#NO WAIT two of his friends think it is a good idea

[jiminrings]

mature

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.

alternatively, crushing on jungkook who's in your friend group is, has, and will never be a good idea.

[ push n pull fic YIPPPEEEEE, fluff, angst, So Much Yearning, friends to lovers trope, jealousy, dunking on a stewpid jk (as one does), arguments that kinda hit home, redemption!! ]

notes: WE R SO BACK!!!! thank u for waiting 🫂🤍

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

You will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want to be loved.

In your defense (much to Jungkook’s offence), you want to be loved as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. He’s not pathetic in the sense that he’s hopeless, but rather pathetic in the light that you want the entirety of him (stubbornness and occasional dimness included) to rub off on you.

You want to be loved pathetically in the same way that Jungkook never computes his expenses when it comes to self-indulgence yet always calculates when it comes to actual requirements. You want to be loved as wholly by the guy who can get by one DIY dorm dinner at a time by asking for scraps from the whole floor with a grin and his hands cupped in begging.

Jungkook’s one of your friends, if not the best you’ve ever had, and it’s a miracle that you haven’t jumped at each and every available chance to confess your growing feelings for him.

You bit your tongue that one time he bought you "one of those silly blind boxes you like" on a whim from a bookstore he only went inside to in the first place because he was dying outside in the heat, only to open it for you with your eyes closed and earn you an extra rare figure.

You had to physically restrain yourself (read: clasp your hands together in front of you) when Jungkook made you swap your counterfeit, barely-holding-on kitten heels for his trustworthy slides on the way home because your research presentation prior had you pacing nervously.

Every time that he gives you your tax of whatever he ordered (which always ends up being the best variant that your friend group could possibly order for a meal or a sweet treat), you have to etch into your head clearly, with ballpoint pen, that you will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want him to love you.

Every time that he gives you a one-on-one friend outing, just as he does with everyone else from your circle of ten people and counting (you lost count because you figure that all of you are about to outgrow the long table in the library that nobody else could fill), you convince yourself to never tell him how much you want it to be just you.

You figure that you’ll tell Jungkook that you do hold a candle for him, despite not detailing the extent, in this lifetime— maybe even the next time you get a moment alone with him, but you figure you won’t do it now; now, when he’s berating you for just a tiny sacrifice you made that’s minuscule for everything he does for you and everyone else.

“You’re impossible!” he huffs, his annoyance for you being loud enough to stop his faux display of studying and gather attention from everyone else in the library who actually is. Jungkook holds up his phone for you to read, brows scrunched at your look of amusement. “Jimin told me you were lactose intolerant!”

You can’t figure how and why Jungkook and Jimin’s conversation even flitted towards you when you recall clearly that the lactose-filled meal in question was from two weeks ago. You don’t question it because you already know that even giving it a second thought would already be too pompous of you, and you don’t question either why Jungkook looks too devastated at the realization.

“I just tolerated it,” you snort, burying your nose back into your notes, missing the flash of regret in Jungkook’s features.

He doesn’t know whether he’d feel more sorry over the fact that he didn’t know you were lactose intolerant, or that you didn’t speak up at all to preserve his excitement over eating at the restaurant he wanted to try out.

“But why would you?” he sulks, completely foregoing the textbook he has opened on the same page for the last hour.

You know exactly why you did, but you’d rather not tell Jungkook now. 

You’ll tell him some other time, that much you’re sure of, but not now — not now when he’s too devastated over your tummy issues, and not now when he’s just one revelation away from chewing you out over something he has to learn from someone else.

“Your broke ass bought it so I had to,” you murmur, rolling your eyes as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand.

“Foul,” Jungkook immediately chuckles, shaking his head at your retort even if he knows you’re just kidding around (he knows you won’t hurt him like that that), finally opening his laptop.

Jungkook, your friend, finally types on his laptop, yet it’s not for the contribution that he badly needs to put in for a group project.

Instead, he opens up the Google Doc and writes in a bullet point underneath your name, the words do not give cheese acquainted with three exclamation points — along with your name, is the names of your mutual friends and Jungkook’s observations that would come in handy for an outing, a gift, or both.

Jungkook’s that good of a friend, and that’s why you’ll never tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him.

( ♡ ) 

Getting gifts for someone who has a credit card and has no inhibitions when it comes to buying whatever they want is a difficult task.

Getting Jungkook for Secret Santa this year is even harder than the last, and that was when Jin snuck five strips of his name and left more than five of you (you don’t even know how that happened) without gifts, all while he was laughing to himself after he successfully gaslit everyone into thinking that they were all drunk and made the mistake themselves.

You don’t know what to give Jungkook that he doesn’t already have. He doesn’t have a girlfriend the last time you checked and while you can’t exactly wrap yourself in ugly, recycled kraft paper (as opposed to Jimin’s dumb, all-knowing-about-your-hidden-feelings suggestion), you’d rather not drive Jungkook away, even if you don’t know either how to drive him in.

You don’t have the slightest clue to what his ‘surprise me ;)’ scribble underneath his name means and it makes you feel guilty, far more than he ever could have after Jimin’s revelation of your dietary restrictions. 

It’s not the dilemma of who would sit next to who in the large albeit crowded dining table in the cabin that you rented out, nor is it the cooking and wrapping duties that each of you are tasked with that stresses you out this holiday season.

You wish so badly that the largest champagne problem you have at the moment was wondering if your Christmas gift for your nitpicky mom and nonchalant dad back at home arrived in time. You pray that your biggest hurdle is either convincing Namjoon that his room is just cold and not haunted, or breaking off a fight between Eunwoo and Soomin because they keep fighting over whose overpriced film camera will be used for the picture by the tree, or even talking Mingyu down from smacking Jin in his sleep.

The largest champagne problem that you have, even if it’s actually between life and living said life in peace without minding your inevitable heartbreak, is worrying about Jungkook’s gift.

You hold your breath as soon as Hoseok gathers everyone into the living room, your nerves probably getting the best of you because you hear Jungkook hollering to whoever’s closest to the thermostat to adjust it because your teeth kept chattering.

You have nothing to be nervous about, you convince yourself as Jungkook steps up into the middle and awaits with wide arms, your best friend being another victim of assuming that the comically large wrapped present is his (it’s not).

Jungkook doesn’t have any expectations for you to meet, you convince yourself as he becomes even more hyper when he learns that it’s you, so much so that he takes a lap around the backyard with his hands clapping furiously.

You can’t love Jungkook any more than you do now, you realize as you see Jungkook throw his head back in glee when he opens up your gift.

It’s only a Himalayan salt lamp. It’s only a lamp that you didn’t buy for so much. It’s only a thing that Jungkook said to you in passing one time, yet he’s beyond grateful — enough for him to carry you in his arms and take another lap around the backyard.

“God, you love me soooo bad,” he lulls, teasing you mercilessly as he unceremoniously drops you so he could adore the lamp up close. “I always wanted to lick one!”

“You’re so stupid,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at his excitement over something so simple; something so insignificant in the world of thoughtful, expensive gifts.

You affectionately think that Jungkook’s stupid, yet you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

“I didn’t hear a no,” Jungkook hums with his tongue out, eyes wide and flickering between you and the lamp. “Should I do it? Should I? I’m doing-…!”

You put a spoonful of cake into his mouth instead, the whine that escapes his throat still sounding like gratefulness to your ears.

Tonight’s not the night wherein you tell Jungkook how badly you want to be loved by him — not when he’s so preoccupied with his new salt lamp that he keeps daring people to take a lick of, not when he’s the one who’s being convinced that there’s a ghost in Namjoon's room and being bullied into sleeping in.

Not when Jungkook’s being the perfect, lovable friend that he is during the holidays and every other day.

( ♡ ) 

You’re well-aware that Jungkook’s a catch.

You know that he’s a catch and he’ll never live it down, and neither can you.

You’re very painfully aware that Jungkook’s a catch because you’re reminded of it every single day whenever you’re with your friends. You know that atleast two of them were integrated into the group in the first place because they liked Jungkook, and that doesn’t really bother you (more than it should, atleast) anymore. 

Sora’s crush formed out of boredom on Jungkook disappeared as soon as she got a boyfriend, but you understand why her gaze lingered on him in the first place.

Eunji’s crush on Jungkook already dissipated the moment she learned about his GPA, but you get why she had been attracted to his charm anyway.

You know that he’s a catch and that he’s not solely yours either, and the latter makes you humble.

“There’s flowers on your desk again,” you point out, the arrangement irking you for more reasons than one. “Why do you have to be so popular and handsome.. and lovable,” you mumble, the tail end of your mini rant barely being heard by Jungkook because he's too busy admiring his gift.

“What’s that now?” Jin piped up, eyebrows furrowed upon picking up your angry muttering. He's beyond confused, maybe just as much as you are, when you just snarl at him for his unintentional use of supersonic hearing.

“And why do I have to sit next to you even if I have allergies,” you redirect your attention to Jungkook who has to sweep the flowers to a beaten-up paper bag for safekeeping, the item in his backpack being the most used object for all of the admiration towards him.

“Because you’re the best-est friend ever,” he rolls his eyes, the faux pout on his lips surprisingly softening you instead of the opposite. “And maybe I’m the worst-est one to keep putting you through this.”

“You sound so stupid,” you reply automatically, crossing your arms and keeping them there. “But you’re right,” you exhale through your nose, conceding your defeat over willingly letting him put you through this, carrying the blame by yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t only act like this with you anyway. There’s no special treatment, there’s no false hopes being promised — it’s just you genuinely happening to fall for him.

“Come on, just tolerate it! Pinch your nose or something!”

“Why should I? Find another seatmate,” you sulk, making a point to angle your back away from him and towards Jin who’s at your right, doing his best at holding in a laugh over how ridiculous the both of you look.

“Obviously you’re the one with the latest phone so you have to take pictures of me with the flowers!” Jungkook whines, punctuating his sentence with a hand on his hip. He’s sulking because you’re sulking, and you’ve never hated him more at the moment. “Why else would I force you to sit with me?”

Jungkook’s stupid, and so are you, so you’d rather not tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him today.

( ♡ ) 

In all fairness, you thought you would lose nothing.

You thought you would lose nothing because in the first place, you barely expected anything out of Jungkook. Liking him didn’t mean that you were indebted to him, and liking you back isn’t something that he owed to you either.

You weren’t expecting Jungkook to fall on his knees and say something stupid to hint at his mutual love for you (although you did think about it a couple of times), but you atleast expected a little bit of respect from him to try and see the strength it took you to even confess.

You planned it perfectly, even taking a page off his book and making a whole word document for it wherein you spent days typing whatever crossed your mind throughout the day and erasing what seemed the most impossible throughout the night. 

In your word document, you and Jungkook would be out in the snow, skating in an outdoor rink even if neither of you know how to. You figure that you won’t attempt to drag (read: hobble with) him to the middle of the ice because in case he doesn’t like you back, the waddle back to the exit wouldn’t be as awkward; if Jungkook does like you back, you’ll still be hobbling to the exit, albeit happily.

In your word document, there’s a spine of a script that you would say when the day comes. You’ll skim along the lines of how you’ve never been so enamored with someone in your entire life (with the internal note that you’ll dial it back a bit if his expression turns sour), of how bright he makes your days for you, and how he doesn’t have to be obligated to like you back.

In your word document, you’re set. You’ve planned a foolproof blueprint of what would turn out, whether or not Jungkook is set on loving you the way you desperately want to be —

Except now, Jungkook completely undoes everything you’ve ever worked for.

Now, he looks at you with a glint in his eye that looks more apologetic than it is endearing. You don’t even know what led to your heartbreak exactly because one minute, you were just studying, and by the next, Jungkook’s already letting you down even if you hadn’t had the chance to rise.

You swear on your life that you weren’t giving any signals at all that you were actually about to confess. You were only silent, refusing to talk to him because you were too stressed over your task and that you were scared you would burst into tears if you tried mouthing the formula out loud, yet Jungkook mistakes it for your love.

Whatever you do on a daily basis, whatever you do based on your nature, Jungkook mistakes it for a confession that he wasn’t even supposed to hear until the end of the week.

He wasn’t wrong about the fact that you love him — what he’s wrong about is his assumption that your silence around him when it’s just the two of you, right now while you lose your mind over an assignment as you’re dressed in last week’s sweater and last semester’s horror, is your confession.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook winces, gently patting you on the shoulder as you’re yet to digest his rejection. “But I just don’t think we’ll work out.”

( ♡ ) 

You theorized that getting over Jungkook would be fairly easy on the chance that he rejects you after your confession.

You figure that Jungkook himself as a concept would be drastically difficult to move on from because he was just so lovable. He doesn’t know how to read a room and it’s one of his better quirks when you’re worrying over nothing. He doesn’t know much about knowing when to let up, and it comes in clutch when he’s pushing you to wholeheartedly do an assignment even if you’re already burnt out from crying.

Jungkook, as a concept, is indestructible. He’s the everyday variant of the goodness that some frat guys possess occasionally. He’s the realistic, attainable version of a main lead in a manhwa that’s only perfect 1/4 into the plot. 

He’s the manifestation of every good deed a stranger has done for you, except he’s someone you know with your heart and not just someone you could sketch from memory. 

With that, you also figured that moving on from Jungkook can’t be that hard because he was too out of reach despite being in the same friend group as you. Surely, it wouldn’t be so catastrophically hard to move on from a guy who just gasps for air every five minutes when he’s in charge of cooking in the BBQ hangout (instead of using the exhaust like a normal person), or from a guy who thinks citing references for a paper is only a suggestion.

The funny thing about it all is that you never actually confessed to Jungkook.

Actually (and contrary to the assumptions of the other friends you have from your circle), you’ve never said it to his face that you do have a crush on him. You’re ultimately known to be the friendliest person to ever walk the campus, and while not the most confrontational, they atleast expected for you to confess to Jungkook in your own way.

What actually happened was that Jungkook read through you — he does happen to be right about your feelings for him! He’s the second friendliest person right beneath you, and so the way he rejected you should never sting this much.

Jungkook thought it out meticulously. He read into the way you spent extra attention listening to him with your eyes practically gleaming. He read into the way you’d lag back behind him and hold him by his wrist whenever you were all crossing the street. Hell, he even read into the way you would take a shot at opening the extremely tight water bottle from the vending machine before everyone else.

The funny, tragic thing about it is that whilst Jungkook wasn’t wrong about pinpointing your feelings for him — you never confessed.

Jeon Jungkook, the second, ultimate friendliest man that your university has ever known, rejected you without even hearing the actual words from you.

He’s turned his back on you even before you could reach him, and the realization sinks in you unsettlingly. You never expected for him to like you back because it would be unfair of you, and you knew that; what just happened to hurt you most was that Jungkook didn’t even think twice.

He hadn’t given you the chance to pour your heart out at the very least.

He hadn’t even given you the space to breathe right after the rejection, because he skips and puts a smile on before winking, telling you that he’ll never speak of it again because you must probably be embarrassed.

The funniest thing about it all is that you aren’t embarrassed — you’re actually devastated about it.

It’s an odd event for Jungkook to feel lonely because with such a big friend group, he never thought he’d feel a little empty despite literally rubbing elbows in a circular table. He never thought he’d come to be a little annoyed at Jimin and his routine, playful, borderline offensive banter he’d always have with you at the top of the morning, and he never thought he’d even be more annoyed over the absence of it.

There’s one less laugh in the circle. One less bag strewn underneath the table, one less coffee order written on the notes app, and one less person to look for when hanging out.

You’re missing from the friend group, and oddly enough, Jungkook seems to be the most devastated about it.

“Why is Y/N not here?” he asks in the middle of Jin retelling his drunken fishing story, grabbing the attention of everyone in the table and maybe just about everyone else’s in the common area with the way his voice is frantic. “And why is she there with the new kid instead?”

Everyone flits through separate conversations after Jungkook’s interruption, some even wincing to themselves because although they know about your admiration for the guy and not your confession-that-wasn’t-one, they figure that nothing good could come out of Jungkook sucker-punching the new kid in his head.

“I don’t know, man. Buddy system, maybe?” Jin shrugs, stealing his food because it was obvious that Jungkook’s attention is everywhere but himself and the table.

Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms tightly to the point that even he feels a little suffocated. His entire face is crumpled with hurt, eyebrows furrowed out of frustration when you still aren’t looking at him; when you’re still not looking at him with confusion in your eyes, silently telling him off for glaring.

“Buddy system? We’re in uni. Who the fuck would bully that guy?”

“By the looks of it, probably you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffs, refusing to unclench his fists on his thighs.

“Well, what’s it to you that Y/N’s hanging out with someone new? What are you so heated for?” Jin elaborates, eyes flitting to you again.

Jungkook could only glare at you.

“What are you so nosy for?” he asks defensively, leaning back on his chair in a faux display of relaxation when all he wants to do is to remove the stupid smile on the guy’s face as he watches you talk.

Unlike Jungkook, Yoongi’s not stupid at all — in fact, he’s been vigilantly aware of Jungkook’s glare on the side of his face ever since you sat in front of him.

Yoongi’s not stupid, so he angles himself in a way that Jungkook gets to see him more. He doesn’t know the guy personally, but he does know of him and his “charm” that seems to make everyone go nuts for him. 

If looks could kill, then Yoongi would’ve already had mourners at his feet, but if provocation could posion, then Jungkook would already be frothing at the mouth.

The thing is, Yoongi doesn’t even know about your admiration nor your foiled confession to Jungkook. The latter hasn’t even done anything personally to him. 

All he knows is that you’re in a big friend group and that you chose to sit with him, your friend whom you share a couple of advanced classes with but not a friend-friend like Jungkook is, and that you’re very easy on the eyes and admirable yourself if he thinks about it (he doesn’t need much time to ponder over it) — and, that he doesn’t really like being glared at.

“No really, I insist!” he laughs, pulling out his handwritten reviewer from a backpack with a grin. “I don’t know anybody else who likes making reviewers anymore by hand, so really, you’re just perfect to get them.”

“But you worked so hard on them,” you gasp, eyes already widening in both surprise and awe at the thick stack of papers in front of you. Yoongi’s handwriting and formatting are perfect; there’s no unnecessary calligraphy, the vividness of the highlighter is just right, and there’s even sticky notes at the bottom for additional details and references you could cross-check. “I.. I don’t want you to feel that I’m taking advantage-…”

“But I offered! You didn’t ask for reviewers from me shamelessly like every other opportunist does,” Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back as he slides the papers closer to you. “I’d be a really shitty senior not to give you any help. If anything, I think you deserve even better than-…”

Jungkook can’t resist.

Jungkook can’t take any more of watching you and Yoongi push and pull over whatever topic he can’t hear nor force Jin to eavesdrop on. He can’t take another second of seeing you be so happy talking to a guy that he doesn’t know, so much so that he comes up to you without a second thought.

“Hey,” he greets, his body only turned to you, completely ignoring Yoongi and blocking him off from your sight. “You didn’t order any coffee.”

You angle your body slightly to excuse yourself, except Jungkook conveniently happens to mirror your every move, confusing you even more. “Oh, I wasn’t feeling like it,” you trail, looking up at him in confusion while Yoongi could see right through him.

“Really?” Jungkook replies, the smile on his face being far from amused, eyes narrowed as he tries to catch up with the own annoyance that he harbors. “Because I’m seeing two coffees right now, and one’s in front of you, so…” he trails, shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly.

Jungkook’s jaw is still clenched, along with his fists by his sides. He’s standing tall between you and Yoongi with his shoulders squared and his face steeled, the immovable forces that are him and the unnamed pit in his stomach starting to garner attention.

Namjoon has his phone out. 

Hoseok only has one cheek remaining on the seat because he’s ready to stand up and collect bets. 

You’re still sitting, mostly confused, when you realize the attention that’s starting to build towards the three of you.

“Yes, Jungkook. Great observation,” you snicker, the discreet roll of your eyes making him take offense.

“Oh okay, I see. So you were lying by saying that you weren’t feeling it, and I don’t get the hold-up of you-…”

“What did you come here for now, Jungkook?” you angrily whisper, keeping your head down as you retain your gaze on him and lightly tap at the table to indicate to Yoongi for the both of you to move. “It’s a little far-fetched for you to come all over here to pick a fight about coffee.”

Jungkook huffs, turning his head back to Yoongi behind him because he most definitely saw your signal. The lazy, amused gaze of Yoongi is what sets him off even further, the anger in his eyes unmistakable, except you recognize it for only what it is and not jealousy, because Jungkook doesn’t see you like that.

Or atleast that’s what the both of you assume.

Jungkook, your best friend, scoffs loudly.

“You sound so defensive right now.”

( ♡ ) 

You don’t respond much to Jungkook’s calls. 

As a matter of fact, you don’t respond much to Jungkook at all.

You don’t show up whenever he’s present, meaning that you’re only magically available whenever there’s half of your friend group at the most because if there’s more, then the search for the missing members would ensue, then you’d end up squished in a long table next to Jungkook again.

It’s very much like him to form grudges, yet he can’t even tell if he’s capable of having one towards you. Jungkook, with all his chest and afflictions, wants so badly to hate you because you’ve been blowing him off ever since he literally and physically came between you and Yoongi.

He apologized to you for that (and not to Yoongi because he didn’t really matter to him at all), and he doesn’t know the answer for it yet because his messages still remain unread. He’s enlisted the help of your mutual friends on various occasions by trying to get them to give all his little treats for you, yet you refuse them as soon as you catch wind that it’s from Jungkook.

He even tried studying for real in the library in hopes that reverse psychology (he thinks that’s what it’s called) would work and that thinking he doesn’t want you to come would make you do the opposite, yet it still doesn’t work. Jungkook’s already mad that he studied for nothing (he’s more interested in getting you to notice him than to actually learn), but he becomes even more heated to realize that your anger for him is just directed at him alone.

You still talk to your best friends, with the exception of him, and Jungkook has never been more envious of people who are apparently of the same status as him.

Jungkook wants you to drag him like you drag Sora to the nail salon and have you whisper at his ear to tell the nail tech not to cut your cuticles because you’ve been afraid of getting them done since that 1/34th part of a medical drama episode you watched on your phone.

Jungkook wants you to complain to him like you complain to Namjoon when you’re frustrated with a professor whom you’re convinced is only critical to you and no one else, later making him promise not to tell anyone else from your friend group because they like said professor.

Jungkook wants you to run to him as you always did, just because you feel like it. He wants to sit in silence with you again and put his hand on your knee when you’re in the verge of tears just looking at your schedule for the week.

He wants to stand guard again outside the bathroom door of the expensive coffee shop because it’s either the lock is broken or because Namjoon's managed to instill in you the existence of ghosts in cold spots.

He wants to be the Jungkook like you’ve always known, again, because it seems like you’ve forgotten him completely. You have the Yoongi now, it seems like — the smarter, more composed, and more charismatic variant of him that he wants to get rid of because Jungkook never predicted the existence of him.

Even more, Jungkook didn’t even entertain the concept of him being replaced because it was always the two of you together, even in a sea of friends. 

He’s your best friend, your confidant even, but nothing more — all Jungkook feels is that he’s even less than the status the both of you are assigned to be. 

He’s angry and sad and disappointed all at the same time because he thought he had almost lost you since he rejected your confession. You were fine; you were as fine as you could be for someone rejected when it comes to yearning to be his, and yet the moment you let Yoongi in, Jungkook feels as if you threw everything the both of you had just for him.

“Just so you know, student-teacher relationships are illegal,” he corners you one morning in your dorm, two godforsaken weeks after chasing you around the campus yet turning up empty.

“What the fuck are you on about?” you immediately scrunch your nose at him, the accusation he throws at you being too farfetched to the point that you don’t even think of shutting the door at him, ignoring Eunji’s betrayal for you by pretending to come over.

“What am I on about?” Jungkook exasperates, the scoff that leaves him making you feel small in front of him. “You’re literally the one who’s getting chummy with fucking Yoongi of all people!"

"Yoongi's a teaching assistant! He's our senior! Do you not know that?"

"Do I look like I'm interested in any other people outside of our circle?" he retorts, lips turned up in a snarl. Jungkook provokes you with a sarcastic glare, the look on his face enough to make you throw your head back in irritation.

"Come on, even Jin and Jimin are friends with Yoongi and-..."

"This is not about them!" 

"But you just-..." you stop as soon Jungkook interrupts you, losing your gaze on him for a single second to close your door and when you look back, you find that he’s already comfortable being vindictive on your bed, his arms crossed and his back straight.

"Also, teacher and teaching assistant both have the word teach so it's literally still illegal," he narrows his eyes sarcastically, the tone to his voice unclear despite his words suggesting otherwise. "You look so stupid right now."

"Jungkook can you stop?!" you burst, your temples stinging at the back and forth that Jungkook’s thrown the both of you in. “What the hell is going on with you?"

Jungkook had sworn to himself up and down that he has so much stuff to pick with you. He knows he has so much baggage to unpack and how much shit he has to bring up, even if it’s only been two weeks with you. He’s partly relieved that you’re in front of him and you still haven’t fled, yet a large part of him is beyond frustrated with you because you don’t even look like as if your time apart has taken a toll on you.

Between the two of you, it’s only Jungkook who looks like his distraught has manned him completely beyond surrender. Even coming to see you by hatching a plan with a hesitant friend is something he considers an act beyond surrender — whatever the space is between surrender and demand is where Jungkook lies with you.

"No, what's going on with you!” he argues, standing to his feet to come face-to-face with you. “You can't just spin this around when I've done nothing but be a good friend to you!"

"You think I'm not being a good friend to you just because I don't spend every single minute attached to you? I can still hang out outside of our friend group without being-..."

"This is not about our friend group!" Jungkook emphasizes once again, the tell-tale sting of tears behind his eyes coming up because he feels as if you can’t hear him no matter how much he repeats himself. ”This is about us and how you abandoned me ever since I rejected you!"

"I didn't abandon you, Jungkook!" you spit, pushing at his chest lightly with your finger to get him to back up from your face yet he refuses to. He’s still insistent at staring you down with his jaw clenched, eyes wide and unblinking because he knows that if he moves even just a millimeter askew, he’d cry. “You didn't even give me the chance to confess to you! You rejected me without even hearing me out. Do you think I would still be able to talk to you, face to face like how you want so badly, as if nothing happened?"

"The answer would've been the same even if you confessed,” he grits with his chest heavy, not at the way he keeps holding his breath in order not to break down in front of you, but because you look at him with so much disdain that it makes him want to puke.

"Do you not think I know that?" you laugh humorlessly, gnawing on your bottom lip as you don’t drop his gaze. “Do you think I didn't prepare for that possibility? I knew what could've happened if I confessed and I'd still be okay with it, Jungkook!" you raise your voice, throat already giving out at the slightest pressure because you know you lost the fight ever since you let him in. ”What I'm not okay with is that you didn't even give me the chance.”

It’s evil, really, with the way no amount of self-pity could ever pull you from the grave you’ve dug up. You went for Jungkook, carrying all grief you knew you were bound to feel, and yet you still feel unprepared. You still feel unworthy even moping for someone like Jungkook because not even his rejection, nor anyone else’s acceptance of your admiration by some sort of miracle, is enough to make you feel like you’d be missed.

Your two weeks without Jungkook is your rehearsal for the two months, then two years, then two forevers eventually without him by your side. You had still been able to live by yourself and with your friends, excluding him, and you thought you were fine because it feels as if nothing had changed.

You thought you were fine until Jungkook gets in your face to tell you that it’s not, and all over again, you’re reminded of how desperately you want to be loved by him to the point that you’d rather drown in your own pity to try and preserve whatever’s left of you.

"I told you the answer would-..."

"Shut up!" you cry, steeling your nerves when you realize that Jungkook’s angrily crying in front of you, wiping at his eyes hastily. ”For the love of god, shut up!"

Jungkook stays quiet, not because you told him to, but because nothing good comes to mind when he realizes that you’re crying because of him.

"See? You don't even get where I'm coming from because you're not even giving me the chance to explain myself without making it all about you,” you sob, finally pushing him away, to which he lets you. "That's the problem with you, Jungkook. You're too self-involved."

"Not true," Jungkook whispers, shaking his head earnestly even if he feels the stupidest he has ever did in his life in front of you.

He follows your steps out of routine even if his brain had convinced his system that he hates you just seconds ago, arms instinctively trying to crowd you when you almost trip on the flooring on your way to the coat rack.

"Since you keep insisting that I abandoned you," you chuckle dryly before grabbing your jacket, turning your back on Jungkook and on your own space, which had just been the default hangout place of the both of you for the longest time, in pursuit of your own quiet without him. "Let me follow through."

Jungkook doesn’t want to tell you how desperately he wants you to want him again, to love him as you already did, and neither do you.

( ♡ ) 

The perks of having a big friend group of that the absence of several members wouldn’t make that much of a difference when it comes to hanging out. It would still sustain itself without a few extra voices joining in on the chatter watching movies and the bullying when it comes to a forgotten birthday greeting here and there.

The downside of being in one, is that said big friend group doesn’t matter at all to Jungkook when you’re not in it.

The lengths that your friend (read: a word that Jungkook’s come to abhor) has went through since your fight at your dorm are basically incomprehensible because he’s fully involved himself.

He’s pining after you pathetically, just like how you had always dreamed of, yet seeing him take turn after turn just trying to gain your forgiveness for something you’ve always pitied yourself for makes you feel guilty.

In Jungkook’s defense, he wants to be forgiven and loved (again) as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. Not only is e pathetic in the sense that he’s hopeless, but also pathetic in the light that he wants the entirety of you (stubbornness and occasional sharpness included) to rub off on him.

“I know I’m stupid. I-I.. I know that I was unfair for not even letting you confess your feelings because I felt like dying when you started to ignore me,” he mumbles to your bedsheets, his legs crossed on the ground and his head muffled by the fabric because he doesn’t even want to sit next to you in fear of you revoking his chance to apologize in person, again, as if that’s not what he had been doing the past weeks. “Y/N, you don’t deserve someone as stupid as me and I hate it so, so bad.”

The sound of Jungkook apologizing to you has already been repeated enough to the point you’ve learned when to tune him out, but with the way his heart precedes his tone this time, you stop folding your clothes in favor of Jungkook who’s just two seconds away from passing out on your bed by fabric conditioner-bathed quilt-induced suffocation, to which he couldn’t pass up on because it was your scent and he missed hugging you.

“I can’t catch up with you on anything that you’re talking about with Yoongi. The only times I open a book are when I want to look at you but I don’t want you to see me. I can’t— I can barely even talk to you without feeling like I’m beneath you,” he admits lowly, the truth of his rejection finally springing up a little too much, and almost a little too late. “I thought, stupidly, that we wouldn’t work because you deserve someone better.”

“I don’t need you to catch up with me, Jungkook,” you murmur, lightly slapping his cheeks because he looks sleepy from all the sniffing he’s done on your quilt, but really, his eyes are only narrowed into slits because he feels like he’s about to cry. Again.

“But I need to, b-because when we run out of things to talk about that you’re willingly to dumb down to my level, what else could we catch up on?” 

“You’re not stupid. I just say-…”

“No. Don’t make excuses for me,” he laughs lightly, still sat on your carpet obediently like a dog because he doesn’t want to push your boundaries. “I’m beneath you and I didn’t want to drag you down with me because I.. I didn’t feel that you deserve me,” he confesses. “But I want you so badly, Y/N. You have no idea.”

Jungkook wants you so badly, that in your insistence of self-pity, it was his self-preservation that led him to cry by himself when you finally left the library after not-confessing to him.

He wants you so badly, that in his fit of self-preservation disguised into stubbornness, he had tamped down his desperation for you.

“I want to catch up with you, not you to slow down for me,” Jungkook rests his chin on your thigh, his wide, pleading eyes looking up at you. “I’m so sorry, my baby. I’m so, so, so sorry for being stupid enough to let you go the first time,” he tilts his head, resting his cheek on your awaiting hand. “Please. I’m just begging you to slow down for me this one time,” Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, nudging your hand gently with his cheek. “Please let me look stupid trying to earn you.”

Jungkook, without fail, tells you how desperately he wants to be loved by you.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry) 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

He had fallen like a ton of bricks for a dark-haired girl with doe eyes and the prettiest of smiles…and who also happened to be the twin sister of his biggest rival.

Colette Leclerc had been the first girl he had ever looked twice at and even 15 years later, that had never changed. Max was quite sure that it never would change either. It was her or nobody for him. 

Though he was very much aware that nobody had actually taken their relationship seriously for the first 5 years. Just a childhood crush turned into a teenage romance... But then slowly, their families had realised that it wasn't "just" anything.

He had moved to Monaco a day after his 18th birthday for her. To be as close to her as he possibly could. They had moved in together later that year. 

They had kept it quiet over the years... Family and friends knew but Max and Colette had never made it obvious enough for the press to pick up on.

 It had been Colette's request, not his.

Max would have liked to scream it from the rooftops. Would have liked everybody to know that Colette was his girlfriend, that he was the one that got to go home to her…that he was the one she loved. That they were blissfully happy together and had been for 15 years at this point. 

That she was carrying their child. 

Their baby.

It was a fucking miracle, that's what it was.

It had taken them a good six months to get pregnant the first time...nearly 2 years ago…between his race schedule and the insanity of the racing season...and then she had miscarried days after that first positive pregnancy test.

It has been heartbreaking. 

Of course, it had been...but they had thought that...maybe it was just a one-off…

The doctors hadn't been able to find anything wrong with her after all...

The second pregnancy resulted in another miscarriage less than a year later.

Another case of…Well, there is nothing wrong as far as we can tell. 

And then ..the third pregnancy...both Max and Colette had been a complete mess about it. 

Expecting the worst to happen at any minute. They had waited for the other shoe to drop. He had waited for there to be bleeding...for the baby not to make it...but then they had their first ultrasound and there had been a heartbeat.

Finally, after two devastating miscarriages, they had a positive ultrasound. A healthy heartbeat and a thriving baby growing in Colette’s belly.

It was a fucking miracle.

Even when the fact that Colette was due in January meant that he was gone for much of her pregnancy. Max hated being away from her during such a vulnerable and exciting time. 

He had tried though. Max had made sure to come home to Monaco as often as he could during the season, even if it was just for a quick visit, even when it was just for 24 hours at a time.

He was glued to his phone constantly, as soon as he had a free minute. The truly important people all knew about the baby and even GP let him go with a roll of his eyes when Max was once again absentmindedly checking his phone for another message from Colette.

At least, in a few days, he could be there for her. He would be there in January, and he wouldn’t miss the last month of pregnancy or the first precious few weeks with their baby…

There was a part of him that believed the baby would be a girl that would look just like Colette. Colette thought it was a boy. They had decided to be surprised. But regardless if it was a boy or a girl, Max just wanted the baby to be safe and healthy.

Max always called and video-chatted with Colette every evening. He was like an overly attached mother hen, constantly asking her how she felt, if she needed anything, and checking on the baby's progress.

So when her name was mentioned in conversation by two of his mechanics...he immediately perked up. 

They were in Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season... and after the drama that had been the Qatar GP, that particular penalty and George Russell…Max was, quite frankly, done with the season. 

He just wanted to get home to Colette and their baby.

"I just really want to know what Colette Leclerc posted on Instagram," one of them said with a snort. "Whatever it was, it must have really gotten under Russell's skin."

What?

Colette's Instagram was set to private. She used it to comment under every single one of her brothers' posts and that pretty much was it. She did post pictures sometimes, to the less than 200 followers she actually had.

Why would a random mechanic even know about...

"Too bad it's set to private," the other responded with a sigh. "I would love to slide in her dms…she’s a beauty…"

He held back a snort at that. It was true. Max wholeheartedly agreed that Colette was beautiful. Simply lovely.  There was no one else who could compare to her in his eyes.

But there was also the fact that Colette had the habit of not even realising if a guy was flirting with her at all. Quite frankly, he wasn’t much better…it had always just been each other for both of them. 

But all of that didn’t answer the other question he had.  So he whipped out his phone again and then did what he really shouldn't do...namely check out the fan accounts. 

He got his answer then.

Gemma, one of the press officers, approached him with a grim expression, just at that moment. "Max," she said urgently, "There's something you need to know."

Max's anger was building as he spoke. "I already saw," he gritted out, his voice barely restrained. "George decided to be an ass.”

 Granted, "Karma is the guy in the car, coming straight home to me" probably had been rather pointed...because Max had indeed gotten Pole Position back in the first corner... So it had been Karma in a way. 

Still, for George to use Colette against Max...Colette, who kept quiet and out of the spotlight...who abhorred paparazzi...

Max was seething. George had crossed a line by bringing Colette into their rivalry. She was an innocent party in all of this, someone who always shied away from the spotlight. 

Max clenched his fists in anger, his jaw tightened as he forced himself to remain composed. He knew that lashing out at George would only give him what he wanted, but he couldn't help feeling protective of Colette.

Especially right now. The stress wasn't good for her and it wasn't good for the baby...He took a deep breath to calm himself down. He needed to keep his temper in check, even if it was difficult.

 He had to think about Colette and the baby. The last thing he wanted was to add more stress to her life.

Gemma's words were quiet, but they hit like a ton of bricks. "I would suggest you stay low right now," she advised. "I know it's completely out of line, but if you confront him about it, he could end up telling the press about you two. And that's not something you want..."

He knew how cruel the media could be, how they would tear apart every aspect of their relationship. Colette avoided the spotlight for a reason and he had promised her that he would never drag her into it either if it was at all possible. But the idea of George using her as a pawn in his games with Max...it was infuriating.

[cowboybeepboop]

Release

"Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Your friendly coworker Clark takes care of your needs. 

a/n: As always I hope you enjoy and send any requests you might have my way!

Clark is your annoyingly perfect coworker, you know the type: always on time, always right, never makes a single mistake, and never has a hair out of place, let alone a stained shirt.

Your irritation grows as you rub the coffee stain from your white button-down, thoughts filled with the idea that you’ll find him at his desk, right next to yours looking as *perfect* as ever. 

It's been one thing after the next, first, you saw your long-time boyfriend cheating on you in YOUR apartment with your best friend, then some dumbass hit your car completely totaling it which leaves you taking the subway every morning attempting to be on time yet you always seem to arrive just five minutes late, and now your stupid shirt. Your favorite shirt. 

It’s silly to think you’re fighting back tears over a $15 button-down when you didn’t even react to seeing the two most important people in your life raw dogging it on your sheets. Taking deep breaths you adjust your hair, flattening it down, and blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. At least you’re slightly on time, even if it meant leaving home 30 minutes before you'd usually even wake up.

Finally, you give up on the stain coming to terms with the fact that a slight brown tinge is better than being late *again*. You slip into your chair with a quiet huff, pinching the bridge of your nose as you gaze at the clock on the wall. Glancing to your side you see Clark, he's 15 minutes early, smelling like heaven, he looks sleek as always, without a single hair out of place. 

Clark catches you looking at him as you huff and puff next to him, he tries not to chuckle at the frown on your face before he turns to you, friendly and unassuming as usual, completely oblivious to any issues you may have. He smiles his signature warm and charming smile.

"Good morning, you're here on time today, finally," he teases, his tone light and innocent, not realizing his words sound like a veiled jab when they fall from his lips.

You turn to him, eyes narrowed in an intense glare. "Mind your own business, Kent." You grumble, your usual (fake) friendliness gone like your ex-boyfriend. Focusing on the computer in front of you, you log on, scrolling through the endless emails.

Clark blinks awkwardly at your response, surprised by the harshness in your voice. He’s not quite used to you snapping at him, sure you have your moments but you’re rarely outright hostile.

He sits back, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, slightly perplexed about how to respond.

Clark hesitates for a moment, debating whether to address your change in tone. Clearing his throat, he tries to keep his tone lighthearted. "Um…is everything okay? You seem a bit, uh…”

He trails off, realizing that nothing he says will help his case and that you may actually bite his head off if he continues. So he shifts slightly in his chair instead, averting his eyes from yours as he pretends to focus on something on his computer.

"Look, Clark." You sigh, turning to him once again, tone much softer this time, "I don't need your pity, there's no need to pretend like you care." you slip out of your chair, heading to the break room to grab another coffee. 

Clark raises an eyebrow at your words, his lips curving into a slight frown as he watches you go. He waits a few moments before silently following you, his steps almost soundless as he approaches you at the coffee machine.

He stands behind you, his presence quiet and calm, as he studies your expression before speaking.

"Who said anything about pretending?" He asks, his voice low and earnest.

You're standing on your tippy toes, attempting to reach the coffee on the top shelf of the cabinet. "Why would you care about me and my problems? We're *just* coworkers." 

Clark swallows, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest at your dismissive words. He leans against the counter beside you, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he contemplates how to respond.

"Just coworkers..." he mutters softly before sighing quietly, "Right."

He watches you struggle to reach the coffee for a moment, his hands twitching in his pockets as he resists the urge to reach out and grab it for you.

Clark can't tear his eyes away from the way your body stretches and extends with every effort to reach the coffee, the muscles in your thighs and backside taut and prominent as you stand on your tippy toes. It's an unconscious and innocent action, but it's affecting him more than he'd like to admit...

He clears his throat again, shifting his weight and trying to control the thoughts that begin to flood his mind. But as he watches you struggle once more, his restraint is slowly but surely beginning to fray.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, finally managing to grasp the coffee grounds. "I didn't mean it like that Clark." once back on flat feet, you look at him with a gentle expression. 

The tension drains from Clark's shoulders as he hears your apology, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. He manages a small smile, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly. 

"It's okay," he replies quietly. "I understand. You've clearly got a lot on your plate."

He can't help the way his eyes wander over your figure again, lingering on the way your body moves and molds with each movement. The words "I care" hang on his tongue, but he swallows them back down.

Once the machine starts brewing you lean against the counter, crossing your arms under your breasts as you let out a small strangled sigh. "I didn't mean to snap at you either. I've just got a lot going on.." 

Clark's eyes track your movement, watching as you rest against the counter. His eyes seem to linger on the way your arms press against your chest before he manages to force his gaze back up to your face, his cheeks flushing from the heat that spreads through him.

"It's okay," he says again, offering a reassuring smile. "You don't have to explain yourself. I..I get it."

He hesitates for a moment, mulling over his next question before finally swallowing and asking, "Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you're willing to beat up my ex-boyfriend for me," you chuckle dryly, eyes focused on the empty office. Being the two newest employees you're stuck with the early early morning shift. 

Clark lets out a small, surprised laugh, the sound rich and warm. He leans back against the counter, mirroring your position as he grins at you. 

"Tempting," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "But I think I'd rather help in more...legal ways."

You smile, finding his presence comforting and relaxing, finally putting your restless mind at ease. Your bare thigh brushes over his as you turn to grab a mug, the fabric of your skirt lifting up ever so slightly. "Well, I'll let you know if I can think of anything you can help me with." 

The contact sends a jolt of electricity through Clark's veins, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your skin brush against his. He attempts to keep his reaction discreet, but the way his eyes widen slightly betrays his composure.

He swallows, his mind racing as his gaze drifts down to the exposed flesh of your thigh, the smooth skin on display making his thoughts whirl and pulse. 

"Yes... Please, let me know," he manages to mutter, his voice thick with an undertone he hadn't intended.

"Want some?" you hold out the mug to him, noticing the way his gaze is trained on your legs, a slight flush creeping up your neck. 

Clark is snapped out of his reverie as you hold the mug out to him, his eyes flicking up to yours for a moment before darting down to the mug in your hand again.

He clears his throat and reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the mug. The contact sends another spark of electricity through his body, his cheeks flushing slightly as he quickly averts his eyes.

"Uh...yes, thank you," he stutters, trying to disguise the nerves in his voice.

You notice his strange demeanor, eyebrows furrowing as you fill your cup. "Now it's my turn to ask if everything is alright," keeping your tone playful, you gaze up at him softly. 

Clark swallows again, his heart thudding against his chest. He shifts awkwardly on his feet as you question him, his mind racing to find a believable excuse, but failing miserably.

The way you look up at him with such soft, concerned eyes is making it even harder to maintain his composure.

"Uh...yeah, I'm fine," he stammers, forcing a smile. "Just...uh...just a bit tired, that's all."

"And here I thought you were always on the top of your game." you tease softly, reaching to put the coffee back up, sneakily adjusting your skirt so it reveals more of your body. 

Clark watches you strain to reach the high shelf, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes he should have helped you get it down in the first place. He steps closer, his body now mere inches away from yours, his chest almost touching your back.

He reaches up and grabs the coffee, his arm brushing against yours in the process. The proximity is enough to send another shiver down his spine. He places the coffee back on the shelf before turning to you, his voice softer this time. "Next time, just ask for my help."

"Clark.." you breathe out his name, shocked by the electricity his touch fills you with. "I, uh, could've put it back myself you know."

Clark freezes, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of his name slipping from your lips. He could swear he was imagining the way you breathed his name, the way it sounded almost like...like a gasp.

He lets out a small huff, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I know," he says quietly, his eyes fixed on yours. "But I wanted to help."

"Mhm..." you murmur, gaze trained on his muscular body as heat rises in your cheeks. Your heart pounds in your chest, something about the way he touched you makes you heated. 

Clark's chest tightens as he registers the way your eyes rake over his frame, his skin burning in the wake of your gaze as you take him in. He swallows, the sound seeming louder than normal to his heightened senses.

The subtle shift in your breathing, the hint of flustered color adorning your cheeks, the heat radiating from your body... all of it feeds into the growing tension between you two.

"Clark," you step closer to him, gathering all the confidence you can. "There is *something* you could do to help me..." 

Clark's heart thuds harder, the closeness of your body almost intoxicating as he feels heat begin to pool in his gut. He inhales sharply, the scent of you clouding his senses as he struggles to focus on your words.

His voice is low and gruff when he responds, barely a whisper, "Anything."

"I want.." you take a steadying breath, "I want you." you press your fingers into his side, pulling his body closer to yours.

Clark's breath hitches as he feels your fingers press into his side, a shudder coursing through him as you pull his body against yours. He lets out a soft, involuntary moan as he feels the heat of your body against his, every nerve in his body on fire with need.

He looks down at you, his eyes wide and dilated, the last few remnants of restraint finally giving in. "Christ..." he mutters under his breath.

"There’s no one here right now," You bite on your bottom lip, knee sliding between his legs as you press against his groin. 

Clark lets out a hiss, his breath hitching once more as he feels the heat and friction of your body press against his. The unexpected sensation of your knee between his legs sends a jolt of pleasure through him, his hips involuntarily bucking against you as he fights to keep control. 

His voice is a low, ragged growl as he responds, "You're not playing fair.."

"I'm not.." you murmur, fingers moving to unbutton his slacks, "I never play fair," 

Clark's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your fingers on his slacks, his body frozen as he watches you undo them, freeing his erection from the confines of his clothes. The feel of your touch, the implication behind your actions, is driving him crazy. 

He lets out a strangled moan, his breath ragged and irregular. "This...this isn't...we shouldn't be doing this here," he stammers, his voice lacking conviction as his eyes remain fixed on your hands.

"Exactly... That's what makes it so," you press a kiss to his jaw, "exhilarating" 

The feeling of your lips against his jaw is enough to send Clark over the edge, any shred of restraint he had left evaporating into thin air. 

He lets out a breathless growl, the sound thick and heavy with desire, as his hands reach out to grip your hips. His grasp is firm, the strength in his hands evident as he pulls you even closer to him, his body flush against yours. 

"You...you're killing me.." he groans, the heat pooling in his stomach almost unbearable.

Clark's mind is reeling, the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch driving him crazy as he lifts you onto the counter, his movements surprisingly precise and controlled despite the whirlwind of desire coursing through him. 

As he pushes your skirt up, revealing your bare thighs, he lets out a low, guttural sound, his eyes fixed on the sight of your body in front of him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this..." he murmurs huskily, his voice strained with desperate need.

“Clark, please… I need you,” you whine, body aching with months of unfulfilled desire. Your ex never quite knew how to use those 4 inches. 

Clark's breath hitches, his heart thudding in his chest as he hears the pleading tone in your voice, the sound nearly breaking him in an instant. It's doing something to him, to his ego and his emotions.

He leans in, his lips against your ear as he whispers, "Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.." he spreads your legs, pulling you to the edge of the counter, pressing his tip against your aching cunt. 

Your face contorts in pleasure, the gentleness of his touch, the desire behind his eyes, and the idea of being caught, all of it is working to make you ache even more.

He slowly slides into you, moaning as your pussy stretches around his thickness. Clark keeps his thrusts slow, gently working his way deeper inside you, and your nails immediately dig into his shoulders. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you’re intoxicated by his touch, “mm so big.” you moan needily, hole clenching around him. He groans, large hands moving across your frame as he finally bottoms out, his tip hitting the pleasure point in you. 

“Is this okay?” He cups your face, pressing soft kisses to your lips as he gives you time to adjust. 

Clark’s question hangs in the air as you both pant and tremble from the intensity of the moment. You nod fervently, your eyes never leaving him, the silent communication speaking volumes of your need. He takes that as his cue, his gentle touch turning to one of urgency as he begins to move within you. 

His strokes are deep and deliberate, each one hitting that spot that has you clinging to him tighter, your moans growing louder with every passing second. The office around you fades away as you become lost in the sensation, your mind racing with the illicit thrill of doing something so taboo with your coworker. 

His kisses become more passionate, his tongue claiming your mouth as he picks up the pace, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing in the quiet space. The tension between you two has been building for months, a dance of wills and glances, and now it’s all culminating in this desperate, passionate embrace. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his firm ass, urging him deeper with every thrust. The break room becomes a cocoon of passion, the only sounds are your muffled cries of pleasure and his grunts of effort. 

The friction between you builds a delicious pressure that demands release. You can feel him swell within you, his need matching yours. Your breaths become gasps, and your eyes widen as the first waves of orgasm crash through your body, tightening around him. "Clark...I'm gonna..." you manage to breathe, your voice shaking.

Clark's eyes darken with desire as he feels your orgasm approaching, his own need reaching its peak. He increases his rhythm, driving into you with a passion that surprises even him. "Cum for me," he whispers, his voice thick with need. 

The sound of your impending climax is his undoing, and he lets out a guttural groan as he joins you, his hips bucking against yours as he fills you with his release. 

The aftermath is a haze of heavy breathing and racing hearts, the realization of what you've just done slowly sinking in. You cling to him, your bodies still connected as the tremors of pleasure subside. 

Clark's heart is still racing, his body shaking from the intensity of the moment, as he gazes at you, his fingers tracing gently across your face. He's silent, his breath ragged and labored, as he absorbs the enormity of what just happened. 

The silence between you is thick and heavy, filled with the weight of what you both just did. Clark's eyes flicker between yours, a mixture of concern and wonder in his expression. Finally, he speaks, his voice rough and low. "Are you..are you okay?"

"More than okay," you murmur, dazed and utterly satisfied. "You're so good, Clark." you slide off the counter, standing on shakey legs.

Clark helps you steady yourself, his strong arms wrapped around your waist to support you as you make your way to the bathroom. He can't help but chuckle softly at your unsteady legs, a mixture of pride and amusement filling him. 

Once you're both freshened up and presentable, he walks you back to your desks, his hand resting gently on the small of your back the entire way. 

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, his voice now smug, his eyes searching your face.

"Much, much better." you grin satisfied by his disheveled appearance. The perfect Clark Kent is barely able to concentrate on his work, his hair is slightly frizzy and out of place, and his shirt is wrinkled, all of it makes your stomach pool with warmth once more.

Clark can't help but chuckle at your satisfied grin, his cheeks flaring with a hint of blush as he realizes the state he's in. He reaches up to straighten his hair, only making it more tousled in the process. 

He catches sight of his wrinkled shirt and wrinkled and he lets out a low sigh, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "I look like a complete mess, don't I?" he says, a sheepish grin on his lips.

"A perfect mess," your tone is light, eyes full of admiration.

[little-diable]

The Agreement - Rafe Cameron (smut)

So, this is a new one. But I am so deep down the Rafe and Drew rabbit hole, I just had to write something. This has potentional for more parts, but I will settle on that once I get your reactions on this part 1. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is new to the area, but it didn't taken long for Sarah's and her ways to cross. But life in the area is expensive, so the reader is in desperate need for someone to support her, perhaps Rafe Cameron, the guy everybody warned her about, is the right guy to help her out. But Rafe Cameron isn't a guy with a soft heart, the devil doesn't make one sided deals.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), sex with a stranger somewhat, sex in an unfamiliar room, spitting, slight choking, degrading, talks about the reader working as a sugar baby

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (3.1k words)

I LIVE for this gif. Jesus.

“Honestly, I am so ready to marry rich and forget about all these payments. Who can even afford to pay for all these things?” A groan left (y/n), head rolling back while she pressed herself further against the mattress of her bed. For a moment she was met with silence, waiting for Sarah to reply, but her friend kept quiet, seemingly deep in thought. 

“Well, maybe it’s time we finally find you someone good. I bet you’d easily find someone fitting at the Country Club.” (Y/n) had to fight against the urge to roll her eyes, Sarah was all too aware of her distaste for all these rich people who only cared about themselves. She was still relatively new to the area but had instantly picked up on the struggles between the pogues and kooks, fights (y/n) desperately wanted to stay away from. 

“Thank you, but I’d rather sell my soul than step a foot into that place.” Sarah’s giggles forced a smile to widen on (y/n)’s lips, knowing that her new friend wouldn’t back down from this discussion.

“Oh c’mon, live a little. But you could also just try to mingle at a party, I guess.” It took (y/n) a moment to think through the idea, especially since she knew she’d feel by far more comfortable at a party rather than at the country club. The hum leaving her drew another giggle from Sarah, already excited about whatever (y/n) may stumble upon.

“I guess I could but only if you join me to figure out if there are any parties worth joining.” She had interacted quite a lot with Sarah Cameron so far, a friendly face she had crossed paths with every now and then when she had first moved here. Something seemed to connect the two of them, something (y/n) couldn’t pinpoint yet but was insanely grateful for nevertheless. 

“Absolutely I’ll text you in a few!”

…

She should have stayed at home, away from all these unfamiliar faces, the alcohol which would undoubtedly leave her massively hungover, and the horrible music she couldn’t endure much longer. So far she still hadn’t crossed paths with Sarah, clinging to the promise that she’d eventually show up with some friends in tow - people (y/n) could click with, according to Sarah at least.

The distaste clung to her face as (y/n) pushed through the crowd of sweaty bodies, trying to stay away from those who looked at her for a few seconds too long. Her feet carried her towards the kitchen, set on pouring herself another drink to at least endure another hour of this party.

With her eyes set on the open cabinet, (y/n) tried to reach for one of the almost empty bottles, weight shifted onto her toes to grasp it - though miserably failing. The exhausted huff clawing through her was swallowed by the sound of a raspy laugh filling the kitchen, forcing her eyes to find a pair of bright ones. 

“C’mon, you almost had it, don’t stop the show now.” The smirk clinging to his lips left her scowling, instantly recognising him, Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother. Even though (y/n) hadn’t been around for long, she had picked up on numerous warnings, telling her to stay away from the guy who was followed around by trouble. 

“Fuck off.” Her words made him laugh again, letting the sound ring in her ears while he pushed himself closer. Rafe’s cologne wrapped itself around her, making her heavily swallow the second she felt his front pressed against her back. With one hand finding her waist, he held her close while reaching for the bottle she had tried to grasp. Wordlessly he poured her some of the liquid, letting go of her seconds later, but she stayed quiet, not saying a single word to the smirking guy.

“Where’s my thank you? Or is cursing the only thing you can do?” Rafe leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed in front of his chest. Her eyes couldn’t help but find his bulging muscles, hating that he was that handsome while she had promised others she’d stay away from him. 

“I don’t want to further inflate your ego, Cameron.” (Y/n) tried to push past Rafe, though without any luck. His bright eyes wandered over her features, grinning down on the frowning girl. His hands kept holding onto her, settling on her waist as if they had crossed paths numerous times before, more familiar with one another than they let on. 

“I can see why you haven’t found many new friends so far, (y/n).” A scoff left her as she tried to push him away, though without any luck. Anger began to bubble deep inside of her, wondering how she could get rid of the devilish handsome guy. But Rafe seemed all too comfortable with their closeness, looking at her like a predator ready to snap, already high on her blood he’d feast from any second now. “What’s your problem with me, huh?” “I have no problem with you, Rafe. Let me go.” He clicked his tongue before letting it run along his lower lip, a motion she couldn’t help but stare at, eyes following his every movement. 

“What did my sister tell you about me?” His thumb began to move, softly stroking along the silver of skin her top showed off. Goosebumps covered her arms, something (y/n) could only curse at, hating her body for feeling that drawn towards him. Sarah had told her all those gruesome stories about him, a psychotic guy she should desperately try to stay away from – and yet something intrigued (y/n), something she couldn’t shake.

“Drugs, guns, whoring around, the list is long, and I really don’t want to catch anything from you.” She shot him a sickly sweet smile before finally pulling herself free. Without giving Rafe the chance to stop her, (y/n) managed to disappear from his sight, finding shelter in another spot of the mansion. Her heart was racing in her chest, beating faster than probably ever before. 

Sarah’s words kept hallowing in her mind, sharply reminding her of the bad news following Rafe Cameron around, words that began to lose their importance when her eyes were drawn back to his bright ones. They held contact as she drowned her drink in one go, still feeling his hands on her body as if he had burned his touch into her skin. Her breath got hitched in her chest as Rafe began to move, seemingly set on speaking to her again – and yet he didn’t get far, forced to watch his sister find (y/n) first, pulling her outside. 

“I was looking for you, I want to introduce you to some people.” Sarah clung to (y/n)’s side as she led her to the pool area, introducing her to people whose names she didn’t pick up on, still thinking of Rafe. Sarah’s words from this morning reached her again, overthinking their plan of (y/n) finding a guy to keep around at a party like this, a plan she had to scoff at now.

“Sarah told us you’re currently working as a surf instructor around here, would you want to go surfing with us tomorrow morning?” A blonde guy smiled at her, forcing her to focus for a second. The cap he wore only showed off a few of his strands, enough for her to pick up on how cute he looked. She was close to denying, wanting to spend the morning sleeping in, but the way Sarah squeezed her wrist forced a soft “Sure” out of (y/n). 

She didn’t listen to the other things the group shared, feeling a pair of eyes on her. Slowly, (y/n) let her gaze wander, finding Rafe looking at her from one of the windows. He raised his brows in an almost mocking manner, taking a sip of his drink as if he was daring her to find her way back to him. She rolled her eyes at him, and yet she stepped away from Sarah a moment later, murmuring something about having to find the bathroom. 

Rafe was back at her side the second she stepped into the house, pulled through the room by the hand finding hers. The loud music momentarily managed to drown out her racing thoughts, thoughts that were completely silenced the second she found herself pushed into a dark room, front pressed against Rafe’s.

“Is this one of your famous tactics? Pulling girls you don’t know into dark ro-,” she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence, interrupted by the feeling of Rafe’s lips finding hers. Even though her first instinct was to push him away, she didn’t find the want to do it, instead (y/n) chased his lips, swallowing the raspy chuckle leaving Rafe.

She was all too aware of the way Rafe’s eyes had followed her around for the past weeks, trying to find the right moment to speak to her whenever he was at the beach with his friends or when she met friends near the club. Late at night he’d stroke his cock to the thought of her, painting the screen of his phone white while looking at her pictures, only further fuelling his obsession with her. Something about (y/n) stuck to Rafe, perhaps it was the fact that she was all too oblivious to the struggles they all had faced for the past months, perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t seem to give a shit about him, whatever it was, he needed to get his hands on her. 

Without breaking the kiss, Rafe led her to the bed, plopping down on it with her falling into his lap. Their tongues got tangled, brushing together while his warm hands found their way underneath her shirt, feeling her tremble in his grasp. His name rolled off her tongue as (y/n) needed a second to breathe, high on the feeling of him kissing his way down her throat.

Her mind screamed at her, asking her what the hell she was doing, and yet her body didn’t seem to care. Rafe Cameron had pulled her into his trap, unable to rip herself free while slowly letting him in. She didn’t protest as he pulled her shirt over her head, didn’t protest as his lips found her right nipple, softly biting and sucking on the soft skin before finding the other. 

“Fuck, we shouldn’t do this.” For a second he froze at her slightly panicked words, waiting for her to say something else, to push him away. But (y/n) didn’t find the strength to pull herself free, tugging on his golden strands to reconnect their lips, allowing him to shift them around to press (y/n) against the mattress. It felt as if her body was on fire, set ablaze by his touch, by the way he towered over her and looked at her as if she was the prettiest sight he had ever set his eyes on. 

“Breathe, sweetheart, let me do this.” Rafe kissed his way down her stomach, pulling her shorts and soaked panties down her legs to settle between her thighs. The moan that left him the second he brushed his tongue through her slit made her arch her back, pushing herself further against his mouth. Rafe’s eyes were set on her pleasure-drunken features, watching her get lost in the sensation. 

“Fuck, Rafe.” (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut, hands finding his hair to hold him close. It had been a while since she had last been with someone, no longer used to feeling this alive. His thumb circled her pulsing bundle, tongue slowly fucking into her tightness to push her further towards the edge. No longer was her mind racing, no longer did (y/n) find herself overthinking this situation, solemnly focused on Rafe’s skilled touch.

“Look at you, pretty girl, at the mercy of a guy you claim not to like.” It was clear that he enjoyed this all too much, smirking up at (y/n) who couldn’t reply to his teasing words. She was desperate to cum, to let go with his name rolling off her tongue like a prayer spoken in a need of guidance. 

He put his mouth back on her heat, sucking on her clit while he pushed two of his long fingers into her, fucking her with his fingers curled against her swollen spot. Another moan clawed its way out of (y/n), reverberating through the dark room, a sound so sweet Rafe couldn’t help but groan against her skin. The sound was enough to push her over the edge, cumming on his tongue with a call of his name. 

Rafe’s fingers fucked her through her high, enjoying the sight of her trembling body, watching her fall apart with his bright eyes that had slowly adjusted to the darkness. Only when she loosened her grip on his hair did Rafe move up her body again, pressing a kiss to her slightly swollen lips which allowed (y/n) to taste herself on his tongue.

“Will you let me fuck you, (y/n)?” She was spaced out, and yet her mind was still clear enough to pick up on his words. A moan left her before she could stop the sound from making it past her lips, set on the same goal as Rafe. His ringed fingers rested on her throat, keeping a tight grasp on her, “Gonna need you to speak up, use your words.” 

“Fuck me, Rafe, please.” It was all he needed to hear, momentarily letting go of her to pull his shirt over his head, to free his hard cock from the confines of his trousers, and to pull a condom down his length. She forced herself up on her forearms, resting her weight on them to watch him tower over her. Their eyes held contact as Rafe pushed into her, letting his cock spread her tight walls.

For a second, neither of them moved, allowing their bodies to adjust before Rafe began to fuck her with a faster growing rythm. With one hand resting on the pillow next to her head, he kept himself balanced while the other found its way back to her throat. She stared up at him, fully at his mercy as if the devil himself was fucking her, forcing her to accept that she had just gambled with her soul and lost it to him. 

His thrusts were ferocious, hips meeting hers with every movement, drawing sinful sounds from the both of them. Rafe’s thumb tapped against her lip, forcing (y/n) to open her mouth – seemingly understanding what he was about to do. He stared down at her as he spat onto her tongue, making her swallow his saliva without protesting once, finding the way he was claiming her too hot to fight against it. 

“I should have fucked that tight cunt of yours the first time I laid my eyes on you.” Rafe’s rasped out words left her gasping, eyes rolling back into her head for a second. His words had an instant effect on (y/n), letting her stuttering breaths break out of her as if she hadn’t been allowed to inhale any air for the past minutes. “Such a pathetic little slut, letting the guy others warned you about fuck you. But you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

“I am, fuck, you’re so good at this, Rafe.” She no longer cared about his way too big ego, didn’t care about how desperate she sounded, solemnly focused on her second nearing orgasm. One of her hands found her pulsing bundle, circling it while her free hand moved up his naked back, feeling his muscles tense beneath it.

“Beg for it, baby, let me hear how desperate you are to cum on my cock.” Another moan left her, and another as his thrusts met the spot that made her choke. It took (y/n) a second to find her voice, blabbering a few incoherent begging words before finding her strength.

“Please, let me cum, fuck, I need it, Rafe.” He chuckled against her lips, once again picking up his speed before a raspy ��Cum” found its way to her. She choked on her moans, sobbing his name while he followed her down the edge seconds later, moaning into their kiss. 

Heavy breaths left them both, clinging to one another without speaking for a moment or two. Only slowly did he let go of her, pulling away to throw the condom into the trash. (Y/n) watched him move around, redressing while he seemed deep in thought, no longer wearing that arrogant smirk she secretly loved. 

“I heard what you talked about with Sarah this morning.” Rafe had his eyes focused on her, eyebrows furrowed as if he struggled to find the right words. She didn’t say anything at first, dressing herself before plopping back down on the bed. “About bills and payments and all that shit.” 

“Mhm, what about it?” Her tone had something almost bored to it, not daring to let him in on the panic that slowly began to simmer inside of her. She shouldn’t care about what he was thinking of her, even though he had just fucked her better than any other guy she had been with so far. 

“I have a proposition for you, an arrangement if you want. You need someone to help with your bills and I need someone I can trust by my side for all these galas and events I need to show up at, someone to fool partners with.” A humourless laugh left (y/n) at his words, not daring to believe the words Rafe had just spoken. 

“I knew you were an asshole, but I don’t need you to fuck with me like that, Cameron.” She rose to her feet, set on fleeing from this room, but Rafe didn’t let her, hand snapping down on her wrist like it had back in the kitchen. 

“It’s the truth, Sarah seems to like you for whatever reason, and even though her people skills are fucked, I fear she may be right with this one.” His words had a strange undertone to them, a desperation that made her halt for a second. (Y/n) let her eyes wander over his features, studying Rafe who stared at her with an unreadable expression. 

“Do you really mean that? You’d pay me for making you, what? Look good at events? Would I be like a sugar baby?”

[marsmaximoff]

🎄; 25th of december ❄︎⋆˚⊹☃︎

content warning: fem!reader. pure fluff. many curses. reader is 20 and calls him “dym” as a short name, he calls her “love, darling and my love”. they’re dating. let me know if i missed something.

word count: 732 ❣️

author’s note: i wasn’t planning on posting anything for Christmas, but i got this idea and i had to write it. so, i apologize if the quality is not that good, as i usually spend days on my writings while this was all done on a matter of hours. also, english is my third language, so i’m sorry for the mistakes. constructive criticism is welcomed as always. thank you so much for the support on my last post, and merry christmas everybody! 🤍 happy hanukkah, kwanzaa, diwali or any other celebrations too 🫶🏻 and if you don’t celebrate anything, have a happy end of the year ✨ p.s.: god im in love with dmitri and almost no one is posting anything, i’ll probably post more of him. anyways, enjoy!! <3

the silk grazes my fingertips as i stretch my arm. i tentatively palm the bed looking for some warmth, for him. but the sheets and pillows are the only things left around me.

the screen of my phone clears up as i blink. 11:28 a.m. with a bit more of focus, the notifications slowly reveal themselves and my eyes travel through them searching for his name. nothing. he’d have texted me if something had requested his presence back at the office. although, he couldn’t have business to deal with on Christmas, right? not this soon, at least.

the pearly white snow greets me through the window making me stand up with a smile. how gorgeous. i make my way to the kitchen to grab something to drink while knotting my robe, and the shiny decor welcomes me effusively. i don’t realize at first, but a big and unfamiliar shadow catches my attention from the corner of my eye while i open the carton of juice.

“holy fuck. dym?”

our christmas tree, stunning as always, lays now almost drowned in presents. in fact, the stack is such, that i can’t even make out the floor for a good four-five steps. some light chuckles behind my back fill the room with the warmth i’ve been craving since i woke up. “beautiful, isn’t it?”

i turn around to dmitri sitting on the couch, staring at me with a huge grin. as if that number of gifts was the most normal sight in the world. “what the hell?” “you’ve had me waiting, darling. did you sleep good?” he asks affectionately.

“what are you, on your Santa Claus era?” i say looking at the presents again. he grants me that laugh that i adore so much as i try to give them a quick count, but after the twentieth, it starts to feel simply bonkers. they’re not even small ‘little treats’, oh no. there’s large boxes and bags everywhere.

“seriously, are you giving gifts to your whole fucking building? or is every one of your men getting one?”

“wrong. and. wrong” he says proudly, and once he’s in front of me, he just smiles. there are obvious love and joy in his eyes, which sends a cute fluttery feeling to my heart. “dmitri-“ his lips seal my words with a gentle kiss. “merry christmas, love”. a sparkle makes space on his gaze that could so easily compete with the star of the tree itself. wait. oh. oh. there’s no way.

his hands take mine and softly walk me towards the swimming pool of gifts. then, he sits close by and points at them with his head. “come on, darling. you’ve had me feeling all impatient”. he looks so excited. so cheerful. but i can’t help the slight guilt that takes over me. “dym, you’re crazy. tell me these are not only for me. you can’t- god do you even have an idea of how many there are?!” “40”. he doesn’t even take a single second to think about it. seriously, what the actual fuck? “two for every christmas i couldn’t spoil you in” this has to be a damn dream. “we’ve been friends since school!” i say grinning. “but we weren’t dating. so it doesn’t count. i wanted to make it special.” “you really didn’t have to” i refute. “i wanted to. please don’t make me wait anymore i need to see your reactions”. with a final glance, i turn around and grab the first one. “ohhh you’ll love that one!”

how can he be so cute? he wasn’t wrong, tho. it was a special edition of one of my favorite books. during the next hours, i go one by one, filling the room with gasps, yells, curses and many “oh my good”s and “thank you so much”s.

by the end of it, i’ve got clothes, books, headphones, plushies, a phone, jewelry, plane tickets, merchandising, signed stuff from famous people i love, and the cherry on top; a new car.

“you are mad. i love you so much but you’re mad” i say hugging him still shocked. “madly in love with you, you mean” he answers pulling back. “you liked them, then?” “loved them” he gives me another kiss, longer this time. “good. merry christmas, my love. i love you” he adds.

he can only hope i’ll love the ring just as much.

[the-universal-sun]

little!stan crying for his mama on hanukkah with cg ford and/or fidds?

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy First Day of Hanukkah! I set this to post at 8 am but it looks like I set it wrong, my apologies! Thank you so much to this lovely anon for the idea of Stan crying over his mother, this helped me form the direction of the drabble-the part that kept stumping me and to @thehessianslady for the sweater idea! I enjoyed writing this so much, and I hope you all enjoy reading this!

I hope you guys had a lovely holiday/will have a lovely holiday, but to any who are struggling or are feeling alone right now, know that I am always in your corner. I will always believe in you and I will always be proud of any of your accomplishments, little or small, nothing is insignificant. I am always open to talk if you need someone, for anything. To vent, rant, or to just chat so you have something to do! I am always here for you guys, and I thank you all for giving me so much love and support!

I truly AM sending all of you all the Love in the entire world!

XOXO

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

     The winter air was crisp and freezing outside the Shack, wind howling against the windows, promising frostbite for any who dared to venture out unprepared. Inside, however, was warm and cozy, the scent of cinnamon mixing in an oddly delightful way with the scent of potatoes. The soft glow of twinkling lights and flickering candles lit up the living room of the Shack-a fun mix of Christmas and Hanukkah decorating the space. Stan sat on the floor, bundled in a sweater two sizes too big for him, a homemade gift by Fiddleford. It was matching Ford's, both sweaters reminiscent of their childhood Dreidal sweater, but softer and with snowflakes adorning the ends. Stan had begged and begged for his twin to wear the sweater, giving him his patented Puppy Dog Eyes and wobbling his lips for added effect. It worked like a charm, Ford being weak to Stan when he was feeling small. Too bad Fidds didn't want to wear his special sweater that he picked out himself. Stan smiled widely and giggled as he built and knocked over his new blocks, Poindexter sat next to him and his new friend, an Oppossum he named "Shanklin 2". He woke up to so many presents for him; presents for when he's small and presents for when he's big! Stan thinks he loves Christmas if he's getting gifts just for being good. And he got to play with his new toys all day long, neither Sixer or Fidds telling him to grow up or anything. He felt free-free to play and to indulge in his fuzzy mindset, the holiday spirit soothing him and wrapping around him like a warm blanket. The only thing that's missing is an ugly sweater on Fidds and his Ma'. Except he can't talk to his Ma', not now when he knows the old man's home, surrounded by the super annoying aunties and uncles who were probably told to shun him back when he was kicked out. His head's too fuzzy and small to talk to her now anyways, his tongue not wanting to move to speak right, if he managed to say anything, he'd probably sound like a baby. Or drunk.

     Stan shakes his head to get rid of those sad and grown-up thoughts, grabbing his sippy cup half full of warmed cocoa-he can't stand to wait for hot drinks to cool down, burning his tongue too many times but never learning his lesson-and trying to focus on everything else. The pretty lights and ornaments in their tree-he's never had a Christmas tree before, Stan got to help decorate it and he even was allowed to put the star on! The Menora and the first two candles, the flames looking super pretty against the rainbow-colored Christmas Lights. He let it all wash over him, feeling his head get fuzzier and fuzzier, feeling even smaller than before. He chews on the straw of his sippy before a six-fingered hand replaces it with a pacifier; he giggles when the fingers tickle his chin before ruffling his hair. Stan feels so warm and happy right now, happier than he's been in forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     "Merry Christmas, Fidds," Ford said, clinking his glass of cooled-down hot chocolate-he can never wait for drinks to cool down-against Fiddleford's piping hot glass. He had never felt so peaceful this time of year, always surrounded by fast-moving and loud noises during the season, family he hadn't seen in a year pinching his cheeks and giving him wet kisses. And when he left for college, he stopped celebrating entirely-aside from that one Krampus incident with Fidds a few years back-having no desire to surround himself with noisy relatives, to sit beside an empty chair. But this year is different, he's with his friend and Lee, and it's just the three of them in their little shack, it's peaceful and nice. Being here and in the moment with the two closest people in his life, fills him up with such a fiery warmth that his heart aches and his breath gets caught in his chest; he can't stop smiling and laughing, even when all that's happening is Lee staring at the lights, that's how all-encompassing his happiness is. Ford couldn't ask for a better first Christmas.

     "Happy Hanukkah, Ford, Lee." It was the first night of Hanukkah, a holiday Fiddleford's never celebrated, growing up Southern Baptist and all, so the traditions are all a bit new to him. Thankfully, as Ford and Stan both told him, it's just the three of them so there's no nosy fourth cousins to tell him he's not lighting the candles at the right angle or saying the Shehecheyanu wrong. He sat up, going to the kitchen to bring out the little gift he's been making for Ford and Stan; Sufganiyot. He's been working on the recipe he found in Ford's things-their mother's recipe he reckons-for a week now, and Fiddleford believes this batch to be a success. He knows neither of the men have had it for over a decade, but with how they're establishing all these new traditions in the house, he thinks it'd be nice to have an old one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Stan, who's been watching to doorway since Fidds left, perks up when he returns. He wiggles in his spot, hoping he's bringing another present or another tasty treat. He's been eating lots of them today, Latkes and gingerbread cookies and cinnamon pancakes, but he can't help but want more-Fidds' cooking was so good! Better than Ford's at least. He clapped lightly when Fidds came back in with a plate full of something he couldn't see from the floor. He gets to his feet, grabbing Poindexter and Shanklin 2, and walks towards Fidds, but Ford guides him to the couch instead, ignoring his pout and hand rubbing his stomach so desperately. Stan's starving, he deserves to have first dibs on the food!

     "Don't give me that look, Lee, you just had dinner an hour ago, you can wait a few more seconds before you have dessert." Ford takes his pacifier and taps the corners of his lips, getting a smile and giggle out of Stan. Ford laughs too, slinging a warm arm over his shoulder and pulling him in for a big and warm hug. Ford's hugs always make Stan melt, he feels so safe and protected, like nothing can come and get him and hurt him or scare him, not with his brother there to protect him from the outside world. It brings nice squiggly feelings to Stan's tummy, Ford's hugs, and sometimes those feelings make Stan wiggle in place from how nice they are. Like now, he relishes in Ford's and Fidds' breathy laughs as he wiggles under Ford's arm. The wiggles intensify when Fidds brings the plate closer to them, getting a good look at the delicious morsel he made them. Stan gasps with excitement. He made Suf-Sufgina-

     "Fiddleford, you made Sufganiyot?! Where'd you even find a recipe for that?" Yeah, that word Sixer said! Ma' made it all the time back-back in Jersey. How did Fidds know to make it for Hanukkah? Stan thinks he must be psychic or something, how else would he know and find a recipe?

     "Well, m'a bit ashamed t'say that I found it riflin' through your stuff. I assumed your mom must've sent it, so I'm sorry if it tastes piss poor in comparison." Fiddleford blushes, rubbing a foot on the ground and looking down, not meeting their eyes. Stan just giggles, Fidds said "piss".

     "Nonsense, F, I'm sure it's fine. If this is what you've spent all week in that kitchen working on, then they'll be great. Right, Lee?" Stan nods absentmindedly, almost drooling over the plate of Suf-goodies. They smelled so good, he needed to eat one right at this very moment. He looked pleadingly at Ford, pouting and whining, ignoring his and Fidds' conversation. He dives right in when he gets simultaneous nods, scrambling for the powdered-sugar-coated goodness. He takes one and shoves it in his mouth, doing happy wiggles at the taste. Fidds was so good at cooking, it tasted just like Mama's! Stan hasn't tasted this in ages, he forgot how good they were! He knows if Mama were here now she'd be fussing at him for being messy, wiping the powdered sugar off his cheeks with a wink. Sometimes Sixer does that, mostly Fidds, but it's not the same as when Mama did it. She'd probably get on to them about the wrapping paper still in the living room, making them clean it up before getting dessert. He misses her, now more than ever. Phone calls every month or so can only do so much. Stan feels his lips quivering, he hasn't cried over her in years, but something about this day, about tasting her recipe, he can't help it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     "Lee, are you alright? You're crying. Is-is something the matter?" Ford's looking back and forth between Stan and the dessert, glaring at the Sufganiyot as if it was personally responsible for making Stan cry. Both he and Fidds startle when Stan gives a hiccup, his crying-silent up to now-beginning to have noise, sniffling, hiccups, and sobs emanating from Stan-the dessert plate having been moved from his lap at some point-as he curls over his lap, fisted hands rubbing his eyes. "Lee, come on. What's the matter, you were fine just a moment ago," here Ford pauses, hands hovering over Stan as he thinks. This is the first holiday they've celebrated together in over 12 years, a decade of holidays Stan spent alone and probably cold. Taking a deep breath, still unused to emotional talk, Ford asked, "Was it a bad thought, Lee? Some nasty thought ringing around in there?" Ford softened his voice like Fiddleford does, bringing a hand up to rub Stan's back, patting it to help dislodge a cough or two. He's not good at talking about emotions, at not being dismissive of emotions, but he's getting better. And these are Stan's emotions, not his, he's more open when it comes to helping his brother than he is when confronting his own issues.

     "Ma'..." Stan whimpered between sobs, his small and croaking voice cracking Ford's heart. He's missing their mother...It's understandable, really, Stan may have talked to her a few dozen times over the years, but he hasn't seen her since he was kicked out, hasn't had the nerve to, not with their father still kicking around up there. And with Fiddleford making her dessert while Stan was in his headspace during this holiday, all these big emotions must have collided with each other, causing Stan's tears. Ford goes to quickly console Fiddleford, to tell him that it wasn't his fault, because if he still knows his friend, he knows that he'd blame himself. He was right, Fiddleford looks absolutely downtrodden, his lips and brow furled down into the deepest frown Ford has ever seen on the man-rivaling his expression when he's furious.

     "Oh, St-Stan I'm so sorry-"

     "Nope. This is not your fault, Fiddleford, and it's not yours either, Stanley. We are not playing the blame game, not on Hanukkah. Fidds, Stan misses our mother, he hasn't seen her since he was 17, there was always a possibility that he'd cry today given the timing and his headspace-I should have accounted for that." Ford quickly assures Fiddleford, needing him to know how much it is not his fault. He turns back to face Stan, who's still crying but at least is looking up at him, "Stanley, it is completely okay to cry over missing Ma', it's been years since you've seen her and you're in a more sensitive headspace right now. So please don't call your tears stupid," here Ford wipes a tear trailing down Stan's face away, "they never are. I'll tell you what, first thing tomorrow morning, I'll call Ma' to get her alone, maybe to a pay phone, and then I'll put you on, feeling small or not, and we'll explain to her that we've made up and are living together, sound good?" Ford may be rushing this whole "consoling" business, but they've been having such a good day all day, which is a rarity with the three of them, and he wants to keep the good mood going. Usually, this would be Fiddleford's job, but Ford figures he can, in the spirit of the season and his friend's own feelings of guilt, be the uplifting and guiding person today. He wipes more of Stan's tears, bopping his nose to earn a smile out of him-that action always does-and brushing his hair back.

     "Now," Fiddleford's weak voice came a few minutes later from his place kneeling in front of Stan, "Is there anything we-anything I can do to cheer you up, Sugar Plum?" Ford knew that was the worst question to ask as soon as he saw Stan's lips curl, tears drying on his face but slowly stopping with the comfort of his caregivers. Ford knew this smirk well-it was the type reminiscent of the old Grinch movie they watched as children. It promised mischief. That look soon transformed into a teary eyes and a begging look, his brother even clasping his hands together with a pout. Ford had to give it to Stan, small or not, he knew how to play Fidds for a sucker. He burst out laughing as soon as he hears Stan voice, his tone quiet and childish but adorable, his request.

     "The sweater." Fiddleford's face dropped dramatically, but he was no match to Stan's puppy eyes. With a distraught look towards Ford, he heaved himself up and trudged off to his bedroom.

     Ford's suddenly glad to be wearing a matching sweater with Stan because Fiddleford comes out a moment later dressed in the ugliest sweater Ford had ever seen. It had lights, some form of discombobulated configuration of what he believes to be Rudolph, and a "HU HU HU" sewn into it over a dozen times. It physically hurt him to see. It physically hurt Fidds to wear, if the pained and cringing grimace was anything to go by, the wool looked incredibly itchy.

     But Stan was happy, smiling and clapping, wiggling around in what Ford and Fidds have deemed his "happy dance", so Fiddleford can suck it up. In the spirit of the holiday season.

[midnight-mourning]

Special Santa

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 14❄️❄️

thought a pun would be fitting for the title of this one, as it's a bit silly ^-^ very much enjoyed it and hope you all will too

Prompt: Request! DCA and Y/n decide to do a Secret Santa at the Daycare and coincidentally they draw each other in the game

Word Count: 1666

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You stare down at the little card in your hand with a sense of dread. 

'Daycare Attendant'

You stomach folds in on itself, doing flips from both the excitement, but mainly fear you're feeling in that moment. 

Not typically the response something gives after finding out their Secret Santa. 

To be fair, the idea of getting a gift for your crush—both of them, apparently—makes your heart flutter in all the right ways. Picturing their excitement and joy as you give it to them, and their response thereafter is thrilling in its own right. 

However, the idea of messing it up, of everything going completely and utterly wrong because you got the wrong thing, that provides a crushing weight down into your soul. Furthermore, if you were to use this as the chance to confess like you've been wanting to for ages, well, you doubt it'll go over well if they hate your gift. 

"Okay, now that everyone knows their giftee, you have until the 23rd to get their present! Good luck and have fun!" Bailey, one of the other helpers, announces. 

You glance over to Sun, who's standing stock still as he reviews his own recipient. You're sure he's probably just going through his database and working as quickly as possible to determine the absolute perfect gift for his person. You envy him, this will be a breeze for the two of them. 

He seems to notice your staring and becomes animated again. Waving as he bounds over to you. 

"Hello friend! Are you excited about who you got?"

You swallow, hoping he didn't notice the look of misery on your face just moments ago. "Yeah! Can't um, can't wait to give it to them! What about you?"

"Oh! We, we're also excited! And we're especially excited for what gift we'll get! We know it'll be the best ever. This was such a good idea, wasn't it?" He asks. 

You nod, trying not to let the cracks show in your nerves. "Mhm. Great idea."

You spend hours after work that night coming up with ideas. Which wasn't the hard part, you knew the attendant well. You'd been friends since you started, and you think the added factor of having such an intense crush also added to your knowledge of them and their interests. 

The problem, was picking the exact right gift. Though really, two gifts. Just slightly harder, honestly. 

You wanted this to be perfect. Not only because you wanted to show how much you cared, but also because this was your chance to share your true feelings out in the open. The next best chance was going to be Valentine's Day and frankly, you don't think you could wait that long anyway. You'd probably implode into your feelings by then. 

You also know that this was important to them, despite being included in the gift exchange, you don't know if anyone else would have tried to get a 'good' gift for the two of them. The other helpers you think understood that Sun and Moon were alive in a manner of speaking, but still didn't fully see them as people. 

Therefore, it was up to you to make sure that if nothing else, you cared about them and they deserved to be treated just the same as anyone else. 

Shopping online was a bust. 

For some reason this year, everyone decided to go all out with their Christmas gifts this year. Every item you tried to shop for was sold out, or wouldn't be delivered until weeks after Christmas. These weren't typical presents either, you were shopping specifically for the Attendant, and with how every searched turned back fruitless, you'd argue that apparently everyone else was buying gifts for them too. 

There was one, a specific plush of their shared favorite Pokémon that you'd had your eye on. It was massive, squishy, and on sale with just one left in stock. You'd snatched up the deal victoriously, so proud to finally solve your week long conundrum. 

Only to walk into the Daycare the following week and discover it was already laying amongst their collection. 

You weren't returning it though, it was incredibly comfortable and you'd work so hard. So, merry early Christmas to you. 

Similar happened with the books you bought, the art supplies, the other plushies, and more. Everytime you thought you'd had it figured out, you'd either see the item amidst their belongings, or overhear them talking about it with the other helpers. 

It was both frustrating and validating that you were able to pick out all their favorite items like that .

Regardless, buying something was seemingly out of the question, meaning you needed to try your hand at making something instead. 

This, also had disastrous results. 

You could only blame yourself for none of these ideas working out. Your drive for perfectionism practically ruining every gift you crafted. If something wasn't good enough, you scrapped it. If you made something that was almost perfect, you'd accidently take it too far and ruin the present, thus being forced to scrap it. 

After burning, pricking, slicing, stabbing, scraping, gluing, and so many more painful things happening to your fingers, you determined that making a gift was also out of the question. 

Which, given that you only really had two options here, this was not good. Not to mention, you were also running out of things to give them as well. You list had been long and exhaustive, but it was still finite. 

You also had gone from three weeks to get a gift down to three days in the blink of an eye. You think you'd spent so much time fretting that initially, you'd only briefly noticed that both Sun and Moon had started getting more anxious themselves. 

Recently they'd been avoiding you. That included both speaking to you or even looking in your direction. When you confronted them directly yes, they'd be cordial and polite. Beyond that though, you could hardly get a word in to them without either attendant rushing off to do some task or the likes. 

It certainly didn't soothe your nerves any, that was for sure. 

The day of the gift exchange you're a mess. You try to not let it show, you still have to work do after all. Not to mention, it's also serving as the way to give all the kids their gifts for Christmas, so making sure that goes smoothly is of importance first and foremost. 

In the end, you decided the best thing to do was a bit of both in terms of ideas, dealing with the fact that they weren't exactly what you'd wanted to give them would just have to do. You settle on a 'collection' of gifts, coming to the conclusion that if you couldn't show you affection with quality, you would with quantity. 

You won't lie though, you feel a bit silly standing there with the comically large bag as kids run all over the place around you. 

You notice how everyone is pairing up to share their gift, everyone except you, that is. Strangely, the attendant is missing—

A tap on your shoulder alerts you to turn around. 

Moon with, Sun's rays? and one white eye looks down at you. Eclipse, you realize after a moment, which makes sense with the low lighting of the daycare, just the stringed red and green lights illuminating the area currently. 

"Hello, Starlight. Surprise, we're your Secret Santa." Their tone is soft, but on edge. 

You glance down to the package in their hands, and your eyes widen. "Oh... oh! I guess we um, got each other this year." You laugh, awkward. "Um, do you want to trade and open at the same time?"

They nod. 

"Okay, on three then."

You hand them your bag, and you take their gift, the paper crinkling in your shaky hands. 

"One..."

"Two..."

"Three."

You tear open the wrapping paper and are amazed to find a framed mosaic picture, consisting of you, Moon, and Sun. Each little individual piece of glass is so intricate and beautiful, you can't imagine the amount of time they must have spent on this. 

You put a hand up to your mouth, overwhelmed. "Oh, wow... You guys, this is—"

"—This is perfect." They say, in awe. "Absolutely perfect."

Glancing up, you see they're staring down into your bag the tissue paper long discarded. 

Eclipse sits down, pulling out each individual item, including but not limited to plushies, spare art supplies, a plant, and most importantly a small, shoddy attempt at drawing the two of them, along with a note. 

Your breath hitches as they scan it over, quickly looking up to you when they're done. 

"Do you like it—" You don't get to finish your sentence, as they take your hand and drag you down into their lap. You're pulled into a hug and before you can react they kiss you directly on the lips. 

You try again, dazed. "Is that a yes?"

"We can kiss you again if you want to be sure." They say, eyes narrow as their faceplate spins. 

You laugh outright. "In a minute. I'd like to say thank you first. This is, such a wonderful gift. I love it so much."

"We're glad. We'd been worried that you wouldn't."

"How could I not?" You hold it up again. "It's amazing. Better than anything I could have thought of. I'm just glad you liked mine, I've been worried sick all month."

They take both your hands in theirs, chuckling. "Seems like we all were anxious over nothing."

"Seems so, yeah."

You just stare at each other for a moment. Eclipse's rays clicking just slightly back and forth, eyes hooded. 

"Okay, you can kiss me again now."

They laugh, and close the distance between you. 

This Secret Santa thing wasn't so bad after all, in fact, it might've been the best thing to happen to you this Christmas. 

It certainly seemed that way. 

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you @lizyxml for the cute request! Needed something silly and cute to work on and this definitely delivered hehe

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[littlespacereader]

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!

[pearl-blue-musings]

oh, um. I was wondering if you could do this thing where the reader is Shinsou’s comfort character and stood up to him when he was being bullied and all the villain insults. I know it’s not much detail but it would be nice if you could do it! Thanks!

Oh my goodness of course anon!! I love this idea so much. I used a fem/afab reader!

Age 4

The doctor hands your mom and dad a couple pamphlets as they hold back tears. Sitting in your own chair, you kick your little legs and stare at your feet in confusion. The x-ray on the wall shows your bones. There’s nothing wrong with them, you think. And that’s the problem.

There was nothing special about you.

Your parents both had quirks so you thought you also would’ve been special like them. But you’re an anomaly. An outlier. The rest of the conversation is a bit of a blur to you. Your parents had hugged you tightly, and you know that you said that you still love them and they love you. But all that’s going through your growing brain is that you’re not normal.

That weekend, your mom takes you to a support group of quirkless or shunned quirks. Your grip on your mom’s hand is tight as she encourages you to meet some new friends. You glance around shyly, slowly realizing that no one from your daycare or school is here. You let go and trudge along, your little legs taking you to a corner with some coloring books. A boy nearby with distinguishable purple hair sits by himself, and so you proceed to sit next to him. He gives you a guarded look.

You wave and he curls in on himself. “Hi,” you start before you introduce yourself. “My mom told me to make friends here. So I said my name, what’s yours?”

The boy interlocks his fingers and swings his feet.

“Shinsou Hitoshi.”

Age 8

Lunch time was always the best part of the day. It meant you could hangout with Shinsou uninterrupted. The two of you, through the networking of your mothers, realized you live close by and began to walk to school together. The friendship was a bumpy start, but what’s a little girl to do?

“Did you watch the new ranger show last night? It was an All Might special!”

Shinsou nods next to you eagerly, his bento half eaten. His chubby cheeks are full of onigiri as he swallows. “It was so cool,” he emphasized, “but I’m still waiting for the day they talk about Eraserhead!”

You giggle and stick out your tongue. “That’s only because he’s similar to you!” You lightly tease him and keep eating your lunch. “Are you gonna be at the group meet?” You frown as he shakes his head. Since his quirk has developed he’s been avoiding the support group. Why? Does he not want to hang out anymore? They all like him there!

You’re about to respond when a group of girls come up to you and Shinsou. You recognize these girls as the popular ones in your grade with cool quirks to match. Suddenly you’ve lost your appetite. You try to close your bento box and lay down but they speak first.

“Ew,” the ring leader starts, “why is your bento box a hero? You know that you don’t have a quirk right? It should be something lame and boring- like you!” They all laugh around you, pointing and calling you a quirkless loser. You try to drown out their laughter as you shrink in on yourself.

Shinsou stands up and puts himself in between you and the girls. He extends his arms out wide to block them from you. There’s a determined anger in his eyes that many have never seen. “Why don’t you just leave her alone?”

“Because it’s easy-“

The girl stops mid sentence and walks away. That’s when it dawns on them that he had accidentally used his quirk. The other two girls stare at him and start to yell out. “You’re not supposed to use your quirk in class you freak! Undo it! We’re gonna tell the teacher!”

Shinsou blinks quickly as he looks between you and your bullies. He can feel his throat getting clogged up but he removes the brainwashing through the threat of tears. When he sits down, you place a hand on his shoulder and softly ask, “are you okay?”

He shrugs you off and lays his head down. The girls had already called the teacher and soon Shinsou was escorted out of class.

You didn’t see him for a few days.

Age 13

You were lucky to have been in the same class as Shinsou throughout middle school. It was a relief to have someone you know as opposed to having to introduce yourself as the quirkless girl. It was so rare to not have a quirk that you only talked with Shinsou, and some boy online who also was born without one.

It was lonely, but you still did your best to be a normal middle school girl.

You got the trendiest clothes, kept up your grades, stayed out of drama, performed well in sports clubs and music clubs, and best of all you stayed friends with Shinsou Hitoshi. Although your growth was more positive, Shinsou had grown colder. He tried not to be seen around you, would keep to himself more as you began to flourish, and started getting bullied more and more. He tried to keep it from you, knowing you have your own struggles. You didn’t want to press it, and so you kept your emotions about the whole thing to a light simmer.

When different hero high schools began to come to the schools, tension began to rise. Sure, he had a couple of other friends, but the two of you had always maintained a special bond. After the recruit from UA left, most of the chatter was about what they’ll do with their quirks and what kind of hero they’ll become.

“I’m gonna apply to UA.”

Several heads in the classroom turned toward Shinsou, all of them with similar expressions. The first to speak was the “jock” of the class. He walks over to his desk and grabs a hold of the sides. The way Shinsou’s back tenses tugs at your heart as you start to struggle with what to do.

“You? Be a hero? Get real! You have a brainwashing quirk. Only villains do that, and UA doesn’t produce world class villains.” The class around him laughs as Shinsou stares at him blankly. Your jaw drops and you grab at the hem of your skirt. Hitoshi had mentioned the villain thing before but seeing it in person is more cruel than you can take. The rest of the class laughs and jostle him, saying he’s better off applying for a villain academy.

The taunting gets worse and you can’t take it anymore. You aggressively push up and out of your seat. You position yourself between the jock and Shinsou’s desk, arms stretched out wide. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at the bully. “Leave him alone,” you demand. “He’s done nothing to you. Any of you! Anyone can be a hero!”

Another boy comes up next to the jock and stares you down with a smirk. “Oh look, the quirkless loser is standing up for him. Let me guess, he brainwashed you into being his friend?”

“No,” you quickly reply, “but it seems like you’ve been brainwashed into thinking your outfit is decent.”

Your arms start to shake from exhaustion as they stay extended. Your classmates laugh at your insult and it seems the whole thing is forgotten. When they step away, you finally put your hands down and walk back to your desk. Normally, you would have spoken with him but he couldn’t see you cry. Shinsou looks over his shoulder in attempts to get your attention, but doesn’t succeed. As the teacher returns, you ask to be excused for the restroom where you cried into your arms there. Even after all this time, you’re still an outcast.

A few minutes pass and you finally leave the bathroom. As you walk outside, you’re greeted by your long time friend. You pat your eyes quickly and croak out, “Toshi! What are you doing here?”

He smiles gently at you and gives you a warm yet quick hug. “I’m here to walk you back to class. I was worried… and I wanted to thank you. For you know standing up to them.”

You nod and walk with him. Your heartbeat calms down as you walk close together side by side. You take a deep breath as the classroom door approaches.

“I think you’re going to be a great hero.”

[flopsxii]

tokyo revengers boys with their crush (aka you! <3) part two!

feat. shiba hakkai, sano shinichiro, kurokawa izana, sanzu haruchiyo, kakucho, haitani ran, haitani rindou && ryusei satou

note: part two as promised! ;P enjoyyyy mwah

hakkai shiba

ꪆৎ hakkai is shy generally around people (especially pretty people), that’s a known fact. i think the easiest way for hakkai to gain an emotional attraction to someone is if he sees them often. so most likely a classmate he sees in passing, his friends sibling or yuzuha’s close friend.

ꪆৎ he would probably start gaining feelings if you persevered with trying to have a conversation with him! even more so if you gush over him and help him clean up his wounds. oh! and he also loves a compliment here and there regarding his outfits or appearance.

ꪆৎ he’d be very shy around you but would make the effort to talk to you and spend time with you nonetheless! he’d push his feelings of anxiety away as much as he can, he just can’t help it; he can’t pass up an opportunity to spend time with you.

ꪆৎ he gushes about you to mitsuya all the time! any small interaction you may share, mitsuya has heard all about it. if hakkai needs advise about anything in regards to you, his good friend is always there to help and lend an ear if he just wants to rant about how amazing you are!

ꪆৎ also is the type to have dreams about all the stuff he wishes he could say to you but feels too shy to do so. such as finally telling you about his feelings… about how special he thinks you are… how he wants to take you on one million dates and have endless conversations! however, the last one would probably take a while due to his shyness.

ꪆৎ he’d probably come out of his shell a little more if he was around you plus either yuzuha or mitsuya. if you guys are alone, good luck getting him to stop blushing and stuttering.

ꪆৎ probably would confess if mitsuya advised him to as he always listens to him. or he’d probably persuade yuzuha to let it ‘slip’ to you and see what you do with that information.

sano shinichiro

ꪆৎ shinichiro is the type to have a crush on either a friend or someone he likes from afar. of course, if it’s the latter, he’ll do anything to get closer to you and know you better personally and not on a surface level.

ꪆৎ he thinks he’s good at flirting with you, key word, thinks. however, every single time you end up laughing until your chest hurts and shinichiro is red faced with embarrassment with his arms folded, facing away from you. he’s glad he can bring you joy, even if it’s at the expense of his ego.

ꪆৎ he’s the type to always offer you rides… and if he sees you when he’s riding his motorcycle, he’ll always stop and try and convince you! the determination in his voice each time he asks is what makes you say yes. “y/n-chan! wait up! i have my spare helmet… i can give you a ride home… huh? of course, it’s no problem! i want to!”

ꪆৎ he adores it when you spend time with his siblings, it just makes his heart grow even fonder. it makes him just want to sweep you off your feet and pepper your face with kisses! if only you knew how he really felt.

ꪆৎ he’s also always turning up at your house spontaneously, with no proper reason (not that you minded). he’s always bounding with joy when you invite him inside to either watch movies or just talk. any time he spends with you is precious.

ꪆৎ as for confessing, shinichiro thinks you already know he has feelings for you. so when he asks you to finally go out on a date, it’s a shock when you ask, “you like me, shinichiro-kun?” watch how his face distorts to shock, then confusion, followed by a sad face before ranting about how he’s showed you so many signs and you just had to know!

kurokawa izana

ꪆৎ he’s very flirty, that’s for sure. even on the first time that the two of you met, izana made sure you knew how beautiful he found you and how he just has to get to know you! you found the gesture cute, even though you had no idea how deep his feelings would begin to form for you.

ꪆৎ he spends a lot of time with you, visiting different places and seeing new things. he even introduced you to his older brother, shinichiro; which is arguably a very large step for him.

ꪆৎ he loves complimenting you, naturally he wants you to know how he views you in his eyes. however, he can’t help but get mad at you if you say anything negative about yourself. even more so when you ask why he’s so worked up seeing as you weren’t insulting him directly (which to him, you absolutely are).

ꪆৎ one of the most protective boys. izana has been looking after you without you knowing for a long, long time. that time someone shoved you in a store when you were accidentally in their way? they were forced to deal with izana even if they didn’t even remember shoving you in the first place. he never hurts them too much though, he knows you’d never approve of an act of violence in your defense.

ꪆৎ izana is also the type to assume that your friendship has naturally progressed and that there’s a perfect time to casually confess his feelings. “don’t act so shocked, y/n-chan. you knew i liked you this whole time.” he’d almost purr whilst you looked absolutely bamboozled.

sanzu haruchiyo

ꪆৎ he crushes on you from a far for a while until he finds unbearable going on without speaking to you and building a bond with you.

ꪆৎ sanzu is probably the only one who will confess his interest in you straight away, seeing no need to waste time. he’s a little disappointed when you remind him that you don’t know him well enough to begin a relationship. but he’s happy to settle to getting to know you until that day comes.

ꪆৎ he’s fiercely loyal to you, as anyone can guess from his loyalty to mikey. he’s formed an untreatable bond with you and he’s sure he’ll never feel the same way about someone again.

ꪆৎ you’re also one of the only people to embrace his scars and encourage him to finally let the mask go that mucho suggested he started wearing. you’d remind him that scars are natural and beautiful in their own way. i also think anytime you compliment them, his heart would grow two sizes just because of you!

ꪆৎ he’s always showing up unannounced, wether you’re studying, working or just chilling at home. he will be doing the most to try get your attention and he won’t stop until he gets it. even if it’s you telling him to shut up and wait till you’re free. (you know he means well.)

ꪆৎ much like izana, he’s very protective over you. if he hears about anyone disrespecting you and even worse, laying hands on you, be assured they’ll get a beating from sanzu. you’d never find out, of course. he has to maintain that pretty image he has in your eyes.

ꪆৎ there’s no need to confess, you already knew sanzu’s intentions from the beginning. your whole friendship was mainly you getting to know sanzu and him waiting patiently for the way you finally accept his confession from so long ago!

kakucho

ꪆৎ he doesn’t have a lot of people in his life, aside from izana. so i think it would be easy for kakucho to gain feelings for anyone who sticks by his side for a long period of time and actually shows they care about him.

ꪆৎ he’s always bright and lively around you too! there’s never been a time where kakucho has weighed down conversations with deep topics, he’s always interested in you. even if you do try and ask what’s going on in his subconscious, he’ll gently steer you away from that topic. he would rather not ruin the light of his life with unnecessary past trauma. but he appreciates your interest in him nonetheless.

ꪆৎ kakucho is also the type to only let you touch his scar and explain exactly how and why he got it. he’s not ashamed of it, per say, it’s more he doesn’t feel the need to talk about it with anyone else except you; in other words, he trusts you.

ꪆৎ he accompanies you wherever you go at the weekend, occasionally izana will join too. however, he prefers it when it’s just the two of you so he can actually share meaningful conversations.

ꪆৎ you would also need to confess. he has the silly mindset that if he confessed, it would ruin your friendship and he’d lose you entirely. that just happens to be the one thing he can’t lose, other than izana. besides you two, he has nothing left. however, if you were to confess, he would accept you straight away with a charming smile on his face.

haitani ran

ꪆৎ it’s very obvious that ran has a crush on you. it’s not very often that either of the haitani brothers approach people with any other intent than violence. so when they see the elder brother being so gentle and kind towards one specific person, it’s a blatant smack in the face that you’re the one who stole his heart.

ꪆৎ he’s also never once raised his voice at you or threatened you. this is also a key indicator that ran has deeper feelings than just platonic. he knows he’s being too subtle with his feelings but he can’t find it in himself to care.

ꪆৎ he always takes you shopping at the weekend, it’s a weekly ritual and if for any reason, he can’t be there, rindou will step in. speaking of the younger brother, he’ll try his very hardest to get the two of you to be friends. he’d love nothing more than to spend quality time with his two favourite people.

ꪆৎ aside from himself, you’re the only one allowed to touch and braid his hair. when you questioned the intimacy of such an act, ran will simply say that you’re the only one who does it right; even though he’s capable of braiding it himself.

ꪆৎ ever since getting involved with ran, your life has gone smoothly. no one disrespects you, in fact people are so nice to you now! ran adores that he can make you happy even without you knowing it.

ꪆৎ he’d confess when the times right. there’s not a specific reason why he can’t do it at the moment, he’s just waiting for that one time where it’s a ‘now or never’ kind of moment.

haitani rindou

ꪆৎ unlike his brother, it’s difficult to even know if rindou likes you as a friend. he’ll act like you’re a nuisance to him, grumbling responses to your excited questions. however, it’s ran that convinces you to persevere with your ‘friendship’ with his brother.

ꪆৎ even if he doesn’t say much, rindou enjoys being in your presence. if you ask him for help or for advise, on the outside he’s whining about ‘why it had to be him’ but on the inside, his stomach is doing somersaults because you chose him to rely on!

ꪆৎ he’s also the type to overhear you say you need something to your friends and then within the next 30 minutes, he’ll turn up with it and give it to you without a word or get someone else to deliver it for him. only because he knows he won’t be able to contain his raging blush when you thank him profusely. he learnt this from the first time he spontaneously brought you a can of sparkling lime that you were so called “dying for”.

ꪆৎ much like his brother, he takes care of you from afar. he doesn’t want to be overbearing or annoying so he’ll do these quiet acts of kindness without your knowledge. think of it as an act of love!

ꪆৎ he doesn’t confess. ran either forces him or ran flat out tells you how rindou feels when his little brother is right next to him. his face is priceless, he’s unsure wether to be anxious at your reaction or to kill his brother. it’s a funny sight to behold!

ryusei satou

ꪆৎ he asks you out almost every single day. he promises you the earth, the moon, the stars and hell, even the entire universe! however, you tell him no everytime, reminding him you only started speaking a week ago. he doesn’t let the rejections deter him, though.

ꪆৎ he’s definitely the type to give you his jacket or jumper if you as much as shiver once. if you try remove it, watch ryusei forcibly keep it on you, a pout on his lips as he whines that you’re offending him.

ꪆৎ he’s always pulling little pranks on you. only harmless ones though just to make you smile! especially if you’re having an awful day and need a little pick me up. he’s always right there trying to make you smile.

ꪆৎ he also tells everyone that you’re his partner, even if you aren’t. he’s humbled when you correct him, “we aren’t dating, ryusei.” he’d wink at you before adding, “yet.”

ꪆৎ he also always tries to share his lunch with you, doing fake airplane noises as he raises his chopsticks to your mouth. you accept because it’s easier to do that then have your ears go mute from his complaining. you always found it so endearing that he cares about your health so much!

ꪆৎ seeing as ryusei tells you about his feelings everyday, there’s no need for a grand confession. instead when ryusei once again tells strangers that you’re his partner, he awaits for rejection once again. until one day, you agree with a small smile before wrapping your arms around his middle. this is the only day in ryusei’s life where he’s lost for words.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

For @crystallizsch - Yuusha x Jamil

So I wrote a self indulgent fic for myself of my OC x Canon feeding each other, and I loved the idea so much that it inspired me to write the same for my friend's OC x Canons! Starting with my friend Ian and their OC Yuusha (with Jamil lol ♡) Enjoy! ♡

Jamil stood at the stove, tonight's dinner simmering on the burner. He stirs it occasionally, getting the side dishes plated in between. His eyes glance towards the doorway as he hears someone enter, flicking back towards the stove as he turns the burner off. Yuusha approaches from his right, gazing over the different dishes he prepared. She stops by his side, looking into the pot as she makes a remark.

"So this is where you've been. Making... whatever this is..."

Her tone is teasing as she gestures towards the pot with her hand, a glint in her eye. She expects Jamil to correct her, to sigh and explain the dish while teasing her back. It was their routine, after all. And yet...

He takes the bowl he prepared for himself and scoops some of the food on his spoon, holding it near her mouth.

"Try it. I think you'll like it." I made it with you in mind, he thinks, smirking as their eyes meet. She stares for a moment before taking the spoon in her mouth, looking away as he moves it out.

"It's good..." She mumbles, looking up to see his smirk turn smug. Two could play at this game, she thought, waiting until they were seated before getting her revenge.

With her own bowl in hand, she asks, "Have you tried it yet?"

He hums, answering, "While I was cooking, yes."

"But not the finished dish?"

"No, not yet-" His voice cuts off as he stares across the table, Yuusha staring at him expectantly. Her arm is held out to his mouth, holding a spoon full of the completed meal he made. Her eyes sparkle as she throws his words back at him, a smug glint in her smile,

"Try it... I think you'll like it." ♡

Thank you! ♡

(And be prepared for a lot of Jamil ships with different versions of this scenario lol ♡)

[breitzbachbea]

FrUK also good in the Rake Courtship AU because literally all of Fran's former lovers, friends and acquaintances hate Arthur, literally EVERYONE would be on board with NOT making this happen, François is trying to make this arranged marriage with this stick-up-his-arse Englishman work ONLY to prove something to himself. No one is making him do it - at this point his parents are barely making him do it, but he is undeterrrrrred.

[prismaticsaltedink]

What the fuck did his friend lace it with?! If Terry's friend laced his marijuana to make THAT happen that dude was not a friend and if Terry didn't take him out he could have killed a bunch of people with tainted schwag. Good job Terry, that's karma in action. Make sure you bury the body under a dead dog.

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

lying face flat on the floor passed out, vatican trio and their "if i get news of you dying another time i'll fucking get you" and "please take care of my friend this time as well".

the way that their designs are both archetypes that suggest they're not super in touch with their emotions (aloof black-haired guy and airheaded jock) but they're in fact both so casual and vocal about how much tesilid means to them

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[midnight-mourning]

Uhh...DCA December thingy request! Unsure if it's just DCA or TSAMS, but if it's tsams, Nonverbal Sun AU. If it's DCA...I'll go think of an AU.

Cookie Crisis

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 13❄️❄️

Okay! did my best with this, have never watched TSAMS so tried to learn a little bit about the lore and did my best here haha, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: See above

Word Count: 1153

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It's a quiet morning in the Plex. Closed for the holidays, not even a human employee is around. Well, save for one. 

You stumble in from the cold, door shutting behind you with a quiet click. It's been snowing all morning, which made the drive a little more difficult than usual, but you managed. It's getting home that would be troublesome, as from what you understood it would be snowing from now until well after you leave again.

You feel yourself slowly start to warm up as you walk across the quiet atrium. There's a few lingering staffbots who don't pay you any mind as they go about their duties. It's honestly a nice change of pace after the hustle and bustle this place was filled with just yesterday. 

You weren't planning on coming in today, it just sort of happened, really. That, and Sun had messaged you asking for help. And who were you to turn down helping a friend?

Be it the stress from the holidays, or just their usual bickering being worse than usual, he and Sun had been at odds lately. And from what you understood, they weren't currently good terms. 

You remember when you left yesterday, how the two were sticking to opposite ends of the Daycare, not even sparing a passing glance at one another if they did change locations. It had worried you, of course. Besides it being the holidays, you know the brothers cared about each other, it was just difficult for them to express that sometimes. 

So, when Sun texted, expressing a desire to 'make up' with Moon, but not being entirely sure how to, you had just the idea. 

Despite being animatronics, the boys could eat, same as the rest of the bots. And Moon in particular especially enjoyed cookies, something about the sugary treat brought a light to his eyes and joy to his tone that would make you giggle. Anytime you made some, or brought them over from Chica's as a treat for the kids, several would be snatched up by the naptime attendant, instead. 

In fact, there would be times you'd bring him his own box exclusively just to try and salvage some for everyone else. Though, you think it only encouraged him further, rather than deter.

In order to make this work, however, you'd have to be sneaky. If Moon was aware of what you two were up to, it would firstly ruin the surprise, which would be no good. Secondly, he'd likely get flustered at the idea of you two making something for him, and may react negatively because of it. 

You wait until you're outside the Daycare doors before messaging the playtime attendant. 

'I'm here! Think you'll be able to get away?'

After a few seconds you're sent a response. 'Yup! He's busy with the supply closet right now :)'

'Perfect' You send back. 

Less than a minute later, Sun peeks out the door, sending you a wave. 

You wave back. "Hey! Ready to bake your heart out?"

Sun gives you a thumbs up, rays spinning rapidly. 

"Then let's go, I think we can commandeer the bakery's kitchen for a bit. May have to shoo away a staff bot or two though."

Sure enough, when you arrive there's a lone baking bot, hard at work on, something. You can't tell, all it's doing currently is sifting flour over and over again. 

Sun and yourself exchange a look, then he takes charge. 

With a few quick steps he strides over to the staff bot, takes it by the shoulders, and starts pushing leading it out of the kitchen. He waves it goodbye and shuts the door with a slam. Turning around, he claps his hands together, now waiting for you. 

You snort and shake your head. "Probably should have at least directed him to parts and services for maintenance."

Sun shrugs.

Baking is, more of a process than you had originally expected. Originally, you'd been under the impression that Sun had some background with it prior to today. You would have lost that bet, severely.

First, he dropped eggshells into the batter, not understanding that they're meant to be thrown away. After picking those out bit by bit, he added too much sugar, believing that sweeter was better always, something you had to explain would affect both the taste and the quality of the batter. And lastly, he set the oven to 475 F without your knowledge, meaning your first batch was burnt to a crisp. Honestly, you're lucky the fire alarm didn't go off. 

But, after a good bit of a learning curve, things got significantly better. And much more fun. 

At some point, you'd turn on the radio, and holiday music played in the air as you worked. The two of you danced and swayed a bit to the music as you cut out different shapes or spread icing and sprinkles across your goodies. 

You're mid-batch when a chuckle from near the doorway interrupts. 

"And just what are you two up to?"

You both startle, and looking over, see that Moon's leaning against the doorway. 

Sun stands frozen for a moment, and you tense as well. Considering this is probably the first interaction they've had in several days, you can't help but be worried for them. 

Then, the playtime attendant deflates, tossing the cookie he was decorating onto the counter, crossing his arms as he sulks. 

Moon tsks. "You should have done something with the chef bot, he was wandering around the atrium aimlessly for too long to not be suspicious."

"I told him we should have sent him downstairs!" You scowl, shaking your head. 

Moon steps forward, examining your handiwork. "You've been busy, but what's all this for? Are you having a holiday party and decided to enlist my brother for help?"

You shake your head. "Not quite. He actually asked for my help."

Moon pauses at this, looking over to Sun. He pauses his sulking, rays flicking nervously for a moment. Then, he picks up one of your finished cookie boxes, walking over and holding it out to the naptime attendant. 

"I, for me? Really?"

Sun nods, pressing the box into his brother's hands. 

Moon takes them finally, tone soft. "You... didn't have to do that."

Sun shakes his head then, putting both hands on the other bot's shoulders, hugs him. Moon takes a second, then using his free hand, wraps his arm around his brother, hugging back. 

When they pull apart again, they share a laugh. 

 "Thank you, I mean it." Moon turns to you, nodding. "And thank you too."

You smile. "Of course, and hey, now that he knows how to bake, you don't have to rely on just me anymore."

"Believe me, I'll be using that to my full advantage."

Sun's shoulders sag, causing both you and Moon to laugh. 

Who knew baking cookies could lead to such a sweet resolve?

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the request! Apologies for the inaccuracies but I hope you enjoyed regardless ^-^

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