walk back. He didn’t chase after you then, despite wanting to. He was already late, the sun was coming up and he had to admit that he struggled quite a long time before he found someone to be his partner. You wanted to dig a hole 6 feet under and bury yourself, how is Joel missing the main point that was pissing you off? “You could have told me you were going to patrol with someone else.” You stated. He sat up, “You mean Julia?”  You pushed down the bitter feeling at hearing him mutter her name. 

    “I thought you would appreciate the rest. The hangover must be bad.” He explained. You closed your eyes. The problem didn’t lie in him finding someone else to go for patrol with him, it was the fact that he got Julia, the woman who looked at him with literal heart shapes in her eyes. “But you aren’t just mad over that, are you? You were pretty mean to me yesterday too.” Joel continued. You panicked a little, wondering what you had done in your drunken state. “I- I just can’t stand Julia alright?” You admitted. “Come on, we both knew what she was trying to do right? And you let her.” 

  Joel pursed his lips, trying his best to bite back his smile. It finally clicked, you’re jealous. “What was she doing?” He challenged. In his defence, he only realised today what Julia was doing, that she was flirting with him. Your eyes widened, “Are you blind? You didn’t know?” You were exasperated, “She’s trying to get into your pants Joel, for lack of a better word.” Joel chuckled. “And that upset you.” You cursed internally, you walked straight into the stupid trap he had laid out for you. “I’m not jealous.” You lied blatantly, “It was just so attention seeking, I hate attention seekers.” You said, body relaxing. He grinned at your response and how you relaxed, he was finally getting to you. “I hate you Joel, stop playing dumb.” You shoved him. Joel laughed, “in my defense, I truly didn’t catch on till today.” 

   “What made you realise then? Did she finally achieve her goal?” You replied sarcastically. 

   “She kissed me. Everything fell into place after that.” Joel admitted. The silence was heavy, your mind was overcrowded with thoughts. 

================

   “Finally! The checkpoint! My feet were killing me.” Julia complained. Joel merely hummed in response, his mind going back to you. You never complained, hell you even liked the walks. Sometimes the both of you would even venture further because you liked walking while talking to Joel and he certainly didn’t mind. He flipped open the patrol book in the hut, signing his name and Julia’s into it. 

   His body stiffened significantly and he almost instinctively elbowed her. Julia had wrapped his arms around his waist while he was signing, he could feel her breath on his back as she leaned into him. Joel immediately turned, pushing her away gently as he pressed himself against the table, trying to put some distance between Julia and him. “What are you-“ 

   Her lips were on his. His mind short-circuited at her sudden action. Julia's lips moved against his and he jerked away, turning his head away from her. “I- what-“ he couldn’t even find the right words to say to her as he looked at her. “Joel, I’m sorry. I just can’t help it.” She started. She ran her hands through her hair, “I really like you, Joel. I-“ 

   “I don't. I don’t feel anything close to that for you.” Joel stated clearly. His tone was so cold while he glared daggers at her. “But- but you let me flirt. “ her words were background noise to him. That was what he got for being dense huh. He had honestly thought she was just being nice to him and so he too was nice to her. He didn’t expect to give her the wrong idea. 

   Everything else was a blur after that. Joel never rode so fast in his life back to Jackson. He could hear Julia sniffling behind him but he honestly couldn’t care less. Feeling extremely disgusted at her sudden gestures, that she had approached him with the agenda of something more. As though he would marry her at first sight or something. Joel is an old fashioned man, he didn’t believe in love at first sight, he firmly believed that you had to get to know someone before you could fall in love with them. 

=================

   All feelings of jealousy had left you already. You were bent over, cackling as Joel retold the events of today. “I don’t see anything funny.” He deadpanned. “Your face, Joel just imagine your face, the horror when she kissed you. She should have snapped a photo or something.” You laughed. Joel smiled, relieved to know that you weren’t upset anymore. “I can’t believe you got jealous.” He reminded you. You stopped laughing, “I wasn’t” “Yeah you keep telling yourself that.” He drawled. 

   “I don’t blame you. Thinking back, I would be jealous if I was in your shoes.” He said, his arm was over your shoulder now. Your legs were thrown over his lap while your head leaned against his arm behind you. The tension between the both of you is long gone. “A man coming to you, laughing with his hands all over you. Then riding off into the sunrise with you. Nah I doubt that, he probably won’t even survive the night at the bar, he definitely won’t be your partner for patrol the next day.” “Ok sounds like violent tendencies to me.” You joked. He smiled. 

   “Being jealous tends to apply to people in a relationship.” Joel pointed out. “Being jealous of people getting too close doesn’t usually apply to close friends or whatever we are.” You knew what he was getting at, the line of being just friends has been blurred between the both of you for the longest time. “Would you be my boyfriend?” You asked in a mocking voice. A voice that reminded you of a schoolgirl trying to confess to their hallway crush. He laughed, “Took you long enough.” You nudged him, “Aren’t guys supposed to make the first move?” “Well, Julia made the first move.” He teased “Fine! Go back to her then.” You rolled your eyes.

   Joel cupped your cheek and pressed his lips to yours, effectively silencing you. He was gentle like he was afraid of scarring or breaking you. When he pulled away, he looked at you with a boyish smile. “You’re so handsome I want to kiss you.” He imitated your voice yesterday.

   There was no way you said that. You recognised that he was mocking you but you had zero recollection of saying that. He must be just teasing you right? “You might have whispered that into my ear when I placed you down on my bed before snoring loudly seconds later,” Joel said. Your jaw dropped in horror, “You’re lying. I don’t snore.” You defended, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “That is the most attractive thing ever. I definitely wouldn’t remember it wrongly.” You hid your face in his shoulder, you wished you were six feet under now. “Please forget it.” You muttered. He chuckled. 

   “If I had forgotten it, I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

  It was weird how jealousy had brought the both of you together. 

[diejager]

End of Scene Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, murder, death, blood and gore, sadism, Dark!reader, dark!Ghost, stabbing, stalking, Ghostface!reader, home invasion,

Part 4

Slinking from shadow to shadow, you stalked the backdrop of a familiar house, eyes wandering over it’s baby blue walls and curtainless, wide windows, showing the world their private life. Every argument, every fit and every smile were on show, none hidden from prying eyes or dangerous attention. It was practically calling your name, asking - no - it was begging you to do something about it, to give this obnoxious and arrogant neighbourhood something to fear and watch out for. It was waiting for someone to humble this so-called “safest neighbourhood in the world”, no security camera and no patrolling police. It was just taunting you, especially when you hated the owner of this house. 

Abigail; sweet, sweet Abigail was tonight’s squealing pig. She was so whiny, always complaining about how her life was so hard when she lived off her parent’s money, in the richest part of the city and could afford whatever she wanted. She was a spoiled brat, spoiled rotten to the core from what you’d come to learn through a long month of observation. You didn’t liked brats, much less spoiled ones, Simon taught you to hate them, he whispered to you at night about how he would beat them to a pulp. You learned to learned to put them in their place.

And she was so easy —too easy. She followed the same routine, her nights spent drinking until all she could do was waddle to her bed, trying and sometimes failing to reach her bed and just laying on her floor. Abigail was at her weakest in a drunken stupor, bumbling and stammering as she spoke when you called, watching as your raspy voice confused her, but the best moment was meeting her in the morning, her paranoid glances around her and awkward gait from her pounding hangover. While she was fun to spook, you were growing tired of watching the same thing over and over again, she wasn’t what you were looking for anymore and soon, you’d have to move on, find another obsession. It was time to end this story. 

You crouched outside her window, licking your lips in anticipation, you waited for her to stumble into the kitchen, searching for her new bottle of aged wine that you caught her buy for over two hundred. Seeing you moment, you crawled through the open window that she always left open for better air circulation, stalking past the kitchen entrance and hiding away in her closet. You had to bite your tongue to keep your excited giggle from slipping, enjoying her ambling through the small gap in the door, she placed her wine glass and bottle, and ungracefully dropped down on her couch, hissing about her back pain. 

You stared with bated breath, gazing at her while she took sip after sip, throwing herself deeper in the ground with how fast the alcohol was getting to her head. You huffed, pushing open the closet door without a sound and sliding behind her. She was too drunk to be aware of her immediate surrounding, a sloppy and annoying person that you were about to… bring to the limelight with your art. Knife in hand, you swiped at her neck with your free hand, gripping her throat to pull her back, throwing her to the ground with little care while she wailed and begged. 

“Please! Please! What do you want?! I’ll give you anything! Anything!!”

You straddled the back of her thighs, ignoring her tearful screams in favour of admiring her helpless figure, too weak to fight you off and too drunk to do anything. 

“Anything I want, yeah?” You cackled, watching her nod and gurgle out weeps, “I want your life then.”

Raising your knife, a clean and well-kept buck knife that Simon got you, you took a shuddering breath, scenting her terror before you swung down, sinking it deep into her back. You appreciated her choked scream and the wet squelch of your stab, blood pooled from her wound when you pulled out, spraying you in red when you stabbed her once more. You killed with passion, a final act of acknowledgment to a person you grew to know, an integral part of your stories. You sunk your knife into her again, and again, and again, flicking blood all over you and around you, staining the furniture and walls with flakes of red and the cashmere carpet of hers with a pool of blood. 

You listened to her choke on her blood, her chin painted a bright red and eyes blinking slowly, you sat back on your haunches, head lolling back with a heavy, but satisfied sigh. Slowly reaching into your jacket, you pulled out your camera and switched it on, quickly admiring the previous pictures you took with prior actors. Sliding the knife back into it’s sheath, you kneeled forward, gloved hand harshly grasping at the roots of her bleached hair and propped her up for a selfie, her body still warm under you and mouth dripping blood. Smiling behind the mask, you took a few pictures, the shutter clicking loudly in your ears with the bright and blinding flash of the lights, and dropped Abigail, her head slamming roughly with a wet splash on the carpet. 

You flipped through the shots, admiring your bloody work with a proud hum, unbothered by her dying rasp and last wheeze. You secured your camera in the pocket you sewed in your jacket and stared at your piggy one last time before you’d leave the closing scene of your story to reporters and authorities to write and critique. You hummed a small lullaby, looking over the dirtied walls and smeared floor, you turned to the window you crawled in from. Then your phone shook, vibrating in your coat, and in a moment of curiosity, too happy to be mad that you were interrupted in your moment you looked at the caller name. It was Simon!

“Hi, Si,” you grinned, a higher pitch in your tone despite the modulator’s incapability of catching it.

“ ‘ello, kit,” his reply was slow, lazy in a way, unlike your giddy one, “Where are you?”

You looked around the room and open hallway, it’d be useless to lie to him when you answered him with the voice changer on, and lying to him would disappoint him. You hated disappointing Simon, how that small, but warm gleam in his eyes would turn cold and blank, showing how much he was displeased with your acts and decision. 

“Abigail’s, just finished.”

You caught a proud rumble - more so a growl - from his side and clothes shifting as he moved from, what you presumed, his bed. 

“At piggy’s? Sloppy, kit, what if there are cameras?”

You laughed, a loud, boisterous and belly chuckle.

“You know me, Si. You didn’t teach me to be sloppy, I know what I’m doing.”

“Good, do me proud and I’ll fuck you good when ’m home, yeah?”

Part6

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @@cod-z @sweetnanah @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[moonctzeny]

Let’s start the year off right

pairing: ex boyfriend to lover!jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: smut, angst

wc: 1,8k

warnings: groping, fingering, oral (female receiving)

a/n: hey Autumn @smileyerim​ ! I hope you enjoy this fic for the secret santa event!! 💖 I’m really sorry I was sooo late 😭😭 hope you had an amazing holiday season and you enjoy this!!

“What about him?”

Sliding further into the couch, you sigh at your friend pointing at yet another prospective victim. He was tall, and cute, yet the way he was holding his drink gave you an ick you couldn’t shake off. The new year’s party you were currently at was full of them, in fact. The hallway overflowed with single men your age, almost like a pretty boy factory, all of them not quite fitting your piece of the puzzle.

“How many times do I need to tell you? Even if he is into me, I’ve completely forgotten how to flirt!”

“Well if you never practice, how the hell are you gonna get out of your dry spell?”

“Just sit here and wait for the universe to send someone my way?”

“Hey, you can’t refuse to take a risk, and also pester me all night about how horny you are. You gotta pick a struggle.”

You groan at his remark, your frustration growing bigger. The boy you were looking at sends you a smile, and you hope he doesn’t invite himself over.

“It’s not that it’s just… I’m gonna have to ask him for his name, and his work, and his friends, then his family… all for it to possibly not work out in the end.”

“Building a relationship of any kind takes time, y/n. It’s not like Santa is gonna fall from the chimney with your new year’s kiss!”

As if rehearsed, someone barges through the front door right then, magnetizing everyone’s eyes on him at once. The stranger in a bright red Santa costume has his head fallen, warm brown locks swinging as he pants heavily.

“Sorry I’m late! Your elevator’s broken.”

“Not a chimney, but close enough”, your friend mumbles, amused, before gasping as the other man finally stands up straight. You could have recognized those dimples anywhere.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Good to see you too”, the stranger responds to your not-so-subtle observation, though he wasn’t much of a stranger anymore. He was no other than your ex, the one you’ve so skillfully managed to avoid for months, until Fate decided to bring you back together right before the year changed and you’d decide to change with it. He seemed eager to aid Fate, confidently striding towards you and Mark, before ungracefully sprawling himself onto the tiny couch next to you.

“Nice outfit”, you sigh, trying to inhale as little of that cologne you got him for your last anniversary that made your knees turn to jello.

“You always told me I look good in red”, he retorts quickly, witty as ever. “My friend’s kid threw a party and they were looking for a Santa.”

The explanation mellows you out a little, appreciating the reason behind the ridiculous attire.

“Anything you want to ask for from Mr. Claus?”, he jokes, “What do you wanna get for Christmas?”

“Fucked”, Mark deadpans, and manages to escape your chokehold right on time.

“Hey Mark could you please go get yourself a drink in the kitchen? And stay there?”

A wicked smile stretches across the younger boy’s face.

“Oh, I see, I see. You want me to leave you two alone”, he hums, entertained, and you decide not to swear at him at hopes he leaves you alone faster. Jaehyun’s breath that suddenly tickles your ear makes you jump in your seat.

“If you sit on Santa’s lap and ask nicely, maybe your wish will come true.”

Kissing your teeth in annoyance, you press the back of your palms to your cheeks, blaming the hotness of your face to a non-existing headache.

“I think I’m having an allergic reaction to your jokes.”

“I thought you liked my humour?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute”, you tell him honestly, and now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. You notice some redness around his chin, probably from the fake beard he must have had on earlier, and you’re reminded at how easily his skin flares up. Your mind time-travels at all those times you saw his pale skin as a canvas, leaving marks in shades of pink and purple, and you’re so desperate to keep your mind off the thought of your teeth sinking into his neck that you’d talk about anything at this point.

“How’s work?”, you ask a bit awkwardly, regretting the question as soon as you see him tense up. Maybe the reason why you broke up in the first place isn’t the best conversation starter.

“Good. I’ve learned to manage my time a bit better. To spend time with the ones I loved. Wish I could’ve done that sooner.”

The small yet intentional jab leaves a dull pain somewhere deep in your guts.

“I’m happy for you.”

“You are?”

“Yeah”, you nod, earnestly, “I know how hard you work. You deserve your success.”

“Thank you”, he manages to choke out, his eyes a little watery, though it could have been due to tiredness. He passes you both a glass full of a fizzy alcoholic drink, and the bubbles in your tongue soothe you a little.

So you take a few more sips, just enough to let yourself enjoy the warmth Jaehyun’s body emits next to you, enough to snuggle up to him a little. You talk, and talk. About your life, about the mutual friends you both had to become distant to after your break up, about the little habits that you used to share. And it feels nice. So nice that when he asks you for a dance, you don’t even think to scoff in incredulousness.

You scan the room for any prying eyes, only to find everyone preoccupied in the own little universe rather than yours. Jaehyun’s palm is big and inviting as he stretches out his arm towards you and you take it, recognizing that the song that started playing moments ago, was the one you used to call as “yours”.

“Can I be honest with you?”

He spins you slowly around him and the room spins with you, the effects of the champagne evident on his rosy cheeks. Your hands play with the soft fabric of the ridiculous costume that he’s somehow pulling off.

“Please”, you whisper, trying to catch a breath as your chests connect in the crescendo of the chorus.

“I’m not sure what to do with all these feelings for you.”

You stumble on your toes a little, stepping on the corner of his shoe. Your attempt to voice out an apology gets fizzled out when you realize he’s hanging on the tip of your tongue for a response to his confession.

“You still have feelings for me?”

“You don’t?”

His hands move awkwardly from their place on your waist, and you feel like your heart is going to break if he moves even an inch away from you.

You glance at the clock. 10 minutes to 00:00.

Screw it. You can’t wait that long.

Grabbing the back of his neck, you pull him down into a kiss. The forceful movement makes his red hat drop to the floor yet he doesn’t seem to care. He presses his lips against yours harder, moving them slowly as the song fades out into another. Big hands bring you closer, resting right above your ass. You can’t help but silently ask him for your kiss to deepen, sliding the tip of your tongue against his bottom lip. He gladly shares a french kiss with you and when you suck on his tongue lightly, a trick you knew how much he loved when you were together, he lets out a groan that vibrates you both.

You’re not sure where he’s leading you but you follow him, hands travelling across his collarbones as you feel your back getting pressed against a door. His face gets buried in the slope of your neck, sucking at your skin until your legs give out. You can practically feel his devious smirk as he prepares his joke inside his head.

“So. Have you been naughty, or nice?”

“Shut up, Jaehyun.”

You knock on the door behind you (that belonged to the apartment’s only bathroom, apparently), and after getting no answer from the other side, you pull Jaehyun inside with you.

You barely manage to lock before your ass is on the cool sink, your skirt getting pulled up to the top of your thighs. You let your fingers wander past the elastic of his boxers, following the path of his happy trail.

“You first”, he moans, and gets on his knees in front of you. He inserts his middle and then his ring finger, establishing a pace that is both leisurely and sinfully wonderful. And when his lips find your clit, you’re finally reminded of how well he knows what makes your toes crawl; he can play you in the palm of his hand. The sounds of him kissing and slurping echo in the small bathroom, but you can't beg him to stop when you're also struggling to control your moans. You get dizzy from the sensation of his tongue sucking on your pussy and the soft pads of his fingers stroking your walls, and you start digging your nails into the marble in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from falling over.

You can faintly hear the distant cheers of the other party goers from the living room.

“...three, two, one. Happy New Year!”

You bite your fist to stop yourself from making a sound as your orgasm strikes you like a wave, yet that wouldn’t be the end for Jaehyun. He firmly lays one hand on your hips, cupping your left boob with the other. Stars dance over your vision as he continues to lap up on your arousal, sucking on your swollen nub until your whole body starts to shake in overstimulation.

He finally mercies you, pupils blown out from the unadulterated arousal as he gets up on his feet and you take his place on the floor. His cock is pressing desperately against the velvet fabric of his pants, and you’re ready to return the favor when a loud knock on the door startles you.

“Get out already! Some people have to pee!”

You have no choice but to laugh at the other party, straightening out your clothes in silence. You were on your way to the door when you feel Jaehyun cupping your jaw, leaving a surprisingly soft kiss on your raw lips.

“I don’t want the night to end now. Wanna get out of here?”

You smile.

“Sure. Let’s go do something fun. You know what they say; whatever it is you’re doing on the first day of the year, you’ll end up doing for the rest of it too.”

“Guess I’ll have to do you, then.”

It was your turn to kiss him now, yet the intention behind yours felt much heavier.

“Let’s start the year off right.”