#“Doesn't Make Him Less of a Miracle”
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"Doesn't Make Him Less of a Miracle"
(Fictober, Day 30)
Fictober's almost over, and I haven't tackled the very genre that lured me into fic in the first place: S9 AU.
*****
William took after his father in many ways: he was very bright, unnaturally articulate for his age, and immaculately opportunistic: a born-and-raised schemer (though said schemes were often undercut by his innate inability to lie believably-- which Mulder ribbed Scully about, mercilessly.) He was also an incredibly fast runner with a propensity to dive head-first into the nearest kerfuffle.
And Fox Mulder, the intelligent progenitor of this intelligent child, exploited that propensity to its fullest whenever he needed a few hours of unbroken concentration. Thus, Skippy’s Bouncy Castle and Ball Pit Stadium became the local haunt for the Mulder-Scully family’s operations.
Alternating his afternoons between sifting through poached documents and worming his way into various mummy or nanny groups, Mulder learned just as much about thumb sucking habits as he did the ever-changing factions and movements of the crumbled Consortium empire. It wasn't a leap to apply his hostage negotiation tactics to toddler tantrum mitigation; and, to his surprise, he seemed more popular outside of the Bureau than in it, constantly getting interrupted by a child or their guardian with yet another situation that needed diffusing.
But like all aspects in life, there were prices to be paid for peace; and little William Mulder-Scully chose closing time on an already hectic Monday to exact that price.
*****
“Willaaaaaaaaaaaaay!” Mulder dropped his hands out of their airhorn position, pivoting to watch, helplessly, as hordes of well-behaved, snot-nosed, and spit-curled children of all ages wobbled out after their parents. The very picture of the Rockwell American dream. Staff members were whipping out mops or picking up stray toys-- one particularly under-tipped teenager glowered at him from her post near the light switch-- and still William did not appear from the midst of the ball pit.
For a split second the old fear rushed irrationally back, cold sweat breaking out on his neck, "Fox!" clamoring in his mind-- but Will’s sudden outburst of giggles grounded him in reality, shook him involuntarily with relief. Deal with it another day. Annoyance at his unexpected fear-- and annoyed he was annoyed-- spurred Mulder into action.
"Will, outta the ball pit-- we gotta go pick up food.” ‘Pick up food’: the universal unspoken for quick-and-easy greasy garbage from the nearest burger joint. Another thing father and son had in common.
His precious miracle cackled. “Daddy, I’m a sea monster. You have to come hunt me.”
“Sir--”
Mulder jolted at the sudden, vicious tug on his sleeve. Light switch teenager, frosted lips curling even further downward, had somehow learned teleportation and wasted that ability by scaring the daylights out of him. “The ball pit's closed. Grab your kid and go.”
The ghosts of each and every one of Scully’s long-suffering eyerolls flashed through his mind; and he counted them, likely by tens, in an attempt to remain calm. Losing his cool exterior while hopped up on too many cups of coffee would only damage any potential future discount-- not to mention the years of ammunition Scully would have on him as their son inched slowly towards the plague of puberty.
“Yeah, just a minute, my--”
Losing interest in Light Switch Girl, Mulder covered the last few feet in a light jog, skidding across a wet patch on the floor but recovering his footing with a couple of hairy maneuvers.
Red ball, green ball, blue ball, green, green, blue, purple? Red, blue--
Red hair. The sea monster was just submerging on the other end of the pool, upgrading his chortles to belly laughter.
“William, we can play the sea monster game tomorrow, but we’ve got to leave now.” Mulder was pleased to note that his son’s head paused, recognizing that ‘William’ and ‘got to’ were a big deal compared to ‘Will’ and ‘gotta’. The head bobbed up and down, wavering between losing the battle with honor or fighting the war with outright rebellion.
Since logic seemed to be winning over wheedling-- a trait Scully would rib him over, mercilessly-- Mulder doubled down. “C’mon, Buddy, the workers have to clean up and go home. They want to eat, spend time with their families. …Watch a movie.” Well, a little wheedling wouldn't hurt.
The sea monster was drifting closer, his thoughtful Scully scowl and blue eyes rising above three green balls perfectly resembling algae-speckled rocks. What are the odds. “Is it… dirty in here, too?”
YES. “Yeah, Will, it’s pretty gross in there. Probably has a few cooties, too.”
His son may have had the genes of a scientist, but he hadn’t quite figured out the finer points of germ pathology. William breeched, fast, which gave his dad scant seconds of catch time before nearly faceplanting on the floor. “Cooties!” he chanted while wildly flinging his arms about, forcing Mulder the Triumphant to dodge a few accidental nose wallops.
Cooties really did come in handy.
“Sir--”
Great. Light Switch Girl was back.
“--your laptop and bag were moved to the front desk. If you could please grab them, we need to finish closing up.” She crossed her arms, sneered at his wiggling son, and began to brusquely tap her foot.
In moments like these, Mulder wondered why he bothered trying to save the planet.
“Thanks.” Readjusting Will-- who was attempting to climb, face first, down his back-- and offering an equally charming lip twitch of his own, Mulder skidded his retreat across the room, sorted and collected his things-- with the hand not currently grabbing his four-year old’s ankle-- and hoisted all of his belongings-- sea monster included-- over both shoulders before making his grunting exit.
“Willy, I think you’re getting too big to be able to lug around anymore. Soon you'll have to help drag me back to the car.”
Sea monsters and cooties forgotten, William puzzled this new idea while getting situated in his car seat. Mulder let him pursue it in silence-- another neat wrangling trick-- as he buckled, unbuckled, and rebuckled straps; then, since the gears were still turning in his son's head, he slid the bag onto the floor and slid himself into the front seat. The driver's safety belt was clicked into place when Will jerked upward, waving his hands and beaming at his father in the rearview mirror.
“It’s not me, it's the laptop! It becomes heavier every time you save another part of the world!”
Mulder chuffed a laugh, enamored with the flawless logic of the young and uneducated. “You’re too smart for your old man,” he assured, proudly.
“Can we get chicken?”
Just like that-- subject over and burgers out the window. “Sure, buddy. My treat.”
*****
Fighting Colonization, catching sea monsters, and hunting down KFC may not, exactly, be a day in the life of the average American family; but it certainly enabled him to strum up an interesting moral out of the Flukeman and its excitement to go home. On second thought, Will would probably be incentivized to try hitchhiking to the ocean himself.
Now there's something Scully and I can't take credit for: possible obsessions with sewer tanks.
Somehow, Mulder didn't think she'd like that, either.
*****
Thank you for reading~
Enjoy!
Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event
#txf#fic#Fictober#2023#Day 30#mine#“Doesn't Make Him Less of a Miracle”#AU#S9#William#Mulder#Jackson Van de Kamp#xf fanfic#xf fic
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Eddie's hanging out in Family Video during Steve and Robin's shift, just being a general nuisance, when it begins.
The other two are talking in low voices in the back corner, discussing something Eddie can't hear. Normally he'd get up and go over there, insert himself into the conversation, command their attention, but he's too busy judgmentally rifling through Family Video's paltry horror movie supply to care that much.
He sneaks a glance over, and then he sees it.
Steve presses a kiss to Robin's forehead.
Eddie has to drop the tape he's holding before he does something stupid like break it out of jealousy.
And he knows, okay, he's heard it no less than eight million times, they're platonic with a capital P. That doesn't stop the little green monster in his chest from rearing its head.
It doesn't stop there, either. Eddie starts to see Steve kiss the rest of the Party. Simple little forehead kisses and temple kisses and kisses on the crowns of their heads, like he's their parent, which, well, he is. He does it when Dustin needs comfort. He slings an arm around Lucas and pulls him close for a kiss on the temple when Lucas makes a particularly good shot for basketball. He does it to Max, on one of her bad days. He even does it to Mike absentmindedly, who makes a feral screech like an angry cat before everyone starts to laugh at him. And of course, he and Robin are always all over each other.
But he won't kiss Eddie.
It's stupid that he expects it. They don't know each other. Steve's been with this group, been saving them from monsters and scientists and torturers for forever.
Eddie still wants in on it. If only to indulge his pathetic little crush on the former King of Hawkins High.
One night, Steve hosts a movie night, and Dustin invites Eddie along. He goes, because of course he does, and takes a seat on the end of the couch as Steve puts in the tape.
Eddie immediately forgets what the movie is, because Steve sits down next to him. His entire brain is a fuzzy kind of static that only intensifies when Steve scoots closer.
"Sorry," is the first word Eddie registers out of Steve's mouth, and he hastily tries to collect his thoughts. Steve moves closer, which doesn't help.
He peers around Steve and sees the kids all trying to squish onto the couch. "Scoot over, Eddie!" Mike shouts, and Eddie moves as close as he can to the arm of the couch. Steve follows, arm around him and thighs pressed close together.
Okay, then. Eddie can die happily tonight, apparently.
Something jumps at the screen, and Steve flinches.
Eddie learns a new thing about Steve that night. Apparently, when Steve gets frightened, he pulls everyone within reach towards him, like he's trying to shield them with his body. Eddie finds himself hugged to Steve's chest and has to employ breathing exercises to get rid of his new little...problem.
He somehow makes it through the movie without spontaneously combusting, a feat nothing short of a miracle. The kids run to the kitchen and Eddie can hear Dustin pick up the phone and say, "Hello, Paulie's Pizza?"
Steve sighs and gets up. "I did not say they could order pizza," he grumbles. He extends his hand to Eddie, and after a second of bewildered staring, Eddie manages to grab it and pull himself to standing.
Robin's sitting on the couch still (she had been on the other side of Steve), and she watches this interaction with an unreadable expression on her face.
Well, unreadable to Eddie, anyway. Steve and Robin proceed to have an entire conversation with just facial expressions, and Eddie is left in the dark about it.
Steve finally rolls his eyes and stalks into the kitchen. He distracts Dustin with a kiss on the top of his head, then steals the phone. "Hi, yeah," he says, and Eddie recognizes that voice as his King-Steve-takes-what-he-wants voice. "No, that's right. Two medium pepperoni pizzas and a side of garlic knots, yep."
He listens, then says, "I'll be over to pick it up," then places the phone back on the receiver with a click.
"I'm going to get the food." he announces to the room at large. "Eddie, you coming?"
"Sure?" Eddie slings his leather jacket from the back of one of the kitchen table chairs and slides his sneakers on.
The drive is quiet. Multiple times, it looks like Steve wants to say something, but he never does. When the two of them walk in to get the pizza, Steve grabs both boxes. "Can you get the door, Eds?"
Eddie wants to tease him about the new nickname, but he chooses not to, opting instead to nod and say, "Sure thing, Stevie." He pulls open the glass door and says, with a mock bow and a grand gesture, "Your majesty."
Steve rolls his eyes. "Thanks." He (finally!!) goes to kiss Eddie.
However, Eddie is not as short as the kids (and Robin) who Steve normally does this to. Eddie's pretty sure the kiss is supposed to land on his forehead.
It lands on his mouth.
Pretty shoddy kiss, as it were. Mostly, Steve kisses the corner of Eddie's mouth.
Both of their faces burn red. If not for Steve's sports-playing, monster-killing reflexes, the pizzas would be on the ground right now.
"Sorry!" Steve says, hurrying out to his car and tossing the food in the backseat. "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking."
Eddie slides into the passenger seat. "Finally!" he says.
"What?"
Eddie rolls his eyes. "Steve, I've been the only one who you haven't been bestowing kisses upon for weeks now. Sorry if I'm excited to be included in the group."
Steve starts the car. "But...those are all platonic kisses."
Eddie scoffs. "What, and kissing me wouldn't be?"
Steve is silent.
"REALLY?" Eddie yells. "Wait, wait-" He leans over the center console. "Steve Harrington, if you wanted a kiss, a romantic kiss, you could have told me before cuddling with me all night!"
Steve sighs. "Fine. Eddie Munson, I'm going to kiss you romantically."
And he leans in.
Eddie's obsessed with the curve and dip of Steve's mouth against his. He greedily cups his hand against Steve's face, his other hand propped up against the center console. Steve tastes like the soda he was drinking earlier, mixed with something richer and deeper that's wholly, entirely Steve.
They break apart at a small crackle from Steve's inner pocket.
"Henderson," Steve says exasperatedly. "That kid is so damn impatient."
"Steve!" Dustin's voice comes from the walkie Steve pulls out. "Have you gotten the pizza yet?"
"Yes, you little shit, we're coming back now." Steve sighs. "Oh! Henderson, find Robin. Tell her it happened."
Eddie shoots Steve a confused look, but Steve just holds up a placating hand, a slight smile on his face.
"OH MY GOD STEVE!" comes Robin's voice on the walkie. "HELL YEAH!"
Steve cackles and leans back in to kiss Eddie, who happily accepts.
#truth be told i could have put this in the living hawkins au#but i like it better as its own thing#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steddie fic
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My miracle
Anthony Bridgerton x reader
summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good
warnings: mentions of death
“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”
“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”
Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.
His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs.
“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”
“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”
“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”
“Like you are giving birth?”
“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.”
“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.
She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”
“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”
"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.
It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."
But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.
"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"
"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.
"I'm not going anywhere!"
"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.
"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.
"Anthony..."
"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face.
The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.
With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.
"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."
"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."
"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.
On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.
Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.
And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.
It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.
Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.
"You have a daughter, Anthony."
He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."
"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."
Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.
"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.
The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.
"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."
"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.
"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.
Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.
Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."
"She is beautiful."
"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment.
He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.
#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x y/n#anthony bridgerton x you#Bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x female reader#anthony bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x y/n#collin bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton x wife reader
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I HOPE YOU STAY—GOJO SATORU
✎. he’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. it just sort of slipped out. | wc. 2.8k+
tags. fem!reader, grinding, unprotected sex, oral sex, some mutual pining (it's implied he doesn't know how to talk to reader), there is not a world where gojo isn't rich, fwb to lovers, jealousy, gagging on how very much in love gojo is with reader and she doesn't see it, praise kink, pet names [18+ only]
masterlist
You’re not sure how it all started.
(As how all arrangements like these seem to start.)
You remember calling Gojo on a night out with your coworkers—one too many cheap vodka cranberries in your system clouding your judgment—just as he left the office for the day, asking if he could pick you up from a shady nightclub downtown.
(You’d hardly been acquaintances, and there was a long period of time where you’re sure he only tolerated you for Shoko’s sake since she’s the one who dragged you into their group of friends. You’re always the last one he acknowledges in the room, and he seems to clam up when you’re alone together.
You refused to let it get to you. Especially when you only see him a handful of times every other month or so, although less now that you’re around, and you pretend it doesn’t eat at you.)
It’s still a mystery why you called him out of everyone you know—you had to scroll through an endless amount of contacts just to find a message you sent him months ago that he left on read with the express purpose of annoying you—and even more surprising that he answered.
You didn’t know him as well as Shoko, but maybe a secret hidden part of you knew he’d help if you were in a pinch.
“Hello?”
(He might be the most infuriating human you know, but he has a voice like rich bourbon.
He’s also stupidly attractive. Beautiful, even, with his straight nose, soft-looking mouth, and thick hair that adorably curls around his ears. However, you’d never say that to his face, for his head would get too big.)
“Do you think you could give me a ride?” It was almost a miracle that your words didn’t slur.
You half expected him to hang up, but then he asked for the address, and several minutes later, he pulled up to the curb in his shiny sports car that probably cost more than everything you own combined and watched you stumble into the soft-leather passenger seat.
It should be embarrassing how long it took you to buckle your seatbelt, but then you finally got a good look at him and took note of his expensive-looking suit: his tie slightly undone, shiny watch and cuff links glinting under the passing street lights, how his hair looked like he ran one of his bear paws for hands through it several times.
You think it was the first time you realized he was as tall as he was wide.
The quintessential businessman in a three-piece suit. You understand the appeal now.
(That je ne sais quoi that makes you want something out of reach. Why your friends from college ask if he’s single when all you see is a man who never takes anything seriously.)
He’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. It just sort of slipped out.
Gojo gave you a look that would have made you giggle if you weren’t serious. “What?”
“I want a kiss,” you told him again.
It was the little once-over he gave you afterward, the way he missed the exit to your street and took the one that led to his, how he kissed you until your knees were wobbly and weak, and you could barely walk to his door in your heels as he pressed small ones around your mouth while his fingers sunk into your hair.
(That. That—)
You came against his thigh—staining his Burberry suit while he whispered dirty things into your ear—right there in the hallway where anybody could see if he didn’t have the whole floor to himself.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned into your mouth once he had you in his room, his hands trailing up and down your sides until he found the zipper for your dress and tugged. "I can't believe this is really happening."
(Later, you spend a lot of time analyzing what he meant.)
You urged him toward the bed when he had the black slip of fabric pooling at your feet, dropping down to your knees in front of him, and together, you scrabbled at his pants, shoving them around his hips. You’ll never forget how hot and heavy he was in your hand that first time, how your fingers barely touched and looked so small in comparison.
There was a thick vein along the underside of his cock, and you trailed it with your tongue, going up and up until you took the slightly purpling head into your open mouth.
You kept taking more of him until you couldn’t go any further without gagging, which wasn’t far because he was big—possibly the biggest dick you’ve ever seen outside of porn—and it made you a little dizzy how quickly it robbed you of air.
“Holy shit.” He stroked your hair so softly, so sweetly, groaned things that made you preen and nuzzle into his touch. “You’re so good at this. You gonna let me cum down that throat?”
That made your belly flip—the fact that Gojo Satoru, of all people, called you good—a stone creating a current of new possibilities.
You hummed a muffled “Uh huh” and squeaked when he held your head down—the coarse hair at his pubic bone brushing against your nose—cumming down your throat in hot, heavy spurts, and you’re surprised you swallowed it all because it was a lot.
He fell back against the mattress, freeing you of his grip, arms spread wide and panting as he lay there with his eyes closed.
“Was it good?” you asked, licking away the small amount of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth.
That got him to pop his head up to look at you, a hint of something too soft on his face than you were used to from him. “Come here,” and he let you crawl into his lap.
A sigh escaped his lips as his hands hovered close to the side of your waist before letting them fall back against the mattress. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he mumbled after kissing your forehead.
(That’s how you think it started.)
~~~~~
Everything’s fine.
Perfectly fine before Gojo sits by you, casually planting himself between you and the newest member of your group of friends, Nanami. You roll your eyes at how childish he’s being, refusing to react to his blatant jealousy.
Then he inconspicuously rests his hand on your knee. You jump at first, and the few people sitting at the table with you glance at you curiously, including Gojo, who gives you a mischievous little smirk that can only mean trouble.
Again, you roll your eyes and choose to ignore whatever is going on in that lizard brain of his.
That doesn’t last long because he’s leaning across you to grab a handful of pretzels, only to lean in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he sinks back into his seat.
“You look so fucking good in this dress right now.” His voice already sounds hoarse, stretched thin—raw with want—and you inconspicuously rub your thighs together under the table. “Are you wearing what I bought you underneath? You’d show me, yeah?”
(Because he buys you things now—perfectly normal for someone you’re sleeping with who’s not your boyfriend, but maybe your friend—and sometimes you playfully call him Daddy when he has your wrists tied above your head with one of his silky ties.
And who cares if a few of your things and a toothbrush have found their way into his place? He lives closer to your job. Nobody can blame you for choosing convenience over a forty-minute ride through the subway.
Normal.)
Distantly, you’re aware that you aren’t alone, and there are several ears within earshot distance, but that doesn’t stop the little gasp that escapes past your lips.
“Satoru, knock it off.” You glance around the table to make sure no one is paying attention, your tensed shoulders relaxing a little when you find everyone too preoccupied with their own conversations.
Gojo already has acknowledged this, too.
“I bet you still taste just as sweet as you did this morning. You have no idea how much I want you. It’s making me hard just thinking about it.” At that, you peek down at his lap to find the prominent bulge pressing against his khaki pants.
“Oh?” voice soft when you finally tear your eyes away from his crotch to meet his heated gaze again.
“Mhm.”
Oh.
You can tell that he sees your walls cracking, that it would only take a few sweet words before you finally caved: “You’d let me have another taste, wouldn’t you?”
Your breath hitches because, yes, you would.
That’s how you find yourself with your thighs parted and one of your legs draped over his.
You bite your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape while the rough pad of his middle finger presses small circles over the top of your panties. His fingers tease, exploring the slick seam of you and retreating when you start arching your hips up into his touch.
It feels like you can’t breathe—or perhaps you’re too fearful to find out what other noises you’d make if you did—practically choking on the torturous (because that’s what this is) pleasure you’re receiving, and you’re ready to beg. You really are. However, you aren’t prepared to face the mortifying consequences if you happen to open your mouth.
Something that sounds a lot like, please, just waiting on the tip of your tongue.
It feels like every pair of eyes at that small table are on you, but they’re none the wiser to what is currently happening beneath the party-themed tablecloth, still laughing and mingling around the yard as they celebrate Geto’s birthday.
It’s not as if it’s all that obvious, either.
Gojo is turned away from you, currently in the middle of a discussion with the birthday boy himself. You have no clue what they were talking about because you’d stopped paying attention a while ago—not that you’d be able to listen if you wanted to with Gojo’s fingers turning every spun cotton candy thought back into melted sugar.
He traces lightly over the covered seam of your lips before finally slipping under the silky material—his skilled fingers working slippery circles at the apex of your thighs—and the subtle relief forces you to swallow another moan.
“Satoru,” you warn under your breath, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. But the feel of him patting your sticky, sensitive clit with three fingers cuts off all of your protests, forcing you to sit there and let him play with you.
Heat crawls up your neck as he explores your slick folds, the loud music, and chatter, thankfully hiding the wet sounds produced between your legs.
He does offer some mercy when he notices the slight quiver in your thighs, how they jump and jump until he stops teasing to press to fingers inside you and grind the heel of his palm into your clit. Your hips start rocking forward against his hand slightly, and you pray nobody notices because the heat spreading through your belly is almost too consuming to stop now, making you dizzy with it.
Your abs hurt from how hard they clench, and your legs shake, culminating in a slow drop just before you resurface. Gojo can probably feel it—attuned to your body after all these months—and starts moving in a steady rhythm, and—
The breath you’re about to take gets caught in your throat, fingers gripping Gojo’s wrist and the ledge of the table as you tip over the edge. Your legs tremble while you convulse onto his hand, and you have to lean into him to keep from falling out of your chair.
His fingers bring you back down, slowly, rubbing soothingly against your inner thigh as the fog gradually dissipates from your brain. And what you’d give to hear him call you his good girl at that moment—
“Hey, are you okay?” Shoko asks you from across the table. “You don’t look so good.”
All eyes turn towards you, including the smug little gleam in Gojo’s.
“Yeah,” you squeak before standing up hastily. You pull Gojo up with you, not caring that it’s the same hand covered in your sticky-wet slick. “I just remembered that I need Sa—Gojo’s help with something.”
Only a few are dumb enough to believe that lie, and you avoid the smirk Shoko gives you as she watches you practically drag Gojo toward the house.
(Because, of course, she knows.
And perhaps she’s not the only one.)
~~~~~
The tipping point in your relationship—the one that turns it from a maybe into a definite something, and not just two people who have been having sex and somewhat living together for six months—happens on a night Gojo comes home late from work.
(Exactly five minutes to eleven.)
You’re not usually the jealous type, but you’ll admit that dating someone like Gojo—rich, attractive, owns more Tom Ford suits than you have jeans, and just important enough that he has an assistant who runs said suits to the dry cleaners—can stir up some insecurities.
A more reasonable person would lay out the facts like a deck of cards: you know he’s someone’s boss’s boss, so he likely had to stay behind to fix someone else’s mess, but the proverbial chip onto the poker table comes with his new assistant.
Hinata.
A girl who’s fresh out of college and around him more hours of the day than you see him during the week, and from the few times you stopped by his office, you can tell she has a thing for him—her lack of subtlety could compete with Gojo’s nonexistent observation skills.
Much later, after you’ve slept on the softest sheets you’ve ever laid on, you’ll admit you overreacted. How you shouldn’t have thrown blankets and pillows at him from his bed for him to sleep on the couch with as soon as he walked through the front door—not to mention how you never give him a chance to explain himself and keep huffing whenever he opened his mouth.
After the second pillow (almost comically, if you weren’t so upset) hits him square in the face, he drops the blankets to grab your wrists.
“Would you stop throwing blankets at me and tell me what’s wrong?”
"Like you don't know," you hiss unhelpfully just to be difficult.
"I wouldn't be asking if I did." This time, his voice is softer when he says, "Talk to me."
"It’s your assistant."
He frowns. “My assistant…?”
“Yes, your assistant,” you huff, making an unsuccessful attempt to yank your wrists free. “She obviously has a thing for you, but you’re too thick to notice. You forgot your phone, and she answered and said you were busy...”
He probably sees the vulnerability on your face. Hears what you’re not telling him because he presses a kiss to your forehead—I’m not seeing anyone other than you—another to your mouth before he’s showing you with your thighs pressed to your chest that every piece of him (even the parts he doesn’t show to anyone else) is yours.
“You want me to send this video to her to let her know you’re the only girl I want to fuck?” he grunts, making sure his phone captures the way his cock pushes in and out of you, hissing dirtier things that only you hear—the tightest pussy he’s ever had. “Would you like that?”
“Y-yes,” you whine, fingernails digging into his hand wrapped around your throat. “Please, Toru. I want it.”
“So fucking dirty,” he growls, even though he’d do it for you anyway.
He stuffs his cock into you over and over again until you’re a twitching mess underneath him, the walls of your cunt clenching down around him as you cum with a squeak.
“There you go,” he groans into your ear, tossing his phone to the side to pin you against the mattress so he can reach that tender spot deep inside you that made you cum so hard once your foot cramped, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Is that what you needed? To make you cum because you’re mine? Fuck, baby—I’ll never get tired of this perfect little cunt.”
“Better not,” you whimper, eyelashes wet, squirming beneath him as he fucks you hard into the soft sheets.
“Never, sweetheart, never.” Gojo’s thrusts turn rough and brutal, almost working you into overstimulation just to prove a point. "You're my girl. The only one for me."
It's not quite an 'I love you,' but it's close.
Afterward, he pulls you between the sheets, holds you close with a hand cupping the back of your head, and asks you to stay.
“For good this time. No more leaving in the morning,” he whispers, lips grazing your cheek. “You like the walk-in closet and the clawfoot tub. We have enough room to turn the spare bedroom into an office for you because you like how sunny it gets in there during the day.”
It’s not a question, but you still say ‘I do’ because you really like how the word we sounds coming from him.
“Then…stay.”
…You say yes because it’s not as if you want to be anywhere else.
#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk fic
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You created a monster in me with underboss!Simon and now you must take responsibility.
Please feed my new addiction with relationship headcanons 😩😩😩. I love him and Shy!reader.
i've created so many monsters y'all gotta stop biting at my ankles or at least start paying rent or smth <3 also i'm still trying to work out a lot of the dynamics of the relationship between them so this is still a little bare boned but i hope you enjoy!
mafia!141 masterlist <3
warnings: mostly fluff :3 simon is a bit of a prick lol, fem!reader,
just in case anyone missed it, this is how underboss!Simon and shy!Reader meet <3
it takes a brutally long time for the two of you to start dating. a brutally long time.
and it isn't for lack of trying on Simon's end. he manages to get your number somehow (i hear Soap is very tech savvy...) and asks you out the week after the dinner at John's house, only for you to decline.
which is fine. he can take rejection. but this is... different. you're too kind when you say no. you're not saying it because you think you're too good for him, you're saying it because of something else, and Simon can tell the difference but can't exactly tell what it is.
it drives him nuts for a long time. you were supposed to be just another number in his phone for a booty call. he's used to getting pretty much anything he wants, after all, but even then it shouldn't have bugged him as much as it did. maybe it was because he liked the way you looked at him. not with disgust. not with some lustful intention. you were... soft. kind, even.
as for you? you think it's crazy how this 6'4", ripped, and kind guy showed interest in you. you, someone too anxious for her own good, someone who said no because it was less scary than committing to something. and you hate yourself for rejecting him.
so in an effort to stay close to him, you text him pretty often. you send him pictures of things you see or run into during your day. something funny at work, a cool rock you found in someone's garden, the spider that decided to make its home in your shower. and sweetheart, you have no idea what you're doing to the poor man ):
this goes on for a long while. just simon being a stupid man, not wanting to push your boundaries after you already rejected him, and you being too anxious to fix things and ask him yourself.
eventually, by some miracle (that i might write more about later because like i said BARE BONES) the two of you get together. and it's... interesting. simon isn't really used to dating. like properly. he's used to buttering a girl up, going back to her place for a quick fuck, and then only seeing her whenever either of them are too bored and horny to function. but with you it's nothing like that at all. there's no sex on the first date, not even a damn kiss, and he finds himself craving you more than ever because of it. wanting to be around you all the time, wanting to hear about your day.
man is fucking obsessed.
he treats you like a princess. he only ever really spent his money on stupid shit but now he can spend it on you! you never ask for anything, but god forbid if you express that anything, be it clothes or otherwise, looks cute because he will buy it for you, no matter how awkward you are at receiving gifts.
also! because he's so big and somewhat brutish, no one fucks with you when you're in public together. annoying kiosk clerks trying to aggressively sell you something? one look from him and they're gone. someone messed up your order but you're too anxious to ask them to fix it? he's advocating for you.
because of him, you find yourself growing less afraid and anxious of things. he teaches you how to be brave, and you teach him how to be soft. there's nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you <3
oh also btw he's in the mafia. he might have forgotten to mention that... hope that doesn't freak you out or anything. don't worry about the blood on his shirt or the bruises on his face or the cuts on his arms or... oh god you look like you're going to cry. it's nothing, sweetheart! promise! stop trying to take him to the hospital!
also, some sorta unrelated comments: i think shy!reader is def a hostess at a restaurant. i feel like simon would hang out at the restaurant too just to be around you. he'd also slip you a tip, even though you tell him you make hourly and don't depend on tips.
"consider it my way of saying thanks for sitting us at the table with the best view."
the view is you, btw.
AHHH i'm sorry this was such a mess? i have so many jumbled thoughts but i'm glad i was able to get some of them out and i hope they were somewhat enjoyable al;kdjf i'll be working on a short drabble/oneshot for him over the weekend, so i'm hoping that'll make up for this <3
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@bigskyandthecoldgun made this very big-brained post about the perfect miscommunication potential of Eddie's heart monitor betraying his feelings for Steve while he's recovering. @mostrizzaward asked me to write it and how could I say no to that :D
The first time Steve sets foot in Eddie's hospital room is terrifying. Eddie is as pale as a dead man. He has dozens of wires attached to his body, that are connected to just as many machines and monitors displaying complicated graphs, all softly beeping at varying intervals. Everyone in the room talks in soft, grave voices and all the nurses and doctors have matching serious frowns on their faces.
But what seemed to be impossible happens on a dreary Wednesday afternoon in April: Eddie opens his eyes for the very first time since he passed out in Dustin's arms. Steve is at work when that happens, but rushes to the hospital as soon as he can, and suddenly Eddie's room seems a lot less terrifying than before. Because Eddie is grinning at him from his bed, even though he's still pale and weak. He's not only alive, he's awake. It's a goddamn miracle. His wide grin is familiar despite the big scar that has marred his cheek. Fuck, Steve doesn't think he'll ever be able to put into words how much he missed that smile.
Eddie rasps his name as a greeting and Steve comes closer to the bed. But then, something weird happens.
The machines around Eddie's bed are still beeping, but there's less of them now. The electronic symphony of noises has been reduced to a duet of two different beep patterns that are clearly distinguishable from each other. And one of them speeds up rapidly when Steve leans over the bed in an awkwardly angled attempt to give Eddie a hug.
“You okay?” Steve asks, worried. He wonders if he should call for a nurse.
“Yeah, man,” Eddie mumbles. His eyes flash towards the monitor in question for a second and a blush creeps over his white cheeks. He seems ill at ease; Steve can't quite put his finger on it but there's something weirdly awkward about the whole thing. He seems otherwise fine, though, so Steve decides no nurses will be necessary.
He clears his throat and takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. For a moment, he wonders why he's even here. They weren't exactly friends before all of this happened. It would be perfectly normal for Eddie not to want him around – and yet here he is, visiting him in the hospital like it's the most normal thing in the world. What is he even doing here?
But then, Eddie starts talking about how his uncle was with him when he woke up and gave him this book he's been wanting to buy for ages.
“He cried, Steve, I've never seen him cry in my life, but he was bawling, I'm not kidding!”
Despite his animated tone, Eddie's voice is still weak and his eyes keep falling shut even while he is talking. Steve knows that he shouldn't overstay his welcome and let Eddie rest, but he finds himself too captivated in how alive Eddie is, even though his whole presence – his loud voice, his broad arm gestures, his expressive face – seems a little bit toned down. So when Eddie tells him with a vague gesture to his nightstand that he tried to read his new book, but found himself too tired to focus properly, Steve finds himself proposing to read it to Eddie before he even realizes what he's doing.
And then the weird thing happens again. Eddie starts smiling at the exact same time the heart monitor accelerates.
Steve chooses to pretend like he doesn't notice. Instead, he takes the book from the nightstand and flips it open on the first page. He starts reading aloud, but he can't really keep his attention on the words that come out of his own mouth. He can't help but feel like he made a mistake. Is the heart monitor signaling to him that his presence is making Eddie uncomfortable? Shouldn't he have left Eddie alone to rest when he started getting tired? Why the hell did he ever think it'd be a good idea to read to him in the first place? He's never been a good reader, and certainly not a performer like Eddie. So he awkwardly stumbles his way through the words on the pages, in no way able to keep up with the complicated plot and no doubt failing spectacularly in the use of voices and appropriately ominous pauses and whatnot. Whenever he glances up from the pages, he finds Eddie leaning into his pillow with his eyes closed and a faint smile around his lips, only to find out he's lost track of where he was when he directs his attention back to the book in his hands.
It doesn't take long until Eddie's breathing becomes audibly deeper and evens out. Steve softly closes the book. He allows himself a few moments to do nothing but stare at Eddie's face and be grateful for the absence of a breathing tube between his lips, showing that he's only sleeping this time. Then, he gets up and tiptoes out of the room.
***
The weird thing with the heart monitor keeps happening every time Steve visits Eddie. It happens when he greets him, when he starts reading to him, and especially whenever he helps him adjust his position in the bed he's still chained to. Every time they touch, every time Steve gets close to him in any way, like clockwork. And every time, it's paired with some kind of physical reaction on Eddie's part: a blush on his cheeks, a somewhat forced chuckle, or sometimes even a badly concealed flinch, away from where Steve's hands are touching Eddie.
Steve pretends not to notice it, for Eddie's sake, but it can only happen so many times before he has to face the clear and obvious truth here: his presence is making Eddie extremely uncomfortable.
One part of it still doesn't make sense, though: Eddie actually asks him to read to him or to help him sit up or lie down again, and the next thing he knows, Eddie will suddenly be avoiding his gaze and that goddamn heart monitor will make it sound like Eddie is trying to break a sprint record instead of lounging in his bed, and he'll recoil from Steve's touch like he doesn't want his hands anywhere around him.
Steve muses over Eddie's odd behavior for days before he comes to the only logical conclusion: Eddie is actually repulsed by him and is too polite to tell him the truth. It's the only explanation that makes sense. It's just like what Steve realized so clearly that first time after Eddie woke up: they weren't friends before this, so why should they be now? Steve has no business being at his bedside all of a sudden, and Eddie doesn't have the heart to be mean to him and spell that out for him.
He can't even blame Eddie for it. For most of the time they've known each other, Steve was a major asshole, everybody knows that. Sure, they're twenty now and Steve has moved past high school stereotypes when he got close to Robin, but still... Those stereotypes made up everything about who they were, how they were perceived and who they interacted with for four whole years of their lives – six even, in Eddie's case. Eddie doesn't have any reason to want to let that go like Steve did.
He would never admit it to anyone, but the conclusion he reaches breaks Steve's heart: he should stay away from Eddie. Eddie has every right not to like having Steve around and Steve certainly doesn't want to add to his discomfort. He has been through enough, Steve wouldn't want to make this whole long and painful process of recovery even worse for Eddie by imposing his unwanted presence on him.
It doesn't matter that Steve has started to look forward to his hospital visits like they're the very best part of his week. It doesn't matter that Steve's heart starts racing for whole other reasons than Eddie's whenever they're close, whenever they're touching or whenever Eddie is smiling that beautiful smile of his. It doesn't matter that Steve wants nothing more than to keep reading to Eddie even though he still doesn't have a clue what that stupid book is about. None of it matters, because that's simply the price one has to pay for being an asshole and a bully in high school.
It doesn't matter, because there are way worse things than the guy you've developed feelings for secretly harboring a grudge against you. He still has Robin, he still has his little nerds, he even has Nancy back; as a friend, this time, which is honestly better than things ever were between them. He has the knowledge that Eddie survived and will be getting better with each passing day. Maybe he can start dating again, find a cute girl with blue eyes and blonde hair who doesn't remind him of the one person he can't be around, and it'll all be fine again. It doesn't matter.
Update: there's now a sequel post :D
#truly the ultimate idiot4idiot couple#don't mind me rambling about stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#fanfic#fruity ficlet
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do you have any hcs of what the yan genshin boys would b like when darlings on her period?
i'm gonna rank them from best to worst when it comes to dealing with this . let's see how they do.
best
zhongli is on top of his game. it's like he was born for the sole purpose of pampering you when you're under the weather. he'll insist on you taking it easy, drinking soothing teas, eating nutritious meals, and taking medication for whichever symptoms are the most prominent. if he seems oddly content, it's because he is. he won't state it outright, but he wants to leave the impression that him being in the position to care for you like this is worth the sacrifice of some... freedom. he knows of herbs and remedies to help make the experience as painless as possible.
kazuha already dotes on you as if you were royalty. while he leads a rather transient lifestyle, he puts your travels on pause to ensure you're properly cared for. he's sweet to a degree that'd be condescending from anyone else, but because it's kazuha and it's completely genuine, you can't call him out on it. he'll lay your head down on his lap and softly recite poetry until you doze off. he might not know much about periods specifically, but he treats it as if you were injured and need to be nursed back to health. he makes you your favorite meals from ingredients foraged locally. considers it a privilege on his part to be able to care for you. warmth blossoms in his chest whenever you have no choice but to ask him for something, your pride temporarily discarded.
albedo knows when your period is about to start before it even crosses your mind. he calculates every phase of your cycle and writes the important dates down in a calendar. he's all about preemptive care, he'll give you some concoctions of his own making the night before your period is due to start so you don't even have to worry about cramp pain. if you've been particularly troublesome lately, he might withhold this miracle elixir until you butter him up. he doesn't come outright and tell you this either, you have to do some trial and error to discern the specifics. as an alchemist, anything to do with the functions necessary to create life greatly fascinate him.
childe has sisters, so he's roughly familiar with how unpleasant periods are. he'll grin and reassure you that a little blood has never frightened him. thinks you're the cutest thing ever when you have to rely on him more. he's happy to oblige and is surprisingly intuitive about requests you never state verbally. he makes the tastiest soups, the kind that warm you from head to toe with every bite. there's no use trying to pretend you don't like it because he knows. he calms down on his tendency to tease you, since in his view, it's never his intent to actively make you feel distraught (unless you've acted out in a way that puts you in danger).
cyno means well (probably) but can come off as a little overbearing. he's literally breathing down your neck and constantly reminding you that if you need anything, just say the word. he's carrying you around, bringing you meals in bed, running all over town to get that one snack he knows you love; he's nothing if not dedicated. the thought of you being uncomfortable, much less in pain, is unbearable. when you do fall asleep, he's peeking into the room every five or ten minutes. every time you get your period, should any blood get on the sheets, he'll look you dead in the eye and ask if you've gotten in a fight lately. when you don't laugh, he starts explaining the joke, so it's better to force a chuckle.
diluc is just awkward about it. he refers to it as 'your time of the month' but even choking those words out is a struggle. he considers it to be a very private occurrence and thinks it'd be polite to tiptoe around the subject, as if it were taboo. the staff at dawn winery make further accommodations for you — everything you could ever want is a ring away. he's normally skeptical about you going outside, but since you're under the weather, he'll grant your request. if you're observant, you'll notice he's more inclined to give into your whims during this time. just don't get too carried away or he'll say he knows what you're doing at pointblank.
scaramouche is mostly annoyed that you're going to be more cranky for a while. your attention is essentially his lifeblood, but when you don't feel well, you're focusing on that instead of him. kind of inconsiderate tbh. once asked dottore if there's a way to prevent this, but dropped the idea when the harbinger said 'it only requires a few organs to be removed.' scaramouche would prefer your organs remain as is. he'll sigh and huff about how lucky you are to have him while spoon-feeding you, despite the fact he secretly enjoys it. his words are a whopping 10% nicer until you start to feel better, something he is frequently reminding you of. when your period is finished, he keeps staring in your general direction, fully expecting you to trip over yourself to thank him for his benevolence. if being delusional is a game, then he's winning.
when it comes to xiao, he's not awful per se, but this is likely his first encounter with menstruation, so you have to explain everything about it. he gets a bit freaked out the first time you wake up to bloody sheets, although you wouldn't be able to tell unless you closely observe his body language. he's somewhat at a loss when you explain what you need during your period and probably doesn't grab all the right things. he makes you eat these awfully bitter herbs that are supposed to help with pain. also makes some watery tea but gives you such a hopeful look, you don't have the heart to complain about the taste.
worst
#yandere zhongli x reader#zhongli x reader#kazuha x reader#yandere kazuha x reader#yandere albedo x reader#albedo x reader#yandere cyno x reader#cyno x reader#childe x reader#yandere childe x reader#diluc x reader#yandere diluc x reader#yandere scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x reader#xiao x reader#yandere xiao x reader#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#my stuff#answered#Anonymous
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Hi! I just wanted to say how lovely and interesting you make your platonic radiostatic :)) I saw your stuff on TikTok and I’m loving seeing it here as well!
I see so much one-sided or romantic radiostatic, and while I love it all, this is by far my personal favorite depiction of their relationship. Your art makes them look like such cuties even while they’re two of the scariest demons in hell <3 my personal fav so far is Al laying with Vox while he recharges it’s just so cute!!!
If you don’t mind me poking your brain of it I’d love to hear more about your AU and headcannons! If you want to bounce off of something specific then I’d love to hear how the residents of the hotel think of Alastor and Vox and if they clump them together or think of them differently.
In any case I adore your art and hope to see more of it no matter the fandom!
I'm really glad you like it!!! I didn't expect it to get this reception at all as I was planning on it being something more along the lines of "Comfort" after seeing so much Angst content, so I'm genuinely glad so many people liked it!<33
As much as I like the ship I wasn't entirely sold on seeing it in a romantic or suggestive context; I rlly love that Alastor is respected as an individual Aroace (as a fellow Aroace lol) so seeing him in contexts of that sort were a bit ... demotivating??? So I wanted to create this Au of them being typical husbands but on a platonic way.
The residents of the hotel definitely have different opinions. On one side is Charlie who sees this as a great miracle, the two great entertainment representatives from hell, giving her hotel a chance! Especially when her relationship dances very well between the two of them; with Alastor there is "the voice of reason", the one who offers a solution and listens patiently and undaunted to whatever news she gives him, where she knows she will find an answer as Alastor chooses the pen over the sword; while with Vox there is the chaotic, where the sword is above the pen. He vocifies his opinions tactlessly and offers the less gentle, quicker and more effective ways. In him Charlie finds far more vivid emotions than Alastor would be willing to unveil.
Then there is Vaggie who is of course the most informed about these two and her concern is very much on the edge as she knows that the Media Demons are a couple that absolutely no one knows anything about beyond the false image they paint in their shows and the imminent danger these two represent.
Angel, Pentius and Cherry don't really have a strong opinion about them as they pass over or ignore them. Nifty is already more than familiar with both of them.
Husk (his relationship with Alastor is considerably "better", even though Al still owns his soul, than it is in canon as Alastor still owning his soul and having a faithful and warm companion with him for years, his personality is arguably somewhat more relaxed and patient than the original), like Nifty is already familiar with them so he doesn't give the matter much thought.
And Lucifer ofc is terrified that it's not just one but two Overlords who apparently want to steal his daughter.
I still have a lot of polishing to do on this Au as it's new but I want to slowly build it here as people can offer different points of view that can be explored ( ◜‿◝ )♡
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I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.
And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.
(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)
(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)
(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)
And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.
(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)
One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.
One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.
What happens next?
Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.
And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.
Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.
It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.
Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".
Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.
He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.
In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.
In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.
In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.
Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.
It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.
It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.
(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)
(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)
(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)
(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)
(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)
(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)
It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.
And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.
Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.
Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.
And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.
It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.
(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)
In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.
Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.
Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.
And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.
If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.
There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.
And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.
He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.
And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.
It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.
Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)
Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.
Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.
(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)
(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)
He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.
Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.
...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.
(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)
And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.
Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.
It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.
It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.
Damian is experienced.
Damian is a child.
Damian knows how to fight.
Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.
Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.
And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.
Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.
Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)
It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.
He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.
Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.
Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.
Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.
Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.
Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.
He only cries harder.
Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.
Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.
"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.
When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.
"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.
He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."
Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.
It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.
Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:
The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.
Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.
They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.
On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.
It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.
Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.
It was... quite the staring contest.
Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.
Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.
Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.
"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"
Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.
"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.
He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."
There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.
"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.
"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.
"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."
They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.
Batman is silently brooding.
Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."
Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.
He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.
"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.
Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."
Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"
"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."
Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.
"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."
(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)
"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.
"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."
(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)
Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.
"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."
Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.
(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)
Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."
Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.
Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.
....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."
(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)
Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."
From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.
However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.
Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.
The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.
Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.
("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."
Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"
"You'd be surprised."
"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")
When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.
His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.
Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.
He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.
"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."
The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.
His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.
#dpxdc#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#danny phantom au#dpdc danny fenton#i am incapable of making short posts it seems. heavy sigh#this post is open to add ons if anyone's interested 👉👈#this entire au is essentially the song 'Strange Sight' by KT Turnstall from the Tinkerbell and the Neverbeast#This post mostly goes into how danny and damian's relationship develops because i think that's the more important part of the au#also damian's like six i firmly believe he wouldn't know much english#no no he's learning arabic first and then english LATER. if he would ever even get there with the league#iirc all the damian clones liked Danny so i wanna explore how their relationship got to that point. Like what happened for Danny to get eve#getting one Damian clone to like him enough to go up to bat for him? that takes time and patience and i wanna explore that lol#danny's in his late teens here btw.#Clone Damian is a 7yo child and I'm writing him as such because its fun. I thought about having Clone Damian change his name but nothing fi#little clone damian is also A Tad Clingy. Danny is the First Person to have shown him a kindness and Damian Imprinted On Him Like a Duck#i love clone aus and clone aus love me#clone damian and danny are bROOOTHEERSS#i thought about making clone damian's name damon bc its close to the name damian but also i like the idea that clone damian keeps the--#original name and then makes it his own. something about taking the name you were given thats not really yours and MAKING it yours
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make a move {choi seungcheol}
pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader
prompt: 'i've never done this before' + 'i just want to please you' ((this work is part of my 1k event, go check out other works of mine here)
warnings: nsfw (minors, i'm looking at all of you, skip this work!), cheollie is whipped (duh, when have i ever written anything different), i'm striking again with a confident and forthcoming reader in here, fingering, handjob
seungcheol takes it slow. it's a miracle that you even agreed to be his girlfriend in the first place and he is not about to fuck it all up by rushing and making mistakes. he's a perfect gentleman, he prides himself in having a great selfcontrol and he's also absolutely terrified of messing up this chance of being with you, so. he takes it slow. his kisses never stray away from your lips and his hands are yet to map out every curve of your body cause he keeps them positioned strategically at your waist at all times. in those two months of dating he never stayed over at your place and never indicated that he wants to move things further, never pushed. all in all seungcheol is a perfect picture of someone who takes. it. slow. he's also a perfect picture of someone who's on the brink of losing his goddamn mind.
cause you don't exactly make it easy for him. part of seungcheol thinks that you're doing this on purpose, but another part doesn't want to believe in it. you can't be testing him on purpose, right? all those breathy sighs into the kiss, your fingers that caress his torso and then drop too low right next to his belt, you sitting on his lap and wiggling to get comfortable - you can't be that cruel, right? on any day he'd never think of you as anything less of an angel, but right now he is not sure. your simple 'help me pick an outfit for tonight's party' request sounded very innocent, but you closing the door and starting to undress right in front of him? sinful. devilish. seungcheol is losing his mind.
'i just need to freshen up,' you gesture towards the bathroom, taking off your hoodie. 'you can sit wherever, i'll take a quick shower and then we can choose, yeah? i want us to match!'
soft smile graces his features as he stares at your excited face. your desire to wear matching clothes is too cute and he is always ready to indulge you. 'sure babe, whatever you want.'
you smile, sending him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. seungcheol decidedly doesn't think of your state of nakedness right behind that door and turns around, getting himself comfortable on your bed. in truth, he doesn't really know how to...move forward. and the worst part is not like you asked him to take it slow. no, he decided so himself but lately seungcheol had a hard time remembering the reasons behind this decision. he'd wait for you as long as needed if you asked so, but when you didn't he is a bit at loss. his hands itch to explore your body, his lips long to kiss you all over and he doesn't know how to breach this subject. the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable but the more he thinks about it, the more thought of talking it out with you seems to be logical.
'babe, where's my phone?'
'right over he- oh!' seungcheol turns his head so quickly, he hears a loud crack of his neck. image of you wrapped only in a towel will not leave his mind anytime soon. 'sorry! sorry. um, i didn't mean to look, honestly. your phone is-' he reaches out and hands it to you, still turned around, '-here, yeah it's here.'
there's a silence and then he hears soft chuckle. 'cheollie, if i didn't want you to look, i would have wore clothes before going out.'
'right-right,' seungcheol lets out automatically before meaning behind your words fully sinks in. when it does, he whips his head back, staring at you dumbfounded. 'what?'
you smile at his confused face, stepping closer. 'you heard me, seungcheol. or i can repeat the whole walking out thing again if you want.'
silence. seungcheol is not sure how he is supposed to react. his brain shuts down for few seconds, taking few more seconds to restart but this time when he's silent is enough to make you feel insecure. he sees how smile slips up from your face, getting replaced with downward quirk of your lips and frown. he hates that but before his tongue can remember how words work, you mutter: 'hey, i didn't want to pressure, i was just kidding, sorry-'
'no-no!' seungcheol rushes out to say, fumbling with his words as he shots up from the bed to stand close to you. you look so fragile with your shoulders hunched and looking like he might reject you, which honestly is never an option and he needs to make it clear as a day to you. 'please don't apologise, i just blanked out on you in a moment.'
you look up to check whether thats true or not and then smile, raising your eyebrow in a flirtatious way. 'should i take it for a compliment that you blanked out seeing me half naked?'
seungcheol huffs, stepping a bit closer. his hands fall automatically on your hips and he smiles as you instantly sway closer. 'i didn't want to impose,' he explains, carefully choosing his words. 'you and i, we...we are taking it slow, so. i'm kind of-' seungcheol shakes his head, tightening his grip on your hips. it's hard to find words when you're smelling so good and your skin is still moist and- 'at loss, i guess.'
you chew on your bottom lip, thinking. 'why exactly are we taking it slow, cheollie? is this what you want? if that's what you want then of course i will respect. but if it's for my sake then i don't really care, to be honest. but if you don't want me-'
seungcheol roughly pulls you close, inhales floral scent of your shampoo and breathes out, trying to put words into sentences. he doesn't want to hear the end of your sentence, can't bear the thought of you feeling like this; he wants to be romantic, wants to sweep you off your feet, but only raw honesty is on his tongue when he whispers: 'i want you. so much. always, all the time.' when he opens his eyes, he makes eye contact with you, wanting you to know that he is not joking around. 'never doubt that, never.'
your eyes glaze over and you lick your lips nervously; this little action makes him swallow loudly. 'then...' you place your hands on his belt, looking up. 'make a move, cheol.'
a permission. a verbal one, when you're fully in your right mind - once seungcheol registers that, he has to take a deep breath. in a second he's overwhelmed with all of the options: where he can touch, kiss, seeing you naked, the positions - his fingers start to shake a little from realization that he is free to do it all. he doesn't know what to choose first simply because he wants to everything at once, immediately, god he waited so patiently-
'i've never done this before,' he hears you whisper. 'i mean-never been this forward.'
he hums, drawing soothing circles on your hips. your towel is really getting in the way and he gets bold enough to tug on it, letting the fabric fall down. it gets a hitch in breath from you and growing smirk from him in return. 'you being this forward,' he whispers, closing in so he's practically whispering in your mouth, 'is very, very sexy.'
in truth it does thing to him that are hard to explain, because whole blood rushes away from his brain and moves lower, making it hard to keep his composure. you're finally in his arms in the way that he wanted and to have you fully naked and him fully clothes is really too much for him to handle. you glance at him with a small smirk of your own, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. your chest presses to his and seungcheol locks his arms around you, fighting off his growing desire to throw you on the bed and have his way with you.
'you find me sexy?' you ask and he is so far gone, you really don't even have to try and be seductive, every move of yours captures his heart in a deadlock. 'what else?'
oh, this is a fantastic question, one that seungcheol is ready to answer even if you wake him up in the middle of the night. he leans in, starting to press kisses at each part of your face as he speaks: 'i find you sexy, yes. and absolutely irressistible, and stunning. so, so stunning. you're unreal.'
your giggle when he kisses up your neck makes him smile and he lets you go just to shrug off his jacket. 'i am real,' you assure him, not so subtly tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. then you suddenly look up, serious. 'what do you want to do?'
another brilliant question. seungcheol gathers you back in his arms once he took off his t-shirt. 'i just want to please you.'
and that's really it. in the bottom of it all is just his immense desire to please you, make you feel good. seungcheol is ready to make this his lifelong purpose, he hopes you are ready for it. at his reply your eyes twinkle and you lean in, brushing your lips over his ear: 'green light on everything, cheol.'
it's a mess from then on. one minute you two are standing in a hug and then he's between your legs, leaving kisses all over inside of your thighs while his fingers gently pry you open. if seungcheol could choose, he'd gladly die right here and now. in between your legs, getting to touch your body, hearing those sinful sounds leave your mouth - that's a good way to go. his own arousal pushes at his jeans in an uncomfortable manner, but it doesn't matter for him now. he is completely lost in your world, can spend hours right in this position, massaging supple and soft flesh of your thighs, pushing his fingers again and again in your velvety heat, leaving his little marks all over you. everything about you is addictive: your body, your taste, your sounds. he wants to memorize everything now, but realization that this is not his last time has him reeling this desire back; god, just the knowledge of him having so much time with you in the future has his knees buckling.
'seungcheol,' you keen at the of the third finger and he smiles, when you try to close your legs together.
he wants to see your face and he moves higher, trailing kisses wherever he can reach, stopping at your collarbones. you're breathing heavily and he slips down to give all of his attention to your chest, smirking at you groaning. he speeds up his fingers and his jaw slackens in awe when you start moving along, chasing your high with a loud whine, grabbing his bicep for support. 'fuck- yes, c'mon, use me, use my fingers, take what you want, love,' he lets out, eyes fixed on the way your hips move.
'oh my god,' your nails dig painfully into his skin. 'i'm- seungcheol, i need-'
seungcheol moves down swiftly, knowing exactly what you need. his lips close around the nub and he sucks in time with his fingers, making you cry out. your legs shake when you climax and whole body grows taut for few seconds before relaxing, sagging back into the bed. cheol works you through it, his lips and fingers serve a constant pressure in the right places, stopping only when you tug weakly at his hair. he grins, leaning down to lap up at your juices. your skin is glowing with light sheen of sweat and he wonders will you be disgusted or not if he licks it off.
'feeling okay?' he asks quietly, moving up until he's facing you.
your eyes focus on him after few moments and you smile, nodding. your hand reaches out to his belt and he catches it, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. 'what about you?' you ask, frowning.
'i'll take care of it,' he says. 'you are tired and don't even argue about it.'
you pout but don't argue - you are tired. this day has been dreadful and after an orgasm all you wanna do is just roll over and fall asleep. however, leaving him high and dry is not what you want, so you stubbornly reach out for his jeans, ignoring his groan of protest. 'handjob?' you ask, looking up at your boyfriend. 'blowjob?'
seungcheol curses under his breath; how can someone look so cute when these kind of words leave their mouth? he sighs, pulling you in and whispering into your hair: 'handjob.'
honestly, he's so pent up that even few strokes from you will do it but he tries to hold on, not wanting to leave a bad impression. so he grits his teeth and tries to think unsexy thoughts when you caress his shaft slowly before picking up your speed. he's trying to be quiet but you lean on and start kissing him and oh, he is a weak, weak man. seungcheol moans loudly into your mouth when you apply more pressure and pants openly as his stomach tightens from all the feelings. 'let go,' you whisper - command? - into his ear and he follows your order easily like it's the most natural thing in the world. you swallow up all his sounds with a kiss and his midn blissfully drifts in and out until he comes back to reality, when you reach out behind him for a tissue.
'shower?' you ask, looking at him with a warm smile.
'and a nap,' seungcheol nods. 'want me to go first and fix the temperature?'
seungcheol wants nothing more than to lay here and fall asleep with you, but he knows how you hate sweat and how you hate cold water and having to wait for it to warm up, so his want will hav to wait. you nod gratefully, smiling at how well he knows you. 'yes please.'
'how polite,' cheol snickers but stands up, tucking his jeans away and rushing to the bathroom. he stands there for a while, waiting for water to warm up and then grabs two new towels before calling you in. 'all is ready, your highness, please do come in.'
your laugh makes his heart beat louder in his chest and he sighs in satisfaction when you drop a kiss at his forehead before going in. this evening turned out to be something else and he's never been more glad of it.
a/n: so.many.feelings in this smut, this got out of control when i started writing it. let me know what you think - nini
tagging @prpldahy
#seventeen smut#svt smut#seventeen imagine#seventeen fic#seungcheol smut#choi seungcheol#seventeen seungcheol#svt seungcheol#scoups scenarios#seventeen scoups#seventeen scenario#scoups#svt scoups#seventeen x reader#seungcheol imagine#seventeen reaction#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#GOD IT IS FINALLY FINISHED WHOA#i havent written smut in such a long time i feel like i am incapable of writing a good one#sorry if this too..idk mushy and not much action#but also...have you read my other works i think you knew not to expect soemthign hardcore
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I love the idea of Richie always making fun of how sweet carmy is to you but he litterally can't help it because he's so in love with you so he just blushes and tells Richie to fuck off
Lovesick puppy
He can't help it, poor guy. He just loves you and it just happens. Holding the door open for you. Always stopping to listen to what you have to say. Shrugging off his jacket to wrap it over your shoulders. Making your food even during rush hours. But then it's the way Carmen can't help but bring you into any and every conversation. "Oh, but Y/N said", and "Y/N.. we could just call her, she knows".
And Richie he clocked onto that so fast. And he's so happy that his cousin has finally found the one. He too knows that lovesick puppy look. He catches the way Carmen looks at you when you're not watching or when you speak. He's captivated as if all the world's miracles are now in front of him. As if there's nothing else around him but you.
But he's Richie so he has to... You know, a must to tease. It starts with him just pointing out every time Carmy is lost admiring you. He would come up to him, brushing a napkin onto Carmen's chin, "You're drooling, man", and Camren would snatch the napkin, flipping him off. Then it's the, "Oh, you won't say anything else? You won't mention Y/N?" when Carmen doesn't say your name in a conversation he is having with Richie or someone else. Checking Carmen's temperature when he doesn't lean to smile at his phone for longer than ten minutes, "Fuck off, Richie", Carmen growls.
But baby boy is just so in love he simply can't help it. Every part of him craves you. He feels the most himself when he's around you. So yeah, he is smiling as bright as the Christmas tree when you walk through the restaurant door later at night. And yes, he's dropping whatever he's been doing just so he could wrap you up in a hug and kiss your lips a couple of times. Enjoying the giddy, bubbly feeling in his stomach.
"Happy to report that he only mentioned you 78 times today, five times less than yesterday", Richie calls out already smirking. Carmy's grip on you tightens but you only laugh, "Dangit... Are you feeling out of love with me??", you cup Carmy's face, giggling. He shakes his head in disbelief. "I've missed you", Carmy whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. You look up at him smiling, "Missed you two, bear".
"Use protection, kids, surprise conception is a real thing", Richie shouts. "Oh, fuck off, for real", Carmen barks back, only causing Richie to laugh harder. "Ignore him, he's not getting any", Carmen shakes his head but before you can answer Richie's voice booms through the place again, "Heard that and just to be clear. You're getting too much because you're as soft as a fucking buttercream frosting, cousin".
#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#the bear tv show#the bear x reader#the bear imagine
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your giyuu scenario was so good!! <3 i saw that asks were open, so if you don't mind, i would love some more nsfw giyuu content. ;w; i don't have any specific ideas, so whatever is fine with me. i just cannot get enough of him lmao
MORE GIYUU! 💦
I wanted to try writing from his POV so I hope this is okay. It follows on directly from the onsen piece which is here ⬇️
Very NSFW under the cut. Jerking off, accidentally edging, overstimulation, giving Giyuu a BJ and a LOT of whimpering.
This was fun!
BATHING WITH GIYUU- Part 2 💦
You've always been good at relieving Giyuu's tension. Your laughter makes his soul feel a little lighter, and you're never actually laughing at him, which is in itself refreshing.
That's why he may or may not have specifically requested Master Ubuyashiki send you to accompany him on his last few missions. That and you're capable, strong, and, if he's honest… you make his heart feel a little warmer. And he likes your smile. He likes it a lot, actually.
The onsen incident was mortifying but you don't seem bothered by it, which is a miracle to him. He thought for sure you'd scream and call him a pervert.
He grits his teeth as he stands in the room the two of you will share for the night. You two regularly sleep around the same campfire and this should feel no different. Except it does, and Giyuu can't quite put a finger on why.
He's a mess, he knows he is. He had been painfully hard just at the sight of you in a yukata, knowing you had nothing on beneath it. The fact that you got into the hot spring with him, naked, was almost too much.
And you're still outside, soaking in the spring… still naked…
His chest tightens and he slides his futon a little further from yours and tried to ignore his still hard, still aching cock. But even standing, his yukata is tenting.
Jaw clenching, he sighs. He can't walk around hard the whole evening… the second you get out of the onsen and walk into the room you're going to notice it.
Glancing outside to make sure you're still soaking in the hot spring and he has time to take care of his situation, his breath catches in his throat. There you are, relaxed, resting your head back against the rocks, eyes closed in a state of pure bliss… and raised up enough that he can see the tops of your breasts again, wet and flushed from the warm bath.
His hand is around his cock before he can stop himself.
He turns away, cheeks burning as he strokes himself, his grip tight and his pace brutal. He needs to get this over with fast. It somehow makes it less shameful in his mind if he keeps his back to you. There's a small mirror hanging low on the wall which is meant to be knelt in front of, but it gives him a perfect view of his cock in his fist.
A grunt escapes his tightly pressed lips as his pleasure increases and a pressure builds at the base of his cock. He reaches his left hand into the opening of his yukata and strokes his nipple as he keeps jerking his dick. His eyes close, his lips curl into a snarl as he keeps up the brutal pace.
"Need some help?"
His heart lunges as he hears your voice at his back and he tries to cover himself. There's nothing he can say, no way of getting out of this— wait, what?
"Help?" He doesn't even dare to turn around.
Goosebumps pebble across his skin as you walk closer
"Yeah," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "Do you want it?"
His mind is firing off a million feelings a second, a tangled mess of wants, desires, embarrassment… and one which pushes to the front, giving him a moment's courage.
He nods.
His breath catches as your hand reaches around him, into the opening of his yukata and closes around his cock. He has to lean back against you to stop his knees buckling as a breathy moan escapes him.
His eyes go to that low-down mirror, watching as your hand strokes his dick; your grip softer, slower, and gentler than he ever does it. In fact you're so soft and gentle after his brutal, numbing strokes, he's fairly sure he's not going to cum. But just the sensation of having your hands on him is… it's bliss. And it's really happening.
You slide your thumb up and down over his slit, spreading his precum and making him gasp.
"Lie down, Giyuu," you whisper in his ear. "Let me take care of you."
A startled grunt emerges from him but he does as you ask, lying back on the futon as you lower yourself to kneel between his knees. His brain isn't quite caught up yet when you first wrap your lips around his cock and a choked whimper bursts from his lips.
His cheeks are glowing red as he puts his head back and covers his eyes with his forearm. Nothing, nothing has ever felt as good as your hot, wet tongue licking the underside of his throbbing cock. All his hashira training, all his breathing techniques and meditative composure goes out the window as he bucks his hips and thrusts into your mouth.
"Ngggh…" *he grits his teeth as his toes curl. "More. More."
You oblige. It goes on and on and on, your tongue swirling around his aching cock as he gasps and tries to stifle his moans with the back of his hand.
God, if only he hadn't jerked his dick so brutally, he would've cum by now, but he's somehow managed to accidentally turn this into an excruciatingly delicious edging session because the world can't give the poor man a goddam break.
You take him as deep as you can, sucking and licking his cock, caressing his balls and he still can't cum. He digs his heels into the futon, hearing the fabric tear a little as his muscles tense, seeking release.
"P-please. Don't stop."
He tries everything, bucking up into your mouth to set the pace, but you only put your arm over his hips and hold him down. The entire bathhouse can probably hear his whimpers now. For a man who doesn't talk much, he definitely makes up for it.
He whines when you have to give your jaw a break and you switch to using your hands instead. It's torture and he loves it. The head of his cock is dark and aching against your soft hands and he watches you with heavy, broken breaths. You're not trying to edge him, but he's so close and so painfully far.
Every breath is ragged now and accompanied by a desperate moan as you keep stroking him softly. His cheeks and chest are pink and gleaming with sweat.
"Don't stop. Don't… please… keep… nggh…" he's finally close. So close. His lip curls, baring his teeth as he reaches down and puts his hands around yours, keeping them still as his legs shake and his cock finally, finally spurts. "Ohh~ ffff–"
He lays there, panting for breath as the world comes back into focus and he realizes what just happened. His eyes widen before he looks down his body at you. You're both still holding his cock, and that smile of yours, which has always been so comforting to him, plays across your lips. And as always, your smile coaxes out his own.
#demon slayer giyuu#giyuu smut#giyuu x y/n#kimetsu no yaiba tomioka#tomioka giyū#tomioka giyu x reader#giyuu x you#kimetsu giyuu#giyuu tomioka
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teen!megumi ★ megumi can't help being jealous when he sees you talking to noritoshi kamo.
With the Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event and the return of Itadori Yuji, Megumi hardly had time to talk to you. Not to mention the fact that he had hardly seen you since your third year had been suspended and the elders had taken the opportunity to fill you up with missions all over Japan. However, since it was the Goodwill Event, you were able to free yourself from the day's missions to accompany and help with whatever was needed ⸻ even though your students couldn't participate in this year's event.
And Megumi hoped to find you before the first activity of the day. Maybe you were walking around or helping to prepare something for the day's event, or maybe you were accompanied by Shoko, your best friend, or even Utahime, your senpai, whom you didn't see so often because of the distance. Or maybe Gojo had already found you and stuck to you like a magnet. The only thing Megumi hadn't expected was to see you accompanied by Noritoshi Kamo.
And he certainly didn't expect to feel a tightening in his chest when he saw the two of you interacting.
You and Noritoshi were from the same clan, the same family. You had similar abilities and maybe even more in common than just blood and lineage. Noritoshi had more in common with you than Megumi ever would and that bothered him.
Fushiguro didn't know why it bothered him to see you next to Noritoshi, he didn't know why your gentle smile towards the other Kamo affected him as much as it did at that moment. He had never felt that way before and he certainly didn't want to feel that tightness in his chest again so soon.
He watched as Noritoshi bowed to you with a slight smile on his face and went on his way, leaving you alone to go back on your way.
"Megumi." You smiled in his direction and moved closer to give him a firm hug. "I know you moved into the dorm, but that doesn't stop you from going home. You know that, don't you?"
Home.
As a child, Megumi didn't believe that he would one day feel comfortable enough to call a place home until he was taken into your arms. In a way, he understood why Gojo had fought tirelessly to win you over. You were like a saint sent to earth to help lost and desolate souls ⸻ and Megumi and Gojo were no exception to those lost souls. Perhaps the only thing that distinguished you from Megumi's biological mother was blood, but blood isn't always what defines a real family. And by what he considered a miracle, Megumi had found a family. Together with Tsumiki, you (and Gojo) were his family.
"Gumi..." You put your hands on his shoulders and looked worriedly at the boy in front of you, "Are you okay? Are you alright?"
"Can we have ice cream when this is all over?"
"Of course we can. We can go to that ice cream parlor that sells handcrafted ice cream!" You smiled excitedly, "But first you have to win an event." You hugged Megumi tightly and the boy returned the gesture with the same intensity. "But remember, no matter what the result, you will always make me proud!"
"Thanks, Mom." Megumi broke off the hug and smiled weakly in your direction.
Maybe Megumi didn't have to worry about Noritoshi Kamo and even less about the bad feeling he got when he saw the two of you. After all, it was Megumi Fushiguro who was your greatest pride.
© SEONGHRTZ, 2023ㅤ⸻ㅤall rights reserved. please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !
#五条悟ㅤ͏✷ㅤ𝑚. ͏𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝄒#☆ . . seonghrtz !!#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk gojo#jjk megumi#gojo x reader
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Based on this ask. Your faves + your skincare regimen = shenanigans.
Price - Didn't realize his skin needed some tender loving care until you did your regimen and his skin was soft to the touch afterward. You also took the time to pinch and kiss his chonky cheeks and tease him about his babyface which actually made him blush. D'aww.
Gaz - You went to put your products up and left Gaz to sit with a face mask on in the living room. You turned around and there he was right behind you. When the fu—"KYLE!" He's fucking wheezing. "Got you good, huh?" You refused to admit that he scared you but... he scared you, dear. That's your ass, Gaz!
Alex Keller - Is the one wearing the really cute spa headband while you're working on his skin. And watching TV more than likely.
Farah - Farah thinks the minutes spent on skincare is time taken away from procuring resources so it was a bit of a battle to get her to agree. Once she does (she seems almost shy when you pamper her so), Farah realizes just how much she really needed the break and you two are lovey-dovey afterward.
Soap - The one who's ALL THE WAY into it. Got the matching bathrobes and everything for the occasion so he's boytoy'd the fuck up now! Soap will also flash you his slutty shoulder and collarbone while wearing his robe for shits and giggles. And because he wants to seduce you.
Ghost - Is introduced to the world of double cleansing. The one who scrunches his nose up because it's sensitive and he keeps sneezing every time you accidentally brush against it. You end his regimen with some eye masks and he swears, the things he does for fucking love. Then you massaged the moisturizer into his face and he nearly bust the biggest fucking nut.
Roach - Is the perfect guinea pig because your ministrations on his skin are making him sleepy. Falls asleep with the facemask on.
Keegan - Would be the perfect guinea pig if he weren't internally screaming and trying to convince himself that everything will be alright in the end. His eyes may or may not be comically wide. Also bears witness to the miracles of double cleansing.
Alejandro - Is the one who's multi-tasking and doing work while you work your magic on his skin.
Rudy - The one who reciprocates and does your routine on you afterward. Shit, no wonder everyone loves him so much.
König - Actually did bust the biggest fucking nut when you massaged his face.
Horangi - Allows you to do your skincare routine on him but he has you straddling his lap and those hands of his are working their magic on your hips.
Graves - Graves is the one who doesn't see a need for it because, per his words, his face gets "enough moisture from being between your legs". PHILLIP, PLEASE—
Valeria - Why yes, go ahead and pamper her. She expects nothing less.
#call of duty#call of duty ghosts#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x reader#call of duty x black reader#x black reader#task force 141#los vaqueros#kortac#shadow company#john price x reader#gaz x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#farah karim x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#alejandro vargas x reader#rodolfo rudy parra x reader#phillip graves x reader#valeria garza x reader#könig x reader#konig x reader#horangi x reader#alex keller x reader#roach x reader#keegan russ x reader#cod x you#cod x reader#cod x black reader#call of duty x you
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physical therapy part 4
--
It takes some time, but finally, Dream's hand starts to feel better when he's painting. Granted, his grip strength still needs some work, and he's had to adjust the way he holds a brush to accommodate the lingering stiffness he gets in some of his fingers, but he's finding it hard to care when a few months ago he couldn't draw a straight line without it turning into a scribble. He'd known Hob was good at his job, but it still feels like a miracle.
The only downside is that once he makes enough progress Hob will surely decide to end their sessions. And while he had said that he liked Dream, that he cared about Dream... Dream is finding it hard to feel assured of those feelings. Someone's feelings can change on a dime, and it's impossible to predict.
But finally the day does come when Hob deems him progressed enough to simply continue his exercises at home. "At this point I think you've regained enough mobility that it's just a matter of gradually increasing how much you're using your hand," he says. "You've made a ton of progress."
"Have I?" Dream is less sure. Some things are certainly easier now, like doing tasks around the house, and picking things up. Art is another matter. Though perhaps he is simply making excuses because he doesn't want to stop seeing Hob.
"Yeah, look." Hob pulls out a folder from amongst his files, and shows Dream several sketches--the ones Dream's made in session, which he's apparently kept. Dream picks up the oldest sketch, the cats he'd doodled at his first appointment. They're shaky and uneven, like something he might have drawn when he was barely four. He supposes he can't deny the progress since then. He's torn between wanting to tear the drawing up, for it's too wretched a reminder--and wanting to hold it close to his chest.
"It's not that I think there's no more room for improvement, or anything," Hob says. "I just don't think continuing these frequent sessions is going to offer more than a marginal benefit."
Dream thinks that the benefit he is receiving at this point is more in being able to look forward to seeing Hob each week, than the physical therapy itself. He needs something to look forward to. He's put Hob's objectively terrible finger painting on his fridge. It's still the only spot of color in his empty flat. He needs that.
"So," Hob continues, "I thought I'd take you out to celebrate."
That pulls Dream from his head. "You... will?"
Hob winks at him. "Promised you, didn't I?"
Yes. Dream supposes he had promised that if Dream's feelings held true Hob would act on them. Is that what he's doing? Dream's growing disappointment swiftly morphs into something else. Hope.
"I--" he swallows hard. "I. Would like that." It's still strange, to have something he wants. And to feel like it may be okay to express it.
"Perfect." Hob grins, gets up, holds out a hand.
"Now?"
"You got somewhere else to be?"
Dream never has anywhere else to be, and doubts he would go there if he did. He takes Hob's hand.
Hob takes him to a Chinese restaurant nearby, and Dream looks at him suspiciously as Hob passes him a pair of chopsticks with a cheeky grin. "Now you are just testing me."
"Yup. 'Course if you can't use chopsticks in the first place then it's moot."
Dream can use chopsticks. Could. No, can. Death would say that he should think positively.
So he takes the chopsticks.
Once their food comes, Hob, the absolute bastard, puts down his own chopsticks and picks up a fork instead. And Dream knows, somehow he just knows, that it's not because he can't use them. He's teasing Dream. Or perhaps ensuring that Dream won't compare himself if he struggles. Or both.
He should feel hurt by the teasing but... somehow he's not.
"See?" Hob says when Dream manages to eat his noodles with the chopsticks. It's... not that hard. It doesn't even hurt. Maybe Hob is better at his job than Dream even thought.
It makes him tear up. Such a silly, small thing to start crying over when he's barely cried at all, even when he'd first hurt his hand.
"Hey, it's okay," Hob soothes him, wiping away Dream's tears with his thumb. "I think the noodles are salty enough without the addition of tears, hm?"
Dream laughs, wiping at his eyes when the tears keep falling. "Good tears," he manages to say.
"I know," Hob says, and smiles at him.
Dream surprises himself by having an actually nice time. He hasn't had a nice time doing something in so long. It feels good. He doesn't want it to end.
Of course, it does end, and he finds himself lingering outside the restaurant, hesitant to go home. Particularly as he no longer has a set time when he will see Hob. He feels aimless without that, but. It is hard to ask.
"Dream..." Hob starts, likewise lingering in front of the restaurant. The lights of the signage above cast his face in shades of violet. Dream has thought him handsome before, but never so much as now.
Hob hesitates over what to say, then finally just steps over to him. "Come here."
And before Dream can decide how to react, Hob folds him into a hug.
Dream goes still on instinct. Then, gradually, relaxes into Hob's strong hold. He... can't remember the last time someone hugged him.
He lets himself tuck his face into Hob's shoulder.
"Hey," Hob says. His voice is so close to Dream's ear now. "I'm proud of you."
Dream hears himself make a tiny whimpering sound. He. He does not know how to be proud of himself. He thinks he would only be proud of himself if he could go back in time and stop himself from getting in that terrible relationship to begin with. But he does like how it sounds when Hob says it.
Hob gives him one more squeeze, then, disappointingly, releases him. "I almost forgot. I have something for you."
He digs around in his bag and comes back with a box that looks rather like art supplies of some kind. "It's modelling clay," he explains. "So you can play around and work on your hand without just doing, you know, boring exercises all the time."
Hob is too considerate of him, truly. Dream holds the box close.
"You okay to get home?" Hob asks, and Dream nods. His ex has not bothered him again, and Dream is now hopeful that he won't. Though that does not necessarily mean he doesn't want Hob to follow him home.
"Good," Hob says. Then, while Dream is still thinking about the hug and the clay and everything else, Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. "Goodnight, Dream."
Dream stands paralyzed until Hob is gone, and it's only then that he realizes he failed to set another time for them to meet. He supposes he does have Hob's office contact info. Still, it is disappointing not to have something to look forward to.
But when he gets home, and opens the box of clay, he finds a note inside. It has the name of a coffee shop, and Tuesday, 3pm?, and Hob's personal number. At first he's confused. Why wouldn't Hob simply ask him while they were together? And then he realizes that Hob must be trying to give him a chance to comfortably back out if he wants to by letting him decide in private. It makes him want to cry again. Hob truly is too considerate of him.
But he takes out his phone and types in Hob's number, and a simple reply. Yes.
#a singular chapter in which dream has a good time!#physical therapy fic#dreamling#my writing#bit of a time jump bc i dont think i have it in me to write one billion physical therapy sessions XD like they gotta kiss sometime#long post
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a/n: some of my self-ship ramblings while i'm supposed to be writing gojo kinktober skfjskhdkgdf--this will be the family set up for a series of mine ;)
everyone says girl dad gojo this boy dad gojo that, when in reality it's gojo and his son + his two little sisters.
oh gojo just fusses all over his firstborn son when he arrives, all glossy eyed with pride as he boasts about the gojo line—and his son being the strongest yet! (though he'd rather die than let his son face the same perils he did-)
your husband turns into such a doting father with his little sidekick, teaching him how to gush over mama, but how to pick daddy's side. oh his son is just his best friend! a little carbon copy of him down to the dimples. he takes him everywhere once he's about five, letting your son traverse the school with him if for no other reason than to boast over his spawn. he's such a little gentleman thanks to tips from daddy, picking fistfuls of dirt and dandelion to plop on the table while you're making dinner—eyes of blue you know all too well grinning up at you, a smile that's missing a tooth or two. "got you flowers mama!" he brags, stepping up on his helper's stool to get a look at what you're doing—stage one clinger and nosy freak like his dad. you giggle at the mess and nod, patting his hair and thanking him with kisses.
"what about my kisses?" your husband smirks, revealing a proper bouquet from behind his back as he peeks over your opposite shoulder. your giggles intensify as you give him the same treatment, letting satoru finish up the food so you could put your bouquet and your dandelions away in a vase.
"i wanna help you daddy!" the high pitched determination from your son has your heart melting, and satoru doesn't think he could get any happier.
that is until his first daughter is born. his son changed his life, but the little girl in his arms now has him sobbing as she bats white lashes up at him—he knows he'll never be the same person, now forever occupied with her safety and happiness, raising her to be a good person, a sweet and kind person like you. her big brother is just as invested, eager to help his tired parents and hardly complaining about the baby's crying. he wants to be a big man like daddy, so he'll follow satoru into her nursery and help give her bottles while you sleep, though satoru (jokingly) wishes he was old enough to change a diaper—you've created some dynamic shitters, not that your son was any better.
but oh how his daughter was his sunshine. such a delicate and powerful little thing too, he didn't even know how to treat her at first. with his son it was easy, he was unafraid. but with his daughter, he knows he'll be the example in her life and he's terrified to mess it up. but he gets the hang of it—and she absolutely adores her father.
maybe one of these days you'll get one that prefers you, though your son is quite the mommy's boy thanks to satoru's shining performance.
the girl though, all hopes of her being sweet and kind go out the window by the time she's four. she's a mouthy little thing, bossing around her big brother, who's definitely grown less charmed with being a big brother—only on the outside. he still adores his little sister, but he does roll his eyes when you tell him that you're pregnant with another girl.
the baby of the family, satoru bawls when he holds her yet again. she's just as strong and beautiful as his first two, but by far the biggest daddy's girl yet. she grows up under the protection of her older siblings—her big sister dresses her like her own personal babydoll and her big brother rescues her from such activities. she is sweet and lovely despite her siblings, and you think it's a miracle. that only lasts so long, though.
satoru spoils all of his kids, but his girls are so snotty by the time they reach puberty, no boys can even catch their attention. this was all to his design of course, he would not have his smart, strong, and talented girls bogged down by boy troubles, gag. as bratty as satoru was in high school, imagine two of them. as girls. yes.
the teenage sisters are closer than close—banding up against their annoying big brother when he comes by to poke at them, the once protector turned aggressor—though he would die for his sisters without a second thought.
don't even get me started on gojo's son. if the girls are bratty, satoru's carbon copy is entitled and smug, even more handsome than his dad thanks to your enhancements and the only next gen gojo man? he's intolerable by the time he graduates, and satoru is absolutely tickled about it—even asking for another baby as yours grow and prepare to leave the nest. he's a family man, and so so good with babies...you may just give into his wishes just to witness it some more. <3
#selfship coded#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo rambles#the queen's ruling#jjk x reader#gojo my beloved
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