#I say all of this but I was still on the edge of my seat to see how it ended
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RAFE CAMERON - your locker
x FEM!KOOK!reader - MASTERLIST
SUMMARY: a note gets left behind when you’re standing in front of rafe’s locker
WORD COUNT: + 1k
GENRE: fluff
CONTENT WARNING: /
you’re sitting in the back row of your english class, doodling absentmindedly on the edge of your notebook. it’s not like you weren’t paying attention to the lecture—well, maybe you weren’t. it’s just that he, sitting three rows in front of you, had completely stolen your focus.
his back is to you, but it doesn’t matter. even with just the back of his head to look at, it’s like he’s the only person in the room.
“are you even listening?” your friend, laura leans over from the seat beside you, her voice pulling you back to reality.
“sorry?”
she follows your line of sight, her lips curling into a grin when she realizes where your attention has been. “oh my gosh, you’re staring at rafe cameron.”
your heart practically leaps out of your chest. “shh!” you whisper harshly, glancing around to make sure no one heard. “i wasn’t staring.”
laura raises an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “uh, yeah, you were. it’s okay, though. he is hot. honestly, i’m surprised you haven’t, like, said something to him.”
“are you crazy?” you hiss, feeling your face heat up. “i can’t just talk to someone like him. he’s… well, he’s rafe cameron.”
“so?” she shrugs, acting like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “you’re you. you’re smart, funny, cute—”
“stop,” you groan, cutting her off before she can make you even more embarrassed. “he doesn’t even know i exist. there’s no way i’m talking to him.”
“you don’t know that.” sarah gives you a mischievous smile. “he could totally have noticed you. i mean, you’ve got the whole mysterious quiet girl thing going for you.”
you roll your eyes. “mysterious quiet girl? that’s a reach.”
she shrugs, still grinning. “all i’m saying is, you’ll never know unless you try. maybe i should just go up to him and tell him for you.”
“don’t you dare,” you whisper, your voice full of panic.
laura laughs, leaning back in her chair. “fine, fine. but i’m telling you, you’ve got nothing to lose. just go for it.”
“i could lose my dignity.”
laura scoffs with a smile, “you’re really dramatic.”
you glance back toward rafe one more time, catching the way he runs a hand through his hair. yeah, no. there was no way you were going for it. not today, anyway.
you’re standing in the hallway between classes, leaning against a random locker while your friends chatter beside you. your bag was slung over one shoulder, the strap digging slightly into your arm. the bell for lunch has already rung, the hallway filled with noise, a mix of slamming lockers, laughing, and the scrape of sneakers against tile. you weren’t headed anywhere in particular, just trying to kill time while waiting on the rest of your friends.
leaning casually against a random locker, you pull out your phone and scroll through a few messages, feeling the buzz of energy around you.
that’s when you hear it—a low chuckle from a few feet away. you glance up, instinctively drawn to the sound, and freeze. it’s rafe cameron and his friends. they’re walking in your direction, cutting through the crowd like they own the place, which, let’s be honest, they kind of do.
your heart stumbles at the sound. you look up, and there he is—rafe cameron, standing just a few feet away with a small, crooked grin on his face. his friends linger behind him, their gazes flicking between the two of you.
you try to act casual, busying yourself with your phone again, but your stomach flips as they stop a few feet away.
“sorry,” he says, his voice smooth and casual, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “mind if i grab something from my locker real quick?”
you blink, your brain struggling to keep up. his locker. you’re leaning on his locker.
“oh, sorry,” you mumble, clutching your bag tighter, before you can move completely out of the way, rafe gently tugs at the side of your bag, just enough to get your attention. “thanks,” he says, his hand dropping as soon as you shift.
as rafe spins the combination lock, you hear a quiet snicker from his friends. your cheeks burn, but when you glance at them, they immediately shut up. kelce and topper both give you these awkward little waves, like they weren’t just laughing. kelce even smiles, wide and kind of goofy, like he’s trying to make up for it.
“hey,” topper says, like he’s trying to be nice. “cool bag.”
“uh, thanks,” you manage, your voice barely audible over the thudding of your pulse.
you blink again, unsure of how to react. your friends, meanwhile, are unusually silent, their eyes darting between you and rafe like they’re watching a movie unfold.
he pulls open the locker door and starts swapping out books, completely unfazed by the small audience. his focus shifts briefly back to you. “sorry about that. didn’t mean to interrupt.”
interrupt? like he’d done something wrong. you shake your head quickly. “no, it’s fine. i didn’t realize… um, this was yours.”
he chuckles softly, the sound doing something traitorous to your heart. “yeah, no worries.”
and then, just like that, he closes the locker, flashes you a small smile, and walks off with his friends in tow.
your friends erupt as soon as he’s out of earshot.
“oh my gosh,” one of them says, practically bouncing on her toes. “did that really just happen?”
you feel your face heating up, still staring at where he disappeared down the hall. “i… don’t know.”
but as you glance back at the locker—the one you’d been leaning on—you notice something slipped between the vents. something folded. something small and white.
your heart races as you pull it out, unfolding the paper.
“ you can lean on my locker anytime. :) ”
#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe outer banks#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey
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The Game Plan
Author’s note: Merry Christmas Bolt fam🩵Still working on rewrites but I needed to write something new to get inspired. I am done with school so I’ll hopefully be able to get fics out more often!
Last time he was this nervous, he stood on shaky legs in front of a New York crowd accepting the William V. Campbell trophy. Public speaking wasn’t his favorite thing in the world and he hated talking about himself. But this was about a hundred times more important. And more nerve wracking.
When Justin suggested flying to your hometown to spend some time with your parents, you didn’t bat an eye. You’d been talking about making a trip back home after the season was over and were elated to discover that he was on the same page. Now that the time had come and you were looking at him as he drove the rental car to your family home, you couldn't help but think maybe he was regretting his decision. The man was constantly fidgeting in his seat, his grip on the steering wheel tight, eyes full of stress and semi concern.
"You okay?" You furrowed your eyebrows at him, urging your boyfriend to let you in on whatever was causing him such turmoil.
"What? Oh yeah no, I'm fine." He knew that sounded less than convincing. "It's just weird with the season being over. Almost like I have to learn how to relax again. This week will be good though."
Nodding in understanding, you place a hand on his leg hoping that the simple touch will ease his mind. Little did you know he was in the midst of a huge inner crisis. Justin rehearsed what he was going to say a few more times before pulling into your parent's driveway. Swallowing down his nerves, he grabbed your suitcase and his, walking toward the front door feeling like his legs weighed a ton each.
Your mom had already taken you away to the kitchen by the time he walked in, immediately lost in conversation about work and life while your dad grabbed one of the bags out of Justin's hands. The two men trudged up the stairs to drop off the bags, exchanging pleasantries and getting settled in before heading to the backyard to cook. Your dad loved Justin. He was the perfect partner for you, a perfect mix of fun/exciting and responsible/caring. He had seen you fall more and more in love with the quarterback over the years which made it easy to love him too. And getting to talk about football all day with someone who actually valued such intimate conversations about the sport helped.
All of the distracting small talk was out of the way, Justin had complimented your dad on his new grill and the improvements he'd made on the backyard and they had unpacked some of the nitty gritty details of the season and who your dad thought they should draft as perfect additions to the roster for the next season and the only thing that remained was the pit of nerves in his stomach that hadn't disappeared since boarding the plane.
"Something on your mind?" Your dad was observant, not really one to beat around the bush. He'd noticed a slight edge to Justin's voice since the two of you had arrived and was really trying to wait to give him some time. He'd obviously gotten too impatient. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Justin's had relationships before. Not many times, but he's felt security and love in other people, seeing a future with them and thought about what the rest of his life would look like. Being with you was not only the most serious relationship he'd ever been in but he found himself constantly planning for the future and setting his family up for long-term success, a family that he now couldn't envision without you. He swallowed thickly, suddenly overcome with emotion at the words that he needed to express to your father. "There is something on my mind actually," he clears his throat, trying really hard to maintain eye contact and not look down at the grill. "I wanted to come here first thing to ask you for your permission."
"My...permission?"
"Your permission, your blessing. Either one. Or both." Your boyfriend rambles on nervously, the words tumbling out of his mouth completely out of order and unlike anything he’d just spent time practicing.
Your dad still looks at him, confused. Justin sighs, "I love your daughter more than anything in the world. She’s the greatest thing in my life and I never thought I’d have the opportunity to be with someone so special. Now that I’ve gotten to be with her I don’t ever want to let her go and...it's really important for me to ask you before I propose."
In that moment it all begins to click and your dad nods. Here was one of the most calm and collected quarterbacks in the NFL stumbling over his words out of nerves because he wanted to ask for permission before getting engaged. A man who's build could arguably be compared to ancient Greek deities was a mere mortal when it came to you and it took every ounce of your dad's strength not to crack a smile. "You came all this way to ask me if you can marry my daughter. So you could do this in person?" The younger man nods. "Before I answer, can you promise me one thing?"
"Anything." Justin says without hesitation. He didn't care what he had to do, he just knew he was going to do it no matter what it took.
Your dad looks toward the house, watching you and your mom laughing while getting the sides set on the table. He looks back at Justin, eyes brimming with tears. "She is my greatest treasure. Promise me you will treat her like nothing less than that."
"I will sir, you have my word."
Justin holds out a hand and your dad pulls him in for a hug. "Welcome to the family son," patting him on the back. The quarterback swore he heard a crack in the other man’s voice but said nothing.
You watched the exchange from the kitchen, slightly confused because your dad didn't exactly give out free hugs like they were Halloween candy. "What is happening out there?"
Your mom catches her husband's eye at the end of the hug, seeing him point at his ring finger and trying to contain her excitement. "I'm sure it's nothing," she smiles, handing you another plate to set on the table, "Justin probably asked him if he wants to golf tomorrow. You know he's been trying to get more into it and bringing an NFL quarterback in front of all of his friends is definitely going to boost his confidence." The two of you stood in silence for a bit until you seemed satisfied with that answer and the two men were back inside, immediately distracting you from asking any further questions as conversation flowed as the food and wine were consumed. Justin helped your mom wash the dishes that night, deep in some secret conversation filled with sporadic giggles and all you could think about was how lucky you were to find someone that fit in so seamlessly. Little did you know they were planning a surprise that you'd never forget.
Step one? Find the perfect ring.
"Isabella, I need a favor," Justin takes a seat at the counter next to his sister-in-law. "You need to distract y/n for a couple hours so I can go through her phone."
Placing her own phone down, she looks at him like he's grown another head. "Why in the hell would I do that? Why would YOU do that?” The more she talks the more visibly upset she looks and Justin is severely regretting not being more specific.
“It’s—it’s not what you think. I just—”
She holds up a finger to keep him from explaining himself any more. “I just want you to know that I’m never thought you’d be one of those people and it’s really disappointing.”
He sighs, looking around to make sure that you aren’t walking in any time soon. “I heard you guys talking last week. About how you had a bunch of videos in your Tik Tok likes that helped you plan your wedding. Then she mentioned that she’s been saving some rings that she thinks would look good on her and I need to see those. So I can design the best ring.”
The tension in her body is instantly released and her features are filled with relief. She holds a hand over her mouth to hide a happy squeal before taking a moment to compose herself so she doesn’t give anything away when she sees you. “You’re proposing,” she whispers leaning in close so no one else can hear.
He leans in too, a wide grin on his face. “I’m proposing.”
“I’ll keep her busy,” she promises, giving him a fist bump.
A girls only DIY spa night in gave him the perfect outlet to grabbing your phone. As soon as the cucumber slices were on your eyelids and Isabella gave him the sign, your cellphone was in his hand and he got to work. He screenshotted 13 different ring designs, jotting down some notes in his own phone, looking at various ring styles and the cut that would best match the style that you were looking for. Then he jotted down some local jewelers to visit and design the ring in person, going as far as flying your best friend to Oregon for a few days under false pretenses that she had a work trip in the area and decided to stay at the ranch since it was nicer than a hotel.
Approximately four weeks after his initial meeting with the jeweler, Justin held the velvet box in his hands and admired everyone’s hard work. He’d had a hand in designing every crevice of the ring that looked much smaller in between his fingers as he examined the diamond. Fresh nerves were beginning to set in as the moment became more and more tangible and real. Once he found a secure spot to hide the ring, he moved forward with the next part of his master plan.
Step two? Come up with proposal ideas.
The beautiful thing about the offseason was that you still had to work remotely, so you’d be in your office in one corner of the house and after his morning workout he had all the free time in the world. The bad thing about that was that he had all this free time to sit and think about how he was going to set up an unforgettable proposal. Luckily, some of his receivers had come down for a Nike promo event and to throw so he had people to bounce ideas off of.
“What about this? I take her to Sofi and propose in the middle of the stadium with just the two of us. We have the video board showing monumental moments of our relationship and as she’s watching I just get down on a knee.”
Ladd takes a sip of water, making eye contact with Derius, who says nothing. Justin continues pacing, taking the collective silence as a sign to suggest something else.
“Don’t everyone jump up at once,” he lets out a nervous laugh, wracking his brain. “Maybe I could drive us to Napa Valley with dinner and some music?” That suggestion earned more interaction, some guys nodded, recalling their own proposals and having him take some pointers from their experiences. There was a time where he couldn’t log onto Instagram without seeing one of his teammates getting engaged and the only thing that made him more nervous than proposing was the media circus that would result from the news getting out. Yes, he wanted it to be special and intimate but the thought of the social media team getting their hands on it and invading your privacy was a little scary. Somehow he had to push that thought out of his mind and tackle one problem at a time.
“Private beach proposal in Hawaii?”
Simi stands up at the suggestion, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Sounds beautiful in theory, but aren’t you scared of having the ring so close to the water?”
“Yeah what if you’re so nervous that you drop the box and it’s washed away by the tide,” Ladd notes. “The less distracting things around you the better. Helps you focus on just her.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, he’s obsessed,” Patrick says, walking by just to chastise his brother. Justin flips him off without uttering a word, an unwavering focus on the task at hand.
Nothing seemed right, some ideas were too flashy, too cheesy. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, how you’d changed his perspective on life and balancing work and your relationship. That it was possible to do both because the right person brings things out of you that you didn’t even know where there. How do you encompass all of those feelings into one perfect location?
“I’m not gonna lie,” Simi says, voice full of sincerity. “You gotta let the perfect time come to you, you’ll know when the time is right. Trust me.”
Justin had no other choice at this point. He spent the next few weeks holding onto the ring, desperately looking for the right time. Spending all this time stressing and planning and plotting had really taken him away from you. There was an unspoken distance between the two of you and it had become increasingly upsetting. Even when you were in the same room it felt like he was miles away, stuck in his own head, shutting you out completely. You were starting to think that he was looking for a way out and couldn’t decide on a way to let you down easy. The thought of him tip toeing around a breakup made you nauseous.
“Why haven’t you done it yet? You can’t keep putting this off forever,” you heard Mitch say one morning after you came home earlier than expected from an in-person work meeting. Usually you wouldn’t eavesdrop, but Justin’s behavior hadn’t exactly given you a vote of confidence in the state of your relationship. You couldn’t even really remember the last time you went on a date without him looking like he was seconds away from getting sick.
Justin on the other hand had spent every dinner date thinking about whether or not this was the moment. Walking around with the ring in his pocket everywhere he went just in case, deathly afraid of you finding it on accident. That thought alone, of him walking in the house to you holding that ring box not only made him want to cry a little at the ruined surprise but also make him feel like throwing up. And he was tired of hearing everyone and their mom ask him when he was going to pull the trigger and propose.
Especially when he felt like it was happening every single day.
“I’m not putting it off! I just—this is harder than I thought. It’s not just something to check off the to-do list. I gotta do it right or I’m not doing it at all.”
He felt so bad about dumping you that he was putting it off…so he could do it the right way? What even is the right way to end a relationship? You didn’t want to stick around to find out, making your way back outside to sit in your car and think about your next move.
“Justin is planning on dumping me.” You sighed into the phone, calling your best friend.
“What? Where did you get that from?”
You spent the next 20 minutes explaining to her all the signs. His weird behavior, always on his phone but will never let you see what he’s doing or who he’s talking to. You feel like he’s hiding something but he makes sure to only give you minor details saying he’s planning a trip with the guys or talking to his agent about taking on different endorsements. It all just seems too fishy. Why is he torturing you like this by stringing you along? Should you just break up with him first?
“You have to act normal like you don’t suspect anything,” you hear at the other end of the line. Her voice is calm and reassuring which is nice because the last thing you needed to hear was that she didn’t believe you. “If he’s breaking up with you then let him explain him himself. Justin has never been someone to do things without a purpose and you know he’d never do anything knowing that it would hurt you.”
She had a point. “Fine. You’re right, I’ll hear him out and figure it out after I gather all the information. Thank you for talking me off the ledge.”
“You’re welcome.” As soon as you hung up the phone, your friend texted Justin that he should start acting a bit more casual because you were freaking out.
The next evening, he surprised you with a bonfire movie night.
“What’s all this?”
Justin pats the spot on the outdoor couch next to him, welcoming you to take a seat. “An apology? I’m sorry I’ve been off lately. There’s been a lot on my mind and I got so lost in my head that I’ve been neglecting you but that stops today. It had nothing to do with how I feel about you at all, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Care to share with the class what was bothering you for so long?”
You cuddle into his side, a sense of comfort immediately taking over the constant state of unease that previously surrounded you. Looking up at him, he places a gentle kiss on your lips, so soft it leaves you wanting more. “It doesn’t matter now, all that I care about,” he sneaks another kiss, “is being right here with you.”
“Well in that case,” you whisper, “we should make s’mores.”
Justin laughs, kissing you on the cheek and rising to his feet, helping you up before heading into the kitchen. The tray on the counter was loaded with various snack items, Reese’s cups, pretzels and strawberries along with normal s’more ingredients. As you made your way back to the bonfire and began to dig in, a thought popped into your mind while enjoying the stillness.
“We can’t do things like this in LA. You can’t beat the scenery out there and the background noise of the traffic isn’t exactly the most romantic.”
He looks up at the sky full of stars, remembering exactly why he bought land out here in the first place. “I’ve always thought about raising our future kids here. Los Angeles is where I work but this is home, they can grow up and be normal kids here. Play outside, go fishing, experience a childhood that has lasting memories. Not sitting in traffic for hours and never seeing a real tree.”
“Our kids?”
“Yeah,” he says without hesitation. “I think about Coach getting our son his first pair of khakis.”
You laugh, picturing it in your head, “and he’d probably get our daughter a custom pair of cleats to wear pregame.”
“Exactly,” he throws his head back to laugh at the image of mini versions of you and him being spoiled by his head coach. He grabs another strawberry, dipping it in the melted chocolate and feeding it to you. “How many kids do you want?”
“Let’s say it at the same time.”
He counts down from five, saying “three” at the same time you do.
Looking at each other in shock, you burst into laughter at the fact that you have identical answers despite the fact that you’d never openly spoken about it. You each knew the other wanted children but just didn’t know exactly how many. Justin felt like his heart might burst with an uncomfortable and overwhelming amount of happiness. If it wasn’t clear then, it is now.
There, in that moment, nothing seemed more perfect. He looked down at your hands, spotting the manicure you’d gotten last week before attending a wedding. Simi’s words came flooding back, you’ll know when the time is right.
And that time was right now.
“I’m gonna head inside and grab another water, do you want anything?”
“I think I’m okay. Thank you though,” you barely acknowledged the exchange, wrapped up in finding the perfect movie to watch as you scrolled through all the streaming services. Today, the most simply normal day was about to be extraordinary and his feet couldn’t carry him inside fast enough to grab the ring.
His heart was beating in his ears walking back outside. He clears his throat to get your attention and the look on his face makes you stand. “What happened?”
“I spent so long trying to create the perfect moment. But I just realized that every moment with you is perfect.”
Your voice catches in your throat and you’re forced to speak in a hushed tone. “What are you doing?”
He takes a deep breath, holding the box firmly in his hand. “I love you. You’re the one I want to build a home with, create a family with, grow old with and everything in between that this life has to offer. I’m sorry it took me so long, that I spent so much time trying to capture some picturesque scene that we’ll remember forever. You and I, right here is memorable. Being with you is all I’ve ever need, all I’ll ever need. For the rest of my life.” He opens the box and you audibly gasp, everything in your body tingling and buzzing with excitement. Everything made sense now, his nerves, the secrecy…everything. He was trying to make all of your dreams come true.
Holding your hand in one and the box in the other, he gets down on one knee. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me?”
“Yes,” you respond immediately, sounding out of breath while wiping a tear from your eye. “A thousand times yes, of course I’ll marry you!” Sliding the ring that fits exactly like it was tailored to your finger, he stands up and wraps his arms around you, a small tear escaping him.
Justin kisses you, a passionate deep kiss, relieved that everything had gone even better than he’d imagined, pulling you in so close that you can feel his steady heartbeat. His movements were long and slow, a slight grin against your lips as you give into belonging to each other. Lost in paradise he leaned his forehead against yours, both of your eyes still closed in awe that this actually just happened.
“Here’s to a lifetime of perfect moments and sometimes the best plan is no plan. I love you Justin, this is amazing I couldn’t ask for anything more incredible.” You pulled away, opening your eyes to look at your hand. “And this ring? You’re crazy.”
“I am crazy. Crazy about you,” he kisses you on the forehead, running his hand across your fingers. “I love you so much, fiancée.”
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That last video… dirtbag!daniel on a motorbike…. So much potential for a quickie in the middle of nowhere di…. Imagine him taking you on a ride and it’s just so hot you’re really really horny and he stops near a forest or something and takes care of it… 👀
-🐱
— daniel on a bike does things to me 🐱🦋 18+ content below
The engine’s steady hum was relentless between your legs, the vibration sending a delicious buzz through your pussy. Each turn, each bump in the road, had you squirming behind Daniel, pressing tighter against his back. It didn’t help that he looked downright sinful—the curve of his helmeted head, the sharp line of his shoulders, the way his thighs flexed as he handled the bike. You were a mess, heat pooling in your belly, your hands inching lower as if drawn by some magnetic pull.
Your fingers grazed his abs over the shirt he wore under his leather jacket, tracing the faint ridges of muscle. You lingered, your touch teasing, drifting down to his thigh. You weren’t subtle, your nails dragging lightly over the edge of his pants, grazing him just enough to make your intentions clear.
He didn’t react at first, but you could feel the tension in his body, the way his grip on the handlebars tightened. When you pressed your chest flush against his back, your lips brushing against the edge of his helmet as you exhaled, his entire frame stiffened.
The bike jerked slightly as he veered off the road, pulling into a secluded clearing. He killed the engine, the sudden silence making your heartbeat thunder in your ears.
Daniel twisted in his seat to look at you, yanking his helmet off with one hand and glaring at you with wild, heated eyes. His hair was a mess, his jaw clenched, and he was already panting as if he’d been holding back this whole time.
“You’ve been acting like a fucking tease this whole ride,” he hissed, his voice rough and low. “Grinding against me, dragging your hands all over me. You really think I wouldn’t notice?”
You blinked up at him, feigning innocence even as your thighs clenched together. “What are you talking about?”
His laugh was dark, humourless. “Don’t play dumb, sweetheart.”
Before you could say anything, Daniel reached back, gripping your hips and pulling you off the bike. He spun you around and bent you over the seat in one swift motion, your cheek pressing against the cool leather as his hands made quick work of your pants, shoving them down to your knees.
“Spread,” he demanded, his voice rough with urgency.
You obeyed, trembling as he dragged his palm down your spine, then between your thighs, groaning when he felt how wet you were. “Fuck, look at you. You’re soaked. You got off on the bike, didn’t you? Dirty little thing.”
You whimpered, your fingers gripping the edges of the seat as he freed himself from his pants, the sound of his zipper loud in the stillness.
“No time to be gentle,” he muttered, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. “You’ve been aching for this since we started.”
With one sharp thrust, he buried himself inside you, the stretch making you gasp. He didn’t wait, didn’t give you time to adjust—he started moving immediately, his pace brutal, his hips slamming against yours as the bike creaked beneath you.
You moaned, the angle hitting you perfectly with every snap of his hips.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Daniel groaned, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned over you, his teeth grazing your shoulder. “You were made for this, for a quick fuck ‘cause you can’t think when your cunt starts dripping.”
You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as the pleasure built, unbearable and all-consuming.
“Yeah?” he added, and you could hear the smirk plastered across his lips in his tone.
“Please, Danny, pleaseplease—fuck!”
“That’s right, you’re my dumb little cockdrunk slut,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice rough and commanding. “Cum for me. Show me how much you love being fucked like this.”
His words sent you spiraling, your body clenching around him as you came hard, your cries muffled against the seat. Daniel grunted, his pace faltering as he finished right after you, filling you with his cum.
He smirked down at you, his hand sliding over your ass before giving it a sharp slap, the sting making you jolt. He admired the sight of your cunt—messy, dripping, and completely undone over the seat of his bike.
“You look so good like this,” he muttered, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “But next time…” He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, his tone dipping into something even filthier.
“Next time, you’re gonna wear a skirt. No panties. And I’m gonna stuff you with a toy before we even start the ride. You’ll have to hold it inside, sweetheart—every bump, every turn—and when you can’t anymore, you’ll make a wet fucking mess on my seat, just like you want to. I’ll leave you squirming, dripping down your thighs until you’re begging me to pull over and fuck you again.”
Your body trembled at his words, and he chuckled darkly, straightening up as he tucked himself back into his pants. “Now, clean yourself up, sweetheart,” he said, slapping your ass one more time for good measure. “We’ve got a long ride ahead.”
want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days
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the tortured poets department
Info Post
Moodboards
Part I
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TW: This chapter contains physical violence, bullying towards neurodivergent/autistic people, vi being a biiiit of a dick, and jinx just being a chaotic mess (we love her)
WC: 4.5k
Part III
bad blood
“Can you read mine?” I blurted out once I returned to the full table where Jinx was scanning through her cards once more. My hands and cheeks were probably as red as rubies as I took my seat, and hoped to actually stay in it for a while this time.
“I can, but just so you know I am simply a messenger and if the cards need to call you out then they will.” She explained with a clearly targeted scowl towards Ellie.
“You’re into this kind of thing?” Vi wondered with a soft nudge of my foot underneath the table as she was already lounging back against the couch.
“A little, yeah.” I shrugged simply before turning back towards Jinx with a small flush on my cheeks. “Go ahead, I’m ready to be called out.”
“Excellent.” Jinx grinned in a way that I could only describe as maniacal as she whipped out a lighter and a bundle of what looked like dried grass squeezed together with twine.
“Ummm, aren’t you not supposed to have an open flame in here?” Ellie chirped almost anxiously from her spot.
“Geez, you guys really are so tense. Why don’t you take a breath?” An unfamiliar voice chimed in from across the table immediately causing Ellie’s head to pop up in the direction of the girl that had spoke. Dina, I believed is what her name was tossed back her long black hair over her shoulder. “Jinx has only blown up a couple of things anyways.”
“That is an absolutely wild thing to say.” Ellie enunciated in what could almost be read as horror. “You understand how that’s an absolutely wild thing to say right?”
“Relax, you’re not supposed to have a lot of things in here. Firearms, explosives, the weed Vi has stashed in her bag and what she’s definitely going to smoke later.” Jinx drawled on as she expertly blew out the flame sparked on the bunched up grass before letting the smoke envelop the tarot deck with ease.
“What the hell, dude! Be a little bit quieter whenever you say that!” Vi voiced with a mild groan.
“You can shuffle, in any way you want.” Jinx responded without a care in the world as she passed the deck off towards me.
“Okay… cool.” I spoke, retrieving my frostbitten and clearly shaking hands from my pockets.
“Mills, you look like you’re freezing, do you want this?” Ellie questioned with a gentle nudge as she was already reaching for the edges of her flannel to pull it off.
“It’s all good, it was my fault anyways. I’ve got it.” Vi chimed in with a clear of her throat as she shrugged the leather jacket from her shoulders. I could’ve gasped at the large muscles on display, the tattoos stretching from her back and down her arms, one of which just slightly concealed by a layer of bandages wrapped around her forearm which nearly had me thinking the worst at first had it not been for the other injuries sprinkled around her body. One atop her bicep by her shoulders and one just off to the side of her chest. Suddenly the underground fighting ring made sense.
“God, you are such a fucking whore. Can you not distract her while I’m trying to give her a reading?” Jinx groaned in annoyance as she gave her a subtle shove even though it looked as if Vi could overpower her pretty easily.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so insecure in my life actually.” Ellie mumbled to herself with a bit of a grimace. “God, I really need to hit the gym.”
“Hockey players usually work out together a few times a week if you wanna come.” Vi directed towards Ellie with a knowing smirk just before I could feel the leather jacket being draped over my shoulders. It was so warm I nearly felt every bit of the cold from outside melting away, her distinctive masculine scent still lingering now even more so. “You can come too, doll.”
The heat in my cheeks remained as I slid my arms through the oversized jacket that could’ve nearly swallowed me. “Maybe.” I answered with a tiny shrug as I shuffled the cards around in my hand, every attempt to look cool probably muddled by how flustered I seemed to be with every little comment she made. “Here.” I cleared my throat as I handed the cards back to the curious Jinx.
“Alright… here we go.” She practically smirked as she pulled three cards from the deck and spread them out in front of me before flipping the first one over with a flourish. Immediately my heart seemed to twist in my chest at the art piece scrawled across: Death. “Nice, I don’t see that one often!” Jinx seemed much too cheerful at the sight as she reached across the table to give me a pat on the back.
“Ummm… wh-what does that mean?” I stammered with widened eyes.
“Relax new girl, Death doesn’t always mean actual death, usually it just means… like, losing a certain part of your life. Or even killing off a part of yourself. It’s a sign something in your life needs to be let go of, something that isn’t serving you anymore. Now… next up we have-” she began with a flip of the next one, “The Lovers. Questionable at best.”
“I thought the lovers was a good card.” Ellie spoke in confusion from next to me.
“You would think, the true card of love is oftentimes seen as Two of Cups though. The Lovers itself represents… choices, you could say. Choices, temptations, with the addition of the death card it could also indicate sacrifice?” She shrugged as if delivering the most casual piece of news ever before flipping over the last card. “Seven of Cups, you’re a daydreamer, aren’t you?” She questioned with probably the first genuine smile I had seen her crack since we’d been here.
“Being a writer, yeah, kind of comes with the territory.” I said with a nervous smile of my own.
“Keep it up, because you could find purpose in those daydreams.“ It seemed so simple compared to the other two cards, so much so I nearly felt myself hyperfixating on that one card alone even as she slid everything back into place. “Sweet, that was an intense one, but definitely juicy.”
“That’s one way to put it, I guess.” I stated with the same heat creeping back up into my cheeks almost annoyingly.
~
I didn’t feel super talkative throughout the rest of the night besides a quick rush to the bathroom to deliver the news of the kiss to Ellie. It was still hard to gauge her reaction. I almost wondered if she’d be happier if it was someone else, anyone else besides the fighting hockey player who had fucked my sister a solid few times. And maybe she had a point. Ellie was a quiet sort of protective though. She never stopped me from doing anything, she would give her thoughts in private declarations, and was always there if things went south. I guess maybe that’s why it was hard to know how she felt.
Luckily for her own overactive imagination though, she was a lightweight. Two beers in and it became as easy as ever for her to drag herself into her own room and knock out. I wish it could’ve been the same for me, or I drank more either way because the moment I curled up in bed sleep became impossible.
My thoughts were completely consumed by her. Her unruly and spiky pink hair she probably stained every surface with dying. The scent of her cologne that I wished lingered just a little bit longer. The feel of her warm hands on my body with her husky voice and muscular frame.
No, sleep wasn’t anywhere near in my future.
~
It was past 8 whenever Ellie finally woke up to find me hunched over my laptop in the living room and surrounded with various pieces of ripped paper and my journal plopped face down on the coffee table. “Woah, you’re up early.” She spoke through a yawn as she rubbed at her eyes.
“I never went to sleep.” I answered without looking up from my laptop, fingers flying across the keys.
“Christ.” Ellie cursed under her breath as she smacked her open palm against her face. “Millie, you should’ve came and got me if you were having trouble sleeping.” She groaned, shuffling forward in her mothman slippers to plop down next to me. “Babe, hands off of the keyboard for a second.” She ordered, gentle but stern hands wrapping around my wrists to pry them from the keys.
“No wait, not yet! They’re about to have their meet cute! Their- Their inciting incident.” I protested as Ellie snatched the laptop from my grasp, eyes briefly scanning over the lit up screen.
“Are you- Are you writing a love story?” She wondered in almost shock. “I thought you were working on a tragedy.”
“All love stories are inherently tragedies.” I spoke, twirling a pen I had stolen from the coffee table in between my fingers as the sudden thought sprung up into my head. “To love is to- is to-” I groaned a bit at the blurry end of the sentence somewhere in my mind, quickly flipping to an empty page of my journal to scribble down the words. “To love is be vulnerable. No, no, that’s not it.” I huffed as I roughly marked out the words. “To love is to accept loss- but love isn’t always accepting though.”
“You know love isn’t supposed to feel like that.” Ellie sighed a bit, gentle fingers carefully tucking the stray strands of hair out of my face as they had escaped from the loose ponytail a while ago.
I blew out another hefty sigh as I hunched forward to bury my head in my arms. “I’m sorry you have to deal with my mania.”
“You’re not making me deal with anything… I’m your best friend. It’s part of it.” She spoke with a shake of her head, gentle but strong arms coming upwards to tug me away from the mess of the coffee table. “C’mon, you need to get some sleep. I’ll be your pillow.”
“You just woke up, and I thought you had practice.” I protested even though I never wanted to say no to her offer of cuddles. Maybe it was inappropriate and I was a bit too obsessed with cuddles. It felt like since I was a kid it had always been hard to fall asleep without a body next to me. I couldn’t count the times I had snuck off to Caitlyn’s room in the middle of the night and crawled underneath the blankets with her. It was just the security of being next to someone. Sometimes an illusion. But I think I was okay with illusions for now.
“Not until later, and it’s only for a few hours before club rush.” Ellie answered just before stretching her longer legs across the length of the couch giving me few choices but to snuggle into her chest. “I wouldn’t mind a little bit more shut eye though, I just wanted to check on you.”
“Wake me up before you leave?” My voice sounded half muffled burrowed in her black shirt.
“Not a chance.” She denied, lounging her head against the arm rest of the couch to use as a makeshift pillow. “You can wake up on your own time and then if we’re still practicing you can meet me at the rink to watch.” She said hopefully causing a little grin to stretch on my lips.
“Sheesh, no wonder people think we’re dating. You’re a stage 5 clinger.” I teased with a giggle.
“Okay, who is the one currently clung to me like a damn koala right now? Sorry I forgot.”
“Dipshit.” I gave her shoulder a playful shove just before curling back up to her chest, it was hard not to get tired with her cuddles. She was soft, the quiet thump of her heartbeat always echoed in my ears, she kept her breathing steady, a calm rise and fall that she timed with the soothing circles she always rubbed on my back. And she smelled exactly like the way I imagined skipping through a wildflower field would. “I love you.” I murmured in a sleepy voice, my heavy eyes finally drawing to a close.
“I love you too, squirt.” I could faintly hear her voice just before I felt myself doze off.
~
Whenever I woke up again Ellie was already long gone, a blanket draped over top of me and a large squishmallow shoved underneath my head to act as a pillow. The apartment felt weird being empty, a few boxes that had yet to be unpacked scattered around the area and I had to fight the urge to start trying to unpack some more. Then I would probably never leave.
The lack of sleep still weighed heavily on my brain but at least I didn’t feel like I was going to keel over anymore. I threw myself in the shower for a hot second hoping it would wake me up, and thankfully it sort of did. I decided on a simple band hoodie and a pair of leggings after shooting a text to Caitlyn and asking what the dress code for club rush was. Luckily there really wasn’t one.
I rubbed at the sleep in my eyes before going to place my glasses back on my face before an alternate thought crossed my mind. I usually didn’t wear my contacts, they were difficult to get in and occasionally weren’t sensory friendly but… maybe it could be time for a change. So with a heavy breath I plopped the little pieces of plastic into my eyes, a string of blinks and a few watery tears following.
I speed braided a strand of my hair before tossing it up into a low ponytail. Then sending Ellie a quick text for a coffee order while packing my things up for a semi busy day, headphones, medicine, notebooks, laptop etc…
Ellie Sunshine ☀️: the rink actually has a sick coffee bar you have to check out 🤭
Ellie Sunshine ☀️: also abby is out for blood today- if i die just know i want to be planted into a tree. willow specifically.
Millie Moon 🌙: i’ll avenge you bby g
Ellie Sunshine ☀️: AVENGE ME MILLIE!! AVENGE ME!!
I let out a giggle at her text messages before slipping my phone back into my pocket and shoving my AirPods into my ears before I could go and retrieve my bike. I always felt a level of anxiety whenever I walked outside alone and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the general sense that things were well and truthfully changing. I was trying to be independent though. It’s not as if Ellie and I had every single class together, there were bound to be some days we’d leave at different times. I needed to get used to it.
The indoor hockey rink was a tall and intimidating structure. Designed to look like a ship it looked more like a dystopian hell than anything. Grey and cold and the dreary weather of Oxford didn’t help either.
Practice was already in full swing working on scoring or a scrimmage or… I wasn’t entirely sure. Sports were never really my thing, nevertheless though I never turned down the chance to go to a game with Caitlyn. Call it the gay in me, I guess. That little aspect suddenly made her relationship with Vi make more sense. She was a beast on the ice, a ruthless animal who wasn’t afraid to get too rough. Not rough in the way that her teammate Abby Anderson seemed to get though. Ellie was right. She did seem to be out for blood with the way she zipped around the ice and treated her stick like it was an extension of her arm.
I gnawed on my bottom lip as I scanned the rink for Ellie’s figure while digging out my notebook. I was so glad she had finally gotten a chance to play. Playing all through high school only to have most of her time overtook by the army afterwards, she was almost afraid she was too out of practice to get back into it. She was great though, better than any typical freshman, I swore she nearly cried whenever she finally got her jersey. Proud to have her name on something for once.
A little smile stretched on my lips at the sight of her whipping around the ice with ease, a slight glimpse of unkept pink hair took my attention though as she skated in towards the puck from the opposite side. The name: Violence written in place of a last name on the back of her jersey. “Ugh, I can’t believe they let her do that.” I heard a scoff from behind me, flinching just the slightest bit before I could around to face the sound. Jinx stood on the row behind me, blue braids spun up into two thick space buns secured at the bottom of her head. “Violence. It’s so cheesy.” She hopped down into the same row as me, plopping down in the seat next to mine before lounging back on her elbows. “So- come here often?” She teased with a waggle of her eyebrows causing me to let out a little laugh.
“Uhhh… no, actually, Ellie wanted me to meet her at practice though so- I’m here.” I said with a tiny shrug while twirling my pencil around my fingers.
“What’re you working on?” Jinx wondered next with a quick change of subject as she gave my notebook a little nudge.
“Oh uhhh… just this like- song thing, I guess you could call it. I started it last night I just, you know, had this chorus in my head.” I answered with a bit of heat creeping up into my cheeks. “Y-You can read it if you want.” I wondered cautiously, always expecting the worst, but I swore I could’ve seen Jinx’s eyes light up in that moment.
“Oh! Word?!” She exclaimed with a grin before snatching the notebook from my hands without hesitation. “I’d love to!” She grinned before letting her eyes scan over the page. All the while I fidgeted with the ends of my sleeves hoping my one paragraphed unedited chorus wasn’t too bad. “Woah- you are quite down bad over somebody if I must say. I mean, it’s good! It’s definitely good… but- definitely down bad.”
My cheeks felt as rosy as ever and not just because of the cold as I shook my head, but not in denial. “I’m- I don’t know what’s going on with me. I-I haven’t felt this way since-“
“Ellie?” Jinx predicted with ease causing my eyes to widen in surprise.
“Wha- wh-why would you think that? I mean, don’t you have a close friend that everybody thinks you’re dating?”
Jinx only snickered with a smirk as she gave me a quick nudge, “Nope.” She said almost proudly with a loud pop. “I get why you guys aren’t together though, dating your mental hospital roomie can get complicated. I mean, I’m not saying that dating Vi wouldn’t be complicated either but-”
“Wait, how did you? I- I never told you any of that.”
“Doggy, was yesterday not a clue? I stay eavesdropping, I’m in everybody else’s business but my own. Especially my sister’s.” Jinx explained without a hint of shame, and I almost had to respect it.
“I- I don’t know how I feel about you watching me make out with your sister.” I spoke with my eyebrows furrowing together in response, but all I got from Jinx was a loud gasp as she gave me a little swat.
“Oh my God, new girl! I didn’t listen in to that point! Holy shit!” She practically squealed but all it made me do was cringe in anxiety. “Well, whatever it is you’re into, you might wanna figure it out. You’re not the only one who’s got a little crush.” Jinx hummed as she gave me a little nudge and gestured off towards one of the other sides of the rink where the same girl from last night was stood. Black hair tied up in a low ponytail this time, arms crossed as she peered into the rink with a look of fierce concentration.
“Well, I want Ellie to be happy so- if Ellie likes her then… I would be okay with it.” I voiced, though trying to hide the general crushing weight that crept into my chest just at the mere mention. The same ache Ellie had told me about last night. “Besides, she doesn’t like me like that- she made it really clear.”
“Did she? Because I know we’re not exactly experts at reading human emotions.”
“Well, I’m an expert at reading Ellie at least.” I shrugged with a little sigh.
A commotion knocked us both from our conversation though, a little breath hitching in my throat the moment I saw Abby’s gloved hands on Ellie again. “Stop!” I yelped out in anxiety, briefly remembering the memory of her telling me about the plethora of injuries she had received from the explosion that had changed everything, a TBI staring right at me in glowing red lights.
Their helmets went rolling down the ice as I watched the two girls hit the floor, “Fucks sake, Abby!” Ellie groaned in pain as her bare cheekbone touched the ice. Thankfully she was strong and knew how to fight back as she swung her off of her, hand flying to her cheek with a hiss of pain.
“Anderson! I told you save for the violence for the other team! That’s the second time you’ve targeted Williams in two days-“ The intimidating coach finally exclaimed from her observational spot in the wings, though part of her seemed to be willing to let it play out.
“Well maybe she should stay out of my fucking shot!” Abby exclaimed, a declaration that had me widening my eyes at her bravery that she’d speak to someone like Sevika in that way. Sevika who already looked as if she was about to blow. The Andersons were much like the Kirammans though, in the sense a lot of the faculty needed to be careful.
“I’m on fucking defense, Abby! What do you expect me to do?! A-Are you gonna do this during actual games too?!” Ellie shouted as she removed her hand to reveal the angry red splotch underneath her eye where she had been rammed into the ice.
“That was a foul, I saw it.” Vi spoke up as she flew over towards where the two girls stood just off of the ice. “She swiped her so she’d purposefully fall on her face.”
Coach Sevika held up a hand as if to tell her it’d be taken care of. “Everyone, take 5, Anderson, Williams, work out your issues and don’t come back until you do. Williams, do you need a medic?”
“I’m fine, I can take care of it.” Ellie huffed as she pushed herself off of the ice with a wince.
“Then why did you get us benched?!” Abby bellowed as she trailed close behind her to give her a firm shove.
“Hey! Stop, leave her alone!” I repeated probably helplessly for the second time, taking off down the stairs and after where the two were arguing.
For a moment I nearly saw Ellie’s past flash in her usually gentle green eyes. The US Army solider who had had to defend herself from much worse and was always prepared for the worst. I didn’t wanna know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached her whenever I did. Nearly tripping over my own two feet as I cautiously crept up next to her. She had taught me a long time ago how to approach her whenever a PTSD trigger hit. I never really got the chance to before Abby was lashing out again, darting her angered expression towards me to the point where I nearly flinched.
“Ellie why don’t you tell your fucking schizo of a girlfriend to stay out of it!”
Ellie’s eyes darkened in a way I hadn’t seen before, the way I imagined they would have on the battlefield as she whipped around to face her with an intensity that had almost gotten her her first shot against her. “What did you just fucking call her?!”
“Ellie, Ellie please- don’t.”
“What the hell is your problem, Anderson?” Vi had finally caught up to the two and I was thanking my lucky stars that she hadn’t heard what had come out of Abby’s mouth.
I gulped an anxious lump down my throat as I slid a hand into Ellie’s gloved one, attempting to pull her off towards the locker rooms but her feet were grounded in place. “I’m really fucking sorry about what happened to your dad, Abby, okay?” She finally spoke up earning me a confused expression from Vi that I could only meet with a shrug. “It was disgusting, inexcusable and it never should’ve happened and trust me whenever I say those soliders never should’ve gotten away with it and I swear to you if I would’ve had any say in it then they wouldn’t have. But respectfully if you have any shit you need to take out on me then do it off of the ice, and if you say one more word like that about Millie you’re going to see that US Army side of me real fucking fast.”
My eyes widened in shock, almost feeling like my feet were glued to the floor as I watched her whirl around and head towards the direction I had been trying to pull her in. “What did you fucking say about Millie?” Venom seemed to drip from Vi’s lips as she turned towards Abby with a fierce glare.
“Uh-oh-” I could hear Jinx’s subtle commentary causing me to curse underneath my breath.
“Man, it isn’t important, I was just pissed.” Abby tried to brush off, but Vi wasn’t having it.
“Clearly it was if you felt the need to bring her into this so tell me, what did you fucking say to her?!” Vi growled just before slamming her body into the protective glass wrapping around the rink.
“Vi- s-stop, please!” I stammered, reaching out to latch onto her broad shoulders as I tried to pry her off. She was so much bigger though, pure muscle seeming to be made out of steel as she refused to move.
“Millie, go check on Ellie, okay? I’ll handle this.” She ordered, body towering over mine even as she peered over her shoulder to face me.
“Violet please-“
“I wasn’t asking!” The words probably came out much harsher then expected causing me to wince once more. She commanded authority, and still I wondered if she was simply trying to protect me or what. But I wouldn’t challenge her after that.
“O-Okay.” I stammered, an ache settling behind my eyes as I turned on my heel to venture back into the locker room.
“Ugh, you are such a dick, do you know that?” I heard Jinx’s voice carry down the hallway, meanwhile I gulped down a heavy lump in my throat as I quickened my pace to take off in Ellie’s direction.
A/N: Two hot girls fighting for your honor- wow, living the dream 🩵
As always please let me know your thoughts! I am really am trying to slow down but it’s hard to whenever I love what I’m writing so much 🤭🥹
#fanfic#arcane fanfic#arcane fanfiction#vi from arcane#vi arcane#jinx arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane#vi x oc#vi and jinx#vi fanfiction#vi fanfic#vi x reader#vi x you#ttpd vi x reader#ellie willams x reader#ellie williams x oc#ellie x reader#ellie the last of us#ellie williams#ellie tlou#jinx
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Beacon (1/6)
Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic
A delight to write this as a secret Santa gift for @libbytxf whose work I've enjoyed so much myself. She enjoys slow burn, and this is as slow burn-y as I could manage. She has literary sensibilities, and I tried to weave those in. There's a very subtle Pride and Prejudice allusion, as she and I both are fans. I hope you enjoy this, Libby. I'm going to post a chapter a day; I hope that's okay!
Chapter 1
Mulder drives them through the last leg of the icy woods, wind rattling through the spindly trees hanging over them. It’s just early evening, but the rental car’s headlights are already slicing through the winter gloom. From the passenger seat, Scully watches sprays of snow dust blow off of the birch trees.
They round a bend and the trees suddenly disappear: a New England town appears from nowhere, lit with golden streetlights that bounce off the old-fashioned brick and clapboard buildings. Scully looks around with interest. At first it seems eerily still, like a postcard, but then she notices a few locals walking along the sidewalks, pulling their coats tight and huddling close together.
“Temperature is really dropping,” Mulder remarks, reaching down to turn up the heat. He brings the car to a halt at what seems to be the town’s only stoplight. “You bring some sweaters, Scully?”
Strands of glowing holiday lights hanging over the streets sway back and forth in the wind.
“Of course I did,” Scully replies, but wonders how many sweaters he expects her to have packed. Just what kind of case does he imagine this will be, a week before Christmas? There are suspiciously few details and she has a feeling there’s more he’s not telling her. It wouldn’t, of course, be the first time.
She turns to the window again to observe the little downtown. It vaguely reminds her of a full-sized version of a painted porcelain Christmas village her mother owns, every building conspicuously charming. All sharp edges blunted with snow, vaguely glowing with bulbs, the downtown is old-fashioned in a way that makes one think of Bedford Falls, of Jimmy Stewart.
“You’re sure we’re in the right place?” she wonders, peering intently out the passenger window. “This is the location of your ghost deaths?”
“Hellespont, Vermont,” Mulder agrees, nodding, tapping on the steering wheel restlessly. “Established 1785. We’re looking for the Beacon Inn, so keep your eyes peeled.”
The light changes, and he drives past a historic town hall. There is, honest to god, a grouping of rosy-cheeked children in wool caps singing in a formation on the front steps. Scully observes them closely as the car moves by. Electric candles in their hands, ruddy glow on their faces: angels we have heard on high.
“It doesn’t seem like the site of supernatural murder.”
“Well, Scully, like I said, the deaths haven’t officially been described as homicides,” Mulder says. “They’re all—”
“Yes,” Scully says. “Sudden cardiac deaths. You did say.” She isn’t in the mood for Mulder’s withheld key information and sudden reveals. “Which, as it happens, is one of the most common causes of death in the United States.”
“Three cardiac deaths in six months in one New England inn,” Mulder reminds her. “That’s a little uncanny. And my source says—”
“That it’s a ghost,” Scully cuts in again. “Some tortured soul who has made the journey back from the great unknown to attack with the power of coronary artery disease.”
“Sure,” Mulder says uneasily. She feels him glancing at her. “We both agreed this one was worth poking into, didn’t we?”
A slight pause. “Yes,” she says. “Of course we did.”
“Good,” Mulder says. His eyes bounce off of her again. “I’m mostly going off of what the source told me, the inn’s owner. There aren’t … many details. It’ll probably be too late tonight, but I’m hoping we can both run through the whole story with him tomorrow morning.”
She takes a breath, pushing back her irritation. “I assume we’re staying at the haunted inn.”
Mulder flashes her a placating grin. “It’s actually a much nicer place than what I usually book.”
“Besides the high rate of sudden death, of course.”
“Hopefully we can help them out with that,” Mulder says. He drums on the steering wheel again and serenades her. “‘Something strange in your neighborhood. Who you gonna call, Scully?’”
Scully smiles tolerantly and turns back to the window. She’s unable to stop herself from peering out to watch the people milling around downtown Hellespont: cozy scarves pulled over their faces, shopping bags over their arms, hand in hand with significant others. Ordinary lives that seem increasingly distant from her own.
“I, uh, know you’re probably eager to be finished up before the holiday,” Mulder adds. “Get back to your mom’s.”
Scully nods slowly, her gaze still out the window, unable to respond right away. Yes, she is eager to be back with her family for Christmas, and yet it’s also the very last place she wants to be. Her sister absent. Her sister never coming to Christmas again. Her mother’s dull-eyed grief. It might be better to turn her energy to ghostbusting after all.
“What are you doing for the holidays, Mulder?” she asks the window, keeping her tone light and conversational. “Going on an adventure? Going skiing with the Gunmen? Hot date?”
“Hot date, for sure,” he says. She turns to look at him, and he’s picking some sunflower seeds out of a bag he’s stashed in the console.
“Ah, then you must be eager to finish the ghostbusting case up, too.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” he says. “You know we tend to wrap these cases up fast and tidy, Scully. We’ll be back to family and holiday love in no time.” Just as she is about to give him an incredulous look, he gestures out the window. “Oh, look, there it is,” he says suddenly. He’s pointing to the ornate sign outside a Victorian house perched on a hillside. “Beacon Inn.”
***
There is ice coating the uphill walk to the Beacon Inn, and Mulder resists the urge to offer Scully a steadying arm. She might refuse it, and that would needle him, even though it has nothing to do with him. Well, it might have something to do with him. But mostly, he thinks, it isn’t about him at all.
He’s aware that Scully’s grieving this holiday; this first Christmas without her sister. He sees it in the slump of her shoulders when he mentions time off coming up, the way her eyes focus on some unseen place at work, the way he finds her sister’s file left sitting out, thumbed through yet again. Still raw, still unsolved.
His own sister’s case has haunted him for more than twenty years. Everyday he has to grapple with what it means to still not have justice and to still be seeking even the barest minimum of answers. Does Scully fear the same for herself? Does she look at him and see a bleak future? This recent interest of hers in religion: it troubles him. He knows she’s started going back to Mass, after the stigmata case, the case with Kevin Kryder. It’s like she’s searching for something to hold on to, any port in a storm.
He doesn’t know what it portends.
In quiet moments he’s studied her across the office. Every day he half expects to hear her say she’s giving her notice. He wonders if he shouldn’t encourage her to.
But what would the work be like without her? What would the basement be like? Who would he talk to about his ideas, his theories, his weekend? He’s not quite selfless enough to urge her to walk away.
This case—haunted deaths in bucolic New England—has sat in his “maybe” pile for weeks: intriguing, definitely, but with a distinct odor of “junior high ghost story.” After observing Scully for one listless morning last week, he pulled the file out again, spread out the pages, and began putting together a slideshow.
She’s always one to find her purpose in work. They’re alike that way. And Vermont in the snow, a haunted inn—there’s a certain ambiance to this one, right? He knows he’s charmed by this sort of thing, so she might find it charming, too. At very least she’ll be able to complain about having to tolerate junior high ghost stories.
And he thinks she does like complaining about that, sometimes.
At the root of it, it’s just plain selfish. He can’t stand to be in the office and see that expression on her face anymore. Anything is better than that. So over the river and through the woods to the haunted inn they go.
He turns to look at her now as they approach the front steps. She’s wearing her long black trench. Her cheeks are pink from the cold; her expression is perfectly neutral. She notices his stare and looks back at him quizzically.
The case has yet to engage her full attention, he can see that perfectly well. But they’ve only just arrived. There is plenty of time to pull her in. On any case it sometimes takes a while for her to pluck at the thread that interests her the most. She always finds something, her own distinctive way into the labyrinth. It’s one of the things about Scully he likes the very most.
Stepping gingerly around piles of snow-crusted lumber and plaster debris around the front porch, they glance at one another.
“Under construction.” Scully gestures to a tarp over the front of the porch.
“Apparently they’re doing some remodeling,” Mulder agrees.
“Some remodeling,” calls a voice from inside the slightly-open door with an audible huff. “Tactful understatement. Did you hear what they said, Duncan? They said you’re doing some remodeling.”
The door, which is adorned with a fat evergreen wreath with bronze ornaments, cracks further open, and a slight white man in his late forties, clad in a thick wool sweater, an apron, and wire frame glasses, sticks his torso out. “Agent Mulder?”
“Yeah, hello,” Mulder says, stepping over piles to approach. “I’m Agent Mulder, and this”—he gestures with a sweeping arm to Scully, who steps next to him—“is my partner Agent Scully. You must be Duncan Macneill?”
“Just Duncan, please,” the man says. “I am the co-owner of Beacon Inn. As well as manager, cook, historian, night watchman. Come inside, please. It’s bitter cold.”
He beckons for them to follow him, and Mulder and Scully step inside after him. Immediately they’re greeted with a blast of warm air and the woody, aged smell of a historic house.
As they wipe their wet feet on a woven mat, Mulder carefully eyes the lobby, which is really a living room. It’s rustic, cozy, a mix of antiques and newer pieces, with somber historic portraits on the walls and some quirky mismatched furniture scattered with brightly-colored pillows. There is a giant glowing Christmas tree festooned with large red velvet bows. Mulder’s no expert, but it looks like a lot of care and love has gone into decorating.
“We’re so sorry about the mess outside,” another voice chimes in. A round-faced Asian man about Duncan’s age sits behind a desk across from the door. “It’s just inhospitable, isn’t it? I keep telling Duncan we need to wrap the project up, but it drags on and on through the seasons.”
“The new exterior will be worth it,” Duncan proclaims confidently. “Although I admit, it has taken a while.” He winks at the man behind the counter, then turns to Mulder and Scully. “This is the inn’s other co-owner… my partner, Banoy Borja.”
Mulder walks over to shake Banoy’s hand. “Agent Mulder—and my partner, Agent Scully.”
“So nice to meet you,” Scully says with a smile.
“Oh,” Banoy says, stepping back to look them over. “I’d reserved two upstairs bedrooms, both singles. Should I prepare the Beech Bedroom instead? It’s got a queen.”
“It’s fine,” Mulder says quickly.
“Two singles is perfect,” Scully adds.
“Different kind of ‘partner,’” Duncan stage whispers to Banoy.
“F.B.I. partners,” Scully clarifies quietly.
“Right, I just thought maybe both...?” Banoy explains.
“No,” Mulder says emphatically. “No. Just F.B.I. partners.”
“Ahh, of course,” Banoy says, his eyes flickering between them. “My mistake.”
Scully spins abruptly towards the porch again. “Your renovations look quite extensive,” Scully says, changing the subject. “Are you building on to the house?”
“No, no. The porch was falling apart,” Duncan says. “We’re modernizing it, rebuilding, but this is New England, so naturally we have to adhere to the town’s historic preservation code. And of course we want to maintain the inn’s Victorian exterior, too.”
“We had a tiny bit of trouble,” Banoy says. “It can be tricky. You know. Historic preservation commissions in small towns.”
“It’s all resolved now,” Duncan says, waving his hand dismissively.
Scully nods, but Mulder notes her eyebrows are drawing together the way that she does when she’s thinking about something.
“We’re going to want to ask you both some questions about the recent deaths,” Mulder tells them. “But … maybe not tonight.”
Banoy looks stricken. “Yes, of course, but please—” He lowers his voice and looks around nervously. “Just make sure that there’s none of that talk about death in front of guests.”
Mulder discreetly glances from side to side and sees no one else around but the four of them. He nods understandingly. These are touchy topics. “Sure, of course,” he says. “‘Maybe we can talk tomorrow morning, somewhere quiet? Mr. Macneil, you were the one to contact us—does that work for you?”
“Duncan, I told you,” corrects Duncan. “And yes, Agent Mulder. Why don’t we have coffee and pastry in the kitchen? Say 9-ish?”
“Duncan loves to talk about the ghost,” Banoy says with an affectionate eyeroll. “You’ll never shut him up. But let’s get you checked in and settled. You must be so worn out.”
“Grab the bags while I check in?” Scully says offhand to Mulder. He nods automatically. It’s a well-established system by now. Mulder turns for the door as Scully speaks to Banoy.
When he comes back in, Scully is still chatting with the two men about the inn’s renovations. Mulder’s eyes narrow as he drags their bags by; some detail has obviously attracted her interest there. Which is good, really. He wants to see her involved in the case. If it’s important, she’ll update him later.
He decides to take their room keys and go ahead with the bags upstairs.
Upstairs, he’s met by a long narrow hallway with six doors, three on each side, historic brass lanterns outside of each one, producing an uneven amber glow. It’s atmospheric. He likes it, New England boy that he is.
At the end of the hallway is another impressive Christmas tree, twinkling with white lights and draped with swaths of crimson velvet. The wooden floor boards, worn smooth by years of foot traffic, creak underfoot as he steps down the hall. He discovers his and Scully’s rooms are side by side.
Just before he tries to go inside, he stops. He looks back and forth, up and down the hall.
He has the strangest feeling he’s being observed. But there’s no one there. No one he sees, anyway.
Look at you, going full on junior high ghost story, he thinks to himself. He reminds himself that Scully probably thinks he’s always full on junior high ghost story. She probably thinks her career has turned into one big junior high ghost story after another.
He unlocks his own room first, stepping inside only to get a quick lay of the land: a simple star-patterned quilt on the bed, another faux brass lantern, an old-fashioned washing stand with a pitcher, and a framed silhouette of a young woman with her hair up above the dresser. There’s no adjoining door.
He puts his bag next to the bed and goes next door to unlock Scully’s room. Her room appears to be essentially identical, a mirror image of his own, except for the quilt is a slightly different star pattern, and the silhouette above the dresser is a young man instead of a woman. He looks at the silhouette for a moment, trying from idle curiosity to decide whether he can make out if the man has a mustache.
He wheels her bag inside and sets it next to her bed, too.
He’s locking up Scully’s door, about to go back downstairs to find her, when he again has the unmistakable, creeping sensation that someone is watching him.
Come on. It’s just one of the other guests Banoy mentioned, he thinks, his eyes still firmly trained on the key in the door.
With a slowness and caution he couldn’t fully explain if asked, he turns his body towards the far end of the hall.
And that’s when he sees it.
When he sees her.
What he sees certainly appears to be a her, anyway: a woman standing at the end of the hall staring at him.
His first impulse is to reach for his phone to call Scully, to insist she come up and see, but he isn’t sure if he should move. Instead he stares back at the woman stupidly, his mouth hanging open, his hand still holding the key to Scully’s room.
The woman is wearing a long white empire waist dress and a piece of fabric drawn around her like a shawl. She has dark hair parted in the middle and curling around her face. Her expression is hard, uncompromising, calculating.
And she is transparent—there’s no other word for it, that’s what she is. She’s entirely without solid substance. Ephemeral. This fascinates Mulder. He can peer through her body to make out each point of light spangling the Christmas tree at the end of the hallway behind her. If he stepped forward and put his hand out to touch her, would it go through? A very reckless part of him would like to try.
Standing contemplating her in frozen wide-eyed fear and wonder, he wonders what to do now. More than anything he wishes Scully would come up the stairs right this second, would stand here and witness this with him.
Before he can decide how to react, the woman, much to his alarm, takes a step. Towards him. Mulder hears his breath hitch, feels the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
“My love,” she whispers, ever so softly. Her voice doesn’t sound ephemeral at all. It’s husky and tremulous. “How I miss you.”
All at once, Mulder remembers the danger associated with this case—what’s happened to the victims who had reportedly seen the spectral figure. The adrenaline of fear courses through him more powerfully.
“My love,” she repeats almost tenderly, holding her hand out towards him, her fingers beckoning. “Come to me. My love.”
Mulder moves his own hand in alarm, and looks down at his chest to see his left palm instinctively covering his heart in protection. He’s breathing a little fast for sure, but he feels no other symptoms, no impending heart failure.
When he looks up again to see the woman, he’s staring at an entirely empty hallway. There’s no one there. He’s alone, clutching his vulnerable heart.
***
#poangpresents2024#xfiles fanfic#x files fanfic#the x files#fox mulder#dana scully#xf fanfic#msr#season 3#XF season 3#beacon
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Merry Christmas!!💚❤️🎅🎄🎁
Happy Holidays everyone! Thank you to everyone who voted on the Christmas fic idea. I really hope you enjoy this fic! I wrote a lot more than I was expecting but I couldn’t stop myself, I truly fell in love with writing this story! Thank you for an amazing year! I hope you, your friends, family and loved ones have a great holiday season! - Clara💞
Blues Clues Christmas💙🐾
Caregiver! Steve Burns & GN Little! Reader (SFW!)
Tags- Christmas fluff, hand holding, being picked up, forehead kisses, searching for clues, dog licks, and typical blues clues fluff!
My eyes start to flutter open to a frosty Christmas Eve morning. Wait… ITS CHRISTMAS EVE!!! I jump up and look outside and it’s still snowing!!!
I turn and shake Steve to wake up, “Steve!! Steve!! It’s Christmas Eve!!”
I hear him chuckling before he stretches, starting to wake up. “Someone’s excited for Christmas.”
“I am! I can’t wait to-.” I’m interrupted by Blue, jumping into the bed and licking my face. “Blue! Good morning! Merry Christmas Eve!”
Blue smiles to me and barks, just as excited for the day ahead. I hold her in my arms, turning as we look to a disheveled Steve sits up in bed.
“You two are wide awake,” he chuckles, “Come on you rascals. Let’s get some Christmas Eve breakfast.”
Blue jumps from my arms and heads towards the kitchen. But before Steve and I go, he leads me to the bathroom first, “Come on little one, let’s get you changed and ready for the big day.”
With a quick pit stop to the bathroom, brushing our teeth, getting changed into our outfits, we set off to the kitchen hand in hand.
“Bonjour Y/N!” Mr. Salt comes to the edge of the countertop.
“Good morning Steve!” Mrs. Pepper joins him.
“Good morning!” I say to put, taking a seat at the table next to Blue.
Steve grabs a cup of tea for himself and a sippy cup of fruit juice for me. Then we settle in and have a small breakfast together with Blue and the spice family.
“So what’s the plan today Steve?” I ask, eager to get our Christmas Eve started.
“Well,” he put his tea cup down, “I was thinking we could stop by and give out invitations to Christmas, maybe some cooking…”
“Leave the cooking to us.” Mrs. Pepper winked.
“But what about tonight? The night before Christmas?” I ask again.
But this time it’s Blue’s turn. She barks and spins around before putting a blue paw print on the table.
Steve and I gasp. “BLUE’S CLUES!!!”
“That’s a great idea Blue!” Steve smiles, “We’ll play Blues Clues to see what we should do tonight after dinner.”
“So we need to keep our eyes out for three clues!” I cheer from across the table.
“Yes! And I have a very important job for you Y/N.” He reaches into his pocket and takes out his handy dandy notebook. “I want you to be in charge of my notebook today.”
I’m speechless taking the notebook carefully. I stare at it in disbelief, “Y-You want me to hold onto it?”
“Sure! I could use your help today finding all of Blue’s clues. Are you up to the task my little sidekick?” He winks.
“Yes!! Yes!! A million times yes!!” I almost jump from my seat.
“Then let’s starts our adventure!” Steve finishes his tea and I finish my juice before we set out to the living room.
“Alright. Now on top of finding Blue’s clues, we also have to give out our Christmas invitations. We have three stops.”
He holds out the cards, “One is for Magenta, one is for Josh, and one is for Joe. We’ll need to make sure we stop at everyone’s house so they know they’re invited tomorrow. I’ll have you be in change of holding onto the cards.”
He hands me them and I look at the cards in awe, “You want me to be in charge of the cards too?”
“Of course! I know you can do it! But if you’re feeling overwhelmed or like it’s too much responsibility, you let me know okay?” He reassures.
“I will but, I’ve got it.” I smile back to him.
“I knew I could trust you! Now, let’s head out.” He goes to open the door but I stop him smiling, “Steve wait.”
“What’s wrong little one?”
“We need our coats, hats and gloves.”
With a small gasp he nods, “You’re so right. How could I be so silly? You’re so smart!” He praises. “Let’s get our winter gear.”
“First we’ll put on our coat…” he puts on his green stripped coat that matches his usual shirt. He turns and grabs my coat, helping me put each arm in the sleeves, then zipping it right up.
“Great. Next we’ll put on our hats…” he grabs his green hat and puts it on, then does the same for me. “Comfy?” He asks getting a nod from me.
“Finally we’ll put on our mittens.” A green pair for him of course, then a pair for me. “Let me see their hands.” He waves his hands up like crazy, I giggle and follow suit.
“Alright! Looks like we’re all set. But first, do we need anything else before we leave? A snack, a quick trip to the bathroom?”
I pause, thinking it over. “Bathroom?” I say shy.
“Good idea. Let’s make a quick stop before we go.” He takes my mitten hand in his mitten hand, heading back to our bed room. After taking care of business, we’re right back to it!
“Okay! Are you all set? Ready for our Christmas Adventure?” He smiles.
“Yes! Let’s find out what Blue wants to do tonight after dinner!” I squeeze his hand.
“Great! Let’s go!”
~~~
We step outside to our frosty front yard. It snowed a few days ago and everything still looked so beautiful, like a winter wonderland.
We leave our little yellow house and start walking down the street, saying hi to those who pass us. I stick close to Steve, holding his hand as we approach our first stop, Magenta’s house.
“Would you like to ring the bell or would you like me too?” He ask, looking over to me.
“Can you?”
“Of course I can.” He leans forward ringing the bell. We wait maybe a minute before Magenta runs to the door and right over to us.
“Magenta!! So good to see you!” I giggle as she jumps up and licks Steve and I.
We follow after her into the house and find Blue sitting at a coloring table with Magenta. “Oh hi Blue!”
Blue smiles and barks back, but then I see it.
“STEVE! A clue! A clue!!!”
“I know Magenta really flew!”
“No!” I giggle shaking my head to Steve, “A clue!” I point to the blue paw print on the piece of paper.
He gasps. “A clue!! Great job Y/N!! You found our first clue! But…what is it?”
“It’s paper Steve.” I giggle some more. He’s so silly sometimes.
“Ah! You’re so right, it is paper. You know what this means, we need our Handy Dandy…”
“Notebook!” I hold it out for him.
“Notebook! That’s right. Thank you sweet one.”
He takes the notebook, pushing the crayon through the top and flipping to a new page.
“So our first clue is paper. We start by drawing a straight line at the top, then a line down, then another line at the bottom and one up to connect at the top. There, paper!”
He stops and thinks looking over to me, “But what could Blue want to do after dinner tonight with paper?”
“Maybe she wants to draw some more?” I offer.
“Maybe…but we better find more clues to make sure.” We nod together.
“Here,” he hands me the notebook again, “for safe keeping.”
I turn and put the notebook back in my pocket. But then I remember our second mission!
“Magenta!” I grab the invitation from my backpack and hand it to her, “You’re invited over for Christmas tomorrow!”
Magenta lights up running around and barking. She runs over to me and licks me as a thank you. “Oh! You’re welcome! I can’t wait to see you tomorrow!” I smile back.
“Alright! You two have fun! We have more invitations to send out!” Steve holds his hand out to me which I gladly take. Together we wave goodbye to Magenta and Blue before leaving.
Then we’re back to it, making our way down the street to the next house. “Uncle Josh!!”
“Yeah! Next is Uncle Josh! I’m sure he’ll very excited to come over.”
We walk up the steps to the blue house which belongs to Josh. “Would you like to do the honors this time?” Steve asks and I quickly nod, reaching forward and ringing the bell.
Soon Josh arrives at the door, his face lighting up to see is. “Y/N! Steve! What a wonderful surprise!”
“Uncle Josh!” I run forward and give him the biggest hug.
“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!!” He wraps his arms around me, hugging me just as tightly. With a kiss to my forehead, we break apart.
I stick close to him, resting against his side. He notices this and wraps an arm around me. “So what brings you two here?”
“We’re looking for Blue’s Clues!” Steve replied.
Josh gasp, “Special Christmas Eve Blue’s Clues! This must really be important!”
“Have you see any around?” I ask.
“Not that I know of but-.” He looks around, “maybe another set of eyes could help!”
He takes my hand in his, leading me into his living room with Steve following behind.
“Actually I could use the two of yours help.” Papers laid all over his living room.
“You see, there was a mistake at the print shop and now all of my stories are messed up. Can you help me tell which is the real story.”
“Yeah!” I bounce beside him.
Josh smiles, squeezing my hand, “Great! Okay here’s the first one. Is it Little Bo-Peep lost her sheep or her cows?”
Steve and I think for a moment. Then it hits me, “It’s her sheep!”
“Ohhhhh.” Josh and Steve say in unison. “You’re right! It is her sheep!”
Josh smiles back, “Good job Y/N!” He puts the paper in a pile. “Okay here’s the next one, Little blue or red ridding hood?”
Again, we all stop and take a moment to think. “Red or blue…red or blue…” Steve says to himself.
“Red!” I chime in.
The two again, look in awe of me. “You’re right! It’s Little Red Riding Hood. Amazing Job!” Josh praises some more, putting the paper in the pile.
“Alright! Last one, Old MacDonald had a mansion or a farm?” Josh reads the papers.
Again, we all take our time to think it over.
“I’ve got this one!” Steve chimes in, “But…just to be sure, what do you think Y/N?”
“I think it’s a farm!”
“I think so too!” Steve cheers on.
“Great job you guy!! You helped me put my stories back together!”
I cheer us on but then pause as my eyes hit upon Josh’s pile of stories. He must’ve seen it at the same time as me because Josh and I turn and look at each other at the same time.
“A clue!!” We say in unison.
“A clue?! Where?” Steve leans over.
“On the stack of stories.” Josh points out.
“So our next clue is a story…” I think.
“You know what this means, we need our Handy…Dandy….” Steve smirks.
“Notebook!!” I hold it up.
“Wow!! Steve let you hold his notebook! He must really trust you Y/N! What a big honor!” Josh praises me making me blush.
“Thank you.” I smile, handing the notebook to Steve.
He takes the crayon out and flips to the next page. “So our next clue is…stories. We’ll make a square with some squiggly lines in the center for writings. Then we’ll repeat this on the other side so we have two pages. There! A story!”
Steve lifts his head and looks to Josh and I. “But what could Blue want to do tonight after dinner with paper and a story?”
The three of us sit and think for a minute. “Oh!” Josh suddenly says “Maybe she wants to make her own stories!”
“Ohhhhhh.” Steve and I say in unison.
“But we better find the last clue, just to be sure.” I remind them as Steve hands me his notebook back.
“Definitely!” Josh smiles.
Mail time! Mail time! MAAAAAAIIIIILLLLLL TTTTIIIIIIMMMMEEEEE!
Steve and I gasp! “The mail is here!!”
Before we run out the door I stop, grabbing my backpack and pulling out Josh’s invitation. “Here Josh! It’s your invitation to Christmas tomorrow at our house.”
“Really?! I’d love to go! I’ll see you then Y/N.” With one last hug from Josh, I’m sent off with Steve back home for the mail!
We put our stuff down by the front door as Steve starts to sing, “Here’s the mail, it never fails, it makes want to wag my tail, when it comes I wanna wail, mmmmaaaaiiilll!!!”
I giggle, joining Steve on the mmmaaaiiilll part.
We take out seats on the thinking chair. Steve in the center of the chair while I sit on the arm. Mailbox comes in through the window with a Christmas hat on.
“Mail’s here! Mail’s here!!” He happily cheers.
“I thought the post office is closed on holidays?” I ask Mailbox.
“It is! That’s very smart of you Y/N. The post office is closed on major holidays, but this arrived this morning for the two of you.” He opens up and inside of a red and green letter.
“We just got a letter, we just got a letter, we just got a letter, wonder who it’s from.” Steve smiles, opening the letter. He pauses and gasps, looking at me. “It’s from Santa.”
My eyes widen and I gasp as well, “SANTA?!”
“Yes! It says:
Dear Steve, Blue and Y/N,
You’ve all been very good this year. I look for to visiting your house tonight. Make sure not to stay up too late and please leave out some milk and cookies if you can.
Sincerely yours,
Santa Claus❤️”
I beam with excitement. “Santa’s coming tonight!!!!”
“Yes he is! We need to figure out what Blue wants to do tonight so we get to bed at a good hour and don’t accidentally see Santa Claus.”
Just as Steve says that Blue runs by. “Follow that dog!” I giggle, grabbing my backpack by the door and running after her.
“Wait up Y/N!” Steve calls after me.
Blue stops in front of a picture of Joe’s present shop. She barks a cute little song before she…goes into the picture?!?! I stare in disbelief.
“Where’s Blue?” Steve asks catching up.
“She…she’s in the picture.”
“Ohhhh she skidooed into the photo.”
“Skidoo?”
“Yeah! We can do it too! All you have to do is rock your leg and arms with me. Ready?” I nod following his lead.
“Blue skidooed we can too!” Suddenly we shrink and go into the picture frame!! Where once we were in our house, now we’re in the picture, or more specifically, outside Uncle Joe’s present shop.
“Wow!!” I smile to Steve, “That was awesome!”
“Isn’t it?” He smiles back. We turn and look to the present shop. “It’s my brother Joe’s present shop!”
“He’s the last invitation we need to hand out!”
“You’re right! Let’s head in and see what he’s up to.”
Inside the present shop was busy! Presents being wrapped and sent in all sorts of directions. Joe usually helps Santa out with the wrapping this time of year and it seems like this year was no different!
There, in the center of it all is Joe, making sure everything is in working order.
“Uncle Joe!!” I run into the shop and right over to him.
He immediately lights up seeing me, opening his arms and holding me in a tight hug. “Y/N!! Sweetheart!! It’s so good to see you!!”
He lifts me into his arms, holding me on his hip. “What brings you here today?”
“Well we’re on the hunt for Blue’s Clues.” Steve says as he joins us.
“Special Christmas Eve Blue’s Clues huh? What have you got so far?”
“We’ve got paper and stories.”
“Paper and stories…” Joe starts to think, “Now I wouldn’t want to say anything until you have the third clue, but…have you thought about maybe Blue want to make her own stories?”
“That’s what Uncle Josh said!”
“Really? So he copying me now?” Joe smirks.
“You’re copying him silly!” I giggle.
“Am I now? Am I?” He spins me around making me giggle more.
“How are the presents coming by?” Steve asks.
“Everything is going according to schedule. Santa should be ready to head out as soon as tonight!”
Suddenly my eyes catches something, I look closer and it’s….
“A clue!! A clue!!”
“A clue?!” Josh and Steve say in unison. “Where?”
“There!” I point to the square box cutter. “It’s a clue!!”
The two gasp, “You’re right Y/N! It’s one of Blue’s clues!! Good eye.” Joe praises
“The final clue is a square!” Steve examines the clue.
“Notebook!” I hold it out to Steve.
“Our handy dandy notebook! Thank you Y/N.”
“You’re holding Steve’s notebook? That’s such a big honor. Steve must really trust you.” He praises.
I beam with happiness, “Yeah! It’s a big honor.”
“So, the shape of a square. We’ll make one line at the top and equal size lines going down the sides and one at the bottom. There, a square.” Steve explains, showing the two of us the drawing.
“It’s our last clue!!” I cheer.
“Our last clue?! You know that that means, it’s time for our thinking chair!!” Steve cheers.
Joe sets be back down but before Steve and I go I stop and grab my backpack. “Uncle Joe! I almost forgot!”
I hand him the invitation, “You’re in over for Christmas tomorrow!”
“I am!” He looks at the invitation, “I’d be honored. I’ll see you tomorrow kiddo.”
I take Steve’s hand and wave goodbye to Joe. Once out of his present shop we skidoo back to our house. Then it’s off to the thinking chair!
Steve and I sit in our thinking chair. I hand him the notebook and we start to go over our clues. “So now that we’re in our thinking chair, let’s think. What does Blue want to do tonight after dinner? What was the first clue?”
“Paper!”
“That’s right! We saw the clue at Magenta’s house. But…what was the second clue?”
“Stories!”
“Yes! We saw the stack of stories at Josh’s house.”
“And the final clue is a square at Uncle Joe’s present shop.”
“So, what does Blue want to do tonight after dinner with paper, stories and a square?”
We sit and think…and think…
“What if…” Steve starts out saying, “she wants to write Christmas cards and put them in a box?”
“But then what would be the clue about stories?”
“Right…you’re so right….” Steve goes back to thinking.
There’s a moment of silence as the two of us think. Blue runs over and joins us as we think and think.
“I’ve got it!!” I suddenly say. Steve and Blue look to me. “She want to read a storybook after dinner! That would explain the paper as pages, the stories in the book and the square shape is the book itself!”
Steve lights up with the realization. We look to Blue who barks and spins around with conformation.
“You did it Y/N! You figure out Blue’s Clues!” He wraps his arms around me and picks me up, bringing me into a tight hug. “You are so incredibly smart! I am so proud of you Little one.”
I giggle and hold him close. “Couldn’t have done it without you Steve.”
“Aw! You’re sweet but I think the smartie here is you.” He smiles back, holding me in his arms.
“Steve! Y/N! Dinner is ready!” Mrs. Pepper calls from the kitchen.
“Oh! It’s dinner time! Come on, let’s go.” Steve carries me into the kitchen where everyone is seated at the big table for Christmas Eve dinner. Everyone is there, side table, slippery soap, the whole spice family, even mailbox.
We all have a nice tasty dinner together. Laughing and having fun with friends and family around.
Then like Blue ask, we all gather in the living room together. First we set out some milk and cookies for Santa along with some carrots for the reindeer.
Steve and I cuddle close together on the couch, Blue in my lap and a Christmas book in his hand. With his arm wrapped around me he begins to read, “‘Twas the night before Christmas…”
Somewhere in the story I fall asleep against Steve. With a kiss to my forehead, he picks me up and brings me into the bedroom.
~~~
It’s Christmas morning!!! I jump awake and shake Steve to wake up. “It’s Christmas morning!! Santa came!!”
Steve laughs and yawns waking up. “Good morning Little one, merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas Steve.” I smile back.
Blue jumps up into the bed and licks the two of us. I giggle, “And merry Christmas to you too Blue!”
We get out of bed and go right to the tree. True to Santa’s letter, we have plenty of presents under the tree!! I gasp, grabbing Steve’s when pulling him along to the tree.
The morning is spent unwrapping and exchanging gifts with everyone in the house. Then company comes over right after. First Magenta runs in and plays with Blue.
Then Josh and Joe come over. “Where’s my favorite Little?” Joe calls from the door. I come run over and reunite with my uncles. “Y/N! Thank you for inviting us!” Josh adds, the two smiling.
The rest of Christmas Day is peacefully and fun. Spent with loved ones and family alike.
“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.” Steve wraps his arm around me, kissing my forehead. Blue jumps up and kisses the two of us, ending the best Christmas ever!
#age regression#age regressor#agere little#agere#little space#sfw age regression#agere post#sfw agere#sfw littlespace#age regression blog#age regression writing#age regression community#sfw age regressor#age regression sfw#age regression fic#ageregression#age re safe space#agere blog#caregiver!steve burns#cg!steve burns#blues clues#agere blues clues#blues clues fic#agere fandom#agere community#christmas agere#agere christmas#little!reader#little blog#sfw little blog
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Clark Kent taking care of his baby :)
Most of my stuff is written while high, none of it is proofread, if a typo really bothers you feel free to point it out so I can fix it :) Made thinking of Tom Welling and David Corenswets' (is that where you put the fucking apostrophe?) superman
tw: Dumbification? Subtle DD/LG undertones (Kind of unintentional). NSFW under the cut (pussy eating! Nipple play!)
Clark Kent loves an independent woman. Well , a mostly independent woman. She's smart, handles herself well, and he knows he never has to worry about her when she's on her own. But with him? Oh well now that's a different story. Why would she take care of herself when her big strong boyfriend is there to do it for her? All she needs to do, all Clark wants her to do, is sit there and look pretty. Holding his hand when she walks with him, not paying attention to cars because she knows he will. Why would she keep track of her keys when she knows Clark will? He's lost count of the times she'll get up from their usual seat in their favorite cafe, leaving her phone, purse and coffee. It's not his baby's job to do all that, he gets to take care of her, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He stops on the sidewalk to tie her shoes, picks out her clothes; even orders for her, choosing what she'll get if she can't decide.
He loves taking care of her. It'd be cruel to do anything else, how could he make her do any of the work? He sits her in his lap when they watch movies, letting her lean back against him while he slides his hand under her shirt, gently kneading her soft tits, playing with her nipples while she squirms under his touch. "Stay still honey", he'll whisper in her ear, pressing a kiss to his neck while one arm stretches across her tummy, holding her against him. He lays her back on the couch, movie long forgotten as he slides up her nightgown, leaning down to suck on her nipples. Letting out soft chuckles as she whines and threads her fingers through his hair, legs coming up to wrap around him. "I know honey. Always so sensitive, but you can take it".
He kisses down her tummy, pressing a few into the pretty blue cotton panties she's wearing, the ones she bought because, "Look Clarky! They match your suit!", tongue darting out of his mouth, gently licking her clit over the fabric, letting out a groan as she pleads "Stop teasing Clarky, please?". And how could he ever say no to her? Tugging off her panties and laying back down, gently sinking his teeth into her inner thigh, the pressure barely enough to leave indentations, before gently kissing her clit. She whines hips rolling up, a silent plea for more. He speaks gently, kissing her thigh again: "Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me tonight?". She pouts at him, "I am! you're being mean." God she's so bratty, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He gives in, licking her clit the way she always fucking begs him too, the need to make her cum outweighing his desire to make her wait.
He puts one arm across her tummy again, holding her down as she squirms, legs closing around his head, sucking in a breath as he forces them open. "M-more", she whimpers and he eagerly obliges, slowly sinking two fingers into her, curling them gently against her g-spot. It's almost too much for her, back arching as she tugs on his hair, gasping as he flicks his tongue again. She's almost there, feeling that familiar knot build in her tummy, her breathing picking up and her body flushing with heat. "Don't stop! Please don't stop oh god!" her voice is higher, desperate as she pleads with him. He groans in assent, continuing his actions, curling his fingers a little faster, the familiar squelch that always makes his cock twitch in his jeans. He can feel her right there, teetering on the edge as she whines, before crashing over it. Her back arches and she cries out, her usual chant of "Clarky!" long forgotten as she struggles to even breathe, her thighs closing around his once more, trapping his face against her as she rides out her high.
She opens her thighs again, sighing softly, as Clark sits up, pulling her towards him and kissing her. The taste of herself on his tongue making her whimper into his mouth as he drags her into his lap. "M'sensitive" she pleas, only eliciting a condescending noise of sympathy from him; "Yeah I know. But you can take it, yeah? My pretty girl can take it, cause we're just getting started".
#david corenswet#superman 2025#superman legacy#superman#clark kent#smallville#tom welling#reader insert#smut
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not the original anon but it's been weeks since i stumbled upon it, and i can't get your pride-and-prejudice bit out of my head??? the way you write angst is scratching my brain real very nicely, i hope i can read more joel in the "they ask you how you are doing and you have to say you are fine but you're not really fine--" mood in the future....
Thank you so much for the sweet words anon, even if you're not the original anon/requestor I'm obviously still very glad you liked the little snippet I wrote!
I will say though, if you want more...all you gotta do is ask (no pun intended)! I do enjoy doing these writing blurbs for people and while they're far from perfect, if 1.5k words (I need to calm down for these asks, they just keep getting longer) from me makes someone happy then that's all I can ask for. I tried to stick to your prompt but it may not be exactly what you're asking for. Regardless I gave it by best go.
This one's for you. Happy holidays.
Dearest Sausage
I would like to personally thank you for the lumber shipment, it will be incredibly helpful for our estate and I have no doubt it will be even more appreciated these coming winter months.
"Obviously each tenant on the property will be given a share of lumber, at least a third of a cord a month." Joel states, jotting down notes in the margins of the shipment details. "If my calculations from last winter are correct that is.
His most trusted servant–and first real friend in this place–Jeremy stands to the side with his own quill and notes in hand.
"Yes sir, that sounds reasonable."
"Larger homes or tenants with farms will be afforded more, obviously."
"Of course sir."
"That should leave us with enough lumber for the main estate, correct?"
Jeremy pauses for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek and fiddling with the ends of his mustache. "Depends on how harsh winter is this year."
"I have no doubt that the Eth–Lord Slab will have a problem making the difference himself." Joel replies, biting back a smile at the thought of his partner. "Feels right at home in the wilderness that one."
However I do not appreciate the way the shipment was only sent as a bribe to get "as detailed as possible" information about mine and Lord Slabs…intimate relationship; to put it in a modest way.
"Now that's done...that means there are no other immediate issues I need to look at, right?" Joel asks, looking up at Jeremy from his chair. Trying his hardest to hold in a smile.
Jeremy flips through his pages. "No sir."
Joel claps his hands together, jumping up from his seat so fast it startles the older man.
"Finally, I'm free!" He whoops, almost running to the coat rack. "I'm going out, one more minute stuck in here and I'll go mad!"
"But sir, it's twenty below freezing! You'll catch a cold."
Joel rolls his eyes. "That's what coats are for silly."
"A-and Lord Slab is set to arrive home later today."
"He won't care." Joel replies, surprisingly neutral as he shrugs on the woolly coat. "I just have to be home by dinner, which I will be."
"Sir–"
"Make sure no one dies while I'm gone!"
But since you went through the trouble I will tell you this in confidence and as a long term friend; Lord Slab and I are in a mutually beneficial relationship. A marriage of convenience, not love.
Someone was following him.
Eyes on him were usual when he was wandering through the main portion of the estate, it came with being head of the estate while Etho was gone. Feeling eyes on him when he was alone walking the edge of the forest was a different thing.
Someone was dying today, and it wasn't going to be him.
The sound of horse hooves getting closer prompts him to duck behind a tree, heart pounding in his chest. The hooded figure stopping where his footsteps tapered off into the woods made him rotate around, pulling his knife out of its holster. The figure slowly dropping off their horse before approaching the treeline made him jump them; slamming into them with his full body weight and pinning them to the snow with the blade pressing down on their throat and–
"Missed me that much?"
Joel yanks off their hood to see a set of familiar eyes and a (he won't say loving, it's not) knowing smile. "Etho?!"
"Hi, Joel."
And as much as I hate to be boring, I can't lie and say there is anything interesting to report between the two of us. Absolutely nothing has changed.
All the fight practically melts out of him. Tossing his knife aside, Joel wraps his arms around his stupid husband; burying his head into his chest
Etho sits them both up, a gloved hand coming up into his hair. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He chuckles warmly, the sound almost soothing.
"How did you find me?"
"I was on the path home when the farmer with the twin boys mentioned she saw you walk into the woods. So I decided to come and find you."
"You should've went home and rested you idiot!" He scolded, swatting Etho in the chest. "I can handle myself and I would've been back by dinner, you didn't have to–"
"But I wanted to." He interrupts, squeezing Joel just a bit tighter.
Joel frowns. When Etho wanted to see him immediately it meant something was wrong. He presses a hand to Etho's forehead almost instinctually. "Everything okay? Feeling alright?"
Etho only laughs. "Yes Joel, I promise. I just wanted to see you."
And maybe Joel's traitorous heart skips a beat.
I admit, once I thought it could be a relationship of love as well. As great and mighty as you know I am, I thought that he would agree to at least try but Lord Slab made it clear that he wasn't interested in that in the slightest.
Joel just manages to dust the snow off his pants when Etho grabs his hands suddenly, making him jump.
"Don't tell me that's what you came out in."
Joel gasps. "I'll have you know that I think I look dashing in this coat which is all that matters–"
"Yes Joel, you're very handsome." And he says it jokingly but something delusional inside of him feels like there's some truth behind it. "What I mean is...your hands are freezing, are you not cold?"
Now that he thought about it, out of the comfort–warmth of Etho's arms, it was quite chilly. Reading his mind almost, Etho's cloak is off in a instant and coming around Joel's shoulders.
"Etho, you'll be cold now."
"It doesn't matter."
"What? Of course it matters!" He tries to remove the cloak, all he gets his Etho swiping his hands away. "You're not trying to get sick for me so I feel bad and do more work, are you?"
"What I mean is that I'm used to it, and you're not." Etho chuckles as he secures the cloak with a strong knot. "Let's go home."
Don't bother feeling bad for me and don't write an angry letter to Lord Slab demanding answers, you'll only be wasting your time. Sometimes people don't work out romantically, I'm sure you know this from our short romance years ago.
It feels oddly domestic, the way Etho has one hand holding the reigns of his horse while the other one is out so Joel can grab onto it. Walking with their hips almost touching. And he plays into it by leaning into Etho's arm when they spot another tenant on the path.
"Lord Etho! You're home early."
He nods, laughing awkwardly. "Finished up early so I could come home early."
"Excited to reunite with your husband too I see." They smirk, something knowing in it. Joel opens his mouth but it's quickly shut when Etho pulls him in closer, head bumping the top of Joel's for a second.
"Of course."
And the look in his eyes is so heartbreakingly fond that Joel snaps away almost instantly.
That doesn't mean I'm unhappy, because I am happy. We may not love each other but we have love for one another and at the end of the day that fondness and respect is enough.
"We should get you a thicker coat." Etho hums, like it's more of a thought to himself than anything.
"My Christmas present?"
"No, just a present." He says, kicking a bit of snow up at his feet. "I'll get you something better for Christmas, what do you want?"
"Well for our wedding anniversary you–"
"No, not that." The words falling out more than spoken. Joel's eyebrows furrow.
"What's wrong with the bracelet? It was pretty."
"It was thoughtless." Etho scoffs like he's angry at himself. "Good for an acquaintance, not my husband. Tell me something you actually want, anything Joel, money's not an issue."
I will not make the same mistake
"Make me something." He concedes, Etho brightening at the words. "That's what I'm doing for you."
"What are you making? So I get an idea for mine."
"Trying to get information for your gift now, huh?" Joel rolls his eyes. "Nice try."
It surprises him slightly when Etho stops in his tracks. It surprises him even more when a hand comes to his face, gently turning Joel's face to give him a quick and gentle kiss on the cheek. What doesn't surprise Joel is that there are people nearby who see it.
I am perfectly content with what we are. I don't need more, nor do I want more.
Not that it matters. Not that he cares. Not that he hopes that one day he'll be kissed out of affection rather than a ploy.
"Tell me now?" He pleads quietly with deceivingly sweet eyes.
"Not that easily." He breathes, hoping the hood hides his flush.
Etho pouts. "At least what you want?"
"Not a chance."
Against all common sense, I look forward to your next letter and to seeing you soon. As always, give Hermes a treat and a belly rub for me.
Being his. What a pathetic Christmas wish.
Yours truly, Joel
#smalletho#hermitshipping#boat boys#incoherent rambling#Writing Wipeouts#Did this all very quickly apologies for inconsistencies
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Have we ever seen this old man being affectionate with drivers or other juniors? Or just Yuki? I don't even think I've seen him this close to Max and Seb (off the podium at least)
Brother.
#he says some senile shit every now & then but hes literally & unfortunately yuki's biggest fan 💀#im not posting this with hope for the 2nd seat idgaf anymore (lol. lying) im just flabbergasted at how much he visited him 💀#thats why i feel betrayed hes siding w lawson lol cause ive never seen them together 😭#LIKE when liam outscored yuki at sg last yr all he said was#“good job. that's pretty much it” LMFAO? helmut was pissed 😭#tbf hes been backing yuki for YEARSS i think hes just tired now 💀 at least w lawson he can agree w horner ab & he can have a pawn somewhere#but i dont see how sharing liam w horner can help marko 😭 liam will be loyal to him for sure but the bias is so clear 💀#liam would easily jump ship to horner 💀#i 100% blame helmut for the pointless team trapping of yuki like he DEF did it. i dont think he wants to let him go LOL. but im mad ab it😭#once again i dont speak with a source you're 🫵 in my delirious mind palace and you're hostage in it 😁#he'd rather have yuki careerless post 2026 than not have him at red bull 💀 should be funny but im PISSED#ITS SO EASY JUST FRAUD HIM INTO A TOP SEAT 😭#ppl calling yuki a honda merchant when hes a helmut merchant 😭 theyre literally his parents who are divorcing LOL#rmb when yuki said he didnt read thru the contract? im convinced its cuz helmut made it so he just said yes 💀#apparently honda wanted to keep him 1 more yr @ f3 but marko promoted him to f2 anyway 💀 & hes the one who dropped him into europe 💀#ah helmut. yuki's double edged sword#dropped him to europe & cant empathise with him struggling there alone 💀 typical racist grandpa#this opens a tough question tho: did the therapy he forced yuki to do actually help? cause if it was someone else he wouldnt even have care#he handled it so awfully but his concern for yuki was... is real.#i was thinking that i need yuki to have someone who favors him just as how ron dennis did for mika then i realized that's literally helmut💀#hes still alive cause hes not going until he sees yuki as wdc 😭#helmut marko#yuki tsunoda#yt22#f1txt
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I am. 75% through orv we are in the home stretch boys
#okay but it's actually so cool how I haven't gotten bored in this book yet#and I'm not saying that to diss other books#one of my very favorite books (2ha) I got really bored of in the middle#it was just not paced well imo#still a favorite!! just not paced well#but orv? I haven't been bored once#there hasn't been a single moment I haven't been on the edge of my seat or halfway to tears#it is *The* Book Of All Time
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gojo never imagined an arrange marriage with you, but now you’re all he can think about.
he thinks about you when he’s training, when he’s seated at his round table, when he’s in his bed, everywhere, every time, you’re all he can think about.
and you’re oblivious to it.
you heard the gossip everywhere you walked, about the girl gojo was pleading with his family to marry. how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much more elegant she was compared to you. you knew you were never his first choice, not even his fifth, but it hurt even more when everybody acknowledged it.
you stopped wearing your wedding ring, started acting like you were just another person there. luckily gojo didn’t seem to be in any hurry about making heirs, so pretending like you two were working things out didn’t even matter anymore.
you find yourself alone most of the time. your maids were kind and patient, but they had so many things to do throughout the day that you felt awful pestering them to walk around the estate with you.
eating dinners with gojo became normal, but most of your other meals were in silence, always feeling like a speck of dust in the large dining hall.
one day when you’re walking around aimlessly you stumble across the training grounds, the open space below you filled with men swinging wooden swords back and forth at each other.
it wasn’t difficult to find your husband, his white hair hard to miss in a crowd of others. he didn’t notice you watching from above, and so you stayed hidden, not knowing if the men were picky with who watched them.
he was swift and agile. everything he did was precise and with meaning. no wonder he was named the best warrior of the north.
you found this to be more entertaining than walking around the gardens for the tenth time or watching the cooks assemble the next meal, so you didn’t even notice how gojo looked up to see you, somehow slipping away without you knowing.
you were in a state of watching but not really thinking, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard his voice behind you.
“didn’t know i had an audience,”
you yelp, flinching as you look behind you to see your husband all sweaty, panting slightly as he moves his hair away from his face. you eye the stairs that led him up here, wondering how you could’ve missed that.
you laugh sheepishly, giving him an apologetic smile as you pick are your nails.
“i’m sorry,” you scratch behind your ears, feeling heat rise to your cheeks under his intense gaze. it’s unfair how pretty somebody can look, especially after training for an hour straight, “i was just walking around and i saw this.”
he waved it off, shaking his head as he leaned his sword on the wall.
“not a problem,” his eyes shine, “i just would’ve tried harder if i knew my wife was watching.”
my wife.
the words fall so smoothly from his lips you wonder how many times he’s said it before. with malice, hatred, necessity?
you smile a little bit, eyes crinkling around the edges as you look away briefly, not noticing the way gojo chased after your cheerful face.
“how’d you get up here? where are your ladies?” he asks suddenly, looking around at the fact that it was just you up here.
“my what?” you say, looking up at him through furrowed brows.
“you know,” he waves his arm around as if that would help, “you’re ladies in waiting,”
you scrunch up your nose a little bit, something he noticed you did when you were confused.
“oh, well, my maids are working right now,” you tell him, noting that he still didn’t look any less confused.
“no, not your maids, your ladies,” he tilts his head to the side, “the girls your family sent them up to help you around.”
you stare at him, unblinking.
“the girls that are your friends, the ones that help accustom you…” gojo trials off when he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with you.
you feel even more embarrassed than when he caught you watching him, hating the way you were clueless at yet another thing in this life that no one explained to you.
“the girls you hang around with?” he finally lands on, hoping this jogs your memory.
you shake your head, eyes wide as you fidget with the fabric of your dress. his eyes fall onto your finger, lingering on the fact that you’re not wearing your ring.
“who do you spend your time with throughout the day?” gojo seems even more lost than you. he’s seen you with…? well surely that one time…?
“by,” you swallow, embarrassed, “by myself. i walk around a lot.” you admit sheepishly.
“your family didn’t send…?” he answers his own question with his silence.
this entire time you’ve been alone?
he opens his mouth to speak but somebody beats him to it.
“satoru! get down here! we’re still not done!” his friends shouts from below, and you look over your shoulder to see all the men staring at the two of you.
gojo stares at you, unblinking.
“i,” he swallows but can’t find any words.
you can’t either.
he leaves you there, running down those stairs as he shouts at the other guys to resume what they were doing. that entire day he was off his balance because he kept looking up to see you there, but you weren’t.
maybe you were just walking around, like you said.
#gojo x reader#gojo x you#satoru x reader#gojo drabble#jjk x reader#jjk drabble#gojo angst#arranged!gojo
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Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of man who:
In your shared home, always sits with his legs spread. Manspreading king. Adores it when you cross your arms and give him a disapproving look, saying there's no room for you. "Course there is, luv. Jus' sit between my thighs."
Refuses to let you do simple tasks around the house, like making tea, folding his underwear, or putting away the dishes. One might think it's a sweet, husbandly gesture - but he's just super picky. You made tea in the microwave once, and now you're banned from ever touching his tea stash. Likes his underwear folded in a specific way, and you don't understand the importance of it. He got tired of you stuffing his underwear in his drawer, so now he folds it himself. And the dishes? Couldn't stand how you put them away. "There's no rhyme or reason to 'em." "I didn't think there had to be, Si-" "Just gimme the damn bowl." Fewer chores? You aren't complaining.
Looks like he's always on edge - and he is, kinda. When he's out with you, he can't help but be alert and watchful, and extremely protective of you. You've tried to get him to loosen up - it's the supermarket, what could happen? - but have just come to accept it as his nature. Plus, you get that giddy feeling when you see other men look straight down at the floor, avoiding Simon's stare as the two of you pass.
Is the grumpiest, poutiest, and most indignant man ever when he gets sick. Doesn't want you doting on him in case you catch whatever he has. But, wait - where are you going? "Get your ass back in this bed - 'm cold." Grumbles like a child when you force him to let you get up to grab him soup, tea, or medicine. And no, he doesn't care how sick he is, he's not wearing that stupid, floppy ice pack hat.
Brings Johnny over unannounced, and you've grown used to it. The moment you hear that Scottish yapping out the front door as the key unlocks, you grab a third plate for dinner - he insists you don't need to feed him, but you always make extra for Simon's lunch the next day regardless, and the last time he'd said that, he ended up grabbing an extra fork and picking from Simon's plate. Which, of course, had Simon up at 1 am making instant ramen because he was still hungry, but didn't have the heart to ask you to make him a decent meal. So, yes, Johnny would be fed.
Loves spoiling you on your birthday. What is a man if not someone who spoils his partner rotten? Orders in food from your favorite bakery, sets all your presents neat and nice on the table (the excellent wrapping job done by yours truly, Gaz), flower petals sprinkled on the ground and the table top (also Gaz's idea), and a seat on his lap so for you while you open your presents. Loves watching your face light up, and each little "you remembered?!" fall from your lips as you open each gift. Scoffs and shifts in his seat. "I's not that much of a fuss, luv..." as you squeal excitedly, but you know he's biting back a proud smile. The blush, he can't even attempt to hide.
Is somehow a magnet for your young nephews. Every time he comes along to your sister's place, he's either making conversation with her husband in the living room, or he's interrogated and cornered by her two sons. And, lord help him, he doesn't understand it either. He'd always expected kids to look at him like a monster, but, especially with these two, that was never the case. They'd ask him for stories about "being in war" - half of the time, he'd make up some not-too-gory adventure, sparing them the details of real war. The rest of the time, he'd talk about "Soap, my mate who blows everything up." And they'd listen with wide eyes and jaws on the floor.
Has scared you unintentionally, more than too many times. He'd come home at three in the morning from a mission, and all he wanted was to quietly peel his dirty uniform off and slip into bed with you. His main intention was to avoid waking you up, because you'd force him to shower before joining you in bed - and he was too tired for that. However, you'd been rounding the corner, up for your 3 am glass of water - you screamed as you saw the hulking, dark figure by the front door, launching your phone at him. He'd caught it effortlessly and shoved it into his back pocket. "What've I told ya 'bout using the bat?" "I was just getting water!" "I coulda been anyone." "Well you're not." "Missed ya, luvie." "Missed you too- but you're grimy. Go take a-" "No." He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests as he hauled you back to bed.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley headcanons#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley headcanons#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost headcanons#call of duty#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#cod x reader#cod#cod blurbs
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ᯓ Kento Nanami doesn't even know he has a breeding kink until he cums inside of you for the first time. It's like a flip switches in his brain, and the second that sweet release floods your womb he is plagued with the instinctual need to fill you over and over and over until something takes.
And breeding you doesn't have to mean a baby, but rather the primal possession that comes with having you spend the rest of the day with a part of him inside of you. No other man has the privilege, the right, or the reason to claim you as he has, and it does something nasty to the way he fucks.
He's still the gentleman he's always been: still makes sure you cum at least once on his fingers or tongue before he graces you with the hard-to-manage length of his cock. But rather than in the spirit of purely giving you pleasure, he's trying to ensure you're so wet that he can force himself just that little bit deeper inside of you.
A guilt of his, perhaps, but Kento read that if he were to edge himself between moments of intimacy with you, that his loads would be bigger, more forceful—and the idea of giving you even more of himself than he already had been is enough to get him hard. So, he starts touching himself whenever the thought clouds his mind, which is more-often-than-not nowadays. He fucks his fist to the thought of breeding you out until he's cumming dry and you're so full of his cum that it has nowhere to go other than down your legs. Stopping before he cums is a pain like none other, but his new adopted thought process claims a load spent anywhere other than balls-deep inside of you is a load wasted.
And he doesn't say a word of it to you. You only pick up on it when you realise he won't cum anywhere else. When you're sat between his legs after a long day of work, serving him with your mouth and coaxing those lovely groans from his chest. How his hands try and guide you off of him before he gets close enough to lose control, sys he doesn't want to cum down your throat. Once upon a time he would get hard all over at just the sight of you swallowing his lust.
"I just... want to be inside of you, honey, is that okay?" He says, and you oblige because the way Ken gets once he's finally seated inside of you is nothing other than animalistic, euphoric. But you have to wonder if there's a reason he avoids spilling his seed over your tongue or tits like he used to.
"You know I like the taste, right?" you glance over at him when he bends you over the arm of the couch and slips his aching cock into you. You doubt you'll ever get used to his size—he always has to take a moment to let you settle once he's in.
"I know, love," he claims. "I just... prefer it this way."
"Don't you like fucking my throat anymore?"
"God," he groans, presses his body into your back so that his breath fans over your ear. "No. I love your throat. I love all of you."
A thrust to test the waters— at your moan, another. Kento rocks his hips, drags his cock out of you and then drives forward until you and him are as connected as you can be... almost.
"You wanna breed me, is that it?"
Kento's hips stall. You're not stupid, and he doesn't even realise he's got an arm wrapped around you so he can splay his fingers over your stomach. His wedding band presses against your skin, sets it alight with burning need. Hearing you say it, though, makes him nearly cum on the spot—he wouldn't be so selfish.
"How'd you—"
"You say it, Ken," you drawl your words out, tease him with your tone. "When you cum, you say you're gonna fuck a baby into me, that you're gonna 'breed me like the pretty whore I am'. Don't worry, I like it. I want it."
He can hardly believe it, such words feel foreign to his mind. But they taste familiar on his tongue, like a part of his subconscious speaks on his behalf when he's all blissed out like that. He wonders just how deep the instinct to breed you runs, because his cock twitches and all of a sudden he's thrusting into you at a speed that seems only supernatural.
The snapping of his hips, the sound of skin against skin and the curses that slip from his lips like wine. It doesn't take long for you both to cum alongside each other, Kento, of course, deep inside of you.
And it takes a very strong part of him to pay attention to himself this time, and you aren't a liar: the song of need and primal lust that spill from his mouth are made for porn. Not that he can find it in himself to be embarassed, you seem to like it, what with the way your whole body shakes in orgasm as he fills you up.
Yeah, you'll be throwing out every condom you've got stashed away in the house.
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FIREFLIES NEVER CAME ; SATORU GOJO
synopsis; your seat is close to the heater. that’s the only reason gojo comes there to warm up.
word count; 4.2k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, teen!satoru, set in a canon au, mutual pining, fluff, a little bittersweet (melancholic winter vibes <3), introvert/extrovert, reader is antisocial and dense as a brick (black cat vibes :3), also kind of self-deprecating, satoru is very shoujo manga coded, just lots of puppy love!! feat. wingman!suguru <3
a/n; this wasn’t meant to be a fic …… it was gonna be really short and sweet ……… (T_T) anyway i am very fond of this reader/character dynamic so i hope you enjoy reading abt my emotionally stunted kids 🫶 biggest mwah in the world dedicated to professor logan (@staryukis) for teaching me about physics so i could find a loophole in satoru’s infinity :3c all for the sake of lore-accurate (kinda) fluff <3
”what are you listening to?”
your seat is close to the heater.
it was nothing but a lucky draw, really. yaga-sensei was organizing the desks when you transferred, and so he gave you the first choice; one you had no trouble making, latching on to the chair in the very back, right by the window, right by the sole heater of the room. vital for surviving your chilly winter classes.
so there you sit. a warmth sneaks through your fuzzy socks, tends to your restless legs. your feet tap and tap, on the cold floorboards, in rhythm with your never-ending thoughts, spinning like a planet in orbit.
through the fogged-up, frosted glass of the window to your left, you observe the world. headphones covering your ears, safe and snug, muffling all noise. you watch as snow falls, wholly entranced, eyes stuck on the icy snowflakes descending from the wool-gray sky — blanketing the frostbitten landscape of the courtyard. it’s pretty, all those skeletal trees, glittering and gleaming like they have something to say. sometimes they look like stars.
”… hey. did you hear me?”
gojo is being particularly chatty, today.
out of the corner of your eye, you see him wave his hand right in front of your face. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s rude; he must be used to all eyes being on him, from the moment he speaks.
with a flutter of your lashes, you lift your weary head. meeting his gaze, the blurry shine of your own visage, reflected in his circle-frame glasses. a soft tilt of his head, and then his lips are twitching upwards, just barely, snowy strands gliding across his forehead and falling over his face. like an excited puppy.
”what are you listening to?”
you read the words off his lips, all sound muffled by your headphones. quick to lift one of your hands, pulling one of the heavy ear cushions away — letting all white noise in the room flood your senses. the snarls of the wind outside, ieiri’s laughter, the scribbling of geto’s pen against paper.
it’s overwhelming, but a small price to pay. his voice is softer than usual, during moments like these; there’s a pleasant lull to it.
gojo tips his head to the right, still awaiting your response. all you can do is stare, watching your own reflection, fingers gripping onto the edge of your desk. as if seeking to ground yourself.
with a spoonful of hesitance, you part your lips.
”… do you like music?”
the words seep out into the air, a softly exhaled breath. gojo watches you, silently, for just a moment.
then he gives you a shrug.
”i guess?” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to another — hand slipping into the pocket of his uniform. ”that’s more suguru’s thing.”
ah.
your mouth forms around the syllable, as if responding, but not making any sound. gaze fleeing from his glasses, crumbling under their weight, straying towards the frosted window to your left. safe, familiar, rotting trees and twitching branches. snow just as pure as the boy in front of you.
silence overtakes you both, once more.
”... not gonna answer?” he asks, with another tilt of his head, absently rocking side to side as he lets out an exhale. ”is it a secret, or something?”
(it is, you think. but you can’t say it out loud.)
before you can part your lips again, the classroom door slides open — and you know it’s yaga-sensei just by the way his feet hit the floorboards, the decisive weight behind every step. you know even before he’s telling you to get back to your seats.
on cue, gojo stands up straighter, shooting you another glance. bright-eyed, easy-going, every star in the sky leaping out from the glimpse you get of his eyes when he angles his body. two blue pools, flecked with white, like frozen puddles in the street.
and then he’s strolling away.
gojo leaves, and you take off your headphones; stretching your legs underneath the desk. reaching for your ballpoint pencil, flipping open your textbook, and indulging in sleepy blinks, as yaga begins to drone on and on. you stifle a yawn with the sleeve of your blazer, resting your jaw on the heel of your palm. eyes inevitably straying towards a head of white hair.
but your name is called before you can get lost in your daydreams.
”page 27, from the top.”
your chair scrapes against the floorboards, as you sluggishly stand up. holding onto your textbook, flipping the pages until you land on the correct passage. with shaky hands, not enough to notice, you read out loud; voice controlled, almost monotone. all you can think is that you feel his frost-clad eyes on you, from the row straight ahead.
but you continue to speak. you speak until you reach the end of the page, until you’re allowed to take your seat again, happy to feel the warmth of the heater radiate against your legs. it’s this warmth that’s important, the most important thing of all.
without it, gojo wouldn’t bother to stop by your desk.
nearly every recess, as soon as yaga leaves the classroom, he’s waltzing over — leaning against the wall, stretching his arms out, purring contentedly as heat spreads throughout his body. you think he must run cold. chatting with you, just to pass the time, just until your teacher comes back. just to warm up.
then he’s leaving, again.
that’s all it is. a cold boy, and a heater by your desk — a conversation that otherwise wouldn’t have occured. even the strongest is vulnerable to changes in temperature, you suppose.
though if warmth is all that binds him to you, it’s bound to dwindle away.
(you’re sure he’ll stop as soon as spring comes.)
the next day, gojo is nowhere to be seen. you saw yaga-sensei drag him out of the classroom this morning; something about a clan meeting, something you weren’t paying attention to.
but now you wish you had.
(it’s quiet, without him around. eerily so.)
with nothing to lose, and nothing else to do — you push your chair away from your desk, and walk up to your classmate, a question on your mind.
”… music? are you looking for recommendations?”
you nod.
geto blinks. caught off guard, you’re sure, surprised that you’d approach him without any prior coaxing. he’s usually the one striking up a conversation with you, like a responsible class president, making sure the weird kid doesn’t feel left out. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s patronizing.
”hmm... well, that depends.” he gives you a smile, soft around the edges. it never feels as genuine as gojo’s, but it’s calming. ”what kind of music do you usually listen to?”
…
you glance down at the floor. bundling up the cuffs of your uniform, fingers clawing softly at the fabric, bottom lip trapped between two sets of teeth.
”… what kind of music does gojo like?”
silence. your words are barely spoken, just above a whisper, just like always, but geto picks up on them anyway. you can tell he does, can feel the weight of his keen eyes on your face. analytical.
then he parts his lips.
”… ohhh.” a low hum, ripe with meaning, buzzing at the bottom of his throat. the corners of his lips quirk up into a knowing smile. ”i see.”
heat rushes to your cheeks, blossoms under your skin. if he notices, he’s even more composed than you thought he was, because he doesn’t mention it. only continues to speak, in that soothing voice, crossing his arms in silent thought.
”hmm…” you follow his gaze, out towards the window, the same webs of frost as always. it’s not snowing, but you still can’t see the blue of the sky. ”i’ve never seen him listen to music before, so i wouldn’t know.”
you can’t help but deflate, at that.
geto only smiles. exhaling, through his nose, mildly humoured — though he’s good at hiding his amusement. ”… what do you think that means?”
a blink. your lashes flutter, as you gaze up at him.
”… huh?”
”satoru doesn’t listen to music, but he wants to know what you’re listening to.” he says the words almost coachingly, like he’s listing off a string of numbers. you realize he must have been listening in on your conversation, but it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as his tone. ”what do you think that means?”
…
(you haven’t got a clue.)
geto lets out a chuckle, laced with mirth, no longer trying to hide it. paired with a soft shake of his head, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes. ”why do you want to know about his taste in music, then?”
(… that’s a good question.)
he seems to notice your hesitance, your apprehension, the way your teeth seek to trap your bottom lip; always the victim of your muddled mind. you know the answer, of course you do — but it isn’t something you want others knowing.
thankfully, geto breaks the silence for you.
”i don’t think you need to try so hard, when it comes to him.” his voice is soft, almost sincere, something warmer than usual. glancing away when you meet his eyes. ”… he isn’t worth the effort, anyway.”
but that’s where he’s wrong.
satoru gojo is a special case. a special person. in the orbit of your life, there’s no star you’d rather keep — no one quite as ripe with colour.
geto couldn’t possibly understand, because gojo is always with him — always orbiting around him. he always will, until you graduate, probably even beyond that. geto has him. they’re the strongest, a pair, always matching their steps to one another. but you only have these quiet days, these chilly classes in between never-ending missions — and that’s all.
when the frost outside the window thaws, gojo will surely stop visiting your desk. your lonely little world.
that’s exactly why — you need to find a song. if you just teach him about something wonderful enough, if you can give him something other than warmth…
(… maybe he’ll stay with you even after spring comes.)
”next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?”
geto’s suggestion breaks you out of your thoughts. when you raise your head, to meet the warm pools of amber in his eyes, he gives you a smile. there’s nothing patronizing about the way he’s looking at you now — if anything, you think it may even be slightly fond, but you can never tell what he’s actually feeling. he’s frightening, like that, always a mirror to his circumstances. a chameleon, tilting his head at you.
… though you can’t help but fall victim to the kindness in his eyes. the velveteen purr of his voice.
”i’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”
a nervous pit opens up in your chest, an empty space that gnaws incessantly at your heart. will he?, you want to ask, but it feels like the words are made out of lead. you can’t get them out of your throat.
”… okay,” is all you end up whispering, a soft lull of your tongue. ”i’ll try… thank you.”
geto rewards you with a full smile.
”don’t mention it.”
spring is closer than you thought.
it’s all you can think, when you step onto the pavement, when you feel the morning air gnaw at your frostbitten cheeks. it’s freezing, it’s winter, but the signs of changing seasons are still there — a lonesome snowdrop, the crackle of an icy puddle beneath your feet. the frost is beginning to thaw.
in a month or so, spring will be here — there’s no stopping it.
”did you bring your card?”
your headphones rest around your neck, allowing you to listen in on your classmates' conversation. all four of you are together, for once, all first-years, walking towards the nearest konbini — at gojo’s insistence.
it’s been a week since you had that talk with geto, but you still haven’t made any progress with him.
”huh? was i supposed to?”
”… are you kidding me?”
you glance up at the pair. always walking just a little bit ahead, their tall statures obscuring the view in front of you; shoko lags behind, with lazy steps, a trail of tobacco drifting out into the crispy air. all while snowflakes fall from the sky, gently, landing in your hair, on your shoulders, melting on the inside of your palm when you hold it out to catch them. watching as they turn into droplets of water, slip through the gaps between your fingers.
someone taps your shoulder.
geto has snowflakes stuck in his hair. they’re melting, in the strands of ink-black framing his face, matching the colour of the thick polo jacket he’s wearing. a bright red scarf is tied around his throat, and there’s a weighty look in his eyes — something telling.
a silent cue.
he falls back, slowly but surely, into ieiri’s lazy pace. not before murmuring something unintelligible to gojo, and shooting you a wink — one that makes you frown, confused, a low heat blooming at the base of your spine and crawling up your neck.
and then you realize what he’s done.
gojo is looking right at you, through the black glass of his specs. only wearing a baseball jacket, no gloves or scarves to keep him warm, despite the harsh bite of the open air. for a guy who runs cold, he must not put much thought into his clothing.
more importantly…
it’s just the two of you, now.
you blink at him, silent as a mouse. it only takes a moment for him to start moving, for you to follow, taking your place beside him while staring right ahead. if he’s bothered by geto slinking away, he doesn’t show it — only continues to walk.
”… that’s so unfair.”
gojo’s voice breaks the silence. you turn your head to gaze at him, the way his lips wrap around the vowels, haphazardly hanging onto every word he speaks.
”just ’cause i have clan money,” he kicks at a pebble on the side of the road, wisps of white hair swaying with a shake of his head, ”suguru thinks i should pay for our snacks. isn’t that unfair?”
you hesitate. then you nod along, absently.
he seems to take that as a yes, because it makes him brighten — as if gleaming with your approval, standing a little straighter, puffing out his chest with an exhale that turns into white smoke.
”right? they only give it to me because they want me to come back to kyoto, anyway…” he trails off, holding the tip of his tongue between his lips. ”… not that it matters. anyway, i just think he’s oppressive.”
”… mm.”
from this angle, you can see a sliver of his eyes. can see the way he steals a glance at you, without even turning his head — hands slipping into his pockets. there’s a moment of silence, until he’s parting his lips again.
”… i can buy some for you, though.”
(you barely pick up on the words, spoken almost in a whisper — as if an afterthought.)
he clears his throat.
”… if you don’t have the money, i mean.”
you can’t help but blink, at that — lashes fluttering in rapid succession, wondering if you heard him correctly. he doesn’t seem keen on elaborating, though. walking on, ignoring all snowflakes descending from the sky, eager to nuzzle in between his locks. his infinity keeps them out.
”… why?”
it’s all you can say. all you can verbalize.
(in a story like this, why would the brightest star of all orbit around someone like you?)
gojo gives you another glance. his iris cuts into your skin, observes you on what you’re sure must be a molecular level. he lets silence linger, for a moment, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.
gray, and more gray. flecks of white. you’d see the same thing he does.
”hmm…” he lets out a breath, head falling forward again, snowy strands ghosting against the skin of his forehead. ”let’s call it a trade.”
another series of blinks.
gojo turns towards you, then — a fresh grin blooming on his lips. white teeth, pink gums. it makes him look boyish, innocent, just another city boy with too much time on his hands.
”i buy you snacks — and you tell me what music you’re always listening to.” he bends his body forward, tilts his head at the same time, all lanky and charming, like a big cat. ”deal?”
you stay silent.
he’s looking at your headphones, still left neglected around your neck. your gaze falls down to the icy concrete, the thin layer of frost, waiting to be melted by the first sunrays of spring. whenever that will be.
geto and shoko are still behind you — you can hear their low, muffled chatter, smell the remnants of tobacco in the air. and you swear you can practically hear geto’s words, echoing through your head.
(why do you think that is?)
gojo is still looking at you. expectantly, lips curled up into a lazy smile. he’s waiting, you know he is, and you also know he isn’t very good at that. you know a lot of things — what you don’t know is what to say. you don’t know if you can believe in whatever geto was insinuating, don’t know if you can grapple with your own longing to do so.
(next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?)
geto doesn’t get it. he doesn’t know what your feelings towards gojo truly look like. doesn’t know that what’s on your mind when he’s around is always something horrifically embarrassing. something like, i want to know more about you, or maybe i wish i could tell you more about me. something awfully cheesy, like — i’m jealous of how bright you shine, but i can’t help but like you anyway.
if i become your friend, would it be okay to say i understand your loneliness? that i notice it, even just by a fraction?
would that be okay with you?
(words that should be left unspoken.)
”… well, it’s not like you have to.” gojo exhales, again, the words a heavy weight seeping past his throat. his shoulders slump, as he turns forward, fingers trailing up to scratch at the back of his neck.
all you can think is that he’s getting ready to leave. that nothing will change, at this rate, that spring will wash winter away. that geto should be more direct with his advice, and that if it’s not the music itself that gojo is interested in knowing more about, then surely —
” — i don’t listen to anything.”
gojo stills. the words have flown past your lips before you can reach out and grasp them, slicing through the open air.
he spins around, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose at the sudden motion, exposing his widened eyes. those white lashes, fluttering softly, like a pair of doves eager to get above ground. you grip onto the insides of your pockets, warm and cozy against your freezing hands — it grounds you, keeps you tethered down to earth, down to him.
”music,” you continue, sputtering slightly, as if your lungs don’t quite know how to work under pressure. winter air seeps into your windpipe, cuts the skin there. ”i don’t listen to music.”
you lift your hands, fingers curling around the soft earmuffs wrapped around your neck, hesitantly meeting gojo’s gaze — an overlapping sequence, blanketing his view. then you’re gazing down.
”it’s just… comforting,” you try to explain, speaking softly. ”to wear them. white noise.. tires me out, so…”
the sentence trails off, unfinished. you feel silly. silly for saying anything at all, for building it up so much. silly for being the way that you are.
but when you look up at gojo, he’s brightened like a star.
white teeth, pink gums, that breathtakingly boyish grin. his blue eyes gleam with colour, almost spilling over the corners, like watercolour paint on a too-small canvas. he tilts his head, looking at you carefully, as if truly seeing you for the first time; absently swaying side to side.
if he had a tail, you’re sure it’d be wagging.
”i see!”
a silent breath spills into the air. your lips part, but no sound comes out, only vapour; heart pumping blood through your writhing veins, warming you up from the inside, a co-conspirator to the heat blooming in your cheeks. gojo continues to speak.
”i guess that counts,” he nods, crossing his arms with a satisfied hum. ”alright. i’ll get you any snacks you want! you can be greedy, it’s okay.”
a murmur of thanks escapes you, although you’d like to tell him there’s no need. something tells you denying him this would be like taking another step backwards, in this budding connection between you.
(… if you can even call it that.)
geto and ieiri catch up to your unmoving figures, finally, and only then does gojo spin on his heel and pick up his previous pace. calling back to you over his shoulder, a smile you can’t see but still hear.
”just don’t give any of it to those two, yeah?”
”cheapskate,” ieiri calls back, lone cigarette hanging between her lips. geto lets out something like a chuckle, his shoulder brushing up against yours.
you watch gojo’s back as he moves forward. unbothered, untethered. you think of him a snowflake in the breeze.
spring is almost here, now. it’s a bittersweet feeling, to know your conversations during recess will surely dwindle out — but at least you’ll have had this. one normal conversation, the knowledge that he was curious about you, even if you may just be the classmate by the heater in his eyes.
you’re too cold to keep him warm all on your own, so there’s no helping it. you’re willing to accept that some stars only show from the surface during winter.
you’re willing to accept this. it aches, a little, but you’ll be okay.
”i’ll take it things went well, then?”
geto is wearing his signature smile, when you look up at him. an expression of carefully concealed composure, lips curled up, but a knowing look in his eyes — something that borders on teasing.
you give him a nod, a bow of your head, to silently convey your appreciation. chameleon or not, you don’t really mind his ways. it’s hard to fake the warmth in his voice, when he speaks.
”i’m glad.”
the two of you watch gojo’s back, like birds gazing out at a body of water. silence lingers.
”won’t that moron get cold?”
ieiri’s voice cuts through the mold of your mind, low and gravelly, right beside you. she’s pointing towards gojo — the flimsy jacket he’s wearing.
you’re wondering the same thing.
geto casts her a glance over your head, before gazing down at you, seemingly noticing your curiosity. he lets out a low hum; reaching a hand out to brush away the snowflakes on his shoulders.
”temperature,” he begins, slipping his hands into his pockets; that familiar coaching tone to his voice, purposefully slow. ”is just a measure of atoms in rapid motion.”
you tilt your head, in tandem with ieiri — looking to your classmate for further elaboration. he seems to enjoy your confusion, lips curling up just a bit. gojo calls out to you, in the distance, waving both his hands, and geto returns it with a wave of his own.
an amber eye flicks towards you, an explanation on his tongue. ”his infinity can regulate that motion.”
… another tilt of your head.
geto lets out an amused breath. it scatters out into the air, a cloud of smoke, almost a chuckle.
”basically…” he sighs. ”he does just fine, in the cold. don’t worry about it. he’ll keep himself warm.”
ieiri mutters something, beneath her breath, something like you could have just said no, but you don’t really hear it. you think your heart must have climbed up, somehow; got caught in your windpipe.
ah.
gojo can keep himself warm.
the thought spins inside your mind, over and over, a realization that makes your inner palms feel clammy. stupid, silly, this pitter-patter of your heartbeat. but what else could it mean? if the cold doesn’t bother him, if he doesn’t run cold, then…
(he wouldn’t need it. he wouldn’t need it here, wouldn’t need it during recess, within the chilly walls of your classroom. he wouldn’t need it to stay warm.
gojo isn’t after your heater. if that’s true, then…)
…
you bury your nose in the soft wool of your scarf. breathing in the fading scent, vanilla and cinnamon, grounding you to earth, lingering in your nostrils. distracting you from the rush of warmth, that blooms in the frostbitten apples of your cheeks.
as if sensing your thoughts, or maybe just noticing your embarrassed expression, geto laughs — soft and breathy, shoulders shaking to your left. you hear it, only nuzzling deeper into the comfort of your scarf. feeling your heartbeat spin out of orbit.
in the distance, gojo continues to wave, yelling out something unintelligible. you could mistake him for a star.
spring is almost here, now. in just a month or so, it’ll be at your doorstep — waltzing right in.
(but you aren’t worried.)
#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#gojo fluff#jjk fluff
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DPxDC "Pick Me Up"
The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.
Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.
Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.
That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:
"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."
Joker sputters.
"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"
The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.
"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."
Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.
"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.
"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."
"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.
But none of them get to finish.
"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.
The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.
And that's not a guy.
The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.
Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.
Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.
"Okay, and?"
"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.
"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.
"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:
"I remember!"
Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"
The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."
Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.
"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.
"I hate you."
"Thanks," Danny grins.
#danny phantom#dc x dp#dpxdc#tim drake#batfam#batman#dani phantom#danielle phantom#eldritch danny#but he wont admit to it#cork writes#cork prompts#i wrote this as a way to relax#theres zero plot to it#just danny being petty#and dani saying mildly concerning shit in camera#it was her first day in the new school#all in all it was a fairly okay first day
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ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna destroying your swollen pussy while uraume talks you through it.
you were being absolutely manhandled at the mercy of sukuna, who was currently indulging himself in the sharp thrusts of his hips ramming up into your cervix. all that was audible in the large bedroom were your whimpers and pleas for him to slow down, and at this point, you could not keep up with your king, so he had to call in reinforcements.
with a loud yell, he calls for uraume to come to his quarters, and assuming it is for the usual of helping you take sukuna, they come prepared. holding a tray, consisting of a glass of water, a fresh robe, and a warm towelette for your forehead. sukunas harsh movements on your body can be seen from outside the shoji doors of your large bedroom, the noisy sounds of your pleasure coming closer with every step.
uraume opens the door, unfazed by the way sukuna was completely crumbling your exterior as well as interior walls. your body shook as each thrust made the bed rock. sukuna would revert his attention to uraume with his bottom set of eyes. "make sure shes doing okay. i dont need her passing out on me now." he said, his eyebrows furrowing as you grip onto him tightly. "at once, my lord."
walking over to the opposite side of the bed, uraume feels the vibrations of the bed creaking with each step on the floor. they place the trey on the nearby nightstand, as they sat up on the bed, propping their legs below their knees, seating in a criss cross position, your head resting on their lap. your head bobbed as sukuna forcibly moved you in and out on his cock. "hold her head still- shit-" he groaned, as uraume held your head still, each of their hands on either side of your head.
you whimpered as you felt him rearrange your insides, your eyes rolling upwards to look uraume in the eyes, barely holding eye contact due to the pleasure bubbling up inside you. you felt sukunas cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making your forehead bead with sweat, your mouth agape, at a loss for words at the fulfillment sukuna is handing you. but you manage to mutter a small, "please... need towel..." you say in a short whimper, shaking your hand in the direction of the trey. uraume grabs the moist towelette from the nightstand, placing it on your forehead.
you reach out to grab uraumes hand, squeezing onto it for dear life, shaking it as uraumes thumb brushes over it .you look down at sukuna, who is amused by your reactions, whereas uraume is not the least bit worried. "hmph. looks as if she's enjoying the attention, huh uraume?" he says, an evident smirk crossing his face. uraume reaches down with their free hand to brush the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead off of your face.
"yes, my lord, she does seem like she enjoys it." they say, focused on the way your nose scrunches, and the way your eyelashes flutter with embarrassment, the same feeling etching across your face. you move your free hand up to try to muffle the sounds you are making, making sukuna unhappy. he grabs your wrist with his upper left hand, the control over it leaving your body. "m'close, 'kuna- please"
"hold it, im about to- fuckkkkk-" he groans as he fills your cunt to the brim with his seed. the warm feeling of his cum inside you pushes you over the edge, making you see stars as your orgasm hits you like a truck. you practically lose vision at the pleasure you are given. sukuna pulls out of you, making you whimper.
"uraume, get her cleaned up, and run her one of her 'bubble baths'. 'dont need to carry a limping brat the next day."
#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x reader#heian sukuna#heian era sukuna#heian sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x Charlotte#heian#heian era#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x Charlotte#jjk smut#sukuna fluff
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