#ooc: holy fucking shit this took hours-

[almostempty]

self esteem part 4 - the more you suffer (joel x f!reader)

wc: 12.1k | masterlist | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 |

part 1 ⎯ part 2 ⎯ part 3 ⎯

hey y’all, it’s me back with more farm-to-table Joel smut. Took a while to figure this one out, but I hope you’re hungry horny bc it’s lengthy and full o’ fuckin’.

summary: Date Night Dave is back by popular demand, and fuckboy Joel finally experiences a consequence??? 

warnings/tags: fuckboy!Joel, gratuitous smut, pwp, alcohol use, unprotected piv sex (that has no physical consequences bc it’s fiction and I like it that way), oral sex, public blow job, cock warming in a car, reoccuring guest appearance by dom!dave, date night dave inspo from the cartier campaign bc that's rich dave right??? au/ooc dave york is single/rich/mysterious and down to clown, jealous!joel, soft!joel, cuck!joel, jorkin’!joel, some angsty bits, no use of y/n, voyeur/exhibitionistish, light d/s dynamics, light (?) degradation/humiliation, praise kink, AU modern/no outbreak, overall just a lot of sex with some feelings in between, no beta blame all mistakes on me/adhd/insomnia 

a/n: please leave feedback! Tell me all ur thots! 

thanks: to everyone who has read parts 1-3, that means the world to me 

Dedicated to @gothcsz for the punishment inspo and @auteurdelabre for encouraging my delusions , and @strangergraphics for dividers

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

It’s like it was a curse, not a confession. Joel’s voice plays on a loop in your mind. For days. You hear it when you wake up, against your will. It’s a reflex at this point. You hear it when your mind drifts at work, when Katie blathers on about who knows what on your brunch date, and it gets loudest at night when you can’t sleep. It repeats and repeats and repeats. Taunting you, describing you, mocking you. Leading you on. 

Occasionally, you play the tape all the way through. Finishing the rest of the scene. Starting with 'All I can fuckin’ think about' all the way up to when that coward skipped out the door at the first glimpse of that thread connecting you. The first sign of something laced with vulnerability. 

Every minute that passes since you’ve been cursed with Joel Miller’s enigmatic mid-coitus confession is torture. Slow, painful, agony. Time drags so excruciatingly slowly that you feel like months have passed, but it’s only been three days since you were cursed with this affliction when you get a text. Well, it’s practically a fucking email. A business memo. 

Dave: Hey, I wanted to follow up. I enjoyed our date and would love to see you again. I’m out of town for the next 72 hours, but I’d like to take you out for drinks again when I return. I can pick you up again Thursday night, same time? Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be available earlier in the evening on Friday. If you’d like to do dinner. 

Dave: I’ll be honest, though; I’d prefer to see you sooner than later. 

Holy shit. 

You reread the message at least three times as you sink onto your sofa. Your stomach flips at his second message, before you start trying to pick it apart, anyway.

It’s almost too…formal? Cordial? Maybe you’re just used to only getting cryptic sentence fragments from Joel, who texts like he’s rocking a Nokia 3310. Because it’s also so direct. Dave is not afraid to communicate clearly and express his interest in you. It’s not overtly sexual, but not nonchalant, Goldilocks approves. 

You grin at the phone in your hand, and your gaze veers off until you’re staring at the wall, projecting the replay of your date with Dave like a movie at the drive-in. His mouth grazing your ear as he murmured filthy thoughts to you at the table, his fingers skating up your thigh, the taste of his cock sliding along your tongue, and the sounds that started from deep in his chest before he came down your throat. 

It’s not like Dave wasn’t memorable, but damn, you had been wallowing in your feelings over Joel like it was your full-time job. Fuck that. Dave is a welcome distraction. You agree to drinks and let him know you’re looking forward to seeing him, before swapping to your text thread with Katie. 

You: is it just because the bar is in hell for men, or is it appropriate for my pussy to flood over a man with a plan??? 

Katie: Can it be both? 

Katie: Oh my god

Katie: PLEASE tell me it’s the bathroom blowjob guy

Katie: Is he planning a second date? 

Katie: I told you! Green flags! 

You: maybe 🙃

……..

Knowing you have a date to look forward to eases the sting. The memory of Joel walking out the door. You can still hear his fucking bedroom voice in your ear, but the chokehold loosens slightly. You fill the next couple of days with anything and everything to make the time pass faster. Too busy to have the time to check your phone or, worse, text Joel. 

Dave continues to be everything Joel isn’t. Communicative, confirming your plans the morning of, punctual, pulling up precisely on time, and a gentleman greeting you with a compliment and opening the car door for you. You know you've let the demented demons within you get a little too comfortable when the green flags almost give you the ick. Katie’s voice echoes in your ears, and you suck it up.

It turns out Distraction Dave is just as hot as you remember–even without a jealous Joel-shaped ogre stirring your loins from across the room. He exudes a debonair charm with his tailored, quiet luxury brand look. You feel a wave of insecurity lurch in your chest before you realize he’s got you on his arm like you’re a designer accessory. He’s pleased to be seen with you as he guides you to your table in the dimly lit jazz-style lounge. It puts you at ease when he takes the lead in making decisions. 

The cocktails are strong, but you’ve only had a few sips before. It’s Dave who has you feeling warm in the face. He’s flirty but doesn’t push. He doesn’t assume you will get handsy under the table again. In your twisted brain, that only emboldens you to make a move. He’s still talking, but you aren’t really listening, distracted by his neck and lips and how close you are to each other. 

Close enough that it’s no stretch to slide your hand from your lap to his. You drag your hand slowly, up up up. When the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, you feel your pulse jump. The atmosphere fades, and the noise blurs as your senses lock onto him. Dave’s brow twitches just before his hand covers yours. 

“There she is,” his smile is devilishly handsome with a dark glint in his eyes, “my dirty girl.” His voice, his words, and the heat of his hand sprinkle horny fairy dust over you. “Thought about you all week,” he confesses. 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

You swallow your intrusive Joel-voiced thought. Flush it away into the sewer. 

“Me?” you ask coyly, batting your lashes. He hums, affirming. His hand squeezes yours, and heat starts to pool between your legs. “What about me?” your eyes have a sparkle in them as you sip your drink. He leans closer to you, nose grazing the soft skin behind your ear, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Thought about your pretty face,” he tips your chin towards him with his free hand, so close he’s all you can see. “Thought about these lips,” he gently kisses you, retreating before you can escalate the intensity. You pout at the distance when he draws back and smirks at your needy expression. “Thought I might not hear back from you with how distracted you were by your not-ex not-stalking you last time.” 

An ache flares in your heart before you drown it with irritation. Garbled words stick in your throat. Something sharp and defensive tries to slash through, but Dave continues, unbothered before you can get anything out of your mouth. 

“Mostly,” his crisp, rich scent washes over you as he dips into dot kisses up your neck, dissolving your defenses. His warm breath tickles your ear as he husks in a low tone, “I thought about how this greedy throat felt trying to swallow my cock,” his fingers wrap around your neck for emphasis, and he feels your quiet whimper of a response. 

Your cheeks burn. He claims your lips with a hungry kiss that has your moans vibrating in your throat beneath his hand. It’s urgent and needy how your tongues, teeth, and lips collide. When his other hand finally releases yours, and he possessively cups either side of your jaw in his large palms, you’re lost momentarily. Consumed by the sensation of Dave’s tongue sliding against yours and the desire to crawl into his lap and straddle him here in the booth. 

You shove away the thought of Joel that flashes through your mind and double down on your desire for Dave. You bite sharply at his bottom lip, roughly knocking your faces together as you press your body into his, demanding more intensity as you make out.

When you break apart, you feel the crazed expression on your face as you smirk at the man in front of you. “I’ll give you more to think about,” you say more breathlessly than you intended, but the message is still clear. 

You dive back in, licking a hot stripe up his neck and biting at his earlobe. Your hand is back on task, groping for Dave’s thick erection when he stops you again. He tugs your hand away, and you huff. 

Dave laughs, enjoying the frustration on your features as he tucks your hair back behind your ear. He’s rudely composed while you’re on fire. 

“Finish your drink,” he tilts his head towards the antique glass in front of you. You down the rest in an impolite gulp, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Dave shakes his head softly, a mix of mild disbelief and something headier. “That’s a good girl,” he acquiesces you for following his direction with gusto. 

His praise drips over you like warm honey, easing the confusion you felt at his rejection of your touch. He answers your unspoken question, “We can stay here, dirty girl, but I’d prefer to take you home so I can get my mouth on you this time.” The close quarters in the booth have you nearly nose to nose. A smirk spreads across his face when your lips part at his proposal. 

“Let’s go,” you respond quickly, it’s an easy decision. 

He takes you to his condo nearby. It’s modern, masculine, and decorated but not very revealing of anything more personal about him. He wastes no time leading you to the bedroom, and you’re just as eager to get him into bed. 

But when your impatient hands start tugging at his clothes, he grips you harshly, fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper arms, pinning them to your sides, essentially immobilizing you as he holds you back. He has this look to him like he knows something that you don’t, and that’s enough to make you pause. 

“She’s hungry, hm?” it’s phrased like a question, but you don’t think he’s expecting a real answer. His eyes rove over you before he relaxes his grip. 

“Sit.” 

You obey without a thought, perching on the edge of the perfectly made bed before him. “That’s a good girl,” his voice has a raw edge to it, and the phrase shoots straight to your core. You fight to keep still, overwhelmed with the sudden need to please him and convinced he wants to see how closely you’ll follow his orders. 

Dave’s eyes are full of lust and something darker as he studies you, his presence looming, commanding, and teasing. “Look at you, ready for more.” His tone is mocking but coated with approval that tingles along your spine. He grabs your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze again, “You liked the risk last time. Coming on my fingers under the table.” 

You nod, and he grants you a flash of a smile. It’s gorgeous but restrained and tampered back down. 

"And you liked being on your knees for me. You liked taking my cock down your throat, didn’t you?” 

You nod again, but his fingers dig into your cheeks slightly, a silent reprimand. His voice drops to a low growl, “Use your words.” Your eyes widen before you blink away the mixture of shock and thrill. 

"Yes,” you get the word out in a quietly, “I liked it," you manage to add a hint of confidence. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he strokes your cheek gently, “you did such a good job taking care of me last time.” His adoration flutters across your skin, spreading heat. “But it’s my turn now, isn’t it?” 

The wicked smirk on his face makes you feel lightheaded as he lowers himself in front of you. Your knees part reflexively to let him move closer. “That’s a good girl. Spread these legs for me,” he continues as he runs his hands along your smooth legs until he’s bunching up the bottom of your dress.

Without wasting a second, his mouth is on you, kissing the soft crease of your thighs and sucking an open mouth kiss over the damp fabric covering your core. His hands anchor your thighs, thumbs caressing your flesh in a mockery of tenderness as his mouth delivers a sinful symphony sucking at your skin, nipping at you in a way that makes your thighs tense beneath his grip and spewing dirty thoughts. 

“So wet for me,” he mutters as he raises in front of you, pulling you to stand so he can strip you bare. Your arms hang submissively by your sides as his hand moves slowly, down your jaw, wrapped around your throat, down your chest, pausing to marvel at the sight of your tits in his palms and how your mouth parts when he kneads them in his hands. 

You wonder if you should feel vulnerable as he proceeds with his inspection, but the precision of his movements keeps you lulled. Dave’s hand slips between your legs and his fingers trace the slick seam of your cunt. You can’t help the whiny groan you respond with as you strain to remain still for him. 

He snickers at your struggle, then makes it worse. “You’re dripping, you know that?” the mocking tone in his voice does something just right to you, “such a needy slut.” Oh. That has your thighs flexing, tightening around his hand as he continues to torture you, parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, drawing circles too slowly. 

“Have to stop myself from bending you over now and fucking you hard and fast.” Your body floods with need at the idea, dripping around his fingers and causing your hips to jerk.

“Please,” you whisper. You figure it’s polite enough. 

"Ah, ah," he warns, pulling back. "I know you’d like that, dirty girl.” 

Yes! You consider spinning around and giving him your best tempting display, hoping he’ll give in, but he seems to be a step ahead. “Lay down. You’ll get what you want.” 

Dave has a wicked gleam in his eyes as you spread out across the bed for him. He’s deliberate when he gets between your legs, spreading them wide and skipping the teasing kisses this time. He drags his tongue from your entrance to your throbbing clit before his plush lips wrap around you. The suction and pressure are dizzying, and you fill the room with panting and moaning. 

Your hips chase his mouth as he uses his tongue expertly, alternating between lazy circles and sharp flicks. The pleasure builds as he works at you. His technique gradually becomes indelicate, using everything he’s got in a way that makes you feel wild. His nose nudges at your clit as he dips further down. He allows you to keep rolling your hips gently as you rock against his chin before he pulls back. 

"Look at you, already unraveling for me," he says, voice drenched in amusement. "So desperate. She wants it all, hm?"

“Yes,” you whine, and your moans keep flowing as the pressure coils tighter within you. 

“Good,” he asserts, “come for me.” It’s a demand that has you gasping when he punctuates it with his fingers plunging inside of you. If you weren’t so enraptured by the growing pleasure and his voice, you might nitpick the logistics of coming on command–but he gives you no room for debate. 

Persuasively compelling your orgasm to hit as his fingers fuck into you and he sucks your clit into his furnace of a mouth. He doesn’t relent. The intensity of his mouth and fingers overwhelms you through the violent flash of pleasure and remains consistent as you writhe and contract, coming back down to earth. 

He's working you back up before you can fully recover or process his praise. Coaxing you toward another peak, capitalizing on his command of your mind and body. Every flick of his tongue pushes you higher until you’re gripping at the bed to stay in place. 

The ache for release teeters on unbearable as Dave’s groan buzzes through you. You tremble, sticking to the sheets with the sweat of desperation. You’re not cognizant of how you’re pleading with Dave, “Yes, yes, yes!”

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he stops, sitting up. 

“Hey!” you’re on edge and disoriented. 

"On your hands and knees," he orders, rougher now. "I’ve had my fill."

Oh shit. 

You scramble to obey, face hot with frustration and need as you arch in presentation for him. His hands spread your cheeks so he can get a good, long look at the sight of your glossy, swollen cunt. 

"That’s good, dirty girl, so eager," he chuckles, lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you deliciously with the slightest stretch. "You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe, the word spilling out before you form a thought.

"That’s what I thought." He pushes inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you wide. He pauses only long enough to feel your walls rippling with contractions around the length of him, confirming his prediction. “Yeah, knew this tight little cunt would take me so well.” 

You can only hum mindlessly in response before he sets a rough pace. Gripping firmly at your hips, he keeps you in place as he drives into you, grunting with the force as his hips smack against your ass, adding more lewd noise to the moans and single-syllable words you cry out. 

You’re slipping away in the feeling of him pounding into you from behind. So mindless as your body bounces off of him that, for a split second, your tortured mind drifts to Joel. Joel’s voice and his filthy mouth, how he always gets you to beg for more.  You tense up, eyes wide, hoping you haven’t said his name in your stupor.  

Mercifully, Dave doesn’t seem to react. He continues at the same pace until his hand slides up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he knocks your legs wider with his, angling you lower and thrusting even deeper inside of you. It’s a sharp, blinding need to come that possesses you. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead between gasping breaths.  

He gives you a slap for that. The sting has your eyes nearly rolling back like a caricature. Dave is launched closer to his own release because of your desperation, your ass jiggling, and his view of his cock disappearing inside of you over and over in time with your moans. 

He gives you exactly what you need as you shift, letting your weight fall into your shoulders so you can snake your hand back to swirl your fingers over your clit with precision, quickly bringing yourself to the peak. You fall apart around him as he grips your hips forcefully, using you as he needs while waves of pleasure debilitate you. 

He doesn’t slow down, pounding into you until his own release verges on crashing into him, and with a low, strained sound, he pulls out. The wet sounds of his fist are drowned out by the groan you both make as you collapse without his support, and he comes across your ass and lower back.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both panting as you come down from the high. Then, with a satisfied hum, he leans down and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your shoulder. "Good girl," he murmurs, a soothing balm after the intensity. And, when he returns with a warm washcloth to clean you up, you feel glowy and drunk in his bed. 

Dave drives you home, at your request, and walks you to your door like a gentleman. He repeats that he would be happy to see you again.

 And he does. 

You both get what you want out of the arrangement. Neither of you wants a relationship and has an interest in an emotional connection. Dave isn’t always available, but he’s communicative and arranges to pick you up once or twice a week when he’s free. 

He always offers to take you for drinks or dinner at his favorite spots. Some nights, you just ask him to take you straight to his perfectly made bed. The nights you desperately need him to fuck Joel’s voice out of your head. 

It works, for the most part, as the weeks pass. Katie rolls her eyes at you when you claim you prefer your weekly dick appointments to a real relationship, but her judgment fades when you give her a juicy detail or two about the things Dave says to you in bed. You’re grateful to have an easy out to redirect her because you don’t feel strong enough to let her see the festering wound in your chest, still refusing to let go of Joel. 

Most days, it’s dull enough to manage. It’s more of a cruel joke when you hear Joel’s voice in your head first thing upon waking. When your phone buzzes and your heart stutters, you laugh bitterly at yourself for thinking it could be that stubborn asshole. It’s never him. You don’t hear from him. You don’t reach out. You consider blocking him altogether but can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t see him on any nights out with Katie. 

You bite your tongue when you see Tommy at another karaoke night. You can’t ask about Joel, nobody knew you had been seeing each other, if that’s what you could even call it. You strategically keep yourself on the opposite end of the table from Tommy, hoping to stay out of earshot if he mentions the man haunting your thoughts. 

But as you drink your feelings one after another, they evolve. Anger swirls as you think of texting Joel and calling him out for being a gutless wonder. You pull out your phone and open your messages, rereading the last text from him. 

Joel: Miss me? 

Out of context, the two words trip you up momentarily. Even though you’ve reread them more times than you’d like to admit. And replayed that night more than you can stand. You don’t type anything to him. Your anger still burns in your gut. 

You attempt to engage with your friends, but it’s all for show. You can’t stop glancing towards Tommy, the door, or your phone. Your anger converts into something you can’t escape. 

After one more drink, your vision keeps getting blurry, not exactly from the booze. 

You try to blink back the tears in your waterline, excusing yourself from the group and dashing for the bathroom. Something messy and hurt and possesses you. Destabilizing you entirely as you feel yourself breaking down.

Weaving between bodies until you’re slamming into a stall and collapsing into a wobbly-limbed mess. Ugly sobs rip through your diaphragm, stirring up the most vulnerable fears and a cruel internal voice. Why are you hung up on someone that treated you like shit? You think it’s what you deserve? You can’t even move on? You still can’t stand up for yourself? 

Someone else enters the bathroom, and you try to hold yourself together, but they catch your sobs and ask if you’re alright. You do your best to assure the stranger that you’re okay. 

“If he makes you feel like that, he ain’t worth it, hon’,” she offers before leaving you with your thoughts in the bathroom. 

You know she meant it to be helpful, but it knocks you deeper into your feelings. You’re upset, and for what? Does he even care? Has he actually thought of you even once? He isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it, and you still can’t stop the tears pathetically streaming down your face. It hurts even worse to know you shouldn’t care. 

You stand up, and your head spins, not just from the emotional agony but from the alcohol. When you not-so-gracefully emerge and see yourself in the mirror, you nearly lock yourself back in the stall and vow to live here now. You can’t return to the table with your eyes that swollen and red and your mascara rubbed away. 

You don’t want to be seen at all. You want to be left in bed to wrestle with your self-esteem and crippling grief over something that never existed. 

You pull out your phone, only dropping it once before sending off your hail Mary, hoping Dave can pick you up. 

Where?

The response is almost instant. You send off the name of the bar and do your best to make yourself look presentable before marching back towards your friends. You give Katie a quick hug from the side, yell-whispering into her ear that Dave is picking you up and you’ll text her tomorrow, before you slip away as quickly as you can manage. Bouncing off the back of a chair on your mission to get outside. 

You lean against the cool brick wall, eyes closed, taking deep breaths of the crisp fall air as you wait for your ride. You can hear the bass from another club across the street and the laughs and shouts from the gaggle of smokers gathered further up the block. You feel syrupy and wrung out, but you aren’t going to be sick. You just need to get home. 

“You alright?” A smooth voice cuts into your thoughts. You jerk your head more dramatically than you intended, taking in Tommy’s concerned brown eyes with a sigh. Of course. 

“Just waiting for my ride,” you do your best to act sober and emotionally stable. Whatever that looks like. 

“I’ll wait with you,” he decides. 

Your shoulders drop. You must not be very convincing. “Really, I’m fine,” you add, leaning your head against the wall. 

“Right,” he steps back but doesn’t leave. He lights a cigarette and allows you the silence as he smokes alongside you. It’s kind, you suppose, not wanting to leave you alone on the street. But he’s the last person you want to be next to right now. Or maybe second to last, you realize when he laughs and steps forward with a wave, drawing your attention to a scene that stops your heart. 

A familiar truck pulls up to the curb in front of you, and you take back your earlier assessment. You feel like you are gonna be sick. Your stomach lurches, and you feel the panic rising in your throat. 

“What are you doing here?” Tommy shouts, “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, like maybe if you keep them closed, you’ll blend in with the wall. 

“Just giving a friend a ride,” Joel responds gruffly from inside his truck. Your plan immediately fails. His voice compels you to look at him. 

Some unspoken fucking sibling communication happens between the two of them, and then Joel is staring at you. Unreadable. “You getting in?” he hollers at you. 

“No,” you mumble barely audible. You clear your throat, feeling hoarse, and try again. “I’m waiting for my ride.” 

“I think it’s here, darlin’,” Tommy says as he steps towards you to usher you towards Joel’s truck. You shrug him off, pulling out your phone to check your messages. To see how long it’s been since you told Dave your location. 

You didn’t. 

You texted Joel. 

You’re mortified. No, no, no. This cannot be real. You didn’t text this hot nightmare. There’s no way he would’ve responded. 

He did. 

Joel: Where? 

You’re still shaking your head and trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’re the architect of your own worst nightmare now. A disaster asking to be rescued by the guy who knows exactly how to twist the knife in your gut. You’re spiraling inwards. 

Completely unaware of the exchange between Joel and Tommy. Or how gone, you look to them. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters at Tommy as he comes round to help you into the truck. “What’d she have?” 

“Hey,” Tommy defends, “I just came outside, and she said she was waitin’ on her ride. I don’t know shit.” 

“Figures,” he’s still grumbling as he shuts the door. You’re in shock as you sit in the cab of Joel’s truck. The only other time you were inside was the night you met. 

“Shit,” you curse at yourself as Joel gets in and pulls away from the curb. 

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything. Just drives in silence. Through every light, all the way across town. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “I didn’t mean to text you.” It hangs in the thick silence. You focus so hard on keeping your breathing steady, tamping down the sobs fighting to break through, that you barely register the tears that stream down your face. 

You hear him sigh before his hand rests on your thigh, “What happened?” he croaks like it hurts to speak.  

You’re reeling at that. Hearing him sigh like you’re a hindrance, like your emotions are a burden like it pains him to ask. You don’t have the clarity of mind to filter yourself. 

“Nothing,” you snap, glaring at his hand. “Don’t pretend like you care,” you dig, refusing to look at him, hot tears still rolling down your cheek. He doesn’t ask again. But he doesn’t pull his hand back, and you don’t move it until he’s shifting into park. 

Against your better judgment, you turn to face him. Your gut twists at the sight of him so close to you. After you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for so long. You can’t read his stoic face or his beautiful dark eyes. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying not to linger on how insane you must seem. Asking for a ride, snapping at him, and then thanking him. You cringe at yourself, trying to swipe the tears under your eyes away like that’ll make you seem more put together. 

You hop out of the cab and take a second to steady yourself. Joel’s door slams as he rounds the front of the truck to steady you. 

“Don’t,” you mutter. He puts an arm around you as if it’s natural, and you still. 

“Baby,” he says, low and soothing, “let me help.” 

Baby. It stirs the stupid butterflies in your stomach until your brain catches up. 

“No,” you shove him away. It’s weak, but he steps back.

“C’mon,” he urges you, “let’s just get you inside.” 

“No,” you still don’t move. Afraid you’ll fall apart if you try. You need him to leave before you come apart. If he touches you, you know you’ll beg him to fuck your pain away. 

“I can’t do it again.” You muster your courage, but when you look at his face, a soft sob finally breaks through, and your body shudders, gasping for a breath, “Please.”

His face darkens. His arms hang limply at his sides before his fists tighten. The street is quiet in the dark. “You think I’m here to fuck you?” 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” it’s a genuine question, but it rings harsh in the night with your uneven breathing. You fumble, dropping your keys when you finally dig them out of your bag, swearing under your breath. He grabs them before you and offers them to you, dropping them into your hand, avoiding your touch. 

You mumble thanks and stalk towards your door. He stays put, watching until you’re inside before he turns to leave. 

……

You get a text from Katie the following morning. 

Katie: Girl, are you alive?

Katie: You wanna tell me why Dave looked an awful lot like Joel?

You: not really. did Tommy say something?

Katie: No?? I was trying to get a glimpse of your man when I saw you getting into Joel’s truck??

You: I texted the wrong number 

Katie: ….

Katie: Uh, unless you’ve got him in your phone as Daddy Joel (real) I don’t think those letters are that close together babe

Katie: WAIT 

Katie: When did you get Joel’s number? He barely talks to anyone! 

Kate: Don’t answer that, I’m coming over and bribing you with a hangover cure bacon egg n’ cheese and you’re telling me everything 

You: and a cold brew? 

Katie: Duh 

…………..

“Fuck,” Joel grumbles when he hears a knock at his door. He knows exactly what this is. He lets Tommy in without a word and tromps back to his kitchen to get another coffee before his interrogation starts. He sits at the table, and levels the darkest “don’t start with me” glare he can, but his idiot brother has always been immune. 

…………….

“What do you mean?” you whine at Katie from your side of the couch. “There’s no use trying to talk to him; he’s emotionally constipated, and he only wants one thing from me.” 

“Maybe there’s more to him,” she suggests vaguely. 

“You were the one telling me to drop him and move on anyway!” you argue like a child. 

“I didn’t know it was him!”

“How does that change anything?” you glare at her. Katie chews at her lip while you devour the last of your breakfast sandwich. It’s cold. You had been so wrapped up in your recollection of the ups and downs of your non-relatioinship with Joel you forgot to finish eating while it was fresh. It feels like a stupid metaphor about how he forgot to take care of yourself when you were drawn into his toxic cycle. 

You thought confessing would reduce the weight on your chest. You weren’t prepared for Katie to add to your delusion. 

“I don’t think it’s really my place to share his… baggage,” she muses. 

“Since when?” you cut her a nasty look. 

“I just think,” she pauses, and you ball up the foil from your sandwich and throw it at her, earning you a glare, “It’s complicated.” 

“Okay, Avril Lavigne,” you mock. “You’re the worst, and this is not helpful! You’ve gotta give me something. Is he married? Am I the mistress? Is he a felon? A drug dealer?” 

“You think I wouldn’t warn you about any of those?” 

“I don’t know. I never thought you’d be taking his side,” you say in a serious tone. 

“I’m not defending him!” She holds up her hands in surrender. “You deserve better than fuckboy behavior from a grown man.” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s just,” he considers her words as your eyes narrow, “it seemed like it meant more than that. You were practically glowing half the summer.” 

“And a lifeless zombie the rest of the time?” 

“A cute zombie?” she shrugs. “I’m serious, though. Do you think he’d show up to rescue anyone else–no questions asked? That fast?” her words get softer.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, draping yourself miserably along the end of the couch, trying not to think about the times Joel bent you over the armrest. “I don’t know him at all, really.” 

“Do you want to?” 

Yes! A naive part of you shouts, hopeful and bright, blind to the reality of your situation. Oh, no. Definitely not. You dropkick that idea right to the back of your mind. Ignoring the way it screams until it’s muffled by the dejected, logical thoughts. “I can’t risk it,” you respond weakly. 

Katie hears it. The ever-resilient part of you that tries to stay one step ahead cracks and lets the vulnerability out. You refuse to worsen the abandonment wound, but it’s entangled in your heart. 

Katie doesn’t bring it up again. She spends the rest of the day with you, ordering takeout and putting on your favorite movies, like you’re going through a breakup. It helps.

…………

Life lulls back into the same routine. Except now, when you wake up, it’s Joel’s face–not his voice–that haunts you. The 

Instead of Joel’s voice haunting you when you wake up–it’s his face. The way he looked hurt. The way he dropped your keys into your hand

when you begged him not to come inside. It sinks like a stone in your stomach that you carry all day as you go through the motions. It feels hollow, but you persist. Your friends lighten the dark fog. Dave’s praise soothes the ache, and he fucks you so hard you can forget almost forget. 

But Joel lurks in your walls, in your skin, and you swear you see his headlights sweep over your living room, but it’s never his truck. At least not in the two weeks since karaoke night. You’ll never understand the trickery that makes misery slow time, but every day has felt bloated and stretched. 

Sick of feeling sick, the following week, when Joel’s face pops up, the second you open your eyes, you curse him. Spite simmers in your bones. If he had something to say, he had all the time in the world to show up and say it. Channeling the malaise into something darker, you let your anger renew your energy. 

All I can fuckin’ think about MY ASS. 

You’re itching for the distraction by the time you’re getting ready for your date with Dave this evening. You know you’re going to be a menace, and it’ll turn him on, which already has you smirking to yourself. You’re almost ready when you hear a knock at your door. You frown, checking the time. Dave’s usually precisely on time, not early. Close enough, you figure, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading for the door. 

You swing it open, ready to see Dave, but your jaw drops when you see Joel. He’s caught off guard by your date night look and hesitates as his eyes sweep over your little black dress. Without a thought you slam the door in his face. 

What the fuck?

He knocks again, loudly, as if you weren’t standing on the other side with your mouth gaping like a fish. But the pounding brings you back to reality. 

You open the door and start before he even has a chance. 

“It’s been three weeks since I last saw you, Miller, and that was an accident! I don’t know how long it was before that, but now you’re gonna show up and ruin another date? I don’t fucking think so. You’ve got five minutes. Spit it out. What are you doing here?” 

He blinks dumbly for a moment. Taken aback by your words and still breathless at seeing you all dolled up for your date. You cross your arms, unimpressed so far. That’s somehow worse. The irritated look on your face makes him want to fuck the attitude out of you. He takes a deep breath, trying to refocus before he starts. 

“You’re right,” his voice is gentler than you remember–It’s criminal really, “I shouldn’t have waited.” He pauses and swallows thickly. Is he nervous? That’s new. “I’m not great with words, and I haven’t given you any reason to give me the time of day. I’m here to apologize.” 

“Go on then.” 

“It wasn’t right of me to run from you–”

“Which time?” you won’t let him get through this easily. Not now. He lets that sink in. The vulnerability makes his eyes shine. You can sense the charge in the air like he might just run right now. 

“Every time,” he admits. “Didn’t think you’d let me back in every time, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. Knew you wanted me too.” You scoff at that. Amused at his approach. You see his shoulders tense before he lets your disapproval roll off of him. “Convinced myself, it was fine, or you’d stop answerin’ the door. Thought it’d be easier–” 

“If I did your dirty work for you?” you accuse sharply. “If it was my responsibility to hold you accountable?” 

“Thought it’d be easier if you hated me, I guess,” he runs his hand over the back of his neck. You stop seeing red and take him in. He smells fresh, like some over-fragranced body wash, his nearly dry hair brushed back. You hate how you feel the urge to soften just at the sight of him. “Figured you’d move on,” he rumbles. 

“Didn’t seem like you wanted me to move on when you crashed my date.” 

“It wasn’t my plan,” he mutters. Right. You raise your eyebrows. “You–you just drive me fuckin’ crazy. I don’t know why. But I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head.”

That makes you smile. His confession willfully given on your front doorstep. In the daylight, without your body seducing his. You drive him crazy. 

Dave’s car pulls up behind Joel’s truck. “Time’s up,” you say, “as much as I really enjoy this 90s romcom-style confession, and I really do, I’ve got a date, and I don’t like to keep my dates waiting.” 

“Right,” Joel takes you in like he might never see you again, “he something serious?” he nods towards Dave’s car. 

“Why, you planning to ask me out?” you’re not afraid to be direct anymore. Nothing to lose. 

“Thought I’d just start with the apology.” 

“Good.” 

“You accept?” 

You laugh loudly, full-chested. It’s a release, but it ends mockingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than this to show you really mean it.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, turning to leave. A wicked idea flashes through your mind as you watch him turn and look past him towards Dave, who is watching you intently. 

“Wait,” you call out, and Joel spins immediately. “I’ll consider your apology tonight on one condition.” He waits to hear more, and your grin sends a shiver down his spine. He’s in for something, and if it’s anything close to what he deserves, it’s gonna hurt. 

…………

You slide into your favorite corner booth, in between Dave and Joel. You admire them both in the dim light. You haven’t been able to keep the nefarious smirk off your face since you proposed your idea. Dave was an easy sell, just as you knew he would be, with minimal questions and clear on the role you wanted him to play. You weren’t surprised that Joel agreed, but you’re skeptical that he’ll be able to keep his cool. 

“You’re coming with us,” you told him like it was a command, “you’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna prove to me that you can behave.” 

He seems to keep it together through your date. He’s quiet, only accepting a drink when you tell him not to be weird. You know the jealousy is screaming beneath the surface. He does his best to rein it in, but when Dave taunts him with sly comments or touches you so freely, you catch his jaw tensing and his hands balling into tight fists, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Dave exudes confidence and control. He relishes in the power dynamic and more so, in how you’re so turned on by having an audience. Dave’s eyes are sharp, catching all of Joel’s discomfort when you giggle when you share a story when he touches you, but worst of all, when you touch Dave. “Dirty girl,” Dave murmurs close to your ear, “you want to give your guest a show before we take him home?” 

Your eyes are bright and shining when you smile at him. You give Joel a once over. He doesn’t look like he will flip the table or smash his fist through it. He glowers at Dave but softens for you, swallowing down the humiliation and washing it down with another drink. 

“Yeah,” you turn back to Dave, “he can take it. What do you have in mind?” 

“I think I dropped something under the table,” Dave’s low voice drips down your spine, and excitement buzzes in your core, “You think you can help me out?” You smile wide as the Cheshire cat before sinking beneath the table. It’s cramped and dark, but you’ve never been more grateful to Dave for reserving his favorite secluded corner spot. 

You wiggle a bit brushing against Joel as you situate yourself between Dave’s legs. The table muffles more of the sound, blending their voices into the sound of the music. You can tell Dave is trying to continue a casual conversation with Joel, and you can tell Joel doesn’t respond with many words. You find it easy enough to tune them out altogether as you focus on your mission, opening Dave’s belt and working quickly to tug at his pants until you can free his thick cock. 

Before you can get your mouth on it, Dave cups your jaw and grabs your attention, “Good girl,” he husks, matching your hungry gaze. “This what you want?” he asks as he grips the base of his cock and angles it towards you. You nod, wetting your lips in anticipation. “Do you want him to watch?” he asks, tilting his head towards Joel. 

You smile again, “Yes.” 

“Come closer,” he directs Joel, “she wants you to watch.” Joel shuffles over, scooting down the curved bench until he can see your face looking up at him. 

“Shit, baby,” Joel hisses, shifting to adjust himself. You see the mix of emotions flickering across his face. You can’t help yourself from holding eye contact with Joel as you slide your tongue down Dave’s length. You keep your eyes on him as you begin to bob your head, taking his cock deeper into your mouth. 

Having their eyes on you, has you squirming. The attention and the dynamics between the three of you has your heart in your cunt. The blazing jealousy in Joel’s eyes eggs you on, working sloppily to please Dave. You moan below them. 

“Look at her,” Dave speaks calmly to Joel, only a hint of strain in his voice as he maintains his composure. “You think another woman could enjoy your cock this much? You think you could find a mouth better than this?” 

“No,” Joel grits through clenched teeth. 

“You think you deserve her?” Dave asks like it’s as meaningless as asking about the weather. 

“No,” he grits again, his eyes shut tightly, waiting for something to pass, before he can continue watching you. You see the torment taking hold, lighting a fire within you that spurs you on. You break the eye contact to take Dave’s cock even deeper. He groans approvingly above you. 

“That’s it,” Dave encourages you with his hand gently wrapping around the back of your head, “just like that, fuck.” He keeps watching you, but his next words are for Joel. “Tell her,” he says, drunk with pride and lust, “tell her what a good girl she is. Think she more than deserves to hear it.” You know your cunt is dripping between your legs at the intensity of your lewd behavior and the control Dave wields over the both of you so effortlessly. 

You shift to watch Joel. He tempers the storm of his frustration and arousal to make sure it sounds honest. So you know he means it.

“That’s good, baby,” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Such a good girl.” Your eyes nearly roll back. You didn’t think it could hit any harder than when Dave praises you, but hearing the words from Joel sends you to another plane. You melt before your determination is renewed, and you’re on a mission to make Dave come. He knows what you want, and his hips tilt, rocking into you as you swallow around him eagerly until he’s groaning again and pulsing against your tongue as he comes. 

The men shift, and the three of you adjust and fix yourselves, respectively, as you return to your seat between them. You’re pleased with yourself but overtaken with the need throbbing in your cunt. You don’t miss Joel’s attempts to adjust himself and squash his own aching desire. It makes your lips curl with a hungry smile. 

Dave pulls you towards him. You’re buzzing so tensely with anticipation that just his grip around your waist brings a whiny moan out of you. He chuckles darkly at your wrecked response. “So worked up just from that, aren’t you?” Dave teases. You hum in agreement, letting your senses be overwhelmed by the scent of both men and their warm bodies on either side of you. “Already soaked and ready to be filled with a cock, hm?” 

“Yes,” you agree, closing your eyes and smiling dreamily. 

“Tell me,” Dave murmurs with a dangerous edge. 

“So wet,” you purr in agreement, but he laughs again. You open your eyes, confused. 

“Was asking him,” Dave tilts your chin towards Joel. You thought your idea of having Joel watch would be punishment enough, but you weren’t prepared for how Dave’s filthy mind works a step ahead of yours. You pull Joel’s hand between your legs. “Check for me,” he orders. 

Joel obeys. His fingers are quick to find your soaked underwear, and he easily dips them beneath the fabric into the pool of slick at your fluttering entrance. “Fuck,” you both curse at the sensation. It’s overwhelming, and you jerk at the intensity of being touched where your body wants contact the most. 

“Fuckin’ soaked,” Joel confirms like it’s painful to say it, “needs it bad.” You think the latter might apply to both of you. 

“You think you can make it all the way home, dirty girl?” Dave teases. You nod, but the whiny sound that comes from your throat as Joel removes his hand says otherwise. Dave considers your needs. “He’s only here to watch, hm?” he confirms. You nod mindlessly. “You think he’d make a nice seat for your ride home? Keep that empty hole full for you?” 

“Oh, shit,” you feel your face heat at the idea, “yes.” 

Joel’s more conflicted than he’s ever felt in his life. He was prepared to fight off his jealousy and tame his anger. He wasn’t prepared to watch you give Dave head in public or for how fucking hard he would get watching. But the most difficult thing to reckon with is the humiliation. More specifically, how every comment from either one of you that further salted his wound made his skin boil but also sent jolts of excitement through his nerves. 

“You think you can keep it together?” Dave challenges Joel. 

“Yes.” 

………………

Joel regrets agreeing before you leave the parking lot, but you couldn’t pay him to go back in time and change his answer. He thought the worst of it was over once you finally settled on top of him, sinking painfully slowly down his cock until your ass was flush with his hips, but you can’t stay still. You tense and contract around him, nearly blinding Joel with the heat of your velvety soft walls choking his shaft. You lean forward, trying to get comfortable, and when the car bounces over a speed bump on the way out of the parking lot, you both groan with pleasure and frustration. 

“You feel better?” Dave asks you as he navigates swiftly back to yours. 

“So full,” you state, desperately fighting the urge to beg Joel to grab your hips and fuck you. You weren’t exactly exaggerating the last time you had sex with Joel when you said you missed his “big fat cock.” Every bump on the road has you biting back moans, and you squirm, trying to find a comfortable position. 

“Please,” Joel’s low voice is strained and ragged, “quit moving.” 

You should’ve had the foresight to realize this wasn’t a punishment for Joel. This was just going to weaken your resolve. You know the second he gets his hands on you, it’s useless. You’re his through and through. You thought you were still pissed off enough that he couldn’t get to you, that Dave’s presence would keep you on track. 

Well, you didn’t really think about it at all. You just felt your knees go weak when, and your cunt do a flip when Dave made the suggestion. You need to make a mental note to show him just how much you appreciate his dirty mind when you get back home. 

You can feel Joel’s growl rumbling through his chest and his thighs tensing beneath you. It’s a vicious cycle. Every sound he makes is like a call and response with your body. Your cunt denounces your orders to stay still and pulses rhythmically, trying to take Joel’s cock deeper on it’s own accord. His breath hitches, and you adjust. 

“Baby,” he rasps, sounding wrecked, “I can’t–fuck–can’t do this if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ tease. His hands wrap around your hips, fingers digging harshly into your flesh in an attempt to keep you still, but the pressure makes you cry out softly. 

“Is your chair complaining?” Dave mocks, and Joel’s cock tenses inside of you. 

“I’m about to complain,” you try to snark, but it comes out needy instead. 

“What do you need, dirty girl?” He asks sincerely. You know it’s not long to get home, but you can’t think straight with Joel’s cock so deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, I…” you wiggle again, causing Joel to grunt behind you, and the noise makes your pussy flex, “I can’t,” you trail off, digging your nails into your palms, trying to steady yourself. You feel pathetic right now, unable to put together a sentence and barely able to keep yourself still. 

“Hey,” Dave coos gently, seeing the pained expression on your face. “You decide what you want. Your rules. You want him to touch you?” 

“Mmm,” you groan loudly with want, “please, please, please.” 

Joel doesn’t hesitate, hands searching immediately and yanking you closer as he gropes at your body. The freedom to move gives him power over his urges, more control than either of you expected. His breath is hot against your neck before his voice, gravelly and dark, vibrates just behind your ear, “Missed hearing you beg for me.” 

Your head lolls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open. You moan in sync as his hands wrap around your body, slipping under the top and bottom of your dress at the same time. You’re pinned, back against his firm chest, as one hand pinches at your hard nipple and the other taps at your clit. Your body struggles in his strong arms, unable to bow at the overstimulation of his touch. All you can manage is to rut your hips into him. 

“You desperate to come on my cock again, baby?” he goads you. Feeling confident now that he’s free to run his filthy mouth again. Feeling drunk on your needy noises and the way you writhe for him. He carries on teasing you in his Joel-specific way with his words and his fingers. It’s maddening, and you feel lit up, skin tingling as you’re at his mercy. You can only see blinding light, like you’re inside of a star, as you get closer and closer. 

You’re too incapacitated to realize you’ve made it home, that the car has stopped moving, that Dave has turned to watch you. Joel continues to rasp filth into your ear, but your body spasms in response when Dave begins to encourage you. “That’s right,” Dave coaxes you, “take what you need.” 

You do. Falling headfirst into the rush, broken, gasping, moans ringing through the car. The scent of sex swirling in the air. Your tension snaps, flooding with endorphins, and riding through the waves as you’re fully supported by Joel’s arms and body. 

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, biting down into the curve of your neck to stifle himself. Your cunt still weakly tries to milk his cock as your hips twitch and jerk while you ease back down from your orgasm. You can feel the mess you’ve made. Hot and sopping wet, dripping down Joel’s cock and making you slip against his thighs. You’ve never made such a mess before. 

Joel shudders and tenses beneath you. Lifting you off of him with a familiar grunt. It’s his come leaking out of you. Your head swivels, “that wasn’t for you.” His cocky attitude from minutes earlier is gone; shame washes over him. His curls are no longer tamed like they were when he showed up at your door; one sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling, as he mouths a barely audible apology. 

It’s twisted that it stirs your need to comfort him. Fuck it. You figure the whole evening has been wild enough so far. Plus, he can take some of the emotional whiplash this time. You’re tired of being the one with that look on your face. You can see the taunt dancing on Dave’s tongue; you know he’s ready to cut Joel with vicious words, but he holds them, waiting for your lead. 

It’s an unbelievable position to be in. You aren’t used to feeling like you’ve got the upper hand in the power dynamic like this. Not with Joel. Not with two men that radiate dominance like it’s in their DNA. You’d like to savor the moment, but now that you’re not burning a horny fever, you realize how incredibly impractical it is to sit on top of such a large man inside of the car. You’re all gonna end up with neck cramps if you’re in here another minute. 

Despite dying to know what Dave’s holding back, you have more mercy than him or Joel. Joel, who currently can’t look you in the eye as he stays uncomfortably rigid beneath you, well, except for his spent cock. The thought makes you snort weakly, amused at your own sense of humor. 

You contort in Joel’s lap to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Chin up, Joel,” you lilt. “You can make it up to me. We’re not done yet,” you nod towards Dave who smirks darkly, “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” You open the door and hop out, leaving both men to watch you walk to the door. For the first time since you opened your door tonight, you’re alone long enough to let some nerves start to get to you. 

Your dates don’t follow immediately. They take long enough that you start to spin out in your head. Are you insane for this whole idea? Did you really just crawl under a table to Dave in front of Joel? In public? What the fuck are they talking about without you? You’re impatient now, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, letting the cool night air stream into your living room. 

Then they’re striding towards you. Hungry eyes glinting. Both are intimidatingly gorgeous in their own ways. Dave exudes a slightly detached, effortless, authoritative swagger. It makes you feel special when he gives you his undivided attention. Joel is raw, slightly untethered like he’s always weary from warring with his own demons, but he still wields lethal power. They stalk towards you swiftly, catching your concern as they usher you towards your bedroom with more coordination than you expected. 

The door closes behind you with a soft click, but the tension in the air is heavy, as if someone had slammed it shut. Your room feels smaller with the weight of the situation about to unfold. Dave’s presence behind you makes your pulse quicken; the head of his body and his signature scent surround you. Joel watches, leaning against the door, arms crossed, jaw set, determined restraint weighing on his features. Despite the distance between you, Joel’s presence feels all-consuming. You’re mesmerized by his figure. His arms look even bigger, crossed in front of him, his broad shoulders, his pouty bottom lip, his strong jaw. You feel possessed with the need to …bite him? But, you don’t move. 

Dave’s fingers trace lightly down your spine as you continue to unabashedly ogle Joel, who stiffens at the sight of Dave’s hands slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. He’s unreadable, but the something simmering beneath the forced calm is contextually obvious. Joel’s trying to keep his cool; he doesn’t flinch, but he shifts, unable to remain still while he can only watch. 

Katie always referred to the chair in your room you designated as laundry purgatory as the cuck chair. It was only a joke, but if it isn’t perfect now. You glide across the room, tossing the worn-once sweatshirts and denim into the laundry hamper for future you to sort, offering the seat to Joel. It’s comical how his presence seems so out of place on the thrifted antique parlor chair.

You giggle softly as you spin back toward Dave, eager to find out what his depraved mind is plotting for the rest of the night. Dave’s voice is a low hum as he welcomes you into his arms, “Let’s make sure Joel gets a good look at what he’s missing out on, hm?” You nod, letting Dave arrange you as he pleases. “Pay attention,” he orders Joel, “I’m doing you a favor.” You can hear the devious glee lurking beneath Dave’s controlled tone. Joel’s dark eyes spark with something fierce as they flick to Dave before landing back on you. 

You can feel your pulse beating in your neck—and your cunt—as your chest heaves dramatically as Dave’s hands move over you. His touch is both tender and possessive as he makes a show of removing all of your clothes. It’s exaggerated to eat at Joel, but it works you up just the same. Dave pauses, letting his fingers hover over your nipples, brushing them just enough to make you shiver before kneading your soft tits, making you gasp. 

“You see that?” Dave asks over your shoulder, addressing Joel. “She’s so needy already. All worked up again. How are you going to satisfy her if she needs my cock right after you make her come?” 

You see Joel stiffen, gripping the arms of your chair like he might crush them. He’s still holding on to some semblance of composure, but it’s unraveling. You didn’t expect the dynamic between them to hit you straight in the pussy, but you’re dizzy, humming with anticipation. 

“On the bed, greedy girl,” Dave instructs. You follow without question, crawling onto the mattress, your pulse pounding in your ears. Joel’s eyes are glued to you, devouring every inch of your bare skin. It’s impossible for you to look away from him. His struggle as he works so fucking hard not to show how much he wants you, even though it’s written all over his face, is driving you wild. His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to touch you, to take. 

With your head still turned, locked onto the sight of Joel, your mouth parts in a soft gasp as Dave’s broad hands spread your legs wide, exposing your heated skin to the cool air in the room. You break away from your staring contest to catch the searing heat in Dave’s eyes before he lowers, pausing just before his lips brush against your swollen clit. He doesn’t ease the ache yet, lifting his head and turning to Joel with a smirk. “Come closer. You might learn something,” he challenges smugly. 

You’d roll your eyes at his arrogance, but then he dives in, tongue sliding against your slick cunt with devastating precision. You can only dig your fingers into your sheets as you arch and moan in response to his expert rhythm. With your eyes squeezed shut and your breath coming in uneven, shallow pants, you relax into the sensation coursing through you. 

“Tell him,” Dave hums into your skin, “Tell Joel how good it feels.” 

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Joel’s gaze. The sight of him has you at a loss for words. His face is expressionless, but as always, his eyes betray him. Sharp, hungry, and barely containing the storm inside of him. “So… feels, fuck, feels so good.” 

Joel’s chest rises and falls heavily. Dave’s taunts don’t hurt Joel’s pride, but watching you fall apart for another man twists his gut harshly. You’re so close he could count the beads of sweat forming on your chest. He can taste you and smell you, and it drives him wild. Like a beast, only held back by his hope to have a chance for more. 

Dave chuckles against you, his breath teasing your clit before he wraps his lips around it, sucking hard. The pleasure slams through you, and you cry out, your hips jerking against his mouth. Every nerve ending alight with sensation. You can’t think, only feel.

“She’s so responsive,” Dave gloats.

Joel doesn’t acknowledge the comment. His composure is cracking, the frustration bubbling to the surface. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes stay glued to the place where Dave’s mouth moves over you with expert ease.

But Dave isn’t done with either of you yet. He pulls back from between your legs, his fingers trailing over your slick skin as he moves to stand. His eyes are alight with that dangerous gleam that makes your heart race. “Let’s show Joel what a dirty girl you are for me.”

You’re eager to obey. “How do you want me?” Your voice is breathy and ragged already. It only crosses your mind now that you’re completely naked while they’re still fully dressed. You sit up, reaching for Dave’s belt before he’s answered you. He takes off his shirt while you work diligently to release his cock. “Look at her, Joel,” Dave taunts, his voice thick with pride and adoration for you. “She just wants to be fucked right.” 

Joel swallows hard. The effort it takes to keep himself in check is wavering. He’s burning with the urge to claim you, to show you the meaning of being fucked right, to make you come so hard you forget Dave’s name. His ears ring, tuning Dave out completely, watching you adjust, lying back on your pillows, welcoming Dave between your legs. 

Joel is transfixed. Watching as Dave positions himself between your legs and slides into you with an agonizingly slow thrust. Distantly, he can hear you moaning loudly; he can hear Dave continuing to goad him about how tight you are and how he gives you what you need or whatever else he thinks matters. All Joel can process is the sight of Dave’s cock disappearing inside of you. Over and over and over again. 

A deep, nauseating wave of embarrassment sinks heavily into Joel’s stomach. You wanted to punish him? Like this? It’s too absurd to be a joke, to be a sick prank. It can’t be some kind of trap. You aren’t cruel like that. Worse. He’s trapped between his anger and arousal. Forced to watch as Dave takes you apart, piece by piece. Tortured by his own cock throbbing painfully in response to everything about you. He looks at your face and feels dismantled by your gaze. Hazy and sweet, you’re staring at him, wet lips parted as you gasp shallowly while Dave keeps up his pace. 

Joel’s composure is slipping, his hands flexing before he gives in, trying to readjust. Hoping to find the slightest relief as he palms himself over his jeans. Your brows wrinkle with pleasure, and a breathy “oh, fuck,” slips out of you. Seeing Joel so turned on just from watching you sends you rolling into a warm, vision-blurring climax. 

“I know,” Dave coos in your ear as you catch your breath, “I know.” He’s still murmuring against your neck, but it’s the silent exchange with Joel that makes you smile lazily. You think he figured it out, the power he has over you with just his expressions. That he’s the one that has you breathless. “Tell her,” Dave growls over you. 

“Good girl,” Joel utters hoarsely, mouth dry. He sees the glow wash over you at his words, and it clicks. Finally. Whatever it is between you affects you just as much. His punishment isn’t watching someone else please you, wondering if they really can make you feel better than he can. Wondering if they’ll treat you better. If you’re better off without Joel at all. No. 

It’s knowing they can’t. Knowing you’ve been just as empty without him as he’s been without you. That it’s been his fault. He’s made it worse. You’re all he can fuckin’ think about, and he’s in your head just the same. 

And right now his punishment is to wait this night out. To be vulnerable and reveal the truth. The desperate desire he has for you. He’s pathetic with it, honestly. He’ll sit here all night, show you how hard you make him, tell you how badly he wants you, describe how perfect you are, anything. It starts to pour out of him as his jealousy and anger recede. “So good, baby, you look beautiful, like a dream,” Joel’s voice is filled with earnest wonder. You beam, your eyelids heavy with lust as Joel continues. “I want you so bad it hurts. You’ve got me losing my fuckin’ mind.” 

“That’s a start,” Dave commends Joel before he shifts, pulling out and flipping you onto your hands and knees. You can hear Joel cursing under his breath as Dave kneads the plush curves of your ass, spreading you wide and showing off your glossy cunt. “You see that? Perfect, right?” He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond, focused on lining himself up and sliding back inside of you as deep as he can. 

Dave groans along with you as he lights up every nerve within you, and your pussy contracts coaxing him deeper. He pauses when his hips meet your ass, filling you to the hilt before he wraps an arm around you to pull your back flush against his chest. “Look at him,” Dave tilts your head to be sure you can take in Joel’s wrecked expression. “You think he deserves to touch himself while I’m fucking you?” Dave asks, shifting his attention back to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes. 

“No,” you reply, resolute. “He doesn’t deserve it. But I want to watch, so he will.” Dave’s grin widens, reveling in your direct nature. He lowers you, and you adjust, resting your cheek on your pillow so you can watch. “Please, Joel, let me see.” Your begging has the exact effect you wanted on Joel when you hear the throaty groan he makes. 

You squirm involuntarily when you finally get a clear view of Joel’s cock, clenching tightly around Dave’s cock. He hums behind you, muttering about how you’re unreal, and he hopes Joel can handle a woman like you as he slowly drags himself almost completely out of you before snapping his hips brutally, slamming back into you. 

You’re bewitched. The head of Joel’s cock glistens, weeping with precome, enticing, and menacing as his fist strokes slowly along his shaft. You’re salivating at the debauched scene and drenching Dave’s cock as he continues to slowly work you back up. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

“You see that?” Dave asks you, “Look how desperate he is. You think he wants to come?” 

“Yes,” you reply, “fuck, yes.” 

“Ladies first, though, hm?” Dave muses as he picks up his pace, pushing you closer, finding the perfect angle that makes your mind go blank. The pressure builds inside you, and the louder you get, the more Joel starts to fall apart. Your flip between Joel’s eyes and his fist pumping his cock ravenously. For you. All for you. 

That sends you over the edge, wringing all the pleasure out of you, taking Dave with you as he stills against you, cock pulsing hotly inside of you, as your limbs feel weak and you sink into the mattress. You watch as Joel spills over his knuckles, cursing and grunting as he comes, and it makes you giddy. 

Dave kisses your shoulder tenderly, praising you quietly, just for you, before he gets up and, like clockwork, heads to the bathroom to clean up and get you a warm washcloth. You continue to grin loosely, giggling softly, still amused by how out of place Joel looks. You see the fear flit across his face, and a cold, nasty feeling rips through you as you brace for the worst. Cruel words spring up, ready to protect you, but you hold your tongue. You won’t guilt him into staying. You can’t choose for him. 

It’s a painfully long minute. He doesn’t look at you. You try not to shut down. And then Dave is back, ever the gentleman, with warm washcloths for both of you. He checks in with you softly, “What do you need?”

The words stick in your throat. You sit up and force yourself to get them out. It’s barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to Joel.” He looks at you finally, as if you whispering his name snapped him out of a trance. Dave nods. 

“You want me to stay?” Dave asks. You blink at him curiously. Neither of you do sleepovers. You don’t need a bodyguard. You must have it stamped across your forehead like a holiday package: fragile. 

“No.” 

He takes your word for it, redressing and heading out swiftly. Leaving you alone with Joel. 

Unreadable Joel. With no clues in his eyes or his body language. His head follows you, watching as you cross the room to grab a shirt. You honestly wonder if he could disappear in the half a second your vision is obscured while you pull it over your head, but he’s still there. So, you gather your courage and face him head-on. 

“Can we talk?”

Tags: 

@oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff

@dendulinka6

@winterwidow-stan

@goodvibesonly421

@cuteanimalmama

@perpetuallymanic

@whirlwindrider29

@wintersquirrel

@callmecath1

@msmorningstaarr

@bitchesuntitled

@julkaamazing

@loveisacowboyyy

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

<- Part 3 (previous)

Pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed 

Also PLEASE let me know what you think <3

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

You're My, Best Friend

Words: 850

Warnings: probably poor writing and OOC characters but whatever

DC Masterlist Main Masterlist 1989 (TV) Event Masterlist Join My Taglist

I haven't written for Tim in a while, holy shit, apologies if this is bad!

This is the "You Are In Love" part of my 1989 event!

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

Throughout the entire night, Y/N kept glancing at Tim as they watched a movie in the dark movie room of the manor. It was their monthly movie night. But something felt different tonight. She wasn't sure what it was about. All she knew was that if you asked her what the movie was about, she would have looked at you, blinking like a fish.

But now they were in his car as he was driving her home. She fiddled with the buttons on the jacket he bought her a while ago. Not much was being said between them, small talk, mostly. But even in the silent moments as he drove her home, she felt it. That different feeling that she got whenever they were together nowadays.

He pulled up to a stop in front of her apartment, his headlights on the wall reflecting back into the car. The vehicle became illuminated, the chain on his neck (a gift from her) even had a glint on it. Her heart fluttered as their shoulders brushed and he whispered, "Look up."

His sunroof was open, something he did whenever they drove together (if weather allowed), and she looked up to see what he was pointing out. A soft smile on her face as she saw stars, something rare to see in the city.

She smiled at him, "I better get going." She unbuckled and opened her door. Grabbing her coffee she slipped out. Looking back at him, a gentle but tired look on her face. "Thanks for the coffee, even though it's midnight."

He laughed, "It'll get you up to your apartment and keep you warm." He nervously smiled at her, "Can I kiss you?"

For a moment, it took her by surprise. But then she smiled and nodded. The moment his lips fell onto hers, she felt calm. Nearly identifying that feeling she's felt all night.

When he pulled away, he smiled goofily at her, "I'll see you later, alright."

She nodded, "See you."

She carefully closed the door to his car and walked into her apartment. That feeling was still in the air. She wasn't sure what it was about. And for a moment, as she turned the lights out to her bedroom, she realized what it was.

She was in love.

--------

"--I am just sick and fucking tired of being treated this way, Tim!" The rain and thunder outside nearly drowned out their screams.

"Then how do you want to be treated, Y/N?! Huh?! Because your history of men and friends really can't tell me shit!"

She felt her heart break at those words. Him bringing up her spotty past with ex-boyfriends and ex-friends. "I just want you to treat me as more than you do." She looked away, down at the shirt of his she had on. "I just...I thought...I thought that the kiss from the other night meant something."

She heard him let out a breath, "I'm sorry."

She looked at him oddly, "For what?"

"I'm scared that if I pursue these feelings I have for you, that you'll get hurt." His voice was soft and she knew that it was everything that had happened to him that was pulling his strings. Corrupting his thoughts.

"Timmy I--"

"I want you. I really do. I just don't want you to get hurt." He closed his eyes, "You're the only person who has been by my side forever. I just don't want to lose you."

She gently took his hand in hers, "And you won't. I promise you that you won't."

He nodded meekly, "Promise me?"

She smiled and kissed him, "I promise."

--------

The moon was high in the sky. Tim had passed out a few hours ago, his burnt toast left uneaten by his bed. His TV was on as Y/N faded in and out of sleep. Her eyes however opened wide as she heard him push himself up. As she looked at him, the TV illuminating the room, she saw the odd look on his face.

"Tim?"

He looked at her, "You're my best friend, you know that right?"

She smiled, he knew what he meant. He was in love.

--------

Y/N shook her head as she watched the news play a video of her and Tim dancing around in the ballroom at Wayne Manor. That was all that people covered nowadays. Was about how Bruce Wayne's adoptive son seemed to have found someone that made him happy.

They recently found out that there was a photo of her on his desk at Wayne Industries and people went crazy over it. She found it all ironic. People being so obsessed with their relationship.

But...she couldn't say anything about it. As he walked through the door, coffee cup in his hand, tired eyes slowly blinking, she finally understood why people fought wars for people in the past. She understood why men started wars for a woman they loved. She understood why people would spend their entire lives figuring out how to put it into words.

She finally understood because she was in love.

[headlessbutnothopeless]

OOC:

idk, maybe it's just me

(this is mostly just me putting my feelings to figurative paper and screaming into the void, so you can absolutely scroll past)

Me: Hey, you deeply hurt me. Here's a calm explanation of how/why it hurt, vetted by a third party to make sure the explanation was civil. You did this before and promised not to do it again. But you did and it hurts really bad. Her: omg I'm so sorry I'll apologize right away Me: I would prefer if it was in front of the same people you deeply hurt me in front of, because they're all talking about how I'm a horrible person for having a panic attack. Her: That sounds reasonable, sure! Me: ... and without the victim blaming and threatening to hurt yourself, like your last "apology" Her: ... okay That apology? "Hey guys Aech has every right to their feelings. I hurt them and sent them spiraling into a PTSD episode. I'm a horrible person. I want to kill myself. I deserve to (incredibly graphic description of desired death)." So... I message her saying that's very not okay, and she promised not to say she's the victim. her exact response "am am I not allowed to be hurt?" yeah, because “Aech told me I hurt them. How dare they, I want to kill myself!” is the logical conclusion

Also it took 30+ hours for anyone to go "Hey is Aech okay?" Two people I'd said "hi" to a handful of times, one person I thought was chill and wanted to be friends with, one person I enjoyed friendly banter with - those are the ones who checked on me. None of my actual friends in that server. Also one of the mods told me I wasn't welcome because I'd "harassed" the person who hurt me. An actual friend did message me 40+ hours later, after seeing the one who hurt me threaten to kill herself. Ironically, this was apparently a good friend of the person who hurt me, as well. The mod who said I was her first friend? 44 hours later, I asked why she didn't do anything, when she knew this person had hurt me before, and had promised to have my back if it happened again. She says she didn't want to say anything to make me feel worse. Better if I think everyone hated me, apparently (because they were ripping me to pieces in the server). Because she says I wasn't polite enough in the middle of my panic attack where I'm flashing back to the worst moments of my life, yet still trying to remain calm enough to explain why this thing hurt so bad (something I'd posted about before and the entire server agreed wasn't okay and promised to support me).

ANYWAY that was my weekend :) I just have to get this off my chest. cause like holy fucking shit am I delusional or was this very not okay? There’s more, but it’s either not possible to be objective, I’d dox either of us, or it requires literal years of backstory fortunately I have a shitton of Xanax because of that one crackpot mental health doctor (dw I’m only taking it as prescribed)

[anonymous-headquarters]

While we wait for tech to get this all sorted, can we see what you two look like? Might be a lil less suspect if we know who we're talking to

Well, Agent Magpie here isn't too comfortable showin' her face. So! I volunteered to show mine for 'er!

Agent Cheddar! In the flesh

And we're not the ones to suspect of anythin', trust me! We're just tryna help.

[rinnysmuses]

[alkdgjflafjg

i got a ramuh minion from HoH alskdjgaljg]

[citreai-a]

I am a full fledged clown.

[angstyx]

I love you, I really do

CC!Quackity x Reader

Word Count: 820+ words

Summary: The 3 times where Quackity jokingly told you he loved you and the 1 time he meant it

TW: slight cursing

Note: Quackity might sound OOC for some parts since i've never wrote for him before

Requested?: [Yes] [No]

Masterlist // Rules for Requesting

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

The First Time:

Quackity's laughs rang in your ear as you two run away from someone's house. The house was now filled with random animals, some were hidden while others were in plain sight.

You two were on the dream smp to prank a few people. It was your idea to do so. You were bored on the smp and since Quackity was on as well, you decided to ask him to voice chat and if he wanted to prank people and of course he said yes.

"Holy shit y/n, that was hilarious. You have great ideas sometimes." Quackity was still laughing as he talked to you. "Sometimes?!?" You tried to sound offended but failed, laughing seconds after you replied back.

Laughter filled the voice chat as you two discussed what other pranks you should do. Some were funny while others were just plain stupid, nothing less, it made you two laugh until your stomachs hurt and your eyes were teary.

"You are a fucking awesome person y/n and I love you for that," said Quackity, laughing right after he spoke. You felt your face heat up, he was joking right? Did someone tell him about your crush on him? Hopefully not, you weren't ready to confess.

"C'mon y/n!" Quackity's minecraft character ran in-front of you. He crouched and hit you a few times before running away. "Let's go prank some more people!"

You shook your head, trying to get rid of what Quackity said to you. 'C'mon y/n, he didn't mean it when he said he loved you... right?' you thought.

The Second Time:

"C'mon y/n! Pretend to be my significant other!" Quackity was practically begging you to be his partner, wanting to try and prank Tommy since he said that Quackity was lonely as fuck.

"No-way Quackity, I don't thi-" "Why not? I'll be able to say stuff like "Oh I love you so much y/n" to you! I'm sure you'll like that," joked Quackity, not knowing that your heart started beating faster when he said that to you.

"I-I um..." You took a deep breathe. "Fine-" "Great! Let's go and find Tommy! Follow me!" You took a deep breath as your minecraft character followed Quackity's. C'mon y/n, snap out of it, he was joking... again.

The Third Time:

You practically roasted Quackity into cooked meat- atleast that's what karl told you. You and your friends were playing jackbox and Quackity chose the rap battle game, thinking that he was going to beat everyone. In the end, after you were paired up with Quackity, you won. Now everyone was laughing at how good your rap was while Quackity himself was fake crying.

“Mi amor! I thought you were going easy on me!” stated Quackity, sniffing a few times to make it seem like he was actually crying. “I actually loved you and you broke my heart!” He kept on crying after that, ignoring how you didn’t reply. You felt familiar butterflies in your stomach, did you hear him right? Did he say that he loved you again? By now, you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Did you want him to be joking? You weren’t sure.

The Fourth Time:

You were tired. After working on your homework for hours, your eyes were drooping and your brain couldn’t think. You already drank some coffee and you knew it wouldn’t be healthy if you drank anymore. You sighed, you should just finish the homework tomorrow morning, it was getting too late for your liking.

Heading towards your bed, you heard your phone ring. Remembering that you left it on your desk, you picked it up and realized it was Quackity. You answered it as you got into bed, "Hey Quackity, need anything?" You yawned, the tiredness already getting to you.

"I was wondering if we could facetime but you sound sleepy so-" "No! Its fine." You cut him off, face heating up when you realized how desperate you sounded. You heard Quackity laugh from your phone, making you smile. "If that's what you want mi amor," he teased.

Hours passed by as you two talked about random topics, mostly about streaming since you two streamed a lot. You yawned again and before you knew it, you fell asleep. Quackity was still talking but stopped when he realized you were asleep. He studied your face, taking notice of how calm you look.

"I-I love you y/n, I really do." He said quietly. He both wished that you heard it and didn't hear at the same time, not knowing how you felt about him. Half asleep, you thought you heard Quackity say I love you to you again. Thinking you were in a dream, you replied back, "I love you too Quackity." Quackity's finger paused on the 'end call' button, did you just say it back? A smile on his face, he finally ended the call. He couldn't wait to confess to you.

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

Taglist: @thenotsohottopic @0-0littlem0-0 @alec-lostboy @bi-narystars @707xn @sakurapartridge @justsomegnomesinatrenchcoat

Send me an ask or dm to be added to my taglist! :)

[cdroloisms]

haha your snippit abt the dispenser got me thinking.

Dream gets let out of prison and he talks constantly, whatever is on his mind. And he's positive all the time. To a fault where people walk over him. And it doesn't make sense because he was tortured right???? But after an incident they find out it's because he hates the sound of silence and needs constant reminders that other people are there. Also he was punished for any negative emotions in the prison so his default is happy now,,,

hi anon !! this concept makes me SO goddamn sad ,, the idea that he Has to be happy bc anything else would mean punishment im so *punches the walls*

this ,, ficlet is honestly. pretty ooc, not really related to the ask at all, and mostly an excuse for me to cry abt c!dream and c!punz for an excessive amount of time (technically the vote on twitter was supposed to have this as c!sapnap pov, but i just wrote one for him so i went for c!punz instead. mostly bc i wanted to write him LMAO). hopefully someone enjoys it despite *gestures vaguely* all of that mess

tw: trauma, disordered eating, implied torture/abuse, blood, injuries, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional distress, thoughts of murder/mercy killing, mentioned animal death, dark content

In the end, it’s all rather anticlimactic, the complete opposite of Dream’s vault and the whole fiasco of adrenaline and theatrics that had made up that day. Quackity ended up having one too many drinks, bragged about the wrong thing to the wrong person - Punz doesn’t know the specifics, only knows that one thing has led to another and suddenly Sapnap was screaming at his ex-fiancé, sword pointed at his chest and tears streaming down his eyes in the middle of the Community House floor, everyone else stood around and watching. A look into Quackity’s office said everything he didn’t - the chests and chests of used and new tools, shiny and sharpened and completely rusted over with blood and everything in between. There’s been a balled up shirt in the wastebasket, completely unsalvageable from how saturated it was with blood, more red than white, and perhaps most chilling of all the calendar, marked with X after X in red pen, going back months and speaking to their utter failure to see what had been happening all but right in front of them.

With Quackity down, Sam caved not too long after, and with his input getting into the prison was no challenge at all. The only thing holding them back were bad memories and the tense, worried edge to Sam’s jaw as he led the small group of them - himself and Sapnap, actually entering the facility, Bad and Puffy waiting outside - carrying them through winding corridor after winding corridor and lava pit after lava pit, until they’d come to stand before a chasm filled with flowing lava, slowly draining before the main cell.

“I- I have to warn you,” Sam had muttered, uncharacteristically hesitant, “it looks…pretty bad,” and Punz would’ve questioned him further, but the lava had fallen far enough to reveal the topmost edge of the cell, so they let Sapnap hound the Warden for information as they directed their full attention on the cell itself and holy shit.

Nothing Sam said could’ve possibly have prepared them for the sight - it was a complete fucking bloodbath, crimson painting the walls and smeared over the floor and splattered over every visible surface like some abstract art experiment gone wrong. The stench of iron and burning flesh and viscera was awful, even over the gap marked by the still-draining lava. Punz strained his eyes; at the very back of the cell, huddled, unmoving, was a similarly bloodstained shape that must’ve been Dream. They remember the crack of Sapnap’s knuckles meeting Sam’s face and breaking his nose, remember themselves chucking a pearl and feeling along Dream’s neck desperately for a pulse - everything beyond that became a swirl of voices and panic and crying that makes their head hurt to think about, so they don’t.

Recovery is…messy. The physical side had been bad enough - pulling Dream out of the cell, barely breathing, limp in his arms and far too light, all Punz could think about was a sheep he’d found a year ago, frail and struggling to breathe, one he’d ended up killing - quick and painless - with a sword through the skull because it seemed kinder than letting it suffer. Watching Dream struggle on the bed, laid up in Bad’s mansion because none of them knew if he’d survive going any further, body resisting the potions they’d slowly forced down his throat after being so over-saturated on them, temperature spiking and heat baking into his skin like the lava from the prison had been imprinted onto his body, Punz feels the same strange mixture of pity and unease, wonders if it’d be a hell of a lot kinder if they just put him out of his fucking misery.

Still, because Dream is a stubborn bastard, against all odds, he ends up surviving - his fever breaks, the potions begin taking effect, and a few tireless, aching days later his eyes flutter open, lucid for the first time in a week. Punz isn’t even in the room when he wakes, only knows that it happens because the too-quiet room suddenly erupts in noise and activity, muffled thumps and sounds of a struggle undercutting Bad’s frantic calls for someone to help, anyone, and they run into the room to find Dream thrashing on the bed, wounds reopened and blood dripping onto the sheets, eyes wild and wide as his head whips from side to side so hard Punz is half-afraid that he’ll straight up break his neck. Somehow, worst of all, not a single scream falls from his lips, nothing but muffled whines squeezing past his mouth, clenched shut, and for a singular, awful second they wonder how long it took before he realized that screaming was useless.

Fortunately enough for them, or unfortunately, it’s not like he can tell the fucking difference anymore, the panic and strain end up with Dream passing out altogether, and they trade uneasy glances with Bad before going to clean off the worst of his wounds. If everything they’re doing feels hopeless, dressing up wounds that’ll be torn open hours later when Dream is awake enough to feel fear but not much else because he’s forgotten what it’s like to not be afraid - well, that’s for them to think and everyone else to pretend not to agree with.

Weeks pass along the same vein - Dream wakes up, panics; they try to calm him down, fails; he falls back into unconsciousness, and they move on and pretend that they’re cleaning up wounds from battle and not from someone that’s literally been tortured for months on end. People stop by, occasionally; Puffy spends more time than not inside the mansion, but hardly ever enters the door into Dream’s room, Sapnap and George drop by occasionally with potion brewing supplies that the rest of them can’t go out to get; once, he’d gone out to the front door to find a chest with an enchanted golden apple, sender nowhere in sight. He knows that the server is busy; Quackity’s admission had brought more than a few secrets to light, and from what they understand, the political fallout has been pretty damn messy. Still, he stays in the mansion, and watches.

He doesn’t exactly know why he stays. They’re not a stellar healer, not beyond what they know to dress their own wounds, and spend most of their time doing odd-and-ends tasks for Bad, who looks more tired than ever. Maybe it’s because he’s seen Dream at his worst more than the rest of them, had been there through his entire fall from grace, watched as his eyes became clouded with anger and madness and a single, desperate hope that he’d chased at the cost of his world and himself. Maybe it’s because they have no ties to the rest of the server - not to Las Nevadas, falling apart under the scrutiny of the eyes that now fall upon it, not Snowchester, caught up in the chaos, not the Badlands, half-dissolved after the fiasco of the Egg and with Sam’s actions having just come to light. Maybe it’s because above everything else, he feels guilty.

They’d thought the prison was the answer. It’d seemed too simple, back in that Vault - a perfect answer, because everyone else was perfectly happy to watch Dream die another time and some part of them had clenched painfully at the thought even thought they knew it was for the best. The prison meant that he’d be alive, if angry, and at some point when he had the time or the nerve or the guts he could go and visit, and they would talk, and Dream would be angry but with time maybe he could even understand.

They hadn’t wanted this. He can’t imagine anyone wanting this.

“Punz?” They don’t jump at the voice at their back, they don’t, but Bad still has a tiny, tight-lipped smile when they turn around anyway, eyes creased in the corners and still not as bright as they’d been before the Egg. Bad looks at him knowingly, setting a bowl of soup into his hands. “For Dream, if you can get him to eat.” He shifts a pointed gaze towards the door. “Maybe you two could talk.”

“About what?” The words come out harsher than they intend, and they take a moment to bite back the mostly self-directed anger that Bad doesn’t deserve to receive the brunt of. “I just-” he waves his hand in the air, trying to articulate the mess that is his relationship with Dream without the words to explain it. “I don’t know, man.”

“You don’t have to talk about everything,” Bad says, calm as always, eyes flicking down to the bowl of soup in his hands. “Just start with the soup.”

Punz sighs. “I’ll try.”

He enters the room in a single, fluid motion, mostly because he knows that if he were to stop at the door then he’d never actually make his way in. Dream flinches back when they enter, eyes going wide and stance going rigid, and the familiarity doesn’t make the sight any easier to bear as they wait, as always, for Dream’s eyes to clear enough for him to realize he’s in the mansion and not stuck in that same obsidian hellhole.

“I brought soup,” they say, finally, when Dream looks up. Dream’s lips twitch up in what he probably means as a smile; between the still-healing gashes on his face and the fear that flashes over his expression, still, it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Thanks.” Dream looks away. “I’ll eat it later.”

Liar, Punz thinks tiredly, moving closer to set the bowl down on the nightstand by the bed. They frown as Dream’s expression goes slack and distanced, again, eyes fixed to stare blankly at the wall once again.

“You should have some now,” he tries, careful to keep his words even. “You need the calories.”

“I’m good,” Dream says, automatic, just shy of sincere. “Thank you.”

“Dream,” they don’t quite succeed at keeping a displeased sigh from falling from their lungs, and bite back a curse at themselves when Dream pulls back with a silent flinch. It’s so goddamn hard, to talk to this version of Dream, both of them feeling around the edges of their relationship like walking on goddamn eggshells. A few months ago, he would’ve straight up called Dream out on his bullshit, get it through his thick skull that the whole ‘I’m fine and don’t need anyone’ act was stupid and completely failing to convince him. Here, they bite back another sigh, look forlornly at the bowl of the soup on the nightstand, sure to go uneaten once again, and force themselves to sound completely neutral when they speak again. “Alright. You’ll have to eat at some point, though.”

“Mmhm,” Dream hums noncommittally, once again staring at the wall. Punz stares at his hands. This is so fucking pointless.

“So,” they say after a few seconds, Bad’s words echoing in their head - they can try to make an effort to talk, sure. It’s just that Dream’s not going to cooperate. “How are you, man?”

The words come out stilted, awkward. He looks up to watch Dream’s expression, as the other man begins to gnaw on the inside of his cheek.

“I’m good,” he says, words deliberately light. “You?”

“Dream…”

“I’m fine.” Dream’s voice sharpens suddenly, breath hitching, before he shakes his head and turns his head away. “I’m fine.”

Punz looks at him incredulously. “Are you serious? Do we need to get into exactly how not-fine you are?” They wave a hand in his direction, jaw clenching when he rears back. “Do ‘fine’ people lose their minds from someone waving at them, now?”

“I-” For a second, Dream glares at him, eyes burning with a familiar, irritated fire that Punz knows all-too-well from having it directed at him a few too many times, before it suddenly dies and Dream is swinging his head back to the bedsheets, hands tightening on the cloth as he stammers. “I- What do you want?”

Punz breathes a soft sigh, regret blooming in the center of their chest. “Sorry,” he mumbles, careful to keep their gestures overly-telegraphed and away from the other man’s face. “I’m just- you’re not okay, man. No one’s expecting you to be okay after...all of that.”

“But why?”

Dream’s voice is small, nearly a sob, and Punz directs wide, alarmed eyes to where he’s hunched in over himself, knees pulled to his chest, hands staring at the sheets pulled over them. “Why?” he says, again, quieter, lip trembling slightly.

“Because you were tortured,” Punz begins, words slow as they watch Dream’s expression, trying to pull out the thoughts behind his averted eyes, “Because the cell was inhumane, and nobody deserves to be treated like that. Because you were hurt very, very badly because of what we did, and none of us are expecting you to be fine right after going through months of trauma.” He pauses. “You know that, right?”

“But I’m out,” Dream says, quiet, disbelieving, instead of answering their question. “I’m out of there. It’s over. It’s- everything’s good,” he whispers, more to himself than to them, hands curling into fists and then uncurling. “I’m- they said I would never get out. And I’m outside, and it’s not- not the cell, and I get real food, and Quackity doesn’t visit anymore,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut as his breath catches in his throat. “I’m happy- I should be happy. Right?”

“Oh Dream,” the other man flinches back, breath quickening, and Punz’s hand stops short from where he’d almost let it fall onto the other’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be happy, man. Not- not after all of that. Not if you’re not ready yet.” Dream’s eyes, wide and wet, rise to look at their own, and they feel more than hear the soft, wounded noise that leaves their lips. “It’s ok to be hurt. It’s ok to be scared. No one’s blaming you, alright? No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, more than anything, seems to be the breaking point, because Dream collapses forward, hands flying up to pull at his tangled hair before Punz manages to ease them away and into his own hands, watching as he grips onto them until his knuckles go white. His breathing shudders, quiet, even his sobs muffled as to make as little noise as possible, and they murmur meaningless croons and hums as he cries into their chest.

“I wanna- I wanna be okay,” he hiccups, and Punz smooths his hair back behind their hand.

“I know,” he swallows around the lump that has risen in his own throat. “I’m sorry.”

[dorimena]

𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘

I should've been writing Bakugou’s late birthday post, but after watching the new episode a few days ago, I couldn’t help but finally confirm to myself that yes, I have a growing liking towards Kuroiro and couldn’t help myself. So, enjoy?

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; kuroiro shihei

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 2.6

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; afab!reader, handjob, masturbation, kuroiro’s a voyeur for you, subby!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; sex toys mentioned, aged up character; Kuroiro is 18

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; there isn’t much Kuroiro content, as far as I managed to find here, less if it’s smut. So, here we go, hopefully I make more. I still have much to learn on how to probably correctly portray him, in other words I feel like he’s a bit ooc.

He likes to hide in the shadows, whether as a harmless prank, to travel from one place to another, but it’s mostly to just easily sneak into your dorm room at night.

Right now, though, he’s still lurking in the shadows of your room, just watching you study at such an ungodly hour, just because you were upset with him accidentally scaring you the other day. He didn’t mean to, but the damage had been done. At least you didn’t leave your dorm room light on to stop him, just sitting there, all pretty, with the desk lamp.

He has no plans leaving the comfort of the shadows yet, not with how it helps not only hide his cute, creepy smile, but to not show off how hard he is. And for what?

All because you’re wearing the shortest shorts you could ever own, and he loves how your legs look with them on; so much longer, increasing how enticing and inviting they look, whether for him to trace words of dramatized affection or leave bite marks before he pleases you to sleep.

Then again, he’s not here to woo you with poetry; he’s here to apologize, for maybe the 6th time this week, and maybe convince you to cuddle on your bed before he’d have to sneak back to his room. After all, he has been leaving you small trinkets and gifts all this time since the incident, and you’ve never really uninvited him over, simply barely acknowledging him before you whisper ‘goodnight’, as if you’d think he’d never hear.

It kind of hurt, but he couldn’t blame you, and maybe it’s time he stops trying to scare you as a form to rile you up into some ‘fun’. There are other ways, right? He can come up with another scheme to make you angry enough to maybe choke him harder, scratch him harder, maybe slap him harder?

“Y/n~” He calls out your name as melodically as possible, as if trying to act like a siren to lure you here into the darkest corner of your room. All he sees, though, is you shuddering before hunching yourself more over your desk.

You only move your head in acknowledgment, humming softly as you turn a page in your book to continue highlighting. This makes him frown, racking his brain for any remark to make you look over here, look over at him. Please.

“My beloved, look at me?” He calls again, using the pet name you enjoy hearing; but you still don’t look over.

So, being the little shit he can be, he calls you out by something he rarely does, unless he’s meticulously teasing you for something in return. A certain name he knew made you flattered but embarrassed.

“Hot stuff, look at me.”

And that has you turning around to look at his favorite corner, narrowing your eyes to catch the sight of his white eyes and teeth. To many, this would make them shit themselves, but for you, it angers you just how proud he looks.

“What did you say?”

There it is, now you’re angry and riled up. And he shudders, feeling tremors going up his body until it reaches his head. He peeks his head out, his white hair finally being seen as he hums.

“Hot stuff, but this time, come here?”

You stand, not before grumpily placing your highlighter in between the pages and pushing your chair quite the distance from your desk. Walking towards him, you cross your arms as you stand intimidatingly close, staring at him as you quietly wait for whatever poem he has prepared this time.

You’ve heard them all, wondering if he knew how you’d stop whatever you were doing to listen closely what he whispers, murmurs, sings out.

But instead, Kuroiro leaves from the shadows and pulls you into a tight hug, a hand resting on your head as he murmurs how sorry he is, how he’s come to reflect his past actions from the incident and previous ones, finally taking into consideration your feelings and possible thoughts. But not without telling you how he’ll compromise his pranks with you as it spices up your relationship from the others in the dorm. He leaves out the part about riling you up until you choke him during sex.

Even if his voice sounds so quiet, so calming in your ear, you can’t help but shift a bit in his embrace until he suddenly goes quiet, a simple hitch of his breath grabbing your attention. What happened?

“Shi?” You ask, looking at him. Whatever anger was in your system quickly drained, in fear you might’ve accidentally hurt him. And what sucks about his quirk is that you can’t ever tell when he’s blushing, but only guess with how his eyes and mouth look.

You feel him grind back- wait, what?

Somehow looking down, you come to see a tent growing in his white sweatpants, poking at your leg.

“How… curious.” You hum, placing your hands on his hips to keep him still.

“Is this new or did you come with this? Is this why you’re apologizing so directly?”

He stutters, his embrace tightening as he subtly tries pressing himself harder against you. He doesn’t deny what you’re telling him, but he also doesn’t confess it’s the truth.

You’re giggling, and even though it’s cute, like, really-cute-he-can’t-wait-to-smother-you-in-kisses, he groans at your slight teasing.

“My beloved. Don’t laugh at my predicament! I cannot help but give way to the temptation placed in front of me.”

Oh, how lovely. But he has a point. You did put on these shorts to simply rile him out of the dark instead of lurk in and around it, but clearly you were still lured in by his, uh, interesting choice of nickname.

“Why’d you call me hot stuff?”

“To get your attention, which is apparently clear to me, it very much worked.”

“You wanted my attention to deal with you or your friend?”

“Both.” Humor sounds in his voice upon your question, pressing his forehead on your shoulder as he joins in on you staring at, well, his erection.

“Well,” you start, startling him as you push him against the wall, “do you want me to talk dirty or speak Shakespearean?”

“Oh, for the love of- mmnh~”

Now, he’s not… much of a sub, not really. But he compromises so well, so nicely, that even if he is a sly motherfucker, he can also somehow weave his agreement in something through his words. Or actions, like now. You’re in command, you can do as you please, he owes it to you. Either way, he’ll still be able to ask you about choking him.

But your thigh rubbing up and down so teasingly against his crotch? Not what he expected. Since when do you start slow?

But you’re starting with that for now, wanting to milk out what you could of his sounds, his twitches, his reactions. You love it when he shivers.

“Stop teasing.” Kuroiro breathes out, letting go of the hug as his arms fall against the wall, his back and head creating a soft thud as he stares at your head. You haven’t looked up yet, but better for him. He doesn’t… want to look too creepy now, not with how he’s blending so well with the dark..

“I thought I could do what I want?”

“Yes, but- hah~ Stop that!”

“Stop what? This?”

“Interrupting me- ah fuck.”

You keep pressing yourself harder and harder against him, the speed never-changing, but it’s enough for him to already let out such airy moans and small groans. His hips are slowly lowering themselves to keep adding more pressure, moving them subtly to fasten the speed. This doesn’t skip your attention.

“You’re this turned on?”

“Can’t help it.” A soft groan leaves him as he grinds down a certain way, enough to make his knees feel a little weaker. “Needed you, days ago. Couldn’t…”

Oh? He’s embarrassed?

“Couldn’t what?”

“... make myself cum- hnn.”

You giggle again, the sound making him lay his palms flat on the wall in case he’d need to escape something embarrassing. But you know better than to tease him verbally, not wanting to make him become too shy that he’ll ignore you, whether or not you’re his lover now. He’s always been and will be such a shy boy, yet a sneaky bitch. Such duality.

You stop moving your leg and hold him as still as possible, lifting up your head to look him in the eyes. He doesn’t look or shy away.

“You’re cute, you know that? You couldn’t look me in the eyes before we dated, and now you have the audacity to come every night asking for forgiveness, but for what? Truly because you miss me, or just to get your dick wet and satisfied?”

You’re waiting for an answer, your hands diligently moving to pull down his pants slowly.

“I… I missed you, my beloved. I felt incredibly lonely. Even the moonlight that’d enter my room wouldn’t sing me the same song your humming would, or reflect such beauty you seem to radia- holy shit.”

It took what you had of self-control to not laugh: such words being interrupted by such a vulgar phrase. Good thing he’s not heavily religious, or that Ibara was around. She sometimes… worries you, with her affinity with religion.

Your hand is fondling about with his brief-clad dick, making sure the fabric seeps out the precum you could feel, but sadly not see. For some, this could be a turn off, not being able to see a dick; but for you, it just adds to the mystery, adds with how sexy you could even see Kuroiro be.

There’s no more words exchanged, not with how you’re enjoying the feeling of his hips pushing themselves to make him feel more of your hand and thigh, have you do something to add more to his pleasure. His white sweatpants are hanging around his thighs by now, his underwear soon enough being pulled down enough to follow.

A huff of ‘hurry’ leaves his mouth, leaving you confused about what the hurry is about? What happened to being patient? Or is he seriously so hung up with not being able to cum this week that he just needs to? Wait, that's actually hot.

Nodding your head, you smile up at him as one of your hands wraps itself around him and the other pressing its palm to the tip of his dick.

“I’ll be quick, just hold on, yeah?”

Nodding, his eyes immediately close when you squeeze him, your palm slowly figuring out what motion would make him moan faster.

When he moans your name out loud with the circular motion, you press a kiss on his lips before doing it again, and again, and again. Faster every time, spreading his precum around while your other hand tries to pick up into a steady pace without messing up the rhythm.

Kuroiro’s using the back of his hand to keep himself from whimpering out, moaning, huffing and groaning but not wanting to embarrass himself further with such a weak-like noise. But seeing him struggle with that issue is enough to let it go, pressing your knee between his legs and against the wall to keep yourself balanced.

Faster, faster, faster. Your hands seem to keep moving impossibly faster as the room slowly fills with wet sounds, soft thumps of his hips helping place more rhythm.

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, keeping them shut even if he feels like watching what you’re even doing with him, to him.

But instead, with his eyes closed, his brain decided to bring up what he saw a few days ago:

You didn’t even notice he snuck into your room, or bothered turning off your desk lamp as you lay shamelessly on your bed, pussy out for him to watch as you work a black dildo in you and your other hand placing a small vibrator on your clit.

And you were whining out his name so shamelessly, as if you knew he was watching. (And you did.) Again, you were fucking yourself with a black dildo, just as black as him. And that should’ve been enough for him to maybe relieve himself right then and there, or even beg for forgiveness as you grew closer and closer to your own orgasm. Fuck him, not a dildo! Or let him fuck you while you choke his dirty talk out of his throat!

Instead, Kuroiro quickly left and travelled back to his room, throwing himself on his bed as he almost ripped his pants and underwear off, fucking himself in his hands as he tries to convince himself that he’s fucking you, and even with a precum covered hand, he tried recreating how you usually choke him, claw at him, scratch him.

And he would very much like to fuck you now, but with how you’re touching him, the way your palm is grinding itself incredibly fast around his tip and your other hand furiously jacking him off, he thinks it’s not worth the idea yet. Not when he knows you’re forgiving him, somehow.

He’s about to cum anyways.

He’s trying to grab the wall, as if the darkness would be something he could grab onto like a bedsheet to keep him still, but it does nothing, just make his hands ‘melt’ into it.

His hips are chasing after your hands yet pulling itself away as his knees try not to knock into each other. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, soft sighs leaving with a small moan as an accessory.

And his eyes? He finally opens them, looking from the ceiling to then catch you staring up at him with your own smile, making his reminiscent one fade away as a whole new wave of arousal travels up his body.

Shuddering harshly, he feels his eyes cross a bit as a repeat of his earlier flashback plays, and plays, and plays. The sounds, the scene, the smell of your arousal-

“Y/n- I ahh think- close?”

“Sorry, didn’t understand that. You’re close?”

He just nods rapidly, blinking as he tries to keep his eyes opened to make eye contact, because for him, it’s sexy, it’s intimate, it’s reassuring.

He hears someone letting out weak whimpers, but he thought it was you, until he lets out a louder one and startles himself.

“Again, Shihei, again.” You moan out, feeling your underwear stick itself more to your cunt.

And if your moan of his name wasn’t enough to make him whimper your name back, he’s sure your sweet, sultry encouragement is enough to make his eyes cross once again, forcing him to close his eyes as his hungry hips just downright try fucking your hands without any shame.

He’s grunting how close he is, moans straining in his throat before being caught up in an intake of air, his whole body entering a strong tremor before small yet growing waves of them make him shiver. Without him realizing, his body’s slowly ‘melting’ into the dark, sinking into it as he groans out how he’s cumming.

You watch, taking your hands away from his dick as he spurts thin trails onto the floor, some onto his lowered sweatpants. But even once he’s done, his dick is still hard and twitching.

“What?” He’s confused. He’s not supposed to stay hard. You’ve already made him cum, but why does he feel so unsatisfied?

“M-my beloved?” He whispers, suddenly realizing how he’s more into the walls than pressing against them. Taking himself out of the dark and leaning back against the wall, he brings a hand to your face just as you grin wickedly.

“I think I ruined your orgasm.”

Well shit. Now what, you’re gonna try overstimulating him now? Well, with the way you're going on your knees and bringing him into your mouth, enough to make him wince yet moan, he’s pretty sure tonight he won’t get to fuck you.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: ii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 1   ||   chapter 3   ||   chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You and Hawks’s second meeting.

warnings: mutual pining, shy reader-ish, ooc hawks, the fun stuff, fluff ; ) 

|||||||||||||

You didn’t hear anything from Hawks for the next few days. 

It was a fleeting disappointment, but you took his lack of contact as truth and reality. Some big shot, pro-hero wasn’t going to waste time texting a no-name, nobody barista, no matter how mutually flirty of an interaction was shared. 

Prior to actually meeting Hawks, you had seen the tabloids that his name spilled over. Shady stories of midnight rendezvous with models and celebrities, sultry pictures of his own on magazines at grocery store checkouts were a lot of your knowledge of him. He was a very eligible and active bachelor, everyone knew it. 

You reminded yourself that you didn’t mean shit to him, and moved on.

Until about a week from your first meeting, late into the evening, your phone buzzed.

You thought it was one of the team from the teashop, asking another question about a new blend you had made. 

Your eyes widened at the text that you did see:

 [unknown number]: hey angel ;) do you work tomorrow? it’s supposed to be a cold one and i’d love to try another one of your drinks

 You stared at your phone screen for a moment, mouth going dry before typing out a reply. 

 [you]: is this hawks?

 The next reply came only seconds later.

 [unknown number]: the one and only ;))))

  He... actually texted me?

Holy shit.

Another message came in. 

 [unknown number]: don’t tell me you go handing out your number to folks at work all the time :^( you’re gonna hurt my :^((( feelings :^((((

 You deadpanned at Hawks’s texts. 

You couldn’t believe the number two, pro hero texted like a normal twenty-some year old.

It was endearing, if not at the very least comforting.

 [you]: nah, just you tailfeathers 😉

[you]: i work tomorrow morning, opening shift. 6 am. think you can handle it???

 You giggled at your own texts, unable to hold back when you saw Hawks continuing to type. You quickly typed in a contact name.

 [tailfeathers]: E

[tailfeathers]: Z

[tailfeathers]: i’ll be there bright and early ;)

 Part of you, the rational, realistic part, doubted that. Sure, Hawks had texted you, but he wouldn’t actually show, right? He was a busy, busy man. He’d probably get sidetracked.

Don’t get your hopes up. 

 You tried to remain practical.

But, you also liked pushing your luck.

 [you]: see u then!!

[you]: btw your contact name is ‘tailfeathers’ 

[you]: ;)

 [tailfeathers]: what if i told you yours is ‘barista angel’

 [you]: i’d ask if you saw my name on that conveniently small piece of paper i gave you

 [tailfeathers]: i would say yes

[tailfeathers]: but idk angel seems like a more proper title for u 

You felt your still and heat rush to your face. 

He can’t be flirting with you over text. What the FUCK.

 [tailfeathers]: only angels can make coffee as well as u 😇

 “What a bastard,” You shook your head, sighing. Part of you was glad he made it more clear your identity was tied to coffee and not affections. 

 [you]: u flatter me

 [tailfeathers]: i only speak the truth ;)

 You bit your lip as you typed out the next reply, well aware that the evening sky had darkened and you needed an adequate amount of sleep to actually make it to that morning shift. 

 [you]: i’m about to knock out so i can actually be alive for my shift, but i’ll see you tomorrow bird boy

 Hawks’s replied quickly as seemed to be a trend with him. 

 [tailfeathers]: bird boy!!!!! 

[tailfeathers]: i’m moving up in the world

[tailfeathers]: see u then angel 

 As you got ready for bed, going about your mundane routine and preparing the coming day, you had no idea that Keigo was across the city, cradling his phone to his chest with a wobbling smile on his face, a foreign sensation filling his chest. 

He was very excited to see you again, even if it took a few days to get that far.

 |||||||||||||||||||

 The next day was indeed, terribly cold. Despite bundling up in a thick, woolen coat and a knit scarf, you nearly froze on the way to work. Despite the chill, the rest of the morning crew made it in just a few minutes after you.

“I’ll be in back until there’s a rush, alright?” You called to the three openers, all silly college students from the local university. They were all sort of dense, but they were loveable.

“Okay!” One smiled as they flitted to the front counter and seating area.

The back of the teashop was a smaller commercial kitchen, all steel tables and cooking implements. Lots of tools to actually do your job. Though you were the maker of the tea blends for the shop, a lot of your work consisted of packaging and fulfilling orders as well as design work for the teashop’s online presence. Truthfully, you were more of a jack-of-all-trades type of worker, but nearly all of it confined you to the safety of the back kitchen. The lack of stimuli made it easier to work effectively, quirk activated or otherwise.

You tied your apron tight around your waist, adjusting a few of your buttons and smoothing yourself down. The back remained frigid in the mornings, and you could only be glad you were layered up for the day. You pulled out your company-issued tablet and began tapping away with the stylus as the shop prepped to open.

You were too absorbed in your work to hear the bell at the entrance, just minutes after unlocking the door. 

 Keigo? Elated. His last week of hero work had been all long hours and late nights. His wings had grown sparse with overuse, barely carrying him properly through the skies. When he saw that his office day at his agency was due to be particularly cold, he knew it was the perfect excuse to give you a visit.

You hadn’t been constantly on his mind. Rather, you perked up in his thoughts semi-reliably, but briefly a few times a day. Most affections were forgettable, he didn’t have time for anything other than whorish trysts with other heroes and those of higher society who knew how to keep their mouths (somewhat) shut. 

Part of him, the part that the Commission’s ruthless training created, hated the way how you were sticking with him.

Another part of him, the kinder, softer, very repressed one, recognized his feelings and hid them safely. Vulnerable things required heavy protection.

 When Keigo reached the teashop, early as dawn crept over the urbanscape, he pushed the door open and was greeted by the rolling smell of roasted coffee beans and black tea.

Only a few other patrons were there, eyes wide as the top ten hero gave them a trademark wave, waltzing to the counter with his signature swagger.

The workers (none of them being you) gawked at him, jaws half to the floor.

“Hawks?!” One of them exclaimed. “Oh my god, can I get an autograph?!”

 (Keigo carried a few pens on him for occasions like this.)

 The worker, a young thing with a shock of short blue hair, wrestled under the counter for a notebook. Another of the workers also attempted to wrangle a bit of receipt paper from the fussy machine, flashing him a nervous smile.

“Of course, autographs are a given,” He winked at the two of them, sauntering up to the counter. “On one condition, though. Could you tell me if (Y/N) is working?”

The morning shifts workers proceeded to gawk more. 

 You sat deep in concentration, thoroughly organizing yourself for the day with lists and plans. You were only startled from your work when one of the other baristas popped her head back, eyes wide. 

“Uh, (Y/N), I know you’re busy, but Hawks is here for you?” She stammered, saying his name incredulously and pointing a shaking finger out at the counter.

You could hear his silky laugh just beyond the precipice. 

Your mouth quirked up in surprise. 

I didn’t expect him to actually come.

It was a pleasant surprise though, one that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You put down the tablet, making your way to the front of the shop.

Hawks leaned down on the front counter, signing various papers and items that the staff and patrons of the tea shop had given him. His smooth voice echoed beautifully around the shop, mixing with the din of the soft music that provided ambient sound. 

Thoroughly absorbed in his fan interaction, you leaned against the door frame, watching him as he had yet to notice you.

(You tried to look nonchalant, but it was probably a bit of ogling.)

Hawks’s scarlet wings appeared sparse, but still twitched and fluffed every few moments. He was dressed in his hero uniform, visor pushed up into the feathery, front bits of his hair. With all of his typical regalia on, he seemed out of place in the slow din of the coffee shop. He seemed to shine so brightly, making himself a focal point without even trying. 

Without the protection of his visor, Hawks’ honeyed eyes seemed brighter, luminous from the inside out. Even from your distance, you could watch their topazine shine dance in the soft lighting. 

His gaze drifted to you and positively lit up. 

(You didn’t think that was possible.)  

Your stomach fluttered.

“Well, if it isn’t (Y/N)!” Hawks beamed you a smile that could’ve put the sun to shame. It made something deep in your chest thrum. “For a minute there, I thought you’d pulled my leg about working today.”

“Oh, never, ” You grinned, moving directly in front of him at the counter, your shocked coworkers parting for you. “I tend to work in the back if the rest of our lovely staff is present.

You gestured to your very starstruck coworkers who all gave various gawking looks before falling away, shyness obviously overtaking them. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t feeling similarly, but your nervousness was better hidden. Facades were, in fact, a trained skill in maintaining and god, if you weren’t a master.

But, Keigo had his own mastery in spotting cracks in people’s veneers. And, easily, he saw your tension and nervousness. For anyone with less trained interpersonal skills, they wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But to Keigo? Your anxiety was as clear as the light you added to a room. A few of his feathers twitched, picking up on the rapid beating of your heart across from him. 

“What can I get you?” You asked, speaking through any of your fears, cracking him a genuine smile.

Keigo returned it without thought, chest warming.

“Mmm... Surprise me. Something to help me get my day started.” Keigo loved the way your eyes lit up when he talked, a little bit of knowingness between the two of you sparking. 

“Same specifications as before? Hot and sweet?” You asked, already grabbing a cup, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

Hawks raised an eyebrow, batting his eyelashes at you in a way that you couldn’t not laugh. He rested his elbows on the counter and leaned over the top of it, regarding you with half-lidded eyes, “You remember my preferences? I feel honored.”

“You should,” You winked. If he was going to shamelessly flirt, you would right back. 

 Truthfully, your personal attention made Keigo swoon like a goddamn schoolgirl. He could feel sweat growing on his palms, making the leather of his gloves stick. Normally, the sensation would’ve ticked his more anxiety-ridden tendencies into overdrive, but he could hardly focus on them. He was too busy watching you flit around behind the counter.

 “So,” You began, activating your quirk and beginning your process. “Why so few feathers? Get roughed up?”

Keigo chuckled, flexing what feathers he did have left for emphasis, “Basically. I have to give them a few days to regrow. A couple nasty days in a row means a couple days recovery.”

You hummed, turning to the espresso machine. Before pouring the shot, you gave him a little smile with the cutest quirk in your lips, “I’m sure you more than deserve the rest.”

 Oh, that made his proverbial dick swell.

Someone, a very nice, stranger barista, angel, telling him he deserved something kind? And, there wasn’t an edge of dishonesty in you. If anything, there was an earnestness in your quirk-blackened eyes that made Keigo nearly scared of the amount of vulnerability you gave him so freely.

He wondered if you showed that to all of your patrons. 

(You didn’t.) 

 You turned behind the counter, quirk activated and swirling. The familiar blending of your senses made your teeth ache and head burn with the overabundance of stimuli, but you worked through it. You reached through the external sensations to manifest your idea and feeling into a conceivable reality. 

You dumped any number of syrups and shots into the cup, placing it (and a lid) on the counter in front of Hawks. Warm smells of cardamom and cinnamon tickled both of your noses as you nodded down, “Let that cool for a sec, then give it a taste. I need a comprehensive review.”

Hawks plucked off one of his gloves, taking the steaming cup in his hand, looking down at the foam. His gaze flickered around the two of you, noting that the few civilians and coworkers once surrounding him had left you two with a small bit of privacy.

“What’s the inspiration for this one?” Hawks gave you a downright sweet, knowing look.

“Take a sip and guess,” You nodded down to the cup again, idly going to wipe down the counters with a rag slung in your apron.

Hawks blew on steaming liquid, throwing back his head to take a decently sized sip. You had to tear your gaze from the bob of his throat. 

  Keep it in your pants. 

 While you were suppressing being horny for the number two hero, Keigo was suppressing being horny for a fucking beverage. 

The flavor hit his tongue and throat and danced. It was warm, like the last one, spilling hearth-like heat into his chest and extremities. But, this drink tasted literally spiced, like it had some sort of pepper in it (according to Keigo’s untrained, pitiful palette). His wings ruffled, feathers rustling and twitching with the taste of the drink. Despite the heat flooding his body, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose as waves of subtle pleasure rolled through Keigo’s body. 

He placed the cup back on the counter, staring you down with incredulity.

You, cutely cheeky as ever, just smiled and crossed your arms over your chest, “Are you a fan?”

“It’s... spicy. How. Why. Is this even coffee?” Hawks asked. Despite his questioning, he took another sip, shuddering at the comforting heat it gave him. 

“There’s coffee in it, or, espresso,” You couldn’t help feeling a bit smitten with the way Hawks looked at you. Disbelief wasn’t an expression you saw many heroes wear, especially not one with a reputation like Hawks’s. Yet, there he was, in front of you, staring at his cup like you just served him battery acid and grass. 

“If that’s the case, gimme the rundown, angel,” Hawks peeled off his other glove, setting the pair on the counter. He surprised you as he shrugged off his lined jacket, plopping down in a nearby stool.

You hadn’t ever really seen this much of Hawks, not in his hero uniform anyways. Plenty of him was available for viewing due to his various modeling ventures, but seeing him in the flesh was far better. The black shirt of his hero costume stretched over the lean, sculpted muscles of his arms. He certainly wasn’t built in the same way other top heroes were, but from what you could see (read: drool over), Hawks certainly wasn’t lacking—

“See something you like?” Hawks raised an eyebrow while taking another sip,  devilish curl to his lips.

You really wished you had the bodily control to stop the red flush that grew on your face.

“SO —!” You laughed, diverting back to the drink at hand. “The drink.”

“Wonderful deflection,” Hawks set the cup down, still smirking. “So, the drink .”

Your fingers tapped at the countertop, living your blush down with a lack of eye contact. 

  He gets stared at all the time, chill out. 

Dude probably likes it, (Y/N).

 “The drink is a dirty chai, with some editions, of course.” You jerked your head back to the wall of tea blends, the familiar ebbing away from of your embarrassment. “We have a couple of different chai blends that I make in house. Several different chai concentrates too.”

“Forgive me, but a dirty chai?” Hawks teased.

“Wow, weak jab there, Hawks, ” You rolled your eyes. Hawks just continued to beam at you, swinging his legs behind the counter. “I gave you an oatmilk,  ginger chai with three shots of espresso and a few other secret touches. I wanted to make it warm again for you.”

 Keigo paused at your admission, (not-so) secretly reveling in your poorly contained embarrassment. Perhaps it was a bit cruel, but his job did carry some wonderful perks and he’d be damned to not enjoy them. 

“It feels like a different kind of warm, compared to last time,” Keigo took another taste to confirm. The spiced liquid flooded his palette again, skin pleasantly prickling at the taste. 

 You hummed, refusing to fully make eye contact with Hawks. 

Truthfully, you spent an embarrassing amount of time since the night prior thinking about potential sensations to emulate for Hawks. You were never sure of what type of vibe he would request, but having an arsenal of ideas made you feel more prepared to impress your new clientele. 

“I made it feel like dawn,” You replied, nodding to out of the fully-windowed front of the tea shop. The district you were located in was lit up by the golds and pinks of the early morning, stretching and awakening with the new day. “I wanted it to feel like how morning sun feels on your bare skin. All like... tingly, you know? Like... seeing someone you haven't seen in a long time. ”

 Keigo immediately noticed your bashfulness after you gave your description. In the same way as last time, the vulnerability of your manifested feelings left you warm and shy for him. 

You picked at a loose string on your apron, gaze directed down and away.  With his obscured view of your face, he could see the way you softly bit your lip, eyes occasionally raking him up and down and that retreating. Keigo could feel your pounding heart and slow, deep breaths. 

...

Keigo was whipped and he hardly knew you. He was so fucked.

You were too fucking cute. It was fucking illegal. It had to be. 

Keigo had been with sexy. He’d been with unattainable. He’d been with women and men who looked like they were crafted by gods as tempters and devils. It was all pleasure and Keigo knew it like the back of his hand. He got hedonistic bliss when he wanted it and he did so very, very well.

What Keigo was entirely unfamiliar with was the gooey, fluttery feeling in his chest as you finally looked up at him to smile and nod to the drink, “So, what do you think?”

Keigo’s brain fizzled, rendered into goo. If he didn’t have years of interpersonal training, he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to speak with his own revelations. Luckily, he was able to laugh off his internal stickiness, taking another greedy sip.

“Absolutely flawless, wonderful craftsmanship, (Y/N),” Keigo bowed his head dramatically. 

 You giggled at Keigo’s drama, missing the way how his cheeks lit up for you. 

Hawks dug in his pocket, pulling out a huge wad of bills and started to slide it across the counter, “This is a tip. All for you.”

You stared, horrified at the amount of money Hawks passed to you like it was nothing. Without thinking, you placed your hand on top of his, stopping his motion. Both of you stiffened pleasantly at the sudden, small contact. 

“That’s too much, Hawks, no,” You shook your head, but Hawks was a stubborn, insistent bastard. 

His wings fluffed up behind him, a feather moving quickly between your hands and pushing your up and away.

“What the fuck.” You half-groaned. Hawks fully passed the money across the counter, hiding his hands and feathers in his lap with a Panish smirk stretched across his face.

“Take it, or I tattle on you, easy trade,” Hawks shrugged, leaning his elbows on the counter and drinking deeply. He pulled away from his beverage with a relaxed-looking smile as you remained fluster.

(Holy fuck, you touched Hawks’s bare hand and it was so NICE—)

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers, staring at the money like some Olympic medal. You were well-aware that there was no way Hawks was taking back his money and you knew your coworkers would be too scared to ask for a cut. 

You gulped, taking the cash and tucking it into your apron pocket.

“You don’t need to bribe me to make you nice drinks, Hawks, it’s literally my job,” You told him gently.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, shrugging, “Accept it as a little treat on the side. A gift of my appreciation.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you relented with a smile, shaking your head. 

And the two of your dissolved into easy conversation. Hawks told you about the most recent gigs he had been a part of. A modeling contract for a new skincare company and a sponsorship with a few other local heroes for a sports beverage were the most interesting. You were sure he was just humoring you, unable to tell you the nitty-gritty details of his life. Yet, he seemed happy to speak and listen besides. He chattered away, in the way birds do, sing-song, and free-flowing. 

Hawks was hardly a bird of prey, you realized. He was much more of a cockatoo type. 

You told him more about the tea shop, about your role and job. As you explained about the basics of different types of tea, you could literally see the far off way Hawks looked at you. It wasn’t of distraction, like spacing out, no. It was a look that hadn’t been directed at you in some time. You silently and quickly studied it and came to the nerve-wracking conclusion that the cute blush on his cheeks and half-lidded eyes and relaxed shoulders was fucking captivation, borderline adoration.

For.

You.

How the fuck were you supposed to deal with that?

(Keigo wasn’t sure either.)

 Luckily, neither of you planned on doing anything to stop your mutually budding feelings.  

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Caught

Words: 2.5ish 

Warnings: Kissing

Characters: Kuroo, Bokuto, Oikawa, Akaashi, Terushima (all separate) 

Summary: You are caught making out/sneaking out by your older brother for your boyfriend 

Requests are open!

A/N this is my first time writing for Terushima so please let me know what you guys think and sorry if he’s a little ooc 

You and Kuroo had been dating for what felt like forever both to the two of you and to everyone else. You both were into the same things and you love getting to watch the team play, the only problem was that your older brother was an alum of Nekoma and came back to help coach the players to nationals so now you had to dodge your older brother while still trying to see your boyfriend. This was a simple problem with a simple solution, you two would make out on the backside of the locker room before he had to go to practice then you would go to his house and continue to hang out after practice. Your brother knew that the two of you were dating but you never showed any form of affection towards each other around him because you didn’t want Kuroo to get in trouble or to have things harder on him during practice (your brother was evil like that and totally would do something like that let’s be real). 

Kuroo

SO today was like any other day and you and Kuroo were going to meet fifteen minutes before practice started to make out for a few minutes because you went home and he was able to get in the gym a few minutes early to lead stretches. It was something you were good at, knowing exactly how long the fie minutes had been and saying your goodbyes after that and going your separate ways after that. You beat him to your spot and wait on your phone until you hear a figure rounding a corner. 

“Y/N?” Oh shit, that was your brother what were you going to say to him, luckily the first locker room was only a couple of feet behind the back of the boys so you say that you are waiting for a friend and quickly text Kuroo to abandon the mission. Your brother was suspicious fo your answer but accepts it. 

“What are you doing back here?” you ask him. 

“I was just uh-” he stutters, “don’t worry about it.” 

Right at that moment, Kuroo rounds the corner and makes eye contact with you and then your brother.

“Hey,” you smile at him meekly. 

“Heyyy,” he says confused as to what’s happening here and you can’t help but try and cover it up. 

“What the hell are you doing here,” your brother asks the two of you clearly suspicious of your actions, and when you both start saying different things he knows exactly what was about to happen. He just looks at the two of you and laughs before telling you two to have fun. Right as he is about to run the corner he turns back to Kuroo and smiles, “looks like we’re running an extra mile today,” before turning and going to the gym. 

You couldn’t help but look at Kuroo with the most defeated look he’s ever seen, “I’m so sorry I texted you and I guess you didn’t get it, that’s my fault I am so sorry,” you apologize sadly. 

HE just looks at you and grins before waking up to you and cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. 

Akaashi 

“If I’m going to run the extra mile for you then you better kiss me enough to make up for it.” You definitely kiss him enough to make up for it then after practice you go to his house and kiss him even more.

Holy shit. You forgot that your brother was home from college, he finished classes this morning and came by to spend the break at home instead of in his stuffy dorm. 

You had strict parents, like really strict parents, you weren’t often able to go out and see your regular friends, let alone your boyfriend of almost a year. It wasn’t uncommon for you to sneak out of the house after school while your parents were at work to spend some time with Akaashi, he would always be a gentleman and would pick you up at the door and enjoy the couple of hours he spent with you before you had to go home and pretend to have been doing other things. It was something neither of you necessarily liked but it was something you’d learned to deal with. Today was the end of classes for the semester and you both walked to your house so you could get changed before you went on a celebration date. You walked up to the door and had Akaashi wait outside for the two minutes it took for you to get changed.

“Umm Y/N who’s the guy standing outside of our door?” 

“Is that your boyfriend?” he asks, eyes narrowing in on you. 

“Yes, he is, please don’t tell mom,” you frantically say. 

“Invite him in.” 

“What is he doing standing outside of our house,” your brother says looking at you stupidly, “what are you guys doing?”

“We’re going to go celebrate the break” 

“About what?!?” you whisper shout at him. 

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s hot outside, let him be in the AC before you go. I would also like to talk to him.”

“Don’t worry about it, invite him in or I’m telling mom.” 

“Fine.” you huff before going to the door and telling Akaashi your brother wants to meet him. 

You go finish getting dressed before you go out to see your brother holding up a casual conversation with Akaashi and was that a smile you just saw??

You don’t think about it for too long before you tell him you’re ready to go and you wave your brother goodbye as he tells the two of you to have fun, but not too much fun. The two of you go out and have a really cute date together before Akaashi walks you back home hand in hand. When you walk up to the door you give him a quick goodbye kiss before heading inside. 

“I like him.”

“What?” you turn and look at your brother confused.

“Yeah, I’m the oldest so anyone I say I like they automatically like too. Especially that whole older protective brother thing. Besides, I gave him quite the talk so he knows exactly what I’ll do if he fucks this up. Don’t ask questions okay.” 

“He wasn’t nervous or weird with me, I like him, bring him around more and I’ll get mom and dad to like him too.”

“WHAT?”

Oikawa 

“Oh um okay,” you say confused, but you’re happy that your brother likes Akaashi at least. 

The great king had a reputation outside of his amazing volleyball one, he was known to be a ladies man and to flirt with everyone that moved, even your brother who graduated when you were a first-year had no heard rumors of the alleged “great king’ and his mishaps. Lucky for you your brother was pretty understanding and was nice to you when you said that you had started dating Oikawa and gave you the standard be careful talk, but after the two of you had been together for six months he was more relaxed with the two of you. Now you had been together over a year and your brother trusts the two of you to do whatever in your room as long as the door is closed. 

You and Oikawa were in your room alone sitting together on the bed making out, you were sitting straddling his lap and raking your fingers through his hair while his hands grab your butt as his tongue slides into your mouth as you lean into his chest and deepen the kiss. One thing leads to another and he is now shirtless with you pinned under him making out with your arms wrapped around his shoulders. 

*knock knock* “Hey Y/N...WHAT THE HELL” 

“NO WHAT THE HELL TO YOU, WHEN YOU KNOCK YOU SHOULD WAIT UNTIL THE PERSON SAYS COME IN.” 

“I DIDN’T THINK THAT WOULD BE HAPPENING” he shouts at you while Oikawa quickly puts his shirt back on and avoids your brother’s gaze. 

After a second he looked back at the two of you angrily, “what the hell were you two doing?”

“Shut up we were just kissing, nothing else now what did you come in here to say?” you snap back. 

“Okay okay shut up shut up please,” he leaves your room faster than he came embarrassed. 

“Just kissing my ass, but I was going to ask what kind of pizza the two of you wanted,” he snorts out.

“Ham and pineapple for both of us please, and it’s better than what you were doing with your girlfriend last week, maybe you were gaming but she was-” 

Bokuto 

For the rest of the night Oikawa couldn’t make eye contact with you or your brother and barely gave you a kiss goodbye because he was mortified that he had walked in on the two of you. 

You see Bokuto’s name pop up on your screen with a typical message from your boyfriend,

B: Hey babe, are you up? ❤️😉

Y/N: Yeah, what’s up? You reply smiling at your phone.

B: Want to go get food with me? I’m starving and I’ll pay ❤️🥺💕🥣🥢🍦

Y/N: Bokuto, babe, it’s past midnight

B: Pleaseeee 🥺🥺🥺

Y/N: Fine, only because I love you 

B: Yayyyyyy ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

B: Meet me at our spot in 20 😁❤️

Oh gosh, what did you just agree to? You now had twenty minutes to get dressed and figure out a way to sneak out of your house, which shouldn’t be that hard everyone should be asleep at this time and you were going to be back before anyone would wake up so it should be pretty easy to go get food with him and besides if anyone asks you couldn’t sleep and went for a walk. You threw on legging and one of Bokuto’s giant hoodies before slipping on some sneakers and slowly open your door. After glancing down the hall you are relieved to see that the coast is clear and that you are able to go see Bokuto after all. You slowly creep your way down the hallway and right as your hand touches the doorknob you hear a voice behind you. 

“Y/N what are you doing?” your brother asks while walking out of the kitchen. 

“I’m going to get ramen and ice cream with Bokuto,” you sheepishly grin at him. 

“Oh really?” your brother questions, “If that’s the care then get me something and I’ll call it even.” 

“What?” 

“Easy, you get me food and I don’t tell mom and dad that you snuck out, I’ll even give you money, I’m hungry too.” 

“Really?” 

“Hell yes, we only have leftover chicken and vegetables, I want some real food.” You nod in agreement, that was half of the reason you agreed to go with Bokuto in the first place. Your brother goes to his room and grabs a few dollars for you and hands them to you while telling you what he wanted. 

Terushima 

“And make sure that you don’t bring me home cold food, I’ll be pissed then,” he smiles at you. Secretly your brother loves Bokuto because the two of them game together and Bokuto is the first guy he has ever approved of, not to mention the fact that he snuck his girlfriend into the house last week, this is only fair. 

You and Terushima had been dating for a few months now but the two of you decided to keep it on the down-low so that no one could have a say in your relationship, especially not your older brother. You were a first-year and Terushima and your brother were both third-years and well let’s just say Terushima doesn’t have a great reputation for drinking his respecting women juice. He was the school’s bad boy and your brother had warned you to stay away from someone like him, so what did you do? You went and started dating him and then actually caught feelings for the one guy you were supposed to stay away from. You couldn’t help how your heart fluttered when you were around him, he was easy going, romantic and not to mention gorgeous and you were hooked. Lucky for you he felt the same way about you and the two of you hit it off so well, you would go out on dates or even just hang out at his house after school. Your brother was away on a basketball trip and so you and Terushima decided to spend the day at your house, lazily playing video games and making out with each other. Unbeknownst to you, your brother had gotten home early and when he opened the door he was completely in shock. 

“Y/N WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING??” he shouts at you. 

You look at him in horror, he was standing in the doorway and had seen you straddling Terushima’s lap while hardcore making out with him. “Um hi welcome home,” you smile at him trying to lighten the mood. 

“What is he doing here?” 

“Oh...um…” 

“I’m her boyfriend and we are spending the day together,” Terushima smiles at your brother before pushing you off his lap and standing up, he outstretches and hand and smiles even bigger, “I am Yuji Terushima and I am your future brother-in-law.” 

“Like hell you are, no way are you dating my sister and making out with her in my house, just leave,” your brother shouts furiously. 

“I guess it is getting late, I will go and see you tomorrow Y/N,” Terushima winks before grabbing his jacket and heading out the door. 

“Y/N I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM MEN LIKE THAT!” 

“I tried to but he just is so sweet to me, he brought me these flowers and treats me well. He also walks me home and helps me study, I promise he’s not like he is at school,” you pout with the most irresistible puppy eyes. 

“Whatever, literally whatever Y/N, if you like him that’s your choice but I swear if I have to see my little sister making out with him one more time you are both dead.”

[snarkwrites]

Title: snowbound pt 2 of 3

Theme: holiday party

Fandom / Character(s):Ben Solo/Kylo Ren x Earth!FemaleReader.

Warnings: Honestly, if you read the first part, you knwo already. I am not a medical professional, nor am I a hardcore Star Wars fangirl, merely a casual fan. There is no blood!tw here, but.. There is still an injury!tw, because he ain’t just gonna heal over night. Oh and if you can handle reading my own personal take on Ben Solo (his father’s son, fyi) then you’ll be okay with him being construed as OOC. If not, sorry? Pls don’t murder me?

Word Count: 4k. Shit. I got carried away again, didn’t I?

Okay, so here’s the thing... That first part really got me in the mood to write a follow up. So, here we are. Even if it’s the biggest flop on my entire goddamn blog, I got these ideas out of my head and... materialized somehow. This is my second daily entry for my bb @champbucks over on the @12daysofchristmas challenge blog...

OH YEAH.. for the sake of a timeline here.. This part takes place  two and a half weeks later and part three will take part a day or so, maybe two, after part two. Trust me, this needed to be said.

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

@andie01 @helluvawriter and @kyleoreillysknee 

@champbucks and @12daysofchristmas

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“Are you even listening to me right now, Katie?”

My sister’s question and the annoyed tone she asked it in had me shifting my focus from watching Ben chop firewood down in the yard to at least making an honest attempt to keep up with our conversation. I rolled my eyes when I heard her annoyed sigh.

It took everything in me to remind her that I wasn’t a child.

She’s always been like this, and frankly, it has everything to do with why I don’t try to see her more than once or twice a year, when she insists on all of us siblings gathering at Grandma’s cabin to have a family dinner and pictures.

“What?” I asked, gazing out the window already, distracted all over again. Ben had shed the black thermal shirt now, it was tied around his waist. Each swing of the axe sent muscular arms and broad shoulders to flexing and that had me more than a little mesmerized at the moment. I tried to tear my eyes away. 

,, just like this morning when we had that awkward moment in the bathroom.” my mind taunted me and I sighed, turning away from the window and wandering into the kitchen. “I gotcha. You’ll do the turkey because I can’t cook. It’s already baking and you guys will all be here at 4:30. I need to have the oven turned on so things can finish. I’m not stupid. We do this every single year.”

“I’m doing you a huge favor, trust me, Katie. You wouldn’t be interested in all of this stuff. You’re barely listening to me now. Did you get the girls what I told you to get them both for Christmas?”

I glared at the phone in my hands, dragging one of them through my hair, tousling it a little. “You do realize I actually cook. And I’m pretty good at it. Oh and by the way… I’m not a child. I’d prefer it if you called me Katherine.”

She paused, hesitating. “I’d… really rather not risk the Christmas dinner on your hurt feelings. I’ll prepare most of it, you can do the potatoes!” she said it cheerfully, as if she were offering an olive branch.

She made it seem as if I were incapable of the simplest tasks. She probably didn’t even trust me to do the mashed potatoes either and that thought had me exhaling sharply in irritation as I pinched the bridge of my nose and grumbled to myself about her always doing this. And honestly, I didn’t care if she heard me or not.

The chopping stopped outside and I saw Ben walking from the pile of wood and up onto the porch. The door creaked open and Ben leaned in the doorway, filling it, gazing at me with a brow raised and arms folded over a bare chest.

I held up a finger and turned my attention back to the phone conversation with my older sister, pacing the area right in front of him as I did, lightly kicking at the little wooden table beside the door when she sighed again and for the fourth time, she reminded me calmly, “We’ll have it at 5. Like always.”

Ben tensed a little nearby and he eyed the phone in my hands as if he were picking up on my tension and current level of irritation. I mouthed to him, “It’s my nag of an older sister. The one you heard me talking to last Tuesday?”

He spoke up. “Katherine, I’ve gotten the firewood cut.” an amused smirk played at lips I’ve only dreamed of kissing practically every single night for the better part of two weeks now.

And almost immediately, I froze, biting my lip. Now, I wasn’t dumb. I knew that I’d have to explain Ben being here to my older sisters, but I just… I hadn’t bothered to do so as of yet.

“Is there someone there with you, Katie?”

“Again, it’s Katherine. And yes. My boyfriend, actually. He’s been staying out here with me. But you wouldn’t know, because you only call before Thanksgiving or Christmas and every night until we get together for those occasions. Now I’m gonna get off here. That oven’s not gonna turn itself on. Bye.” I said it pointedly and before my sister could ask anything else or bother me further, I disconnected the call.

I could feel the weight of his stare, I didn’t even have to be looking at him. And honestly, I didn’t dare.

Instead, I made my way into the kitchen, fuming out loud as I turned on the oven. Then again, as I rummaged through cabinets to find pots and pans and my grandma’s old recipe book.

I was so caught up in my tantrum, I didn’t hear Ben slip into the kitchen behind me.

I turned abruptly and found myself body to body with him.

“Why do you insist on putting everything out of your reach?” Ben smirked down at me as he stepped closer, reaching out to grab the pot that I’d been trying to get. He held it out to me and I swallowed hard. I tried to answer his question, but nothing was coming. All I could focus on was how close we stood. And of course, the way he was staring down at me right now.

I shrugged in lieu of an answer and put the pot to the side. For a few hot and heavy seconds, all either one of us really did was stare at the other. Finally, Ben spoke.

“Boyfriend, hm?”

,, think, think, oh my god, holy shit, think..” my brain was going into panic shutdown mode. I eyed him and gave a sheepish shrug. “It was the first thing I could think of. Trust me, my sister is NOT someone you want knowing exactly what happened to you. She’d probably break her neck to go report it to that damn base. And they’d be down here, breathing down everyone’s neck. It’s… Better this way.” I licked my lips, swallowing hard as I stared up at him intently.

He chuckled, shrugging himself as if it didn’t bother him at all. And why would it, you absolute goof? My brain immediately saw fit to remind me, this is just a ruse. When he’s healed completely and he’s got his ship going again, he’ll just leave.” and the thought had a pout forming. I was staring down at the old wooden floorboards.

Or at least I was until Ben’s fingers tucked beneath my chin and he made me look right up at him, that shit-eating smirk plastered on his face as he did so.

I’ve learned over the course of the past two and a half weeks… Ben’s a little on the cocky side sometimes. When he’s not being all broody and quiet. Or almost borderline teasing me on occasion.

“If it keeps this military you speak of out of my way, I’ll do it.”

And the exact second that his tongue trailed over his lips and he gave that smirk again, it was all I could do not to melt.

I digress, I will be a raw bundle of nerves before he’s all healed and he’s gotten his ship repaired.

We were doing it again, that thing where we wind up migrating closer together. Hips brushing against each other. I cleared my throat and glanced down at the walking cast that Doc had swapped him over to at the beginning of the week. “Excuse me, sir.. But I distinctly recall Doc saying to stay off your foot as much as possible.”

“And I would if I hadn’t seen that our heat source was about to run out, woman. How is someone so small still somehow so bossy?” Ben chuckled, that hint of teasing in his tone. I gulped and managed to grumble a little as I shrugged in answer to what he’d said. 

“Go sit down.”

“You come sit down too. If she’s so determined to do it all herself, let her.”

I tensed a little and eyed him. Pretty sure my anger was written all over my face because he chuckled and eyed me, making himself taller. “You let her get to you.”

“I’ve always let her get to me.” I sighed, shrugging it off as best as I could. We were inching closer all over again and my breath caught in my throat as I felt his hand lingering at my hip. “Perhaps you shouldn’t.”

“Oh trust me. After you’ve had her around a few hours later tonight, you’ll see exactly why she gets so far under my skin.”

“Or maybe, she just needs someone who knows how to get under her skin.”

I laughed a little, eyeing him. “Oh, you’re confident now. But her royal naggingness has not arrived yet, either.. Neither have the other two, Margo and Cecilia.”

He chuckled, leaning down a little, his face almost well within kissing distance. “Did you just challenge me,hm?”

“Nope. Just know how crazy my older sisters tend to drive pretty much fucking everyone with their micromanagement and overall nosiness and assholery.” I dared to raise up a little, my face inching just a smidge closer to his. To a point where we lightly bumped noses. But Ben still wasn’t backing away. In fact… If I didn’t know better, I’d almost swear he moved just a little closer. And smirked down at me the entire time he was doing so.

The sound of a vehicle idling outside had me swallowing hard and turning a little, groaning almost the second I realized that apparently, Cecilia had decided to get here earlier than Margo or Dinah. “Well shit. This is a first.”

Ben’s gaze followed mine and he nodded towards Cecilia. Who as usual bought wine and a few presents and was wearing clothing that I honestly didn’t see how she wasn’t going to catch her death in.

“Margo and Dinah are gonna have a field day now. Dinah will have an absolute shit fit, because she wants us all to dress similar in the photos she’s gonna make us take.”

“Photos?” Ben questioned, a brow raised. I held up my cell phone and explained with a shrug, “It’s basically the same thing here as what you all do with your data pads back where you’re from, I’d think.” 

The door was being knocked on and I caught eyes with Ben, taking a few shaky breaths. “And we’re up… Are you sure you’re okay with this, Ben?”

“You said this was the only way. And from what you’ve told me about this military, I’d really rather not have to deal with them. Make no mistake. I could, easily. But I’d rather not.” that cocky smirk was back and there was this look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite get a proper read on.

It had my knees feeling as if they were going to go all weak and rubbery on me.

XXX

My sisters had finally all gotten to the cabin. My nieces and my nephew were running all over the yard, with my sisters husbands outside to supervise.

Ben had kind of wandered outside himself, leaning against the side of the cabin, arms folded over his chest as he watched my nieces and nephew laughing and playing. And I felt bad for him because I knew exactly just how much of this kind of thing he didn’t have as a kid. His early years had been all about training. Control.

Dinah cleared her throat and I turned around, facing my sisters. “What?”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Cecilia mused, giving me a teasing grin. Of my three sisters, Cecilia was probably the one I got along with decently. So I knew when she said it, it was kind of her being wistful because she is a magnet… For all the worst guys.

“You’re always saying you’re too busy. And your internship takes up all your time.” Margo echoed, giving a suspicious gaze in Ben’s general direction. I bit my cheek to keep from snapping out an answer at her, because as usual, Margo seemed to be almost accusing me of something.

Dinah eyed Ben and then looked at me. “Where on Earth did you meet him? I mean… He doesn’t seem like your type, Katie.”

I shrugged. Why was it their business? Anyway, I’m at least 90 percent sure that a man like Ben can have his pick of women. It’s highly illogical to think he’d choose me to begin with. And I knew that. I guess that’s why it bothered me so much because my sisters questions since all of them arrived seemed to further imply and echo my own thoughts.

I cut my eyes at Dinah and gave her a dirty look. “It’s Katherine. And what the hell does that mean?”

“Well,I just mean that I always pictured the guy you wound up with a little more like… That guy from X files.. And not an actual hunk.”

“Fox Mulder is a hunk, by the way. But what the hell does that mean?”

“Are you sure you really know him? I mean it seems sudden.” Dinah went quiet, biting her cheek as she shuffled her feet and eyed me expectantly. “You never mentioned him and then Bam, today, you’re telling me you have a live in boyfriend.”

“Oh my god, wait.. You two are living together?” Margo’s eyes widened as she looked at me.

“And she barely knows him.” Dinah interrupted, irritated because whatever she’d been trying to say without saying before was obviously being interrupted and cast to the side.

I glared at Dinah and shrugged, answering Margo. “Kind of. It’s temporary. Kind of like a test drive?” I did my best at being convincing, but the entire time I was saying it, the feeling of dread I’d been having about Ben’s upcoming departure rushed right back to the forefront. But I shoved it down again. I already know I don’t have a shot in hell there, there’s no sense in dreading it or letting it get to me.

Not when we were already such good friends. Anything further would be risking the total ruin of that. And I didn’t want to.

“Since when? And are there more out there like him?” Cecilia asked quietly, staring dead at him and fanning herself as she did. 

“Since like… a week after Thanksgiving?” I scratched my head as I thought back. Had it really been that long? My mind was blown because it honestly felt like only yesterday that I was finding the crash site for his ship.

The weeks following seemed to have just flown by. And the realization of just how much time had really passed only made me stop and think about just how much I was dreading Ben’s departure.

“You two don’t act like a couple.” Dinah spoke up, insistent. Margo glared at her and I sighed, shrugging. “Not everybody is into over the top PDA. Why do you always insist there’s more to something than there really is?”

“Yeah, Di? Can’t you just let Katherine be happy?”

“If she didn’t have crap judgement..” Dinah trailed off, glancing at me awkwardly. I tensed and rolled my eyes. “If you ever wonder why we never talk more than twice a year, Di? This. This is exactly why. You’re not my mother and I’m not a fucking child.”

I don’t know what got into me, but I was snapping and storming away before I could bother to censor myself or stop. And it felt so good. I stormed into the house to check on the food and just be alone for a few minutes.

To my surprise, Ben cleared his throat from the doorway of the kitchen before stepping in and sliding the doors closed.

“Are you alright? I heard what your sister was saying.”

I took a deep breath and shrugged. “Just ready for the afternoon to be over. She’s second guessing the whole thing and if she pushes too hard, digs too much I’m afraid that she’ll... “ I trailed off, going quiet. Ben swallowed hard and nodded, giving me this look that showed he understood.

And from the doorway, Dinah’s throat cleared.

“I came to talk to my sister.”

Ben tensed.

“She’s got nothing to say to you.”

His tone came out so calm and yet so angry that it had me glancing up at him. He was glaring at Dinah. Dinah’s mouth opened and closed and she looked from me to Ben. I gave her a half hearted smirk and she eyed us both, almost like she were determined to believe that we were lying and she wanted to dig the truth out.

Ben’s arms slipped around my waist and before I could stop myself, I gasped quietly, sort of melting right against him. “Katherine, all that’s wrong with your sister is that she’s jealous. She’s always been jealous.”

I eyed Dinah and a brow raised when I realized that Ben’s words had hit a very tangible mark. She flinched and her mouth opened and closed, and then when she had nothing to say, her lips pursed and she grumbled quietly, “I don’t trust you, Ben.”

“And I don’t particularly care for you, Dinah.” Ben snapped, giving a shrug when she gaped at him as if she were shocked that he’d dare to speak to her that way.

“You’re going to let him talk to me like this?” Dinah gaped at me and I shrugged, snuggling myself against Ben just a little bit, gazing up at him over my shoulder before turning my attention back to her. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re the one who’s acting like an asshole.”

“I literally cannot deal with you. I’m leaving.” Dinah stormed out of the kitchen, calling to her husband and my nieces. “Kids, get in the car.”

Margo and Cecilia eyed my sister and gave each other a look before hurrying inside, shutting the door behind them.

“Whatever you two did, we’re gonna need you to do it again next year.”

Ben chuckled, shrugging. “I just pointed out that she seemed to be jealous of Katherine.”

“Oh, damn.. That went well.” Margo laughed, smiling as she shook her head. Cecilia turned to me and nodded her head back at Ben. “I like him.”

“Wait.. you two weren’t on her side every single time?”

“What? No.”

“I just never said anything because I know she’s been having problems in her own life for years.” Margo mused and this got her a look from both Cecilia and I. Margo gave a shrug and explained calmly, “Her husband’s leaving her in January. For the secretary at his firm. Not only that, she’s got laid off last year and she decided to do the stay at home mom thing and it’s been depressing her. And when we were kids, she was jealous of you and Cecilia because you two were always doing things and she never really got to do any of that… Especially after dad died…”

“She didn’t have to take care of us? We had grandma. Everything was fine.”

“She didn’t think so. You know what a control freak she is, Katherine.” Margo sighed and shook her head. “I have wanted to tell her to grow up and get over it for years now. Just never had the heart to because I knew why she was like that.”

Cecilia and I shared a look.

Ben cleared his throat.

“Is the food in the oven supposed to be burning? Because it smells like it’s starting to.”

“Shit.”

“Listen.. We all know Dinah’s turkey is dry every single year. Let’s just find a pizza place or something?”

I nodded, laughing. “If she were here, she’d be throwing a fit.”

“You three can’t even wait until I’ve actually left to let everything go to shit?” Dinah wandered back into the kitchen, opening the oven and glaring at my sisters and I.

“You let the turkey burn?”

“I thought you were going home.”

“And I was… Until I realized that grandma would be disappointed in all of us. Me, especially.” Dinah was squirming. She’s never enjoyed apologizing. I laughed and shook my head. “Listen, if Jim is going to walk out, let him. The guy’s a fucking jerk anyway. I just never said so because I thought you liked… that kind of guy.” I advised.

Cecilia dug around in the drawers for the corkscrew to open her wine and Margo spoke up after a few seconds. “Just let everything go, Di. Life’s too fucking short, okay? We’re literally all we have left now.”

Dinah mulled it over, nodding. She eyed Ben, who was hanging back, leaning in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. “Maybe I was wrong about you. I just… I got suspicious because that one,” she nodded towards me, “Doesn’t typically get involved with anyone, let alone let her guard down enough to trust.”

I could feel Ben’s eyes on me, but I didn’t dare look up to meet his gaze, instead, I focused on pouring myself a glass of wine.

XXX

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. “Thank God. That’s done for another year.” I laughed out the words and Ben chuckled quietly. “Wasn’t that bad.”

“I mean..” I trailed off, going quiet. I knew from the little bits about himself that he’d told me, he’d never really been that close to his family. And when he’d chosen the path that he’d chosen in life, they’d only gotten further apart.

I got the feeling there was so much more to it than that, but I didn’t push. It wasn’t my business. Even though I hurt for him, because there had been points throughout the day that I could look at him and tell that he longed to have a family, even if all they did was fight. Like… maybe he regretted whatever he’d done immensely.

I sank down on the couch beside him, staring at my hands for a few seconds, nothing but the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace filling the room.

“I’m almost healed.” Ben muttered. I glanced up at him, biting my lip and nodding, forcing a smile. “You are! Hey, if you want… I can get one of Doc’s friends to come out and move your ship back to the cabin… So you can use the garage and the barn out back to work on it?”

Ben nodded after a few seconds, muttering quietly, “Yes.”

After he’d fallen silent for seconds that seemed to stretch into hours on my end, he spoke up again. “I’ve actually enjoyed being here.”

“Honestly, I’ve enjoyed you being here. And I’m not really a people person.”

Ben chuckled. “Neither am I.”

I scooted a little close, tentatively leaning against him. “Sorry you got pulled into all that crap.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t that bad.” as he chuckled and asked quietly, “Is it like that every year?”

I shook my head. “No, because usually, Margo and Cecilia and I just ignore her. Or do whatever she’s nagging at us to do. Just to keep the peace.”

“Oh.”

“But it’s fine, she honestly needed to hear everything we were all saying earlier. She’s always been… Overbearing.”

“Overbearing is just one word.” Ben mused, making me laugh and reassure him quietly, “I’m fine. I have a thick skin.”

He chuckled and nodded in agreement as he eyed the glass of wine I was sipping. I held it out and he took a sip, spitting it out.

“That’s awful.”

“It’s not!”

“It’s utter swill, woman.” Ben dragged a hand over his mouth and my eyes caught on the movement. I gulped and stood abruptly. Because if I didn’t, if I kept sitting there, I was going to do something dumb.. Like kiss him.

And if he’s going to leave soon, that’s the last thing I want to do.

I’ll only wind up getting hurt if I keep getting too close. I have to remind myself of that a lot lately.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

To the Ends of the Earth 17

A/n: Supernatural AU. OOC Gabriel

Link to Chapter 16

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

_______

Gabriel did not let go of you for a good five minutes. You were not about to argue about it either. This had been the first bit of physical affection that the two of you had shared is some time.

After a few moments longer, Gabriel finally let go of you. He glanced over his shoulder at Amelia, who was not even looking up. The kid was too busy building her mud pies or whatever she was doing. Gabriel smirked. The kid reminded him too much of you as a child. Sometimes it was like looking in a gigantic mirror!

“Hey kid, why don’t you go inside and clean up?”

Gabriel said with a smile. Amelia nodded before standing up and dusting off her dirty pants.

“Okay, I am really dirty anyway. My daddy is going to have a cow.”

Gabriel partly wished that he could see Sam’s face when the kid walked in with mud and dirt all over her.

The amused feeling vanished as Gabriel remembered what he had to talk to you about. This wasn’t going to be a good conversation in the slightest.

“Y/n, I need to talk to you about something.”

Your happy smile quickly vanished and was replaced by that serious expression that Gabriel wished that he never had to see. He liked making you smile. This look was the furthest thing from a smile imaginable.

“Gabriel, I don’t like conversations that start like this.”

You said. It was the truth too. It seemed like every time Gabriel talked to you with this particular tone something was going straight to hell in a giant dumpster fire.

Gabriel looked at you sympathetically.

“Sugar, I was talking with Dean. We both had thought that it would be a good idea for me to keep an eye on Raphael. It seems like he is taking up making some friends around here. When I say friends, I mean other angels that have been on earth for a long time. I’m going to be gone for a few weeks...I don’t want….”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

You snapped. Gabriel sighed. He didn’t say anything for a moment. In fact, you didn’t give him a chance to get a word out. Gabriel only looked at you with that annoyed expression that he seemed to be wearing a lot more lately.

“Where was I in this conversation? Why am I never considered? I’m supposed to be your wife and I am always left out in the cold on these decisions! It's like you are just fine talking to my brothers and Cas more than me. Would you just prefer it if you kept me locked at home all barefoot and pregnant or something? I’m not some 1950’s housewife that is just going to sit around and wait for you to come home! This is insane Gabriel! Every time you go anywhere near your psycho brothers you come back not in the condition that you left in! You are just getting your grace back to 100% and now you are going back after them...this is insane!”

Gabriel gave you an innocent shrug.

“First off, barefoot and pregnant? Who the hell says that? Second, gross. You know I want nothing to do with children. Amelia is fine. She isn’t ours! We can play with her then send her back to Sam when we get sick of her. Third, I don't want you to be a stereotypical housewife. I like you the way you are. It's what I love the most about you...even though you can be difficult. Now that my grace is back, it would be the best time. Nothing is going to happen this time, Y/n.”

You shook your head wanting to sit down and hold your head in your hands.

“Then let me go with you. You know that I can hold my own in a fight.”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Not happening. I won’t be able to keep my thoughts where they will need to be. I will be worrying about you the whole time. That is how people get killed.”

You muttered something about being a big girl and not needing to be watched over all the time.

“Yes, you do and you are not going. That’s my final word.”

Gabriel said, taking on his “archangel” tone. You looked at him coldly before turning and storming back toward the bunker’s entrance. In a few hours, you would regret not kissing him goodbye or saying “I love you” at the moment, however, you wanted to kick the archangel in the shins.

“I think that I am going to form my own country and declare war on you and Dean!”

“Y/n…”

Gabriel started but stopped when you held your hand up.

“You aren’t going to listen to me anyway. I am just wasting my breath. Be ready to get a declaration of war notice...hope you and your new best friend forever Dean are up to it.”

You stormed into the bunker without another word.

Storming into the kitchen, you froze seeing Amelia looking at a gooey pancake that Sam put in front of her.

“Daddy this is gross.”

Sam looked up with a sigh and immediately knew what was wrong.

“Hold that thought, sweetheart.”

Sam said, petting Amelia’s head and turning to face you.

“I see Gabriel talked to you.”

Your eyes flickered in your older brother’s direction. Sam’s face was wary as he gave you a sympathetic expression.

“I see you knew about it too. I’m declaring war on you also.”

You snapped. Sam frowned.

“I said that he was wrong to handle this the way that he is.”

You stopped dead in your tracks and was silent for a moment. Sam was on your side. Good old Sam! You could help but be thankful for him at the moment. It was always Sam that stuck up for you when Dean treated you like a kid. Sam wanted to make sure that you had equal say in whatever the situation was.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

You said softly. Sam shook his head.

“You don’t have to apologize. I know that you get sick of being treated like a little kid.”

You nodded, coldly. That was an understatement! You were beyond sick of being treated like a child. This was the perfect opportunity to throw your feelings up in Gabriel’s face. He hated when his older brothers treated him like that kid in the family now here he was doing the same thing to you!

“I really do. Sam, do you think that I am a capable hunter?”

Sam nodded, looking over his shoulder making sure that Amelia was busy with her coloring and not paying attention to the conversation at hand.

“You know I do.”

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Sam’s waist. He didn’t wait before wrapping his arms around you.

“Y/n, I know that you can handle almost anything that comes your way. I also know that Gabriel and Dean are trying in some annoying way to protect you too. It doesn’t mean that you should be sidelined to the kids table though.”

“All Gabriel and Dean want me to do is sit around here and play den mother. Normally I don’t mind but today I am extra pissy!”

Sam chuckled.

“Want me to take you out for ice cream?”

You stubbornly nodded. Sam smiled before turning back to Amelia who was looking up at ice cream.

“I wanna come.”

She said with a pouty expression that mirrored her father’s. You smiled at your niece before motioning her forward.

“Well, come on, sweetheart.”

Half an hour later, you sat nibbling on what was left of your ice cream cone. Amelia was halfway through a very messy hot fudge cake. You smirked as Sam sat the napkin that he was holding down in clear defeat of keeping Amelia’s white shirt clean.

“She eats like Dean.”

You said with a smile. Sam shook his head with a loud sigh.

“She is a lot like her world's okayest uncle.”

Glancing around the restaurant, you couldn’t help but notice several sets of eyes starring in your direction. You tried to keep the obviousness of the situation under control as you gazed at the multiple being looking in your direction.

“Angles.”

You muttered. Sam looked up.

“What?”

You looked around the room again discreetly before focusing your attention on your older brother.

“There are a shit ton of angels here. 1 guess as to who they are after.”

Sam didn’t even have to respond. He knew. It was you. Michael and Raphael had made it clear to any angel that you were hit number 1.

“Do you have your angel blade?”

Sam whispered. You nodded, not even having to feel for the weapon at your side. Glancing down to Amelia, you muttered fuck. This was going to be a hell of a way from your niece to figure out that angels were real and weren’t always the good guys.

“Make sure that she doesn’t peek.”

Sam nodded before leaning down and whispering something into his daughter’s ear. His eyes rolled back to yours.

“I’ve got your back.”

You nodded before stepping out of the booth. Pretending to be unaware of the danger at hand, you walked to the restaurant door. You stopped and looked out into the pleasant Kansas sunny afternoon. After taking a few deep breaths, you returned to the counter where the owner stood counting money.

“Can I get you something?”

He asked, casually. You nodded.

“A glass of water, please.”

As he went to the soda machine to fill up the cup in hand you slowly felt for the revolver in the back of your jeans.Angel killing bullets...check

“So do you have insurance on this place?”

You asked. The owner shook his head.

“Nah, nothing ever happens here.”

“Too bad.”

You muttered before taking a sip of your water. After a few more moments of silence, you turned to the angels casually sitting about the place.

“Hello, you bunch of holy fuckers. I am Y/n Winchester and I am here to deport you right back to heaven where you belong.”

As soon as the words left your lips, an angel had a hold of your hand. It took you all of two seconds to sink the angel blade into the chest of the being. After the angel was dead you turned to face a few others that were stepping closer to you.

“Oh look, you brought your friends.”

You muttered as Sam took out a few angels to your left. You reached behind you taking out your revolver and blasting the angel killing bullets into the others.

“Sam, remind me to thank Dean for his hard work on these bullets.”

Before Sam could respond, a voice you knew well began to speak

.“Yes, let's thank Dean.”

Your eyes widened as Raphael stepped out from the booth that you couldn’t see. Christ…

‘Hello, Y/n. I see you don’t have my brother watching your every move?”

You swallowed as Raphael gave you that cold brutal smile that could scare anyone to death.

“I don’t need Gabriel to watch my every move, dickbag. I have my big girl panties on. You and Michael need to get some new hobbies. I swear you two are like our little annoying fan brats that just won’t go away. I hear that scrap booking is nice.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow.

“Is that supposed to be funny? Do you think that you are funny or something?”

You grinned.

“In the words of my dear brother, I think that I am adorable.”

Raphael’s unnamed expression deepened.

“You are about to be dead. It won’t be a bad thing. I will just have to watch Gabriel be in agony for the rest of eternity but I think that I can manage that.”

You glanced at Sam out of the corner of your eye, he was watching Raphael's every move and was ready to pounce on the archangel.

“I’ve got it, Sam.”

You said softly before looking back to Raphael.

“You first.”

Before Raphael could get his hand up, you fired the gun, hitting him square in the chest. Raphael blinked stupidly as the pain began to take over.

“Bet you never expected this did you, you stupid son of a bitch? Archangel killing bullets. You thought I was just playing? Bitch I never play! Now you're dead and Michael will be next.”

You looked away as Raphael died. Part of you wanted to watch. The other part didn’t. You knew that this would be what it would be like if Gabriel died and your mind didn’t want to process it. You also didn’t want to process the thought that you would have to tell Gabriel that you had killed his brother. At odds or not, Raphael was still Gabriel’s brother and this would probably be a rough thing.

Sam’s hand touching the small of your back made you jump. You turned to face your brother, who cradled his clearly stunned daughter in his arms.

“What did aunty do?”

She whispered, looking around. Sam sighed. He had all of the intentions of letting his daughter grow up in ignorance of the ways of their “world.” Amelia could be the one that went into the world without fooling with the supernatural but who was Sam kidding? This would be her life just like it was his and yours.

“She saved all of us.”

______

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@shaylybaby2032

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@summer-novak

@hankypranky

@sprnaturallover

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@maggiolim

@marichromatic

@shitfaceddaniel

@stuckinsaudi1

@emiwrites3reads

@deanwherescas

 @knight-of-gleefulness

@killtherandomness

@mycuddlycorner

@wontlookaway

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

[unsympathetic-core-sides]

“I don’t think you ever wanted this to work. You never tried.” U!Patton to Virgil?

This took me several hours and it's pretty ooc I'm sure but it's nice enough for me. If you need me to tag anything, tell me.

-----

Patton and Virgil have been together for years and known each other even longer. Most people would say they’re the perfect couple.

Except Virgil.

But Virgil couldn’t say that. Nobody would believe him if he talked about what Patton`s done to him. Nobody except some internet friends he has that Patton doesn’t know about. They’ve been his only friends for years. Or at least his only real friends. All of his real life friends have been scared away by Patton.

Virgil sits up as he hears his phone ding quietly, having been procrastinating getting up from bed, he checks his notifications and smiles as he reads the messages.

TheDramaticOne: hey!!!! Does anyone ever really wanna meet up irl??? Cause well I REALLY do (but that might be because youre all sooooo amazing <3)

Liar-Liar-Pants-on-Fire: hell to the yes. (also lies….)

Virgil shook his head at his friends, he was glad Patton was out, he didn’t have to pretend not to be texting them now. He gets up and changes into a hoodie he got from Ro and some jeans.

EmoNightmare: ugh I wish… you know that Patton is a dick about this kinda stuff tho :/

CHAOTIC—BITCH: HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE AID THIS: KILL HIM!!!

Liar-Liar-Pants-on-Fire: DON’T.

TheDramaticOne: REMUS NO!!!!!

CHAOTIC—BITCH: FINE THEN JUST BREAK UP WITHJ HIM DUH

TheDramaticOne: K yeah <3^^^^

Virgil rolled his eyes and got out of bed and headed to the kitchen, where he was expecting no one to be there, but got a shock when he saw Patton standing there, fully dressed and sipping his coffee.

“Good morning love! Where did you get that hoodie? And what are you doing on that phone of yours?” Patton walked over to him and reached for his phone.

“Nothing!” Virgil shoved his phone away before Patton could grab it. He frowned and reached for the phone again. This time he got it.

“What is going on with you?” Patton shook his head and then looked at the messages on Virgil’s phone. “What. Is. THIS?” Patton looked up, a sneer on his face and hatred in his eyes.

Shit. He needs an excuse. An excuse? “I- um.. It’s not what it looks like…” Virgil starts to slowly back away. Come on think, think, THINK! Why can’t he think of anything?! His breath hitches as his back hits the wall.

“NOT. WHAT. IT. LOOKS. LIKE.” Patton dropped the phone and took a step with each word. Tilting his head to the side, a forced and very angry smile spreading onto his face. “Virgil…Love….Who are those people and WHY do you think it’s acceptable for them AND you talk about me, you’re loving boyfriend of 5 YEARS, like that? After all this time… I don’t think you ever wanted this to work. You never even tried. You’ve hated me that much all this time huh? WELL FUCK THAT. WE CAN AND WILL STAY TOGETHER YOU HEAR ME!?” At that last sentence he grabs his half empty mug and threw it at Virgil, narrowly missing his head.

Virgil yelped and made a split second descion. He dived for the phone and ran back to the bedroom, locking the door and pushing the dresser in front of it, knowing damn well that won’t give him much time. He hears Patton yelling and banging on the door. He looks at his phone and types a message through the tears now falling down his cheeks.

EmoNightmare: help ,me jh3esues Christ ps hesgonna kill mee fucklfuckfcukfuck

Liar-Liar-Pants-on-fire: Vee?

HOLY FUCK VEE IS THIS PATTON?

TheDramaticOne: Virgil please talk to us

Where are you im gonna pick you up

You still livew around here right??

CHAOTIC—BITCH: Come on you can do this

Im gonna fucking kill that asshat

EmoNightmare: its p[atton he read the mesaasges amd hes puisseed

I stil libve here plsa get mehol.y fuck hes gonnna break thedoor

TheDramaticOne: Climb out the window ill meet you there.

Virgil shoved his phone in his pocket. Patton’s yells where getting louder and louder. He stumbled towards the window that was just beside the bed and pulled on it< trying to get the dumb thing open. Eventually he tugged it open and swung his legs over the side, god he was lucky he lived on the first floor of this apartment. He jumped out and stumbled a bit. He heard Patton finally get through his mini barricade and he started sprinting. He ran round the corner and pulled his phone out.

EmoNightmare: where awr u???

TheDramaticOne: Main entrance of the Gilligan Apartments.

That’s where vyou live right?

Liar-Liar-Pants-on-fire: YOU ARENT SURE?

TheDramaticOne: oh im sorry thst im doubting myself in this situation

EmoNightmare: yuoe arwe right ill be=there in am opkmernt

He threw his in his pocket and ran towards the main entrance, rubbing the tears of his face. Once he arrived, he glance around the parking lot. Where could he be?? He can’t stay here long or Patton will find him.

“Virgil?” A voice from behind him spoke. He turned and saw who he assumed was Roman. Tall, black hair, worried expression, must be. “Virgil, is that you?”

“Roman.” He muttered and tackled him into a hug. Roman wrapped his arms round him and petted his hair, calming him down.

Everything is gonna be better now.

[alectoperdita]

KJ, #43? :3c

So two of y’all requested this one. Another AU cuz I spent a night reading /r/KitchenConfidential and talking about the hospitality and food industry with M. I’m sorry if they’re a bit OOC here.

“Frost the damn cupcakes.”

The kitchen couldn’t look more like a warzone unless you replaced the scorching heat of the stove-tops with incendiary mortar fire. Or at least that was how Joey imagined it. He had never been in the army or gone to war, but he had seen more than his fair share of grease fires and mid-rush screaming breakdowns. Much like on the battlefield, any plan fell to pieces as soon as the first bullet was fired. Or in this case, as soon as the first time someone front of house punched in the wrong order and didn’t turn up to correct their mistake until the wrong entree was halfway cooked.

Dear Lord, less than an hour into the shift, and everything had gone to complete shits. There was literally nothing worse than dinner service on a Valentine’s Day that fell on a Saturday.

During mad rushes like this one, Joey’s only coping mechanism was to let himself get swept away in the kitchen’s cacophony. The sounds of the head chef and the hostess devolving into a full-on screaming match over a change in the dessert choices for the night’s tasting menu because one of the owner’s whim faded into the background. His temples pulsed and twitched to the beat of Cardi B’s Money, blaring loud and tinny from someone’s phone chucked inside an unused 9 pan. 

If he remembered correctly, sous-chef Yuugi won the privilege of curating the back of house’s playlist for this hellish night.

Keep his head down. Focus on the task at hand. Just get through the night somehow.

Maybe in one piece. Maybe in multiple gory pieces. Whatever, he could put them all back together later.

Joey wondered if it was possible to drown himself in the sea of tears brought on by the pounds and pounds of onions he was stuck mincing.

“You! Newbie! Line cook!” Chef’s voice cut through the chaos as cleanly as his probably custom-made knife set. 

Joey’s vision blurred as he split open another stinkingly fresh and young onion. Holy fuck, who was their supplier?

“Wheeler!”

His name snapped him out of his fugue state. His response was just as automatic, a damn reflex after four years of slaving in any number of kitchens. “Yes, chef?“ 

Seto Kaiba, executive chef and co-owner, bore down on him, the watery and wrathful vision of a general under siege. Joey quickly wiped his teary eyes with his sleeve, only resting his knife on the chopping board after the fact. Kaiba’s face was a splotchy red. Joey wondered if it was from anger or the kitchen’s heat.

"You’re creating God knows how many health code violations sobbing over the onions!” Kaiba snapped. “Take your pathetic breakdown to the walk-in. I expect you back here in five minutes.”

Joey’s hackles rose. “It ain’t a breakdown. These onions are really fucking raw! Lay off me!”

Kaiba glared at him, eyes flinty and nostrils flared with rage. God, Joey was a fucking idiot. Barely two weeks in a new kitchen, and he was already backtalking the chef, throwing whatever goodwill he might have earned in that time straight into the crapshoot. He should have just listened; took that minute to clear his head and nose and eyes in the walk-in as ordered and then come back to his station. Kaiba wasn’t going to fire him—couldn’t afford to with how understaffed they were—but it didn’t mean he couldn’t make Joey’s life hell going forward.

“Useless,” Kaiba snarled. As he spun away, his black chef’s uniform blurred like Joey was staring into the center of a black hole sucking in all life and hope and all of Joey’s prime years. “Taylor, take Wheeler’s station! Wheeler, you’re helping Yuugi get Pegasus’ damn abominations out there! I am going to eviscerate whoever opened for this trainwreck.”

Yikes, that spelled bad news for the lunch shift. Kaiba’s knife skills were nothing to sneeze at.

Joey stumbled after the head chef, who bellowed “behind” as he bulldozed his way back down the line, swiftly followed by a chorus of “heard.” They came to a stop at the other end of the kitchen where Yuugi, standing on his usual upturned milk crate, was plating dishes as fast as he could. 

“Hey, Joey,” Yuugi greeted. His tone was as dead as the look in his eyes.

To his left were pans of chocolate cupcakes, bowls of blood-red frosting, and trays of delicate, wispy sugar-spun hearts. Slowly, the previous shouting match between Kaiba and Mai that he had tried to ignore sunk in. These were the last-minute substitutions that Pegasus had insisted on at 3 PM and never communicated to the dinner shift.

“Wait"—Joey reached out and caught Kaiba’s sleeve before he could leave to return to his own station as panic welled up in him—"I think you should get someone else on this! I ain’t good with finicky stuff like this.”

Kaiba looked him dead in the eye and snarled through gritted teeth. “Frost the damn cupcakes, Wheeler.” Then he shook off Joey’s grip and stormed off again.

“Don’t worry, Joey,” Yuugi said tiredly. “I’ll show you how. You do the frosting, and I’ll handle the rest. Just pray to God no one asks us to hide a ring inside one.”

I love cooking, he reminded himself. But the words simply rang hollow at that moment.

-x-x-x-

Compared to the heat of the kitchen, the mid-February chill felt like a shock to his system. But the alley out back where the staff took their smoke breaks was blissfully quiet and almost serene. Joey ignored his chattering teeth, mindlessly scrolling through his phone while ignoring the overwhelming desire to smoke.

Hinges creaked as the back door swung open and shut in the same heartbeat. Joey glanced up from his phone, hoping it was either Yuugi or Tristan on break as well. 

No such luck. Kaiba, tall and menacing in his dark chef’s uniform, made a beeline to where Joey had plopped down on a crate. To Joey’s surprise, Kaiba dragged another crate over and sat down next to him.

“Are you planning to smoke that?” Kaiba asked, startling Joey out of his stupor. He gestured toward the unlit cigarette dangling limply in Joey’s other hand. 

Joey shook his head, still unable to force his tongue into working order.

Without asking, Kaiba snatched the unlit cigarette. Joey nearly dropped his phone when their hands touched. Before he could offer a light, Kaiba fished a shiny, silver lighter with what looked like an engraving of a dragon from his pocket and flicked it on in one smooth motion. Entranced by the way the flames danced across the sharp planes of Kaiba’s face, Joey watched the chef slip the cigarette—Joey’s cigarette—between his thin lips and lit it. When Kaiba sucked, his cheeks hollowed, and Joey swore he caught sight of what would have been a dimple if the surly chef ever smiled. Then he puffed out a cloud of smoke through puckered lips.

Suddenly, February didn’t seem so cold anymore.

Joey forced his gaze back down to his phone. He would not get caught staring, even if Kaiba was prettier to look at than he had any right to be. “Funny, I never knew you smoked. Never seen you out here with the rest of the guys.”

Kaiba sat up, crossed one leg over the other, and rested his large hand holding the cigarette against his knee. “I quit last year. Or at least until Pegasus pulls a stunt like tonight’s.”

Joey nodded, suddenly all too aware of Kaiba’s grace, which was much easier to ignore when he was wielding a sharp blade and firing orders at the line. “Yeah, I’m tryin’. My sister keeps bugging me ta.”

Kaiba huffed with what Joey swore sounded like amusement. “Your sister does know what you do for a living, doesn’t she?”

“That’s what I keep tellin’ her.” Joey risked a small smile at the other man.

For some reason, a frown settled over Kaiba’s face. He leaned forward suddenly, bringing his face mere inches away from Joey’s. Joey fixed his gaze on Kaiba’s hand, now held aloft in the air with the cigarette and its smoke curling around his long fingers. But as soon as Kaiba pulled in for another puff, Joey’s gaze couldn’t help but follow, lingering on Kaiba’s mouth even after the cigarette withdrew.

“How long have you been in my kitchen?”

Joey swallowed, locking eyes with Kaiba before answering softly, “Almost two weeks, chef.”

Kaiba’s mouth curled upward, not quite a smirk but also not a smile. “Then I’ll say this once, and you’d best listen. In there, my word is law. I don’t tolerate anyone questioning my orders. I know exactly what you’re capable of, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. So do as I say. Do I make myself clear, Wheeler?”

“Yes, chef.”

“Good boy,” Kaiba said smugly, patting one of Joey’s cheeks twice.

Joey nearly fell over. His whole face tingled from the touch. And the next time Kaiba wrapped his lips around the stolen cigarette, Joey decided he’d frost as many damn cupcakes as this man wanted. 

[deathboundinautumn]

@psychcdelica​ is giving me one of my first headcanon prompts in a good while and sends:

How does Shinji feel about having kids? ( w Mitsuru or Red esp )

ooc: Hooo boi do I have some thoughts.  This is headcanon stuff right? Haven’t done stuff like this in a minute so lets do et.

P3 Verse (or no tags because by default everything occurs here)

This is so far off his radar it’s not even something he’s ever considered in recent memory.  Maybe as a kid/before Oct 4th (the first one) he’s maybe considered it in a ‘well one day i’d like to be successful and have a family’ but even then he might just have only considered that because that’s what most people say?

Growing up as an orphan meant that he never really had the traditional family dynamic.  He had to create his own which he found in Mikki and Akihiko and then later Mitsuru.  In a lot of the commentary from the character designer/concept artist they really reinforce this idea of Shinji and Akihiko’s relationship being stronger and closer than most familial bonds and I really do believe that those two (and Mitsuru) are each others family and since they’re so young he’s never really considered (seriously) the idea of having kids.

Let’s talk about after Oct. 4th.  Everything changes after Oct. 4th (duh) so this is something he definitely would be strongly against.  He already feels like a danger to himself and everyone else around him which is why he mostly keeps to himself.  On top of that the whole ‘looming death’ thing and living on limited time makes the thought of having kids something he can’t even consider since he won’t be alive long enough to make that a reality (since I can’t even imagine him being a father while they’re still in highschool).

Let’s say he lives past P3 aka P4 or P5 verse (Road to Avalon/Avalon)

Shinji living past Oct 4th (round 2) does spark a change in his personality/resolve and if anything its more of a revert to how he used to be before Oct 4th (1st one) but he’s wiser and more mature due to the trauma/experience he’s gained from walking the other path (one much closer to Strega) more so than Akihiko and Mitsuru he understands pain and guilt in a way they cannot having been engrossed so deeply by it to the point of exiling himself from his own family. 

I strongly recommend taking a look at this fan-comic as it explains the revert in his personality + gaining his newfound resolve/will to live and while I headcanon that Shinji would NOT gain a new persona, rather Castor will be made available to its fullest potential instead.  I have been very heavily considering adapting/adopting this same exact persona later down the line around/during the events of Persona 5 (while giving due credit to the original origins of this headcanon as its not technically mine of course).

While you might be thinking but he’s already had to go through so much more than everyone else!  Why not just give him a new persona after taking a bullet from evil Jesus and living???  To that I say you, you’re wrong. The rest of the Senpai Squad has gone through just as much as he has.

Mitsuru feels the guilt of her family’s legacy (grandpa did the bad thing), the despair of (assuming Shinji lives) maybe losing Shinji/him being in a coma forever AND mourning the loss of her father PLUS the responsibility of the Kirjio company being thrust upon her.  

Akihiko has to deal with the guilt of losing his sister which blindly motivates him to become even stronger, sacrificing his own mental well-being and healing for the sake of training.  The despair at losing his best friend (Oct 4th round 1) and not being able to save him (Shinji) from himself only for that to be taken a step further by not being able to bring him back to them which results in Shinji getting fucking shot and maybe dying in a hospital bed before he gains his resolve (for Shinji’s sake).

Shinji has always been different from the other two.  While information is scarce, Shinji has always struggled much more with mastering Persona than Mitsuru or Akihiko did and mostly forced himself to do so out of fear of being left behind by his friends.  So I believe gaining a new Persona would be more difficult for him than it was for them.  The difference between Shinji’s journey and theirs is that he’s the only one that took an actual bullet for the cause.  Besides I think unlocking Castor’s true potential is a much more profound way of telling the story of self-acceptance than just giving him a new persona outright.   The way i’ve always thought about it is after surviving P3 Castor’s appearance would change.  Castor would no longer be impaled on his own sword, instead he’d be wielding both sword and shield.  A representation of Shinjiro’s own will/determination to defend his friends family.

In fact I believe another major change would have to occur in his life for such a change in resolve to also occur.

Long tangent but I feel to fully explain myself I need people to understand where I’m coming from.

I think Shinji would still feel kind of bad initially at finding out they’d be having kids.  Mainly because ‘holy shit you already work so hard and now you’re pregnant’ also, despite knowing it doesn’t matter to her, the backlash she may face for being with this nobody isn’t a great look for the company and again adds more work she has to do to prove herself.  All that being said, it’d be impossible to deny how happy he would be at having a child with the woman he’s loved for so long.  He never thought he’d ever get this far much less with her.  So he’d do everything he can to be there to love and support both of them in every way he could.  She’s not in this alone.  He’s not in this alone.

Hey remember that major life changing event that would need to occur for his Persona to evolve?  Yeah this would be it.

With Red AKA the Transistor-verse (See You In the Country)

I definitely think something like this would be something they’d actually talk about.  While Shinji or Castor in this verse wouldn’t be against the idea of having kids with Red he would float the idea of considering adoption being an orphan himself (though whether she knows that or not depends).  That being said if they chose to have their own I’d imagine what the outcome would do to their respective careers.  Obviously she’d have to take time off from her busy career during the pregnancy and after, but having grown up without any sort of parental figure he wouldn’t want to be absent from their life as much as he might be running the Phlegethôn.  So it’s very likely that leading up to their kids’ birth that he’d have the Phlegethôn open every day for longer hours than he’s ever done before to bring in as much revenue as possible to support the fact that for almost half a year he’d shut the restaurant down to help out after their child is born.  

Once they’ve gotten the swing of things he’s start opening up again with shorter hours so that his days aren’t ending at 2 AM.  He’d definitely not want for her to give up her career either and I definitely believe the two could create a schedule where both of them can still be doing their own thing while also making time for their family.

Also at some point during the pregnancy I’d imagine he would come clean (if he hasn’t already) about his origins and his life before he took the name Castor.