#I started trying to figure out the time line

[ch0llies]

FOREVER NOW | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO. PT.2

oneshot - chris x reader

You and Chris have been tied together by an invisible string ever since you met at 10. As you grew older, Chris became your safe place. He was always there, unknowingly shaping himself into the person you'd eventually fall in love with. By the time you were 18, you had become each other's first everything- first kiss, first love, first promise that neither of you could ever belong to anyone else the way you belonged to each other. And now, standing in the bathroom with ten pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, that promise felt heavier than ever.

story warnings: fluff, smut, pregnancy kink, basically everything that has to due with pregnancy and childbirth, established relationship, etc... if any of these topics upset you... don't read!

word count: 6k

MONTH 2

The sterile scent of the doctor’s office does little to calm your nerves as you sit on the exam table, your fingers gripping Chris’s hand like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the room. The last week had been a blur- between the endless late-night talks, the baby name debates, and Chris spending way too much time researching the best prenatal vitamins- everything still felt surreal.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” the ultrasound tech says with a warm smile, squeezing the cold gel onto your stomach.

Chris tightens his grip on your hand. “You good, baby?” he murmurs.

You nod, exhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “Me too.”

And then, the screen flickers to life.

At first, it’s just static, a mix of shadows and shapes you don’t quite understand. But then- there.

A tiny bean-shaped figure appears, nestled inside of you. The heartbeat echoes through the room, fast and steady, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, tears instantly pricking at your eyes.

Chris lets out a breathy laugh, his eyes glued to the screen, pure awe written all over his face. “That’s our baby?”

The tech smiles. “That’s your baby. And judging by the measurements, you’re about two months along.”

Chris lets out a stunned chuckle, running a hand down his face. “Two months,” he repeats, like he’s trying to wrap his head around it. He turns to you, his expression softening. “We’ve had our baby with us for two months already.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, and Chris leans over, kissing your forehead. His hand stays firmly in yours the whole time, never letting go.

And just like that, the little bean on the screen makes everything real.

You decide that night to invite everyone over and tell them the news. Your apartment is full- packed, really- with family, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of home-cooked food. Your mom, dad, and brother are here, chatting with Chris’s parents and all his brothers. It’s the first time everyone’s gathered together in a while, and they think it’s just a normal family dinner.

But you and Chris have other plans.

Chris squeezes your thigh under the table, shooting you a knowing look. It’s almost time.

“Hey, Mom?” you call out casually, getting up and heading toward the kitchen. “I think something’s burning… can you check the oven?”

Your mom, who’s been deep in conversation with Chris’s mom, Mary Lou, immediately moves toward the oven. “Oh shoot, yeah, of course.” She opens the door, peering inside. “There’s just a… roll?”

Mary Lou tilts her head, coming over. “Let me see this.”

Chris, still seated but now grinning widely, leans forward. “What’s in the oven?”

Your mom and Mary Lou both frown at first, then look at each other as realization dawns.

“A bun…”

Their heads snap toward each other, eyes widening, mouths parting in shock.

Then, utter joy.

Screams, happy shrieks, as they grab each other and start jumping up and down like teenagers. Your mom clutches Mary Lou’s arms, her eyes already welling up.

“Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD-”

Chris laughs, standing up just in time for his mom and yours to practically tackle you in a hug. “Are you serious?!” your mom exclaims, pulling back just enough to look at your face.

You nod, laughing through your tears. “Two months.”

Another round of screams.

The commotion quickly draws in the rest of the family. Chris’s dad steps into the kitchen first, followed by your dad and your brother, then all of Chris’s brothers- Matt, Nick, and Justin, who were mid-conversation and now just staring at the scene unfolding before them.

“What’s going on in here?” your dad asks, looking mildly concerned.

Your mom turns to them, face lit up with pure joy. “THEY’RE HAVING A BABY!”

Silence.

Then, another explosion of excitement.

Chris’s dad claps him on the back, shaking his head with a wide grin. “You little shit.”

Your brother lets out a stunned laugh. “Holy shit, I’m gonna be an uncle?”

Nick lets out an exaggerated gasp. “I’M GONNA BE AN UNCLE TOO!”

“You’re not special, we’re all uncles!” Matt chimes in, and Justin just shakes his head, laughing.

Chris, overwhelmed but beaming, pulls you into his arms, kissing you right there in the middle of the kitchen, his hands cradling your face.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

Tears still streaming, you smile against his mouth. “I love you too.”

MONTH 3

By the third month, your body is starting to change, though you’re not fully showing just yet. Your lower stomach has a tiny bump, just enough for Chris to become obsessed.

Every morning, before even kissing you good morning, he lifts your hoodie or pajama top to check your belly. “Lemme see our baby,” he mumbles sleepily, pressing a kiss to your skin. He does this every single morning.

At your 12-week ultrasound, you both hear the baby’s heartbeat loud and clear for the first time. Chris records the whole thing on his phone, his eyes misting over as he grips your hand tightly. “That’s our baby,” he whispers in pure awe.

Month 3 was fun but it came with mood swings. And they hit hard. One moment you’re laughing, the next you’re sobbing because you saw a video of a puppy and now you need one. Chris is patient, rubbing your back while hiding his laughter when you cry over the most random things.

Not to mention the weird cravings too…pickles with peanut butter. Chris gags every time you eat it but stocks up on both anyway.

MONTH 4

Your energy is coming back, and so is your sex drive. It’s like a switch flips, and suddenly, you need Chris all the time.

“You’ve been insane, baby,” he teases one night, hands tracing over your growing belly. “Not complaining, though.”

Chris also starts buying baby stuff constantly. You come home one day to find him unpacking an absurd amount of onesies, soft blankets, and a tiny Bruins beanie.

“We don’t even know the gender yet!” you remind him.

Chris just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Our kid’s gonna be a Bruins fan either way.”

MONTH 5

One night, you wake up to something- a small fluttering sensation in your belly. It happens again, and your breath catches.

“Chris,” you whisper, shaking him awake. “Chris, the baby just kicked.”

He sits up so fast he nearly falls out of bed. “Wait, what?!” His hands are on your belly immediately, waiting, eyes wide. When he finally feels the tiny kick against his palm, his breath stutters.

“That’s-” He swallows hard, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s our baby.” He spends the next hour whispering to your belly, telling them all about their parents and how much they’re already loved.

This is also the month you start turning the office into a nursery. You decide not to find out the gender until the baby is born and instead choose a yellow theme- bright, neutral, and happy.

You both spend an entire Saturday painting the walls, music playing, the windows open. Chris is in jeans, no shirt, covered in paint, while you’re in overalls, your baby bump finally visible. He insists on taking a picture of you holding a paintbrush to your stomach.

“For the baby album,” he says with a grin.

MONTH 6

Your bump is really showing now, and Chris is in love with it. He touches it constantly- rubbing it absentmindedly when you sit together, spooning you at night with his hands protectively splayed over your stomach, kissing it whenever he gets the chance.

“You’re glowing,” he tells you one day, watching as you fold tiny baby clothes in the nursery. “Like, actually glowing.”

The nesting instinct is kicking in full force. You’re suddenly obsessed with organizing and cleaning, and Chris is doing his best to keep up. One night, you wake up at 2 a.m. convinced the nursery needs rearranging immediately. Chris groans but helps move the crib- only for you to change your mind an hour later.

“Baby,” he mumbles, flopping onto the rug. “Please. Let’s just go back to bed.”

“No.”

MONTH 7

Your back hurts constantly, your feet are swollen, and even sleeping is uncomfortable. Chris gives you back rubs every night, rubbing your feet and making sure you’re drinking enough water.

Sex is still happening, but it’s… different. Your growing belly makes some positions impossible, limiting you mostly to doggy, but Chris doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s more patient, more attentive- his hands steadying your hips, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along your spine. He’s careful with you, always checking in, always making sure you’re comfortable, but there’s something else in his touch lately- something hungry.

And then, one night, as his fingers trace the curve of your belly, lingering just a little longer than usual, he finally admits, “Baby… I think your belly turns me on.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “What?”

He shrugs, but the way his eyes darken as they sweep over you betrays his casual tone. His hand drags slow and deliberate over your bump, fingers spreading possessively. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice lower now. “Just… knowing our baby is inside you. That I put them there.” He shakes his head, smirking as he licks his lips. “It’s kinda hot.”

You roll your eyes, but the way your pulse quickens betrays you. Because honestly? It is hot.

“Yeah?” You challenge, your voice playful but laced with something deeper. You tug your shirt over your head, baring your swollen breasts and belly to him, your skin hypersensitive, your body already aching for him. “Wanna show me just how hot you think it is?”

Chris exhales sharply, like you’ve just knocked the wind out of him. His pupils dilate, his jaw clenches, and for a second, you think he might actually lose his mind.

Then he’s on you, hands already reaching, already touching. His lips find your neck, warm and open-mouthed, his breath hot against your skin. “Get on your hands and knees, mama,” he rasps, voice thick with need.

You obey without question, shifting onto your hands and knees, arching your back just enough to give him the perfect view.

You had thought that since gaining pregnancy weight that Chris would be turned off… or maybe even stop finding you attractive completely. But it was the opposite. He loves it.

He grabs your love handles every chance he gets and rubs your thighs and massages your back, not because you asked, simply because he wants to. Because it turns him on.

Chris groans behind you, his hands immediately finding your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel grounded. He spreads his palms over your skin, dragging them down to your thighs, then back up, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You shiver at the heat in his voice, at the way he sounds almost wrecked already.

“Then show me,” you challenge, glancing over your shoulder at him.

His eyes flash dark with something dangerous, something wild, and then he’s moving- leaning over you, pressing his chest to your back as he kisses along your shoulder, his hands never stopping their slow worship of your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His hands slide under your belly, holding you, supporting you like it’s second nature. Like taking care of you is just as much a turn-on as anything else.

And when he finally pushes into you, slow and deliberate, a deep groan rumbles through his chest. His grip returns and tightens on your hips, and he drops his head forward, his breath hot against your skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, voice strained. “You feel even better like this.”

A gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to the stretch, your fingers clutching the sheets. Chris moves carefully at first, like he’s afraid of hurting you, but it only makes you want more.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you pant, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “You’re not gonna hurt the baby.”

Chris lets out a deep, shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips as he keeps thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace. His self-control is tangible, the restraint in every roll of his hips almost maddening. Then, suddenly, his hands slide from your hips back to your belly, spreading wide, cradling the swell of it with something so tender it makes your chest ache.

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost wrecked. “I just- fuck.” He exhales harshly, thumbs stroking the soft skin of your stomach. “I just love you like this.”

Your breath catches, and before you can respond, he moves- his grip tightening, his thrusts deepening, more purposeful now. He’s still careful, still mindful of you, but the hesitation is gone, replaced by something more raw, more desperate.

“Chris,” you moan, your fingers clutching the sheets, your body arching into him.

His hands stay on your belly, holding you there, like he’s grounding himself in the feeling of you- of the life you created together. His pace picks up, each thrust pushing you forward just enough to make your breath hitch. He’s panting above you, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your spine, his voice thick with need.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans, his grip flexing as he moves. “Carrying my baby, taking me so well.”

The words send a shockwave through you, heat pooling low in your stomach. You whimper, pushing back against him, needing more. He growls low in his throat, like you’re unraveling him, like he’s barely holding on.

“Yeah?” he breathes, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple. “You like that?”

You nod frantically, gasping as he rolls his hips harder, deeper, hitting that spot that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” Chris groans, his voice strained, his movements more desperate now. “Gonna make you cum just like this, mama. You ready?”

Chris’s thrusts grow more purposeful, deeper, his control slipping as your body clenches around him. His hands remain firm on your belly, holding you close, grounding himself in the feeling of you- the mother of his child, his woman, so perfect beneath him.

You’re burning, every nerve in your body alight as pleasure coils deep in your stomach. The way he’s touching you, how he’s holding your belly like it’s something sacred while still fucking you so thoroughly- it’s overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once.

“Chris- ” you gasp, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “I’m- oh my God- ”

He groans, gripping your hips again, pulling you back onto him harder. “I got you, baby,” he pants, his voice wrecked. “You feel so fucking good- so tight, so perfect. You gonna cum for me?”

You nod frantically, the tension inside you about to snap. His hand slides from your belly down between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing firm, tight circles that send shockwaves through you.

Your moan is almost a sob as the pleasure crashes into you, your body shaking as you cum hard around him. Your walls clench tight, dragging him deeper, and he groans, losing whatever fragile control he had left.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he grits out, his rhythm growing erratic. His grip tightens on your belly again, his forehead pressing against your spine. “Gonna fill you up- fuck-”

You’re still trembling from your own orgasm when you feel him go rigid behind you, a deep groan ripping from his throat as he cums inside you, his thrusts slowing but still deep, still pushing every last bit of himself into you.

For a long moment, all you can hear is the sound of your mingled breaths, heavy and uneven. Chris collapses against your back, wrapping his arms around you, his hands still possessive on your stomach.

He lingers inside you for a moment longer before he finally pulls out, groaning softly at the loss of warmth. He presses a lingering kiss between your shoulder blades before sliding off the bed, heading to the bathroom. You hear the water run, and moments later, he’s back with a warm washcloth.

“Let me clean you up, mama,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You sigh as he gently wipes between your legs, being careful with every touch. His hands are slow and methodical, taking care of you like he always does. When he’s done, he tosses the washcloth into the laundry bin, then climbs back into bed, pulling you into his arms.

You melt into his embrace, your back pressed against his chest, his hands instinctively finding your belly again. He rubs slow circles over your skin, his lips pressing lazy kisses to the back of your neck.

Just as you’re about to drift off, his voice cuts through the quiet.

“Baby,” he says, his tone laced with something mischievous.

You hum sleepily, too comfortable to open your eyes. “Hmm?”

“We’re gonna have to record a movie or some shit with you pregnant,” he says, his breath warm against your ear. “It turns me on way more than it should.”

Your eyes snap open as you twist to look at him. “What?”

He grins, completely unapologetic. “I’m serious. You obviously can’t be pregnant all the time… unless I get you pregnant again right after the first baby is out.” He smirks, his hand splaying possessively over your belly. “How do you feel about Irish twins?”

You stare at him, half amused, half horrified. “Chris.”

“What?” he chuckles, nuzzling into your neck. “I mean, just think about it…. another baby, back to back? You’d look so fucking good carrying my baby again.”

You swat at his arm. “Let me get through this pregnancy first before you start planning the next one.”

He laughs, squeezing you tighter. “Alright, alright. But just so you know, I’m putting the idea out there.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re insane.”

“And you love me,” he counters, kissing your shoulder.

You sigh dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

Chris just chuckles, pulling you even closer. “Get some sleep, baby. We’ll revisit this conversation later.”

You shake your head but don’t argue, letting yourself drift off in his arms, knowing full well he’s absolutely going to bring it up again.

MONTH 8

Your families throw you the most beautiful baby shower. Chris spends most of the day looking at baby items like he’s in awe that they’re for his child.

He’s also officially in full-on dad mode. He refuses to let you lift anything, scolds you for overexerting yourself, and installs the car seat a month early.

One night, you find him sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib.

“Chris?” you whisper, stepping inside.

He looks up, a soft smile on his face. “I just can’t believe we’re gonna have our baby sleeping in here soon.”

You walk over, taking his hand and resting it on your belly. “Me neither.”

MONTH 9

Everything is ready. The nursery is done, the hospital bag is packed, and Chris is on edge 24/7.

Every time you shift in bed, he bolts upright. “Are we going? Is it happening?”

“No, Chris. I just have to pee.”

He starts leaving work early, checking on you constantly. One day, he comes home with even more baby clothes, a yoga ball, and a brand-new breast pump.

“Chris,” you laugh. “We already have everything!”

“I just… wanna be prepared,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

One night, as he’s helping you into bed, he kneels down, pressing his lips to your belly.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, voice full of love. “We’re ready for you whenever you are.”

And just like that, the final stretch begins. Any day now, your baby will be here.

MONTH 9, WEEK 1

Lying in bed, your body aching from the sheer weight of pregnancy, you shift slightly, trying to find some comfortable position. Chris, ever in tune with you, adjusts immediately, tucking himself behind you and rubbing slow, soothing circles on your belly.

“We need to talk names,” you murmur sleepily, your head resting against his chest.

Chris hums, his fingers trailing absentmindedly over your bump. “Yeah, we do. We can’t just keep calling them ‘baby’ forever.”

You smile, but then a thought strikes you. “Okay, hear me out- if it’s a boy, I still wanna name him Owen.”

Chris stills for a moment before tilting his head down to look at you. “Still?”

You nod, suddenly nervous. “Yeah. I just… I love the name, and I thought it’d be a sweet way to honor you.”

Chris is quiet, but then his lips press against the side of your head. “You know what, I love it,” he whispers.

Relief floods you, and you nuzzle closer. “For the middle name… I was thinking maybe after my dad or my brother?”

Chris grins. “Perfect. We’ll decide when we meet him.”

You nod before shifting again. “And if it’s a girl?”

Chris chuckles. “Do you remember what my pick was?”

“Aria?” you question, remembering what he had said months and months ago.

Chris exhales, and you swear you feel his heart pick up. “Yes. Aria,” he repeats, like he’s letting it settle. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, baby. And for the middle name,” you continue, tilting your head to look at him, “I was thinking… Lou.”

Chris’s breath hitches. “After my mom?”

You nod, watching as his face softens into something unbearably tender.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Aria Lou… that’s perfect.”

And just like that, your baby- Owen or Aria- finally has a name.

MONTH 9, WEEK 2

The first time you feel contractions, they hit out of nowhere. Your stomach tightens, and a dull ache spreads through your back, making you pause mid-step in the kitchen.

Chris notices instantly. “What? What’s wrong?”

You grip the counter, wincing. “I think… I think I’m having contractions.”

Chris immediately launches into action. “Okay! Okay, let’s go- hospital, now!” He grabs the pre-packed hospital bag, his keys, his phone, his soul practically leaving his body as he rushes to the door.

You exhale through the pain, holding up a hand. “Chris. Chris! It’s fine. They’re just Braxton Hicks contractions.”

Chris blinks, still frozen mid-panic. “The fuck is a Braxton Hicks?”

You sigh, rubbing your belly. “False contractions. My body’s just practicing.”

Chris stares at you like you just betrayed him. “Practicing?! Baby, I was ready to sprint down the hall and flag an ambulance!”

For the rest of the week, every single time you shift uncomfortably, Chris is on guard. If you so much as groan while rolling over in bed, he’s wide awake, scrambling for his phone.

You sigh. “Chris. I just have to pee.”

He squints. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

You’re not sure how he’s gonna survive the real thing.

MONTH 9, WEEK 3

By now, the baby is almost a month overdue and you want nothing more than to push it out. God must’ve heard your prayers because you wake up to an intense pressure in your lower belly, a sharp pain that pulls you out of sleep with a gasp. For a moment, you think it’s just more Braxton Hicks contractions- until you feel it.

A rush of warmth liquid. A pop.

Your eyes go wide as realization slams into you.

“Chris.”

Chris, who had been sleeping like a dead man, groggily lifts his head. “Mmm?”

You slap his chest. “Chris, my water just broke.”

It takes him exactly three seconds to process that before he shoots upright, fully awake.

“OH, SHIT.”

“CHRIS, GET THE FUCKING BAG!”

Chris dives out of bed, scrambling for the hospital bag while simultaneously pulling on his jeans and trying to call everyone at once. “Okay, okay- uh, shit, okay- baby’s on the way, holy fuck!”

“Chris, breathe!” you hiss, gripping the bed as another contraction rolls through. “Just get me to the-”

And then you glance outside.

It’s snowing.

Not just a light dusting- a full-on blizzard.

Chris follows your gaze, his face draining of color. “No. No, no, NO- Fuck. Okay, hold on.”

He rushes to the window. Your car is buried under the snow, the driveway completely covered.

“Oh no….”

“DON’T WORRY! I GOT IT!”

And for the first time in your life, you see Chris move with the efficiency of a goddamn Olympic athlete.

He grabs his coat, shoves his feet into boots, and runs outside with nothing but a shovel and pure desperation.

You’re standing in the doorway, gripping the frame through another contraction, watching him shovel like his life depends on it.

“CAREFUL, CHRIS!”

“I’M BEING CAREFUL, BABY!” He yells as his left boot slips on ice and he almost takes a tooth out on the frozen pavement.

After what feels like forever, he finally clears enough space to get the car out. Panting, sweating, frost forming on his damn eyelashes, he runs back inside, scooping you up like a firefighter.

“Okay- okay, we’re going, baby, let’s go.”

He gets you into the car, throws the bag in the back, and peels out onto the snowy road, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping yours tightly.

Between contractions, you hear him frantically calling his parents, your parents, anyone will who pick up. “Baby’s on the way! We’re coming- SHIT, THESE ROADS ARE ICY- but we’re coming!*”

“Chris, focus on driving!”

“I CAN MULTITASK!”

But through the excitement, the panic, the snowstorm- Chris still finds a second to glance over at you, his free hand tightening around yours.

“We’re about to meet our baby, baby.”

And despite the pain, the stress, the absolute shitshow of this entire night- you smile.

Chris has the gas pedal pressed way too hard, white-knuckling the steering wheel as he simultaneously calls every single family member he can think of.

“Mom! We’re on the way- baby’s coming NOW. I don’t care about the storm, just- just get to the hospital!”

You groan through another contraction, gripping your belly, your nails digging into the seat. “Chris, shut the fuck up and focus on DRIVING!”

He immediately hangs up on his mom and dials someone else. “Dad! Baby’s coming- YES, RIGHT NOW- NO, I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG LABOR TAKES, JUST GET THERE!”

“Chris,” you grind out, trying to breathe through the insane pain in your abdomen. “If you call one more person, I swear to God-”

“Hold on, babe- Nick’s calling.”

“CHRIS!”

“OKAY, OKAY, I’M FOCUSING!”

Chris barely slows the car as he swerves into the hospital entrance. He parks right outside the ER doors, throws it into park, and launches himself out.

“Hang tight, baby, I got you!”

You let out a pained groan as another contraction tears through you, doubling over in your seat. Chris yanks the hospital bag from the back, sprints to your side, and immediately pulls open the passenger door.

“Come on, come on, we gotta go- ” He tries helping you out, but you’re moving too slow for his patience. His head whips around and locks onto the valet guy standing nearby.

“TAKE THE KEYS!” Chris chucks them at him before turning back to you.

“Chris,” you grit out, “I need a second-”

“NOPE, NO TIME, HOLD ON-”

Before you can argue, he sprints inside and grabs a wheelchair.

And when you say grabs a wheelchair, you mean full-speed, NFL linebacker, dodging obstacles, yanks one from the hallway and sprints back.

“Okay, baby, up you go- ” He lifts you carefully, places you into the chair, grabs the bag, and immediately pushes you through the sliding doors, moving like a man possessed.

“WE’RE HAVING A BABY!” he yells to the entire hospital lobby. “WHO CAN HELP DELIVER IT?”

A nurse rushes over, calm and professional. “Sir, please lower your voice-”

You groan, grabbing onto the wheelchair handles, “Shut the FUCK up, Chris!”

The nurse blinks, unimpressed. “Yeah, you heard her. Follow me.”

You’re wheeled into a triage room, and Chris hovers like a nervous wreck as the nurses work quickly around you.

“How far along are you?” a nurse asks, helping you onto the hospital bed.

“Nine months and three weeks.” Chris answers way too fast. “She’s been having contractions for…how long, baby?”

You glare at him through the pain. “CHRIS, I DON’T KNOW, I’M IN AGONY.”

“Okay, okay, right, sorry-”

A doctor comes in, pulling on gloves. “Let’s check how dailated you are.”

Chris freezes. “Wait, check what?”

The nurse gives him a look. “Sir, if you’re gonna faint, step outside.”

“I’M NOT GONNA FAINT,” Chris yells, then immediately looks pale when the doctor starts checking your cervix.

“She’s already seven centimeters,” the doctor announces.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Wait, so that’s close, right? Baby’s coming soon?!”

“Labor can still take time,” the nurse says calmly, way too used to panicked fathers. “Let’s get her into a delivery room.”

Once you’re settled into the delivery room, Chris refuses to sit down. He stands beside you, gripping your hand way too tight, bouncing on his feet like a fighter waiting to enter the ring.

“Okay, baby, just breathe. Remember the breathing exercises? In through your nose, out through your-”

“I swear to fucking GOD, Chris, if you tell me to breathe ONE MORE TIME-”

“Okay, yep, shutting up- ”

The contractions are getting worse. Chris watches helplessly, his eyes flicking between you and the monitor tracking each one.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “How are you this strong?”

“Because I have no choice,” you snap, panting through another contraction. “Because you put a baby inside me, Christopher.”

Chris gulps, squeezing your hand. “You’re doing amazing, baby. I love you so much-”

You barely register the doctor’s next words.

“You’re at nine centimeters- almost time to push.”

Chris blanches. “WHAT? ALREADY?”

“You ready to meet your baby?” the nurse asks, beaming.

Chris nods rapidly. “Oh, hell yeah, let’s go, let’s do this-”

The doctor smirks. “Dad, maybe sit down before you pass out?”

“I’M FINE!”

You glare at him. “Chris, SIT THE FUCK DOWN.”

And for once, Chris actually listens and sits down in the chair next to your bed.

And then It’s time.

Chris stands up again, gripping your hand both excited and terrified, his forehead pressed to yours as the doctor counts down.

“Push, baby, you got this- Oh my God, I can see the head- holy fuck- ”

You’re exhausted, screaming through the pain, every fiber of your being focused on getting your baby into the world.

And then-

A cry.

A loud, beautiful baby’s cry.

Chris chokes on a sob as the doctor lifts your baby up.

“Congratulations! You have a-”

But Chris isn’t even listening. He’s already crying, already pressing kisses to your damp forehead, whispering “I love you, I love you, I love you so much, baby, you did it-”

And then, they place your baby in your arms.

Tiny. Perfect. Yours.

Chris stares at them, absolutely wrecked with emotion, whispering, “Hi, baby,” his fingers brushing over their tiny hands.

“It’s a girl,” the nurse says softly. “6 pounds and 7 ounces. Perfectly healthy.”

Chris lets out a breathless laugh. “I knew it.”

Tears spill from your eyes. “Aria Lou,” you whisper, and Chris breaks, pressing his face into your shoulder.

“She’s perfect,” he chokes out. “You’re perfect.”

Chris holds out his arms the second the nurse gives the okay, gently lifting Aria from your chest. The moment she’s in his arms, his entire face crumbles. His hands tremble slightly as he cradles her tiny body against his chest, his thumb brushing over her impossibly small fingers.

A shaky breath leaves him as he leans down, pressing the softest kiss to her forehead. His voice is barely a whisper, full of so much love it physically aches.

“Hello, my baby girl. My beautiful, beautiful baby girl.”

Tears slip down his cheeks as he stares at her like she’s his whole world. Because she is.

SIX HOURS LATER

The hospital room is quiet now, the energy finally settling after a whirlwind of family visits. Both of your parents, Chris’s parents, his brothers, your brother- everyone had come rushing in, crying, hugging, taking turns holding Aria.

Mary Lou had sobbed the second she heard the name. “You named her after me? Oh, honey…” She hugged you so tightly you thought you’d burst into tears again.

But now, the room is peaceful.

Chris is sitting up in bed beside you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you cradle Aria against your chest. The hospital room lights are dim, and for the first time all day, it feels like time has slowed.

“She has your eyes,” you murmur, staring down at her delicate face. “Your beautiful light blue eyes.”

Chris hums, his hand trailing up and down your arm. “Yeah… but she has your lips. And your nose.” He leans down, tilting his head to study her. “And your little chin. And your cheeks.”

You laugh sleepily, pressing a kiss to Aria’s soft hair. “She’s perfect.”

Chris sighs, completely in awe. “Yeah, she really is.”

An hour later and you’ve fallen asleep, exhaustion finally pulling you under, but Chris stays awake. He sits there, just watching you breathe, his heart swelling at the sight of you curled up beside him, completely worn out from giving birth to the most precious thing in the world.

Carefully, he lifts Aria from your arms, cradling her to his chest. She’s so tiny, so fragile, her breaths warm against his skin.

Slowly, he stands, rocking her gently as he walks back and forth across the room. His fingers ghost over her little ones, his lips brushing against the top of her head.

And then, in the softest, most reverent whisper, he murmurs:

“I’m gonna love you forever now.”

And with that, his whole world is complete.

a/n: dad!chris is literally my favorite thing EVER😭😭😭

tags: @mattsobvimyfav @bernardsbendystraws @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[chrissssssmut]

BOUNDED

Yandere Karina, Hanni, Danielle, Wonyoung, Liz, Chaewon and Yunjin x Male Reader

*SORRY I FINISHED THIS STORY WAY TOO FAST HAHAHAH but here enjoy!🙏*

You had never imagined your life would turn into something out of a K-drama. After your dad remarried, you suddenly found yourself with seven new stepsisters—each one impossibly beautiful and somehow way out of your league in terms of charm and charisma. At first, the arrangement was simple enough: they ignored you, rolling their eyes or tossing sharp remarks whenever you tried to bond with them. To them, you were just some awkward, out-of-place stepbrother who didn’t belong in their picture-perfect world.

“Don’t touch my stuff, oppa,” Wonyoung had said within the first week, drawing an invisible line around her side of the house.

“Do you even know how to use a dishwasher?” Hanni had teased one evening, earning giggles from Danielle and Liz.

Even Karina, the most composed of the group, had given you cold, detached stares whenever you tried to strike up a conversation.

It was fine. You figured they needed time to adjust, and honestly, so did you. Life went on, and you kept your head low, avoiding their world of glittering social events, designer wardrobes, and seemingly endless selfies.

But things changed when you grew up.

You weren’t the same awkward teen anymore. College life molded you into someone more confident, someone who knew how to dress well, speak up, and draw attention without even trying. Suddenly, your step sisters weren’t just tolerating you—they were noticing you.

It started with small, innocent gestures.

“Oppa, I made extra coffee. Want some?” Yunjin smiled one morning, sliding a cup toward you.

“You’ve been working out, haven’t you?” Chaewon commented one day, casually brushing past you in the hallway. “You look… different.”

Hanni started asking for your opinion on her outfits. Danielle insisted you join their movie nights. Wonyoung, who used to act like you didn’t exist, began hovering around you during family dinners, peppering you with questions about your day.

It felt harmless at first, even flattering. But soon, things began to escalate.

The Turning Point

You were excited for your first real date with a girl from your university. Her name was Mina—sweet, down-to-earth, and refreshingly normal compared to the chaos at home. But when you mentioned her name over dinner, the air in the dining room shifted.

“Who’s Mina?” Karina asked, her voice sharp despite her calm demeanor.

“She’s just a friend,” you replied casually, sensing the sudden tension.

“A friend?” Wonyoung repeated, her fork clinking against her plate. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“She’s not that important,” you said, trying to brush it off.

The next morning, Mina canceled on you.

“I’m so sorry,” she texted. “Something came up. Let’s reschedule?”

You were disappointed but didn’t think much of it—until you noticed Chaewon smirking at you from across the living room later that day.

“Plans didn’t work out?” she asked, feigning innocence.

Something about the way she said it made your stomach twist.

The more you tried to explore your social life, the tighter their grip became.

When you mentioned studying late at the library, Danielle would suddenly “accidentally” spill water on your laptop. “Oops, oppa! I guess you’ll have to stay home and fix that.”

When you came home with a new phone, Liz snatched it from your hands, scrolling through your messages before handing it back with a tight smile. “Just making sure you’re not texting anyone shady.”

And when you decided to crash at a friend’s place for the weekend, Yunjin and Chaewon appeared at your door that night, claiming they “missed you too much to stay apart.”

Every time you tried to push back, they found a way to pull you closer.

It wasn’t until Karina set the new house rules that things turned truly sinister.

“Oppa, it’s for your own good,” she said, her tone soft but unyielding. “You’re too naive. The world outside is dangerous.”

Before you could argue, Wonyoung locked the front door. The key disappeared after that.

Thrilling Descent

The days blurred together in a twisted routine. You weren’t allowed to leave the house, and your phone was constantly “misplaced.” Any attempt to escape or call for help was met with swift punishment.

“Why don’t you trust us?” Hanni whispered one night, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she blocked the hallway. “We only want to protect you.”

Whenever you refused to comply, they’d gang up on you. “If you’re going to be stubborn, oppa, we’ll have to keep a closer eye on you,” Liz said, leading you back to your room and locking the door behind you.

Their sweet smiles masked something darker—a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

An Attempt

One night, you found a chance to snuck out—a window left unlocked, a moment of freedom within reach. You climbed out, your heart pounding as you sprinted into the night.

But before you could reach the gate, Karina stepped out of the shadows, a sinister grin attached to her face.

“Oppa,” she said, her voice calm yet chilling. “Did you really think you could leave us?”

Behind her, the others emerged one by one, their faces shadowed but their intentions clear.

“You’re ours,” Wonyoung whispered, stepping closer. “And we’ll never let you out of our sight, brother.”

The night after Karina and the others caught you trying to sneak out, they didn’t say a word. They didn’t yell, they didn’t cry. Instead, they simply guided you back to the house, their eerie calmness unsettling. Karina spoke softly as she locked the door behind you.

“I hope you learned your lesson, oppa. We don’t want to hurt you. But if you push us, we’ll have no choice.”

Your heart pounded as you stood there, drenched and trapped. You knew you had to tell your dad. He’d understand, right? He had to.

The next morning, you managed to get him alone in his office before he left for yet another business trip.

“Dad, I need to talk to you,” you started, your voice trembling.

He looked up from his laptop, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong, son? You look stressed.”

“It’s about… them. My stepsisters. They’ve been acting really strange. They’re controlling everything I do—they won’t let me leave the house. Last night, they even—”

Your dad sighed, cutting you off. “I know they can be a little overbearing, but they’re just being protective. They’re girls, you know? They worry about you.”

“Dad, it’s not normal. They—”

“Listen,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m proud of you for being mature about this. They’ve had a tough time adjusting, too. Give it time. And if it gets too much, just talk to them directly, okay? You’re all family now.”

You stared at him in disbelief, your stomach sinking. “Dad, you don’t understand—”

“I have to catch my flight,” he said, brushing past you. “We’ll talk when I get back. Be good to your sisters, alright? I love you, son.”

The door closed behind him, leaving you alone in the silence.

Your dad’s absence wasn’t unusual. His work took him overseas for months at a time, and your mom—always tied up in her own international projects—was equally distant. It left you entirely at the mercy of your stepsisters, who wasted no time tightening their grip.

“Did you tell Dad?” Hanni asked innocently later that day, sitting cross-legged on the couch with Danielle.

The way she looked at you—head tilted, smile too sweet—sent a chill down your spine.

“Of course he did,” Chaewon said from the kitchen, her voice light but laced with menace. “Not that it matters. Right, oppa?”

You clenched your fists, refusing to meet their eyes.

A New Plan

Desperation clawed at you as the days dragged on. Your phone was still missing, and every attempt to sneak out was thwarted before it even began. It was as if they always knew what you were planning.

One night, you overheard Karina and Yunjin talking in hushed voices near the stairs.

“He’s been quieter lately,” Karina said. “Good. He’s learning.”

“Still,” Yunjin replied, “we can’t let our guard down. He’s stubborn.”

You realized then that the only way to escape was to outsmart them—to make them think you’d given up.

For the next week, you played along.

You smiled when Wonyoung asked you to help her with her makeup routine, even letting her brush against your arm a little too much.

You joined Danielle and Hanni for movie nights, laughing at their jokes and pretending not to notice how they pressed themselves against you on the couch.

When Liz asked you to cook dinner with her, you obliged, biting back your frustration as she leaned over your shoulder, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re being so good lately, oppa,” Chaewon remarked one evening, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I like it.”

You forced a laugh. “Maybe I’m finally getting used to this family thing.”

Your chance came late one night when you spotted Yunjin leaving her room, keys dangling from her hand. She’d been careless, leaving her door ajar as she went downstairs.

Heart racing, you slipped inside her room and began searching. It didn’t take long to find what you were looking for: your phone, tucked away in her nightstand.

You grabbed it, your fingers shaking as you powered it on. A flood of notifications popped up—missed calls from friends, messages from Mina, and even emails from your professors wondering why you hadn’t shown up to class.

But before you could call for help, the door creaked open behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing, oppa?” Yunjin’s voice was soft, but the anger in her eyes was unmistakable.

You froze, clutching the phone tightly. “I… I just wanted to check something.”

She stepped closer, her expression darkening. “You’re lying.”

Before you could react, the others appeared behind her, one by one, their faces shadowed but their presence overwhelming.

“Oppa,” Karina said, her tone calm but cold. “We trusted you. And this is how you repay us?”

Wonyoung shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “Why would you do this to us?”

“I just wanted—”

“You don’t need anything outside of us,” Liz interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion.

Yunjin snatched the phone from your hand, tossing it to the floor. It shattered on impact, the sound echoing through the room.

“Enough,” Karina said, stepping forward. “It seems you still haven’t learned.”

A Dangerous Game

They didn’t lock you in your room this time. Instead, they kept you close, always watching, always near.

When you tried to retreat to the bathroom, Danielle stood outside the door, humming softly.

When you went to bed, Wonyoung insisted on sleeping in your room, claiming she “had nightmares.”

Everywhere you turned, one of them was there, their sweet smiles masking something darker.

“You’ll see, oppa,” Chaewon whispered one night as she tucked the blanket around you, her fingers lingering on your arm. “We’re all you’ll ever need.”

The realization hit you like a tidal wave: there was no escaping them. Not while you were under this roof.

But you weren’t giving up.

Not yet.

The days turned into weeks, and you quickly learned that resistance only made things worse. The sisters weren’t just possessive—they were meticulous, calculating every move you made as if it were a game of chess. You were the pawn, and they were the queens, slowly closing in on you.

“You don’t need anyone else,” Hanni whispered one evening, brushing a lock of hair away from your face as you sat trapped on the couch. Danielle was curled up beside you, her head resting on your shoulder.

“We’re all you’ll ever need, oppa,” Danielle added, her voice a soft melody that sent chills down your spine.

They controlled every aspect of your life now. Your meals were prepared by them, your wardrobe was chosen by them, and your free time was spent under their watchful eyes. Any attempt to rebel was met with swift punishment.

One night, you tried breaking a window to escape, but before you could climb out, Karina and Yunjin dragged you back into the house, their strength surprising.

“We warned you, oppa,” Karina said, her voice icy. “You’re ours. Why can’t you just accept that?”

Yunjin smirked, holding up the shards of broken glass. “If you’re going to act like a child, we’ll have to treat you like one.”

They locked you in your room for three days after that, only letting you out when you promised—no, begged—to behave.

Your mental state began to deteriorate. The isolation, the constant surveillance, the manipulation—it was suffocating. You found yourself second-guessing everything, wondering if maybe they were right.

“We’re just trying to protect you, oppa,” Liz said one afternoon as she caressed your hair, her touch oddly soothing. “The outside world is so dangerous. People out there… they don’t love you like we do.”

“Love?” you repeated, your voice hollow.

Wonyoung nodded, her eyes wide and earnest. “Of course we love you. More than anyone else ever could.”

It was in the way they said it—in their unwavering gazes and saccharine smiles—that made you realize just how far they were willing to go.

The Birthday Incident

Your birthday was supposed to be a moment of reprieve, a chance to reconnect with the world outside. Instead, it became the turning point—the moment you truly understood there was no escape.

They threw you a party, decorating the house with balloons and streamers. The dining table was piled high with your favorite foods, and a cake sat in the center, candles flickering.

“Make a wish, oppa!” Danielle chirped, clapping her hands.

As you closed your eyes, you thought of freedom. Of running far, far away from this nightmare.

But when you opened your eyes, the sight before you made your blood run cold.

Your phone was there, fixed and placed neatly beside the cake. For a moment, hope flared in your chest.

“You’re letting me have my phone back?” you asked cautiously.

Karina smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course. It’s your special day.”

You grabbed it, your fingers trembling as you powered it on. The screen lit up, and you quickly navigated to your messages.

Only to find them empty.

No calls, no texts, no contacts.

“What… what did you do?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“We cleaned it up for you,” Yunjin said, leaning casually against the table. “No distractions. Just us.”

Your stomach churned as you looked at them, their smiles widening as realization dawned.

“This isn’t love,” you said, your voice trembling. “This is… this is insane.”

Wonyoung tilted her head, her expression almost pitying. “Oh, oppa. You’ll understand someday.”

From that day on, they tightened their grip even further. The locks on the doors were reinforced. The windows were barred. Every move you made was monitored, every word you spoke carefully scrutinized.

When you tried to rebel, they punished you—not with violence, but with manipulation.

“We’re only doing this because we love you,” Chaewon whispered one night as she held your hand, her grip firm. “Why can’t you see that?”

And when you begged for your freedom, they only smiled.

“You don’t need freedom,” Karina said, her voice soft but unyielding. “You have us.”

The Final Descent

One stormy evening, as thunder rumbled in the distance, you sat in the living room, surrounded by them. They were laughing, talking, acting like everything was normal. But you couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’ve ruined my life,” you said suddenly, your voice cutting through the laughter.

The room fell silent.

“Oppa,” Hanni said softly, her eyes wide. “Why would you say that?”

“You’ve trapped me here,” you continued, your voice rising. “This isn’t a family. This is a prison.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Karina stood, her expression unreadable as she walked over to you.

“Oppa,” she said, crouching down so she was at eye level. “You need to understand something.”

Her hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“You belong to us. And we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Whatever it takes.”

The others nodded in unison, their gazes unwavering.

And in that moment, as the storm raged outside and their words echoed in your ears, you realized the truth.

There was no escape…for now..

The storm outside grew more violent, the howling winds rattling the barred windows. As the sisters began retreating to their rooms for the night, you felt the familiar weight of hopelessness settle in your chest. But tonight, something was different. As you stared out the window, lightning briefly illuminated the outside—the gate was ajar. Maybe one of them had forgotten to lock it after bringing in groceries earlier. It was a slim chance, but it was a chance nonetheless.

You waited until the house fell silent, the sisters presumably asleep. Silently, you slipped on your sneakers, heart pounding as you made your way down the creaking staircase. Every sound felt deafening in the stillness, but you couldn’t stop now.

When you reached the door, you froze. The key was still in the lock. A miracle. With shaking hands, you turned it slowly, praying they wouldn’t hear the faint click as the lock disengaged. The moment it did, you pushed the door open and bolted into the storm.

The rain was cold, soaking you instantly as you sprinted down the driveway and toward the open gate. Freedom was within reach. The pounding of your heart drowned out the thunder as you crossed the threshold, stepping into the empty street beyond.

But then, headlights.

You turned just in time to see a car barreling toward you, the driver unable to stop in the rain-slicked road. The impact was sudden and brutal, sending you sprawling onto the pavement. Pain exploded through your body as darkness consumed you.

Waking in a Nightmare

When you finally came to, the bright lights of the hospital room burned your eyes. The beeping of monitors echoed faintly in your ears, and your body felt heavy, restrained by the weight of painkillers and bandages.

“You’re awake,” a soft voice said, and you turned your head to see a nurse standing by your bedside. She smiled kindly, adjusting the IV line in your arm. “You’re lucky. The accident could’ve been much worse.”

For a moment, relief washed over you. You’d escaped. You’d finally gotten away.

“Where am I?” you croaked, your throat dry.

“The city hospital,” the nurse replied. “You’ve been here for a few days. Don’t worry, we’ve been taking good care of you.”

You tried to sit up, but the pain in your ribs forced you back down. “My parents… Did you call them?”

The nurse hesitated, glancing at the clipboard in her hands. “We tried contacting your parents, but they’re both out of the country and couldn’t be reached. So, we contacted the next closest people to you.”

Your blood turned to ice.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

Before you could finish, the door to your room creaked open. One by one, they walked in—Karina, Wonyoung, Hanni, Chaewon, Yunjin, Danielle, Liz. Their perfect faces were painted with expressions of concern, but there was something sinister lurking beneath their sweet smiles.

“Oppa!” Wonyoung cried, rushing to your bedside. “We were so worried about you!”

“You should’ve told us you were leaving,” Karina said, her tone soft yet reproachful. “We could’ve kept you safe.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Yunjin added, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

You stared at them in disbelief, your heart hammering in your chest. “How… How did you find me?”

“We’re family, oppa,” Chaewon said, sitting on the edge of your bed. “We always know where to find you.”

Danielle leaned over, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You scared us, you know. But it’s okay. You’re safe now. And we’re not letting you out of our sight again.”

You looked toward the nurse, desperate for help, but she only smiled. “Your sisters have been here every day, taking care of you. You’re lucky to have such a loving family.”

“No,” you whispered, panic rising. “They’re not my family. They’re—”

Hanni shushed you gently, pressing a finger to your lips. “Shh, oppa. Don’t upset yourself. You need to rest.”

The nurse nodded. “She’s right. You need to focus on recovering. Your sisters will make sure you have everything you need.”

You wanted to scream, to beg the nurse to call the police, but your body betrayed you, too weak to fight back. The sisters crowded closer, their presence suffocating.

Karina leaned in, her hand brushing against yours. “Don’t worry, oppa. We’ll take you home soon. Everything will be just like it was before.”

“No,” you rasped, tears streaming down your face. “Please. Let me go.”

But their smiles only widened.

“You’re ours,” Wonyoung whispered, her voice dripping with possessiveness. “Forever.”

The days that followed were a blur of enforced care. The sisters rarely left your side, taking turns watching over you. Karina handled the paperwork for your discharge, ensuring you’d return home as soon as possible. Hanni and Yunjin fed you, their hands lingering a little too long as they helped you eat. Wonyoung fluffed your pillows, her touch oddly tender, while Danielle played soft music to “help you relax.”

You quickly realized there was no escape. Not here, not in the hospital, and certainly not once they took you back to the house. The accident had sealed your fate, tethering you to them in a way that felt unbreakable.

As they wheeled you out of the hospital on the day of your discharge, you saw the car waiting for you—sleek, black, and ominous. Karina held the door open, her smile as sweet as poison.

“Welcome home, oppa,” she said softly.

The ride home from the hospital felt suffocating. The rain poured down in sheets, blurring the windows of the van Karina had insisted they use to bring you back. You were silent, your leg still throbbing in its cast, while the others chatted in low voices, as if you weren’t even there.

“Don’t worry, oppa,” Wonyoung chirped from the front seat, turning her head to give you a sweet but unsettling smile. “We’ve made some changes to the house. You’ll love it.”

Your stomach twisted at her words. You had been too weak to resist when they insisted on signing you out of the hospital and taking you home. The nurse’s words still rang in your ears:

“They’re your family now, and they seemed so concerned about you. You’re lucky to have them.”

Lucky. You swallowed hard, your mouth dry, as the van pulled into the driveway. The house loomed in the darkness, its windows casting faint, flickering light like the eyes of a predator waiting for its prey.

The moment the van stopped, Chaewon and Danielle were by your side, unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you into the wheelchair. Their hands were gentle, almost too careful, but you could feel the iron grip of their control in every movement.

“Careful, oppa,” Danielle murmured, tucking a blanket around your lap. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

The door to the house opened, and Yunjin stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim glow of the lights inside. “Welcome home,” she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of finality.

As they wheeled you inside, your breath caught in your throat. The house you remembered was gone. The cozy warmth and modern elegance had been replaced by something much darker. The walls were painted a muted gray, the windows draped with heavy blackout curtains that allowed no glimpse of the outside world.

But it was the dining room that sent a chill down your spine.

The large dining table had been modified—no, transformed. Each chair was outfitted with thick leather straps on the armrests and legs, as well as a wide belt across the backrest. The table itself had been cleared of its usual decorations, leaving only an eerie emptiness that seemed to magnify the oppressive atmosphere.

“What is this?” you croaked, your voice barely audible.

“It’s for your own safety, oppa,” Karina said, stepping in front of you. Her expression was calm, almost soothing, but her eyes betrayed something far more chilling.

“You’re so clumsy,” Wonyoung added with a giggle, her hand brushing against your shoulder as she leaned closer. “We can’t risk you running off and getting hurt again.”

They wheeled you to one of the chairs, and Chaewon knelt beside you, her fingers brushing your cast as she smiled. “See? This way, you’ll always be safe. Always with us.”

Your body tensed as Liz and Hanni began strapping you in, their movements precise and practiced. You tried to resist, but your weakened state made it impossible to fight them off. The straps were snug but not painful, their tightness a cruel reminder of how little freedom you had left.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You don’t have to do this.”

“We do, oppa,” Yunjin said from behind you, her tone soft but unyielding. “You don’t understand yet, but you will. We’re all you need.”

Bound Forever

As the final strap was secured, Karina crouched down in front of you, her hands resting lightly on your knees. “This is your home now. There’s nothing out there for you—nothing but pain and loneliness. But here… here you’re loved. Here you’re safe.”

Tears burned in your eyes as the reality of your situation sank in. There would be no more escape attempts, no more fleeting moments of hope. The house had become your prison, and your step sisters were its wardens.

“We’ll take care of you, oppa,” Wonyoung said, her voice almost a whisper as she kissed your cheek.

“Forever,” Chaewon added, her fingers brushing against your hair.

As they stood around you, their smiles unwavering and their eyes filled with an unsettling devotion, you realized the horrifying truth: you weren’t just bound to them by straps or walls. You were bound by their obsession, and there was no escaping it.

Not now. Not ever.

[francisofthespook]

Bed Chem

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, nothing too explicit

Word Count: 3195

Setting: Alexandria, Pre-Negan

A/N: Hi guys I'm super excited about this oneeeee ! When I first started writing for Daryl I had this idea in mind and it was what inspired me to start writing again. I waited a bit to write this, I had been working it out in my head and trying to figure out where to take it but Daryl is so Bed Chem coded in my head and you can't tell me otherwise. I hope y'all like it :)))

(Moderately proofread, but I will probably still go back in and edit it later lol)

(( I made the borders :) ))

“I don't know… I think it's too much,” you said as you turned around, holding out the ends of the dress with your hands. “Girl, are you kidding? You look amazing, you have to wear it!” With an exasperated breath, you turned and looked at yourself in the full-length mirror again. You looked at Rosita in the reflection and gave her a small smile before admiring the dress again.

It was super cute, but you felt it was too much for the small party. You ran your fingers along the ruching at the neck, pinching and pulling at the buttery smooth fabric and trying to pull it up so it wasn't too low. The sheer blue baby doll dress fell to your mid-thigh and had off-the-shoulder puff sleeves high enough to show off your tattoos. Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the bow at the center of the neckline before facing the girls again. “Okay fine.”

Maggie and Rosita quietly squealed in excitement at your defeat. “You guys look so pretty,” You marveled at your two friends. “Thanks to you! I had no idea you were hiding these gems in your closet.” Maggie said with a wink. 

It may have been dumb, but you had a thing for collecting cute dresses while out on runs. You knew that they would likely never get worn, but you kept them tucked away in the back of your closet in hopes that one day the world would be normal enough that a situation would arise where you could finally wear them. This was kinda one of those situations.

Alexandria had been your ‘home’ for the past two years. You had stumbled upon Aaron while searching for a new campsite, and ever since then you had been happy to call yourself an ‘Alexandrian’. Life had been pretty normal, nothing like it used to be, but normal enough. Until Rick’s group arrived.

Something about these people felt different, you could just tell they had been through it. They all seemed pretty unsure at first, not wanting to trust that this place could be real. But slowly, they began to let their walls down and accept that this was a safe place. Well, as safe as it could be. 

It was Deanna’s idea to have this little party. Although the newcomers had been settling in, it was still very obvious that there was a divide. In hopes of blurring that line, Deanna suggested that we throw a party. Her thinking was that if we all got together and had a good time, we would feel more ‘unified’ as a people. You had been trying on your own to make friends with the newcomers, and Maggie and Rosita were the most receptive to your attempts at friendship. 

You had been hanging out with them for about a week now, and anyone who didn’t know you guys would have thought you had been friends since birth. Something about the two girls just resonated with you, you understood each other in ways that the others couldn't. So you were more than happy to share your small collection of dresses with them when the party was announced. 

“What are we waiting for, let's go!” Maggie announced, and the three of you did final looks in the mirror before walking over to Deanna’s house. 

The house was more packed than you had ever seen it before. The three of you squeezed your way in and found a spot in the far corner of the living room. Soft music was playing over the speakers as everyone mingled. It warmed your heart to see everyone finally opening up, and you hoped that this would lead to strong bonds between the two groups. 

“I’m gonna go find Abraham,” Rosita said, leaning in before continuing “Show off my cute dress.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I gotta go find Glenn too, see what he thinks of mine,” Maggie said with a smile. “I have a feeling you guys won't be at this party much longer…” You said, laughing. “We’ll be sure to come find you before we leave,” Rosita replied, giving you a playful shove. “You sure you’re okay on your own for a bit?” You looked over to Maggie, rolling your eyes. “Guys, I'll be fine, you go have fun! I’m gonna get a drink” The three of you gave each other small waves as you went your separate ways.

You made your way over to the makeshift bar, waving and saying small hellos to the people you passed. The options were limited, but you grabbed a bottle of cheap champagne and some orange juice to make yourself a mimosa. Taking a sip, you turned around to go look for Aaron, but as you turned you bumped into someone. The stranger reached out and grabbed your shoulder to help steady you before you fell. “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!”

The stranger let his hand linger on your shoulder for a second before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He swiftly removed his hand and took a step back, grunting “S’fine.” You didn’t recognize this man. He definitely wasn’t from Alexandria, you would have recognized him. But you didn’t recognize him from Rick’s group either. The man rubbed the back of his neck with his hand while looking down at his shoes, he seemed a bit shy. “Are you from Rick’s group? I haven't seen you around…” He hesitantly made eye contact with you and nodded. “Yea.”

He had a certain aura to him that left you needing to know more. He was handsome, in a rugged way. Not usually the type of guy that you would have gone for in the old world, but you couldn't help admiring this man. He had a sharp jawline, long dark brown locks, and the most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen. His sleeveless jacket showed off his tanned arms that were muscular, but not in an overwhelming way. You never liked guys that were too muscular. And not to mention his accent, god the few words you heard from his thick southern drawl began to make your head buzz. 

You were about to ask him his name when you heard Aaron from the end of the bar, “Hey man! You get lost?” Both you and the stranger looked over to Aaron, and he gestured for the man to come over. Aaron noticed you and said, “Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?” You smiled at him, “No not at all!” 

The stranger turned and gave you a small smile and a nod before walking over to Aaron. As he walked away, you were brushed by his scent. Pine, smoke, and sweat lingered in a cloud around you for a few seconds before it finally dissipated. You watched him walking away for a moment before your senses returned to you and you realized you never got his name. 

“Wait, what's your-” He was too far away to hear you at this point. You were left in a daze, craving in the absence of his scent. You were broken from your trance when  you saw Rosita walk up to the bar from the corner of your eye. Without letting him leave your sight, you tapped Rosita on the shoulder and whispered, “Hey, who’s the cute boy with the black jacket and the thick accent?” The man was out of your line of sight now, and you turned to see a confused Rosita. “Huh?” You pointed in the direction of where you last saw him, “The cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad,” you held up your arms and flexed to imply his muscular ones. 

Rosita looked at you now with a dumbfounded look, she laughed a bit before saying, “ You mean, Daryl?” Suddenly, you felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe he had a girlfriend or something... “I don’t know, I guess…” You said cautiously. She laughed again, “It’s nothing… he’s just… Daryl?” She looked at you and shrugged. You leaned in close and whisper-yelled “What is that supposed to mean?” She turned her attention to her drink and said nonchalantly, “I don’t know, he’s just… a little reserved. ‘Rough around the edges’ maybe?” It felt like there was something she wasn’t telling you.

“If he’s unavailable or whatever you can just tell me” Rosita looked back at you. “Honestly girl, I don't think that man is interested in like…anything.” She said, shrugging again and taking a sip of her drink. “Huh. Okay then.” Feeling a bit defeated, you took a few sips of your own drink while you and Rosita made light conversation. The rest of the night you caught yourself discreetly scanning the room, in search of Daryl.

A few days later, you were sitting on your porch, waiting for Maggie to come over after she got off her watch shift. The sun was setting, painting the houses in warm orange hues. You swayed back and forth in the rocking chair while nursing the cigarette you held between your fingers. In the distance, you could see a figure walking in your direction. As it got closer, you recognized it. It was him. You tried to work up the courage to say something, to just shout out ‘hello’ at the least, but your heart was racing and you couldn't find the courage.

When he reached the front of your house, he glanced over at you. “Hey.” He said with a small wave as he continued walking. “Hey.” You responded in a shaky voice. Before he got any further away, you took one last drag and stood up. Walking to the edge of the railing, you leaned over it and shouted, “Wait!” He slowed his pace and turned around, taking a few small steps toward you. He remained silent as he stared at you expectantly. “You uh- you never told me your name.” 

He looked around briefly, almost like he couldn't believe you were talking to him. “Daryl.” Of course, you already knew that. But it was nice just to hear his voice, even if it was just for the duration of one single word. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a cheesy grin. “Well, it was nice meeting you the other night, Daryl.” 

He chuckled to himself, “You too.” You might be wrong, but you could have sworn you saw his lip twitch up in the slightest. “I’m (Y/N).” You were sure you sounded a bit goofy, but the scene you found yourself in felt like something out of a movie. The burning sky set his skin aglow, softening his rough edges. Certainly, this wasn’t the Daryl Rosita was talking about? 

He quietly repeated your name to himself, “(Y/N).” like he was testing the feel of it in his mouth. The way your name sounded in his drawl had you feeling out of breath. Am I really that easy? Is all it takes just for him to say my name to get me going? You felt like you were in middle school again, staring at your crush from across the lunch room, swooning over the way he opened a water bottle. Except this time, you were being acknowledged, the way he looked at you made you feel like he really saw you. 

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, it felt comfortable, like a warm blanket. Until you heard your name being called out in the other direction. “Hey! We still on for tonight?” You looked to your left to see Maggie approaching you, wine bottle in hand. “Yeah yeah, I was just having a smoke while I waited for you, I-” You turned back to look at Daryl, but he had already turned around and started walking away. “I just uh- You ready?” You stuttered to her, hoping she hadn’t picked up how caught off guard you were.

“Alright, spill.” You looked up from your seat on the couch to find Maggie handing you a glass as she sat down on the other end. “What?” You blurted out. She rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her wine. “Don’t be silly, (Y/N). I saw you talking to Daryl as I was walking up.” You played it off as casually as you could. “Oh, that was nothing we just-he just- we uh met the other night. At the party.” She gave you a look that told you she wasn’t fully convinced yet. “And…?” This time, you took a big sip of your glass before continuing.

“When I was getting a drink, I almost tripped and he caught me.” You looked down into your glass, swirling the blood-red liquid as if you hoped words would appear and tell you what to say. “I never got his name so…” You took another sip. “When I saw him walking by this afternoon, I stopped him and asked him.” Maggie nodded, looking off to the side in thought. “It was just…kinda weird I guess.” You felt your heart rate pick up again. “Weird, how?” You took another sip and you could feel yourself getting the slightest bit dizzy.

“Well, the way he looked at you…I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before.” You reached over to the coffee table in front of you and refilled your glass, offering the bottle to Maggie after you did so. She took it from you and topped off her own glass. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” She finally looked back at you and you saw the wide smirk on her face. “Oh, it’s definitely a good thing.” The two of you burst out laughing and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your cheeks.

3 glasses in you found yourself oversharing with Maggie. Your skin felt hot, your head light, and your cheeks warm with a tinge of pink. The two of you spilled details from past relationships and regrettable one-night stands. It wasn’t long until the conversation circled back to Daryl. “You should really talk to him.” You hid your face behind your hands, your glass long forgotten on the coffee table. “What if he thinks I’m being too forward!” You laughed at Maggie, “I wouldn’t even know what to say!” 

Maggie stood up from the couch, sticking her hands out beside her to help keep balance. “You go like this,” She stumbled to you and leaned over, putting one hand on your shoulder. “Cum right on me. I mean-Camaraderie!” Maggie fell to her knees in front of you laughing harder than you had ever seen her do before. You too, could not stop the laughing fit that ensued. Leaning over with a hand on your stomach, as tears left your eyes from the force of the giggles. 

You looked down at her, feigning doe eyes and now placing your hand on her shoulder. In your sweetest voice, you said, “Where are thou? Why not uponeth me?” It felt like you two laughed for hours.

After the initial high from the wine started to cool off, the two of you lounged on the couch, knees bent and facing each other. You were trying to come up with serious ways to try and get Daryl’s attention. “Don’t tell Glenn I said this, but I always thought Daryl was kinda handsome.” She tried to hide her small grin with her hand. “See! You get it!” She nodded in response. You looked at her and in a more serious tone you told her, “I bet we’d have really good bed chem.” She hummed in agreement. You started to slightly daze off as you imagined it.

“I just want him to pick me up, pull ‘em down, and turn me around” Maggie tried to bite back her chuckle. “What?” You turned back to her grinning. She narrowed her eyes and said, “I bet he talks real sweet while he’s doing bad things.” Just the thought of it had you out of breath. You groaned in frustration. Putting your head in your hands and shaking it while laughing you muttered, “I'm just manifesting that he’s oversized.” She laughed, “Honey, I don’t think you need to manifest that.” You looked over at her and groaned again, “Maggie, I think I’m obsessed.”

The next few days you were in your head about what to do. You couldn’t find the right time or place to talk to Daryl, but you knew you needed to. Every waking moment was filled with thoughts of him and it was starting to physically affect you. The most frustrating part was that you knew it would be even better than in your head. But just the fragment that you could imagine, based on how little you knew him, was better than any of your wildest fantasies. 

You had decided you were going to try and talk to him today. He had been going back and forth to Hilltop for various reasons, and his absence had given you the courage to approach him before he left again today. At least if things don’t go well, I won't have to see him for a few days. You checked yourself in the mirror one more time before leaving your house. 

Just as you were about to open the door, you heard a knock. You waited a few seconds so that whoever was on the other side didn’t think you had rushed to the door. Putting your hand on the cool knob you slowly turned it. The old door creaked as it swung open, and you were met with a sight you couldn’t believe was real. 

Daryl stood at your doorstep, eyes locked on his shoes and hand on the back of his neck. “Oh, Hi Daryl.” You tried to contain the giddiness that was coursing through your body. “Hey uh- you free for a sec?” He slowly looked up at you and dropped his hand. “Yeah, what's up?” He looked around nervously. “I haven’t been in Alexandria a lot lately, but I wanna be.” You were stunned at this statement, what did he mean by that? “When I’m back next time, uh- was gonna see if ya wanted to um- go huntin’ together or somethin’.” 

You had to shift your weight to the side of your body that was still holding onto the door handle, otherwise your knees would have fully given out. You couldn’t hide the wide grin that spread across your face. “Yeah, I would like that.” He looked up at you and gave you the smallest smile. “Are you free next week?” His smile grew wider as he said, “I am.” 

Although not many words left his mouth, his eyes spoke clearly. You picked up a hint of lust, mixed with excitement and anxiety. You knew what that look meant. “I’ll see you next week then.” You spoke softly, slightly leaning your head against the door. “Yeah.” He gave you a small nod before shoving his hands in his front pockets and walking off your porch. Before he left earshot you called out, “Have a safe trip!” He looked back at you and smiled just a bit wider, before giving you a wave and walking toward the gate. 

OKAY LET ME KNOW WHAT Y'ALL THOUGHT !!!!

also I feel like it's kinda maybe necessary to do a part 2 to Juno ???? lmk....

[senipsenipsenip]

Stan shook his head, chuckling as he hung up the phone. Geez, if he hadn't put a stop to that he was pretty sure his nephew was going to overheat and explode like one of Ford's old computers. Speaking of, he should probably make sure the fire extinguisher down in the lab wasn't expired if Ford and Dipper were gonna be messing around down there the rest of the summer.

Eh, that was a tomorrow problem. Dipper was still up in the attic with Mabel unpacking for another summer in Gravity Falls. Hopefully that meant Stan had at least twenty-four hours until the nerds started blowing stuff up. Mabel and Dipper's parents had seemed surprised the twins wanted another summer with their Grunkle Stan. After all, they were teenagers now, Stan couldn't blame their parents for expecting the two of them to want to spend a summer with kids their own age in California rather than an old fart in the middle of the woods. Well, two old farts, but their parents didn't know about the second one. Besides, Ford would probably object to being called a fart. He'd probably complain that's not the proper term Stanley, if anything I'm an old flatulence.

Stan shuddered. Man, he musta been on that boat with his brother for too long.

"GRUNKLE STAAAAAAAAAN!"

Speaking of the kids. Stan grunted as he hefted himself out of his armchair and made his way up the stairs toward the attic. There hadn't been any sound of breaking glass before Mabel's call, so he figured he could take his time getting up there. He heard a loud thump, a groan from Dipper, and a loud giggle from Mabel. Okay, maybe he should walk a little faster.

"There you are!" Mabel called. Stan stood in the doorway, staring at both of his niblings sprawled out on the floor, a half-rolled poster laying between them and a hammer still clutched in Mabel's hands.

"Dipper's trying to hang up this poster, but he's still not tall enough. I tried climbing on his back, but I guess he still hasn't gotten his puberty muscles yet." Mabel scrambled up and ran to Stan, holding out the hammer in front of her. "Can you do it?"

"I do too have muscles," Dipper grumbled, sitting up. "But no one can expect to hold up the forty pounds of sequins on your sweater and your giant head!"

Mabel stuck her tongue out at her brother. Stan laughed and took the hammer from her, ruffling her hair.

"No sweat, Pumpkin. Let a real man take over." He couldn't ignore the way Mabel's smile grew wider at the nickname. It had been almost a year since Stan got his memories back, but it seemed any little reminder that he was recovering still made his family happy. It was weird, in a good way, to see people care about him so much. And if he made sure to call Mabel by her nicknames even more than her real name, well sue him.

"You could just get me a stepladder," Dipper grumbled, shuffling to his feet.

"Ugh, then I gotta walk all the way back downstairs," Stan picked up a bent nail off the floor. "I'll just get it over with now. Besides, then Mabel can whip us up some lemonade while I work."

"Ooooo can I make Mabel-ade?"

Stan shrugged. "Sure, knock yourself out."

The words were barely out of his mouth before Mabel was squealing and running down the stairs. In the silence, Stan shifted on his feet, giving Dipper an awkward sideways glance.

"I haven't...had Mabel-ade before, have I?" he whispered.

Dipper smiled. "Nah, don't worry. That's a whole new horror you get to experience first hand."

Stan chuckled. "Right." He made his way to the wall, squinting at the wooden beams to try and figure out where he could safely sink a nail in. It's not like the place was structurally unsound, but he also hadn't had any sort of building inspection in uh...ever.

"So," Dipper started. "Why'd you want Mabel out of the room?"

Stan smiled. "Perceptive. Good job, kid." He lined up the nail on the beam that had the least amount of termite holes. "You're not in trouble, just wanted to warn ya. Speaking of 'puberty muscles', your Pops called. Apparently he thinks you still haven't had The Talk yet. He told me to keep an eye on ya and that he'd explain everything when you get home."

Stan slipped the edge of the poster under the nail, resting his elbow against the poster to hold it in place while he started hammering.

"Had himself all worked up over it. 'Oh Uncle Stanford, Dipper's a teenager now, he might start to get ideas'," Stan laughed as he finished hammering. "So just, ya know, when you see him pretend I didn't tell ya about the birds and the bees already or anything. Some dads get weird about that. Apparently, he wants to be the one to tell you himself." Stan put his hands on his hips and admired his handy-work. A little crooked, but what wasn't in this place? He nodded and turned to Dipper, who was looking at him with his eyebrows drawn together.

"But...Grunkle Stan, you didn't have that talk with me," he murmured.

"Ha! There ya go," Stan grinned, punching Dipper on the shoulder. "You're gettin' better at lyin' kid."

"But I'm not lying."

"Wow, I almost believed you that time!"

"No, Grunkle Stan," Dipper grabbed Stan's hand before he could leave the room. Stan looked down at Dipper and realized the boy's face had turned from confusion to distress. "You really didn't."

Stan frowned. "Whaddya mean I didn't? Don't tell me you forgot. I still remember having that talk with my old man." He shuddered. "Not the sorta thing you forget."

Dipper gripped his arm tighter. "How well do you remember having that conversation with me?

"Kid, you were making a face like I was about to pull your teeth out the whole time and you screamed, like, a lot. You couldn't even look at the diagrams in my Why Am I Sweaty? book."

"Grunkle Stan...none of that happened."

Stan froze. "But I remember it."

Dipper gently pulled the hammer out of Stan's hand and set it on the ground before grasping his other hand. "Have you...has this happened before?"

"Has what?" Stan could feel his heart rate picking up.

"Remembering things that aren't real."

"Alright kid, whatever joke this is, it isn't funny." Stan ripped his hands from Dipper's hold, rubbing them against his pants as his eyes darted around the room. An old habit. Looking for an exit.

Dipper held up his hands as if approaching a wild animal. "Stay calm. I can get Ford, maybe he can help figure this out. Maybe the memory gun just...um..."

"Just what?" Stan could feel his voice going shrill. "That gun was supposed to take stuff out of my head, not put stuff in!"

Dipper was beginning to look as panicked as Stan felt.

"Oh God," Stan muttered. "What else did it put in there. Dipper? What else isn't real?"

"This is the first time!" Dipper began to pace. "Unless...has Great Uncle Ford said anything? On the boat, did anything like this happen? This conversation?"

Stan shook his head, his breathing starting to feel funny. "No. But apparently asking me to remember stuff isn't exactly trustworthy - "

"He would have told me," Dipper said with certainty. "Great Uncle Ford would have told me if something happened. So it didn't. So this is the first time and, and, and, we can fix it! Right?"

Stan just stared at Dipper. They shared the same frightened eyes. For Dipper's sake, Stan nodded.

"MABEL-ADE IS READY! YOU WERE OUT OF CHERRIES, SO I USED MARBLES!"

Dipper and Stan glanced towards the stairs.

"Let's get you something to drink first," Dipper muttered, walking slowly towards Stan to take his hand again. "Then we can figure everything out."

"Sure, kid," Stan whispered. He didn't let go of Dipper's hand until they reached the kitchen.

***

They decided it was best not to tell Mabel. After all, it didn't seem like the sort of problem that the scrapbook could solve, and it wasn't worth causing her distress until they knew what they were dealing with. Instead, Dipper had been tasked with distracting Mabel while Ford and Stan commiserated in the kitchen. Stan really wasn't sure how good of a job they were doing of fooling Mabel. She had given him a weird look when he gave the kids money to go get ice cream in town. He couldn't blame her. He'd even thrown in a couple quarters so she could get sprinkles.

"Didn't Dipper mention some sort of brain scanner?" Stan offered. "I don't really like the idea of you poking around in there, but would it help?"

Ford shook his head. He was pacing the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back. "No. Project Mentem is broken. And even if I were to fix it, all I could do with it is see and or encrypt your memories. There would be no way for me to discern what's true and what's false since your mind interprets all of them as true." He stopped his pacing to take another swig of his Mabel-ade. Stan liked to give Ford grief about his coffee intake, but at this rate he'd be willing to let Ford have a couple cups of Joe if it meant he'd stop ingesting whatever sour, spicy, glittery drink Mabel was trying to pass off as lemonade. He was pretty sure Ford's eyes were starting to shake.

"So, you had no memory of this talk with Dipper until your phone call with his father?"

"Right."

"And when the memory returned, did it feel like the rest of them? Think hard, was there any difference in sensation?"

Stan shook his head. "Nope. The same sort of itch I always get."

Ford hummed. "Fiddleford told me once that some of his returning memories would get scrambled. Two puzzle pieces fitting together that shouldn't. For example, he swore there was a Christmas that I spent with him and Emma Mae, but it turned out he was combining his memories of Christmas with her with our own holiday celebration in the lab. Can you think of any other conversation with Dipper you could be mixing up? Anyone else you would have been having that conversation with other than Dipper? Perhaps your mind replaced your real conversation partner with Dipper?"

Stan frowned. "You think I just go talkin' about the birds and the bees with everybody?"

"Stan, just think."

He shrugged. "The only people I talk to who would even be young enough for that would be Soos or Wendy. There's no way I woulda given that talk to a girl, and I'm pretty sure Soos's abuelita woulda ripped me a new one if I had done anything to take away Soos's 'innocence'. I have enough self-preservation not to do that."

Ford nodded. "Alright. I feel comfortable with that reasoning." He took another swig of Mabel-ade. "However, then we're dealing with the more uncomfortable reality of the memory being completely fabricated."

"If you keep drinking that stuff, you're gonna start hallucinating too."

Ford's glass slammed down onto the table. "You've been having hallucinations?"

"No. I mean, not that I know of at least. Have I been?"

"Not that I've seen."

"Alright, then no."

Ford sighed and sat down in the chair across from Stan. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table and hands clasped together.

"I don't like hearing you do that," Ford murmured.

"Doing what?"

"Doubting your mind." Ford looked up to Stan, his eyes that horrible mix of calculating and pitiful that tended to appear these days.

Stan shrugged. "Why shouldn't I? We know I'm just making stuff up now. Heck, if Mabel didn't have pictures of all the crazy stuff we got up to last summer I'd probably think that was made up too."

Ford's eyes narrowed. "Hm. That might work."

"The scrapbook?"

"No, physical stimulus." Ford stood from the table again. "You said that when you had this conversation with Dipper you used a book to show him diagrams and such, correct?"

"Yeah. Why Am I Sweaty?"

Ford blinked. "You still have that thing?"

"Ma mailed it up back when she was cleaning out the house. She said she had a whole bunch of 'old science books' she thought her 'little scientist' might want before she donated 'em. I said I'd take 'em 'cause I was hoping some of them would be able to help with the portal. Turns out it was just a bunch of textbooks I stole from the high school and that thing. Came in handy though." Stan shrugged. "Maybe."

"Where is it?"

"If it wasn't destroyed it's probably still in my office. Why?"

Ford left the room without a word, coat billowing behind him. Stan took the opportunity to dump the rest of Ford's drink down the sink. He had a hunch he was about to have the full attention of a scientist on him for awhile and he'd prefer if that scientist wasn't vibrating like a beehive.

"Here we are!" Ford announced as he entered the room. "As I was saying, a physical stimulus might -" he stopped, staring at his glass. "My drink."

Stan shrugged. "I got thirsty."

Ford squinted at him. "Hm. Try looking through the pages of this. Maybe it will help ground you."

"But, won't that just make the fake memory more real?" Stan asked, flipping through the pages. The Pituitary Gland.

"That!" Stan shouted, pointing at the diagram. "Dipper screamed at that!"

Ford frowned. "That seems unlike him."

Stan groaned, dropping the book and putting his head in his hands. "I know but...I swear I can see it Ford. It feels so real."

Stan could hear the sound of Ford getting out of his chair, and there was suddenly a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"We'll figure it out, Stanley," he said softly.

"I just don't get why my brain would choose that memory to make," Stan mumbled through his hands. "Not that I want a buncha fake memories, but I could have at least come up with something cooler. Like winning a prize fight or kissing a mermaid or something."

Ford chuckled. "Well, I - " he was interrupted by the sound of the Shack door slamming open, frantic footsteps racing toward the kitchen. Stan lifted his head from his hands, leaning back to adopt a more nonchalant position in his chair. Ford gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!" Mabel burst into the kitchen, two small paper cups in her hands. "The ice cream lady said I could have two free samples, so I got two old people flavors! They're melted, but you can drink them. Who wants Butter Pecan and who wants Rum Raisin?"

Dipper shuffled in behind her, Mabel's enthusiasm waning as she took in the tense atmosphere of the room.

"What's wrong?" she asked hesitantly. "Do you guys not like those flavors?"

Stan turned to look at Ford, who had that pinched look around his eyes again.

"Mabel," Ford said gently. "Maybe you should sit down. We have something to -"

He was interrupted by a scream. Mabel had dropped the ice cream cups on the floor, leaving two splats that Waddles wasted no time in beginning to lick up. Stan sat up quickly in his chair.

"Sweetie, what - " before he could complete his sentence, Mabel had grabbed Why Am I Sweaty? and hurled it through the open kitchen window.

"Die childhood killer, die!" she shrieked. She stood huffing for a few more moments, eyes slightly crazed, before straightening up and looking towards the floor.

"Awwww piggy cream!" she cooed, squatting down to pat Waddles' head.

Dipper was the first to break the silence. "Mabel...what was that?"

She glared at Stan from the floor. "An evil book. Is that why you wanted us out of the house? So you could trap us with that horrible book when we got back?"

"You know that book?" Ford asked.

Mabel shuddered. "Ugh, unfortunately. Why do you even wanna read that thing again? It's not like it's hard to forget. Unless..." she frowned. "Were you...showing it to Grunkle Ford? Grunkle Ford, do you not know where babies come from?"

"No, I am well acquainted with a variety of human and alien reproductive systems." This time it was Stan's turn to shudder.

Ford reddened. "Not like that!"

"Wait, Mabel, you read Why Am I Sweaty?" Dipper asked. He looked to Stan, who was beginning to look green around the gills.

"You're the one I read that to?" Stan asked hoarsely. "But that's...that's not for you! I thought I read that to Dipper, you're telling me that I read that to...What?!"

Mabel slowed her petting of Waddles, beginning to look sheepish. "Well...you didn't know it was me. You thought I was Dipper."

Stan's mouth hung open. "Are you telling me my brain was swiss cheese before the memory gun?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh," Dipper groaned, slapping his hand against his head. "That was during the whole carpet thing wasn't it."

Mabel nodded.

"Carpet thing?" Ford asked.

"Yeah," Mabel began to scritch under Waddles' chin. "That carpet from your secret room. It made everybody switch bodies. I was Dipper for awhile and he was me. Soos was Waddles and Waddles was Soos!" Mabel grinned, holding up Waddles to stand on two legs. "Just look at this adorable little former handyman!"

"I was also Waddles," Dipper admitted. "A lot of people were a lot of people. McGucket tried to eat Soos."

Ford frowned. "Soos as Waddles?"

Dipper and Mabel shared a look.

"Never mind all that," Mabel offered, smiling tightly. "Let's talk about why Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford were talking about puberty. Do old people do it twice or something?"

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. "We weren't talking about puberty, we were talking about a memory Stanley had of discussing puberty with Dipper. Which Dipper thought wasn't real. Now we know why."

Stan raised his hand. "I would now like to pivot the discussion to Ford not leaving his experiments lying around where small children can find them."

"Wait!" Mabel gasped. "Does this mean that Dipper hasn't had the talk yet?" She leapt to her feet. "Because Mom gave me the girl one when we got home last summer! Does this mean I know the girl one and the boy one and Dipper knows none of them?"

Dipper sighed. "Mabel, I've seen nature documentaries."

Mabel whooped. "I know more about something than Dipper! Like, an actual science thing!"

"Mabel, I still know about - "

"Oh yeah?" Mabel reached into her skirt pocket. "Then what's this then?" With a wicked grin she slapped a bright pink wrapper covered in stars onto the kitchen table. Stan slapped his hands over his eyes. Ford's face went slack. Dipper grimaced.

"Mabel...I share a bathroom with you, I know what a pad is."

Ford cleared his throat. "They certainly," he coughed. "They certainly have changed a lot in the past thirty years."

Mabel frowned. "Were the old ones in black and white?"

Stan groaned. "Can we skip ahead to the part where Sixer burns that carpet and we all celebrate that I'm not actually losing my mind?"

Mabel wrapped her arms around Stan, pulling him into a big hug. "Of course! I'll go grab the lighter fluid!" And with that she fled from the room, snatching the pad off the table as she went. Stan lifted his head from his hands and the three Pines men stared at each other awkwardly.

"Well," Ford clapped his hand back on Stan's shoulder. "Another mystery solved."

Dipper nodded. "Sorry to freak you guys out like that. I don't know how I didn't think about the whole 'body swap' thing earlier."

Stan hefted himself up from the table. "No sweat, kid. Er." The three of them turned to the window where Gompers could be seen chomping away at the pages of Why Am I Sweaty?

They turned to each other. A silent agreement was made. Stan grabbed the popsicles out of the freezer and they began to file out of the kitchen, ready to meet Mabel at the fire pit to send that carpet back to Hell where it belonged. If there was anything they'd learned from last summer, it was that some knowledge was best left hidden.

AN: Sequel to this and this! I may or may not manage to get another one done by the end of Stanuary tomorrow (probably not), but either way, thanks for joining me!

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

didn’t realize this was the liberal arts

Jason goes to college. You’re there. And then you show up in his nightlife, which throws him for a loop.

I wish I could tell you what this is but I can’t. i set out to write a meet cute. that's not what happened. Jason is a sad little dude. You’re in one of his college classes, but don’t get the idea that you’re nice about it.

Swearing as always. No use of y/n. I don’t know how long this is.

Edit: whoops, it's a series. rest of it is on my masterlist

————

Jason’s trying.

He is. He’s taking the tattered remains of his life and trying to shove them together, mash them into something liveable. Or at least, manageable. Something he can stand to survive.

It’s difficult. He rose from the Pit with a brain that didn’t quite work, didn’t crank like his half forgotten memories told him it did when he was fifteen. He couldn’t string two thoughts together, couldn’t make the synapses fire. Nothing at the helm but the searing pain he brought with him when he woke up, telling his heart to pulse just to find something to do about the feelings of rage and despair that submerged him.

Which, of course, led him to his stupid plan to kill Bruce.

It didn’t work. And it wouldn’t have helped anyway.

His head finally cleared when the dust settled. It dawned on him that he was blessed (ha) with a new lease on life, or something, and he should probably act like it. He should probably get off his ass and make the most of it.

He ends up doing the only things he knows how to do. Jason patrols and goes back to school to get his GED.

The fighting is obvious. He’s lead with his teeth his whole life, he’s not about to start pulling punches now. And a little purpose never hurt anyone, he figures. It helps, most of the time.

More surprising is how much Jason enjoys going back to school. It had started as a passing thought, but he’d forgotten how much he missed it, the freedom to relax and let his mind whir in circles. Bruce had given him the stability to clear his head and focus in the classroom, and he’d soaked everything up like a sponge. When he goes back he discovers, much to his delight, that he’s actually alright in the head. The lights are on, thank god, and soon enough learning comes easy to him, just like it did when he was a teenager. What a relief, to have that back.

He finishes out the GED and figures what the hell, he might as well keep going, and enrolls himself in Gotham U. He is, he realizes, fulfilling a long-lost dream he’d spun for himself back when he was living on the streets. It makes him quietly satisfied, and he pushes through his first semester.

So this is where he is. He comes home at 4am, showers, sleeps for a few hours, then wakes up for class. Dick calls every other week, Barbara patches herself into the line in his helmet without his permission, and he ignores them both. He registers for a course on seventeenth century literature and reads don Miguel de Cervantes, and Margaret Cavendish, and Shakespeare, of course, but also Galileo, which is fun. He brings his books to class, he makes notes in the margins. He searches the authors’ lives on Wikipedia and tries to make text to world connections, just like he learned in school. He looks around the table at the other students and reckons with the fact that they are not, and will never be, like him. Or rather, Jason is not like them. They’re younger, for one thing, but also infinitely more innocent, which feels stupid to say, but it’s true. Whatever they’ve had happen in their uniform lives is absolutely nothing compared to his, and Jason can put that right in his pipe and smoke it for all the good it’ll do him. But he can’t help thinking it, as he eyes them carefully. There is a chasm separating him from them a mile wide, and that’s all there is to it. He’s not like them. Not like you.

You sit next to him, sometimes. You smile at him briefly as you sit down, then remain silent. You don’t speak often, which is notable in a small seminar. Not that Jason does either. A few weeks in he realizes you speak once per class, unless asked a direct question. Your comments are always summarizing, reminding others of the various ideas discussed and offering options of where to go next. It is immensely helpful when you direct traffic like this, and the discussion tends to be clearer after you speak. He peeks at your copy of Paradise Lost spread open under your fingers to find neat little notes, passages underlined, a few question marks. You’re never late, and you always thank the professor before you leave.

Imagine his surprise, then, when he finds you after dark, kicking the shit out of his perp.

You don’t hear him approach, climbing into the man’s apartment with a thud as he realizes someone had started his work for him. He thinks he recognizes you from behind, except that would be crazy, so it can’t be you. What would a university student be doing here? Jason doesn’t count.

It can’t be you, but he’s not sure, so he clears his throat to interrupt. You look at him over your shoulder with a look of such savagery he almost takes a step back.

Yeah. That’s you. Huh.

The cognitive dissonance threatens to give him a migraine. You look him up and down, raise an eyebrow, then turn back to the man lying on the floor and deal him another blow. The man groans, which doesn’t faze you, but Jason snaps to attention.

“I gotta question him.” It’s true, Jason thinks this man has intel on Black Mask’s dealers.

You whirl back around. “That doesn’t seem like it’s my fucking problem.”

Holy shit. Who the fuck are you, anyway?

“Listen, princess,” he begins, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him. This is the first time he’s spoken to you, and it amazes him that he’s doing through the modulator. “I got shit to do here, you gotta get out of the way.” You try to slam onto his foot, then recoil, hissing in pain. “Steel-toed, sweetheart, that won’t get you anywhere.”

“What do you even need to know?” you ask furiously. “You target Black Mask, right? You’re wondering if Black Mask is his supplier? He is, there’s checks on the table.” You nod to a modest desk in the corner.

Okay. Yeah, he did want to know that. “Thanks, princess, but I’ll take it from here.”

You wrest yourself from his grip. “No,” you say stubbornly, “I’m not done.”

“Yeah, you are.” Jason eyes the perp, realizing he’d fallen unconscious. Shrugging, he turns to the desk. You’d clearly gone through it, receipts and bills are littered on the table, but there’s a locked cabinet you hadn’t opened. Kneeling, Jason takes out his lockpick.

He keeps an eye on you as he goes to work. You haven’t left, although he’s not sure where you would go, or even what you’re doing here. You watch him warily, folding your arms over your chest. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually the lock clicks, and he slides the drawer open. It’s pretty bare, mostly cash and, aha, a notebook that’s gotta be important.

He holds it for less than a second before you rip it from his fingers, moving across the room and flipping the book open. He grunts in surprise and follows you, only to find himself with a glock in his face.

Instinct tells him to draw his own weapon, and his hand drops to his hip, but he forces himself to freeze. You’re definitely a civilian, despite whatever the fuck you get up to in your free time. You’re not dressed in any kind of practical gear, just a loose fitting sweatshirt and leggings. Jason scouts you out and realizes that the gun in your hand probably isn’t even yours, you don’t have a place to put it. You must have disarmed the perp before Red Hood had gotten there. Jason files that away for later.

“Let me look,” you demand, and Jason nods. You keep the gun on him, holding the notebook open with one hand and studying it intently. It is so like the image of you in class that he almost laughs out loud. Whatever you’re looking for, you clearly find it, and you mouth something over and over, memorizing it. Then you shut the notebook and hold it out to him.

He takes it cautiously. “You need a ride out of here?”

You roll your eyes. “No thanks, dipshit,” and with that you shimmy through the window and bolt down the fire escape.

Jason blinks. Okay.

He follows you anyway, watching from the rooftops as you make your way across town. It takes you a long time, nearly an hour, and Jason worries that something nasty’s gonna go down, but it doesn’t. You trek resolutely across the city, same steady pace, before letting yourself into a nondescript apartment building, an easy bus ride to the campus. He stays for about twenty minutes, but you stay put.

Jason raps a gun against his helmet. Weird.

He tries and fails to wrap his head around it as he finishes out the evening. It’s just not adding up. Jason doesn’t know you well from class, obviously, but you’re such a far cry from what he saw tonight that it’s hard to believe. He’ll have to do some research, he decides, scope out what else you do besides studying and beating up on Jason’s bad guys. Maybe he’ll even ask you about it in class.

He laughs to himself as he heads back to his own apartment. Weird weird weird. Weird performance you gave him, weird enough to keep him up at night. Oh well. You don’t know it, but he’ll see you tomorrow.

————

lol what is this? what is this? a series, hopefully. otherwise I have no freakin’ idea

[ladywaffles]

A little ditty about the first time Maverick preened Ice’s wings for him… thanks for letting me play in your sandbox! :)

It happens during Ice’s molt, the year they decide to call a spade and spade and stopped leaving before dawn. They send their second class back out to sea three days before Ice molts. Maverick has been an instructor for almost a year, but this is Ice’s first molt as an instructor.

He’s not unused to flying, but it’s been a while since he’s put this many hours in the sky, pulling the maneuvers that Top Gun teaches. He wakes up at three in the morning with an itch in his wings that makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

It’s hell.

Ice trudges to the bathroom and closes the door before he flicks the light on, careful to make sure that it doesn’t bleed out through the doorway and wake Maverick up. If one of them has to be awake and miserable at oh-dark-thirty in the morning, there’s no sense in the other one suffering when they’re in between cohorts.

He gets a look at his wings in the mirror, and it’s rough. He hasn’t looked this bad since he was nineteen and putting himself through the rigor of daily PT in Annapolis. Sighing, he stretches a wing out and starts plucking at the dead feathers, massaging them out until they fall to the floor. It’s a mind-numbing task, especially in the middle of the night when he could be in bed, pressed against the warm line of Maverick’s body next to his, but he knows well enough that he won’t be able to fall asleep until he’s worked most of the way through his wings.

He’s just about to reach for the awkward part by his shoulder when the bathroom door swings open.

Maverick looks about as tired as Ice feels. His hair is rumpled, sticking straight up on one side of his head, and he blinks in the harsh light from the bathroom vanity like a drunk trying to focus on walking in a straight line.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Maverick squints at him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ice says.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Maverick pouts.

Ice stares at him blankly. It’s too goddamn early (late?) for him to figure out what Maverick wants from him.

“It’s the middle of the night, Mav, you should be asleep,” he says.

“We should be asleep,” Maverick replies and drags him out of the bathroom with a steel grip on his wrist. He makes it all the way to the edge of the bed, pushes down on Ice’s shoulders until he’s sitting on the ground, then sits on the mattress with Ice between his legs.

“Maverick, I can take care of this, really, go back to sleep,” Ice tells him.

“Will you just shut up already and let me get on with it so we can both go back to bed,” Maverick grumbles.

Ice does as he’s told and shuts up. Maverick’s already irritable enough, and Ice doesn’t want to piss him off more.

Mav is faster than he is at working the dead feathers free. It helps that he’s got a better vantage point and can actually reach all of Ice’s wing without contorting his arms into twisted poses, but Maverick really is better at preening than Ice is. It feels nice, to have Mav’s nimble fingers running through his feathers. It’s a good feeling on a normal day, when they’re cleaning up after a day of blasting the kids out of the sky, but when he’s molting and every feather out of place is that much more annoying? Ice would bottle the sensation if he could.

He doesn’t realize how deep he’s out of it until his cheek smacks into Mav’s thigh. Ice jerks up, his wings puffing out as he snaps awake.

“You undid it all,” Maverick moans. “Will you just calm down and let me work?” He pushes in between Ice’s shoulder blades until Ice relaxes, then threads his fingers through Ice’s almost-too-long hair and guides it back to rest on his leg.

“No, I want to stay awake,” Ice protests. “You’re awake too, I woke you up—”

“Kazansky, I would not be here if I didn’t want to be,” Maverick says.

“But—”

“Let me take care of you, Ice.”

Ice wants to twist around and look at him, but Maverick curls his own wings around them both, cocooning them away from the rest of the world. It’s hard to fight the lure of comfort then, so Ice lets himself melt into Maverick as he works through the molting feathers.

He falls asleep at some point, and it’s nearly dawn by the time that Mav tugs him into bed properly and drags them both under the covers. Ice drapes himself over Maverick, their chests pressed together, until Maverick winds his arms around Ice’s body and holds him close.

“Thank you, love you,” Ice mumbles, straight into Maverick’s skin.

“Tell me again when you’re awake, hotshot,” Maverick says.

///

The sunshine wakes him up properly. It’s mid-morning, and Maverick is already awake, scratching his fingers along the base of Ice’s wings.

“Good morning, grumpy,” Maverick teases.

“Don’t stop,” Ice whines, tucking his head under Mav’s chin. He feels Maverick’s laugh in his chest, but Maverick does as Ice asks and runs his hands over Ice’s back.

“You could’ve woken me up,” Ice says.

“Funny, I think I said the same thing to you last night.”

Ice lifts his chin enough to look at Maverick. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he says.

“Am I sleeping in your bed?”

“Mav—”

“It’s a yes or no question. Am I sleeping in your bed?”

“Yes.”

“How long have I been doing that?”

“Four months, give or take.”

“In the past four months, have I ever given you the idea that I don’t want to be here?”

“No.”

“Logic and clear thinking would indicate then that I want you to bother me by walking me up when you’re uncomfortable, wouldn’t it? Because it wouldn’t be a bother.” Maverick cups his cheek. “C’mon, Kazansky. I know you’re Mister Ice-Cold-No-Mistakes, but I think you’ve got room for me. I want to be here. Let me be here for you.”

“Thank you,” Ice says. He doesn’t know what else to say. “It’s… been a while since someone did that for me. I usually just ride it out myself.”

“Two fuckin’ years since we met, and you never thought to ask for my help?” Maverick grins.

Ice tries to think of a retort, then last night comes back to him in crystal clear picture, like the sky above the Pacific on a cloudless day.

He knows exactly what to say.

“I get it. I know why you want me to wake you up when I’m up and uncomfortable,” Ice says, pushing his weight onto his elbows so he can hold himself above Maverick.

“Yeah? What is it then?” Maverick asks.

“I love you.”

He watches as Maverick passes through a carousel of emotions in a matter of moments.

“You said to tell you again when I was awake,” Ice continues.

“I did say that, didn’t I,” Maverick replies, breathless. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“If you keep talking to me like that, we’re not gonna make it out of bed in time for lunch,” Maverick says.

“Promise?”

There’s a playful glint in Maverick’s eye, the same one Ice saw the day he asked for a flyby for two.

Ice smiles back. “Love you.”

First post of the new year (even though I started this pic in december shhhh)

and what a surpise, it's more wing!au :) I just like the juxtaposition of admiral Kazansky (2 star here), polished to such perfection even his feathers are gleaming, versus just Ice, casual, rumpled feathers being diligently seen to by his loving partner.

Maverick has trouble sitting still usually, but preening Ice like this gets him to focus like nothing else (except for when he's flying a jet, of course)

[hansmic]

ɱαყɓε เƭ’ร ƒαƭε…

leeknow x gn! reader

summary: Every time they run into each other, it’s a coincidence—at the same restaurant, in the same aisle at the grocery store, or even on the same plane. They joke that the universe is trying to tell them something, but neither is brave enough to make the first move—until one day, they do.

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: kissing!!

word count: 5.4k

———————————————————————

Leeknow couldn’t believe their luck when they ran into each other again. It was as though the universe was pushing them together, over and over again. But this time, Leeknow was determined to make his move. He approached you with a confident smile.

"Looks like fate has struck again," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nerves. "But this time, I won't let you slip away."You couldn't help but giggle at his cheesy pickup line.

"Oh really?" you smirked, raising an eyebrow. "And how many minutes did it take you to convince yourself it was good?"

Leeknow chuckled, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. "Alright, I'll admit it took a few tries," he conceded. "But hey, it made you smile, didn't it?"

You couldn't deny the truth in that statement. Leeknow had always had that effect on you. But you couldn't help but tease him a bit more. "Yeah, it made me smile because it was so corny," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Leeknow put a hand against his chest in mock offense. "Corny? Ouch, that hurts. And here I thought I was being smooth."

You laughed again, enjoying his playful banter. "Smooth, huh? Well, you definitely have room for improvement," you teased, poking him gently in the arm.

Leeknow pretended to pout, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Alright, alright, I get it. I need to work on my pickup game. But can you blame me? You make me nervous," he admitted, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Nervous, huh?" you repeated, unable to hide the hint of satisfaction in your voice. "I have that effect on you, do I?"

Leeknow rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking sheepish. "I guess you do," he confessed. "I mean, you're just...you're different, you know? Whenever I'm around you, my brain just turns to mush and I can hardly form a coherent sentence."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words. Leeknow, the confident and charming guy who could make anyone swoon, was saying that you were the one leaving him speechless.

"Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment," you joked, trying to hide the effect his words had on you. "Leaving you speechless is quite an accomplishment, you know."

Leeknow chuckled at your words, his eyes never leaving your face. "You're right, it is an accomplishment. But you know what would be an even bigger accomplishment?"

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he was going to say next. "What's that?"

Leeknow took a step closer to you, his voice lowering as he spoke. "Getting you to say yes to a date with me."

A mix of surprise and excitement fluttered in your stomach. Was he actually asking you out? "A date, huh?" you said, your voice a little shaky. "And what makes you think I'll say yes?"

Leeknow smirked, his confidence starting to return. "Well, I figure I must have done something right if the universe keeps bringing us together like this," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "Besides, I have a feeling you've been secretly hoping I'd ask you out."

You rolled your eyes affectionately. "You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

Leeknow shrugged, a cocky grin on his face. "What can I say? Confidence is my middle name," he joked. "But come on, you can't deny that there's something between us. We keep running into each other like this—it's got to be more than just a coincidence."

You hesitated for a moment, considering his words. As much as you wanted to deny it, there was an undeniable truth to what he was saying. You'd felt it every time you ran into each other—a spark of attraction, a sense of connection that went beyond mere chance meeting.

You took a deep breath, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Okay," you said, your voice soft but steady. "I'll go on a date with you."

Leeknow's face lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. He hadn't expected you to actually say yes, but now that you had, he felt like he was floating on air. "Great," he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Then it's a date. Can I pick you up tomorrow night at 7?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Tomorrow night at 7 sounds perfect," you said, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness. You were actually going on a date with Leeknow.

"Perfect," Leeknow echoed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'll see you then. And just so you know, I plan on wowing you. You won't regret saying yes."

You laughed, feeling a mix of anticipation and disbelief. "Oh, I don't doubt it," you replied, teasing him a little. "You're going to have to pull out all the stops to impress me."

Leeknow's grin widened. "Challenge accepted," he said, his voice dripping with determination.

You couldn't help but admire his confidence. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with," you said, a flirtatious edge to your tone.."

Leeknow chuckled, his eyes raking over you in a way to makes your heart flutter. "Oh, you can count on it being something special," he promised, stepping closer to you. He raised a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing to you. His proximity was making it hard to think straight. "I trust you," you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

Leeknow smiled at your words, his expression softening. "Good," he said, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment before he reluctantly pulled away. "Until tomorrow then."

As he turned to leave, he couldn't help but flash you one more cocky grin over his shoulder. "Oh, and get ready to be wowed. I don't hold back."

You watched him walk away, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling in your stomach. You had a date with Leeknow tomorrow night, and you couldn't stop the excited flutter in your heart at the thought.

But as the reality of the situation sunk in, you began to feel a bit overwhelmed. What were you going to wear? Where was he taking you? And most importantly, how were you going to survive being alone with him for an entire evening without making a complete fool of yourself?

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You had plenty of time to figure all of that out, and besides, you had a feeling that Leeknow would be just as nervous as you were. The thought brought a small smile to your face.

It was finally the day of your date with Leeknow, and you were a bundle of nerves. You spent hours trying to decide what to wear, going through your entire closet before finally settling on an outfit that made you feel confident and nice.

Time ticked by slowly as you waited for Leeknow to pick you up, your heart pounding faster with every minute that passed.

Finally, at exactly 7 pm, you heard a knock at your door. You took one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your clothes and taking a deep breath before opening the door.

Leeknow was standing on the other side, looking as handsome as you remember. He was dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, and he had a charming smile on his face.

"Hey," he said, his eyes taking in your appearance. "You look amazing"

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, unable to prevent a smile. "Thank you," you replied, stepping backward so he could come inside. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Leeknow chuckled, stepping into the house and closing the door behind him. "I try my best," he said, his eyes lingering on you for a moment too long.

There was a beat of silence as both of you seemed to realize how close you were standing to each other. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and your heart began to race.

"So, ready to go?" he asked, breaking the silence. His voice sounded huskier than you'd ever heard it before.

You nodded, grateful for the opportunity to get some distance between you two before you did something stupid like launch yourself at him. "Yeah," you said, trying to sound casual. "Just let me grab my jacket."

Leeknow waited patiently as you slipped on your jacket, his eyes never leaving your face. When you were ready, he held open the door for you, gesturing for you to go first.

The cold night air hit your face as you stepped outside, and you shivered involuntarily. Leeknow noticed and stepped closer to you, his hand gently resting on your lower back to guide you towards his car.

You felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather run down your spine as his hand made contact with your back. You hoped he couldn't feel the effect he was having on you.

He led you to the passenger side of his car and opened the door for you, waiting until you were safely inside before closing it and circling around to the driver's side.

You buckled your seatbelt as Leeknow got into the car and started the engine. He reached over to turn on the radio, scrolling through the stations until he found one playing a song you both liked.

As he pulled away from the curb, you snuck a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The way the streetlights illuminated his face made him look even more handsome than usual, and you felt a pang of butterflies in your stomach.

Leeknow caught you looking at him and shot you a sideways glance, a smirk playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you played it off as best you could. "Don't flatter yourself," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "I was just looking at how badly you need a haircut."

Leeknow pretended to look offended, his hand going up to touch his hair protectively. "What's wrong with my hair?"

You pretended to study his hair, pretending to consider your answer. "It's just so...messy," you said, gesturing to the locks that fell over his forehead. "It looks like you just rolled out of bed."

Leeknow huffed in mock indignation. "Hey, this messy look takes effort, you know. Every strand is carefully placed to ensure maximum charm."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his exaggerated protests.

"Right, I'm sure it takes hours to achieve this level of tousled perfection," you teased, reaching out to ruffle his hair playfully.

"Hey!" Leeknow protested, but he was laughing as your fingers messed up his carefully styled do. "Watch the hair! This is a work of art, you know."

You laughed at his reaction. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was dealing with such a delicate masterpiece."

You let your fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary in his hair before pulling away.

Leeknow pretended to pout, but you could see the amusement in his eyes. "You're lucky you're cute," he said, his tone mock-threatening.

You grinned, feeling your confidence grow at his compliment. "Oh, so you think I'm cute, do you?" you said, lifting an eyebrow playfully.

Leeknow's smirk returned, and he spared a glance in your direction. "I do," he said, his voice low and serious. "In fact, I think you're more than just cute.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a sincerity to his tone that sent a flutter of butterflies through your stomach.

You tried to hide your reaction, but Leeknow seemed to pick up on it, because his smirk widened. “Got you flustered, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. "Please, it takes more than a few compliments to get me flustered."

Leeknow chuckled, clearly not believing you. "Oh, really? And what does it take to get you flustered, then?”

You thought for a moment, trying to come up with a smart retort. But your brain was completely blank, and the only thing you could think about was the way he was looking at you.

Leeknow seemed to sense your predicament and chuckled again. "Speechless, huh?"

"Shut up," you muttered, looking away from him. You could feel your cheeks burning, and you knew that he could see your blush even in the dim light from the car's dashboard.

Leeknow chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself. "Hey, it's okay to admit it." He reached over and poked your cheek. "You're adorable when you blush."

You swatted his hand away, trying to maintain some dignity. "I am not blushing," you protested, even though you knew it was a weak argument.

Leeknow pulled the car into a parking spot and shut off the engine, turning to give you a smile. “We're here."

You looked out the window, taking in your surroundings. You could see a small strip of stores and restaurants lit up against the night sky, and the faint sound of music and laughter came from somewhere nearby.

"Where are we?" you asked, turning back to Leeknow.

Leeknow unfastened his seatbelt and leaned closer to you. "It's a surprise," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But trust me, you'll love it. Come on."

You couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement at his words. You unbuckled your seatbelt and followed him out of the car.

The night air was cool and crisp, and you shivered slightly as a breeze blew past you. Leeknow noticed and draped his jacket over your shoulders.

"For the cold," he said, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary.

You pulled the jacket tighter around you, feeling a mix of gratitude and something else — something warmer and more fluttery.

Leeknow led the way down the sidewalk, walking beside you. Every so often, his hand would brush against yours, sending jolts of electricity through your body.

The restaurants and shops passed by in a blur, but you barely paid attention. All you could focus on was Leeknow’s presence beside you, and the way he kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Finally, Leeknow paused in front of a small, unassuming doorway. "We're here," he said, sounding a little nervous.

You looked at the door, puzzlement etched across your face. "Here... where? I don't see anything special."

Leeknow shot you a cocky grin. "That's because you're not looking closely enough."

He reached out and took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Just trust me and follow me."

Your heart fluttered at the feel of his hand in yours, but you tried to play it cool. "I don't know," you said, pretending to be skeptical. "What if you're leading me into a dark alley to murder me?"

Leeknow snorted. "Please. If I wanted to murder you, I could've done it a million times before now."

He tugged on your hand. "Now come on. I promise, you'll like it."

You allowed him to lead you through the doorway, stepping into the dimly lit space beyond it. It took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, you gasped.

The room was small and intimate, with soft lighting and low-hanging pendant lamps that cast a warm glow over everything. There was music playing softly in the background, a quiet song you didn't recognize.

You looked around in amazement, taking in the cozy ambience of the place. You'd never been somewhere so romantic and intimate.

Leeknow still held your hand, and he led you to a small table in the corner. "What do you think?" he asked, watching your reaction avidly.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, still looking around in wonder. "How did you find this place?"

Leekown shrugged, sitting down in one of the chairs and gesturing for you to do the same. "I have my secrets," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

He leaned towards you, resting his arms on the table. "I wanted to take you somewhere special. Somewhere that would make this night memorable.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The intensity in his eyes made your stomach do a little backflip.

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. "Well, mission accomplished," you said, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended.

Leeknow smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "I'm glad you like it," he said, still studying you intently.

There was a brief moment of silence as he continued to stare at you, his gaze making your skin tingle. You fidgeted in your seat, feeling a little flustered under his scrutiny.

"Stop looking at me like that," you said, trying to sound annoyed.

Leeknow chuckled, his smoldering gaze not wavering. "Like what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Like you're trying to figure out what I'm thinking," you said, folding your arms across your chest.

Leeknow just kept grinning, his eyes roaming over your face. "Is it working?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

You huffed, trying to sound disinterested. But the truth was that you were far from indifferent to his attention. The way he was looking at you made you feel like the most fascinating person in the world.

"No," you said, though your voice came out a little weaker than you would've liked. "Not at all."

Leeknow chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself. "You lie badly, you know."

He leaned even closer, invading you personal space. "You've been blushing nonstop since we walked in here."

You felt your cheeks grow hot again at his words. "I have not," you protested, but even you didn't believe yourself.

Leeknow raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Really? Because it looks like you're doing it right now."

You wanted to argue with him, to prove that he was mistaken. But the evidence was right there, in the heat radiating off your face.

You gritted your teeth, feeling frustrated with yourself. "Okay, so maybe I'm blushing a little. Happy now?"

Leeknow laughed, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "Oh, very happy," he said, the tone of his voice making it sound suggestive.

He reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers grazing your skin lightly. "You're just so damn cute when you blush."

You shivered involuntarily at his touch, feeling a sharp jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

By the time the waiter brought the check, you and Leeknow had been there for hours. You'd talked about everything and anything, laughing and joking as if you'd known each other for years.

As you watched him hand his credit card to the server, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that the night was coming to an end.

Leeknow caught your expression and smirked. "Don't look so sad," he said, seeing right through you. "The night's not over yet."

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he had in mind. "Oh really? What else have you got planned?"

Leeknow just winked, standing up and taking your hand. "You'll see."

He led you out of the restaurant and back into the cool night air.

The air was crisp with a hint of dampness, and a light breeze rustled through the trees that lined the sidewalk. The street was mostly deserted, the only sound the occasional passing car.

Leeknow didn't say much as he walked, his hand still holding yours. But every so often, he would glance down at you, a smile playing on his lips.

Eventually, he led you to a small park, secluded and dark. There was a small pond in the center, and the sound of frogs and crickets filled the air.

Leeknow let go of your hand and gestured to a bench. "Sit," he said, his voice brooking no argument.

You did as he said, too curious to protest. You sank down onto the cold metal bench, folding your hands in your lap. Leeknow sat down beside you, the distance between you both almost nonexistent.

There was a moment of silence as you both sat there, staring out at the still water of the pond. The only light came from a crescent moon partially hidden by clouds, casting soft shadows on everything.

Leeknow broke the silence, his voice a low murmur. "You know, this is my favorite spot," he said, angling his body towards you.

You turned to look at him, curious. "Why?" you asked, the word barely audible over the hum of crickets.

Leeknow paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on the pond. "I don't know," he said, his tone thoughtful. "There's just something about this place that soothes me, you know?"

You nodded, understanding what he meant. There was a sense of peace here, a tranquility that was almost palpable. It was as if the world outside this small park had ceased to exist altogether.

Leeknow let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the bench. "It's quiet here," he said, his eyes drifting shut. "And when it's quiet, I can think more clearly."

You watched him, taking in his serene expression and the way the moonlight cast shadows across his face. He looked almost otherworldly, as if he belonged in some sort of dream rather than reality.

"What do you think about when you come here?" you asked, your voice whisper-soft in the stillness of the night.

Leeknow opened his eyes, staring out at the pond but seeming lost in thought. "Everything, I guess," he said slowly. "Life, death, love, the universe. You name it, I've probably thought about it here."

You were a little surprised by his answer. You'd expected something simpler, more mundane. But Leeknow had always hinted at layers to his personality, glimpses of a deeper intellect beneath the smirk and the swagger.

"That's a pretty deep answer," you said, a note of admiration in your voice.

Leeknow's lips twitched in a small smile, but his gaze didn't leave the pond. "Most people think I'm shallow because I don't wear my thoughts on my sleeve," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. You'd suspected there was more to him than he let on, but hearing him confirm it out loud made you realize just how lonely being someone like him must be.

Leeknow finally looked away from the pond, his eyes finding yours. "Most people only see what they want to see," he said, his words tinged with bitterness. "And they don't want to see complexity. They just want simple and easy."

The pain in his voice was almost palpable, and you felt a sudden urge to reach out and comfort him. But before you could act on the impulse, he looked away again, his expression shutting down.

"Anyway," he said, his tone a little too light, "enough of that. I didn't bring you here to talk about my existential crises."

He shifted on the bench, turning to face you fully. The intense look in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat.

"I brought you here for this," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

He reached out and touched your face, his fingertips brushing against your skin gently.

You shivered under his touch, a thousand different feelings coursing through you at once.

Leeknow was staring at you with a look you'd never seen on him before. It was equal parts tenderness and intensity, and it made your heart skip a beat.

He leaned forward, closing the distance between you. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You could barely trust yourself to even speak, but you managed to nod, your heart hammering in your chest.

That was all the confirmation he needed. Leeknow's hand moved to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. You could feel his breath, warm and tantalizing against your skin.

And then he kissed you.

It was a simple, chaste kiss, just the press of his lips against yours. But the effect was overwhelming. A jolt of electricity shot through you, and suddenly you were hyperaware of everything — the cool night air, the dampness on the grass, the rough bark of the bench digging into your back.

You kissed him back, a soft gasp escaping you as you melted against him. Your hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through his shirt.

Leeknow deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You parted them, letting him in, your mind going hazy with desire.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, each moment more passionate than the last. You lost all sense of time and space, your whole world narrowed down to the sensations of Leeknow's lips on yours and the heat of his body pressed against you.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. You clung to each other, neither quite willing to let go.

Leeknow let out a shaky laugh, his head falling to rest against your shoulder. "Damn," he breathed, his voice hoarse.

You couldn’t help but laugh as well, feeling lightheaded and giddy with elation. You traced nonsensical patterns on his back, relishing in the steady rise and fall of his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

Leeknow's hand came up to cup your cheek again, tilting your face towards his. His eyes were still intense, but there was something more in them now. Something almost like awe.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The admission took you by surprise. You'd known he was attracted to you, but you hadn't realized just how much. Hearing him confess that he'dwanted to kiss you for a long time sent a flutter of butterflies through your stomach.

"Why didn't you do it before?" you asked, your voice surprisingly steady considering the turmoil of emotions you were experiencing.

Leeknow shrugged, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek bone. "I wanted to," he said, his eyes locked with yours. "But I was afraid. I didn't know how you'd react."

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. You'd never quite seen this side of him, the uncertainty beneath the bravado.

You reached up and covered his hand with yours, holding it against your face. "You don’t have to be afraid with me," you said softly.

Leeknow's expression softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I know," he said, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "But old habits die hard, you know?"

You understood what he meant. It was easy to wear a mask, to hide behind a carefree demeanor. Exposing your true feelings always came with the risk of rejection.

You smiled back at him, your eyes full of understanding and a deep well of affection. "Just remember that I'm not going anywhere," you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

Leeknow's gaze lingered on you, searching for some sign of deception or insincerity. But you kept your expression open and honest, letting him see the truth of your words.

Finally, he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something. "You promise?" he asked, his voice strangely tentative.

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but you kept your expression steady and sure. "I promise," you said, your voice firm and resolute.

As the kiss continued, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other. The night air was cool, but your bodies were warm, the heat between you almost scalding.

Eventually, Leeknow pulled back, his breath hot against your ear. "We can't stay here all night," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

A pang of disappointment went through you at the thought of leaving, but you knew he was right. The park was getting darker by the minute, and eventually someone was bound to notice the two of you in the shadows.

Reluctantly, you extracted yourself from Leeknow's embrace, standing up and smoothing down your clothes.

Leeknow watched you, a look of pure craving in his eyes as he got to his feet. "Come back to my place."

The suggestion was as much a command as a request, and the tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

Your heart began to beat faster, and you felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. Spending more time with Leeknow was exactly what you wanted, but something about the situation felt different. More serious, more significant.

You looked at him, trying to read the expression in his eyes. They were still burning, the flame of desire still evident in them. But beneath that there was something else — a hint of uncertainty, a trace of trepidation, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You took a moment to consider his suggestion, a thousand different thoughts running through your head. But in the end, there was only one answer you could give. One answer you knew was right.

You met Leeknow's gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a thrill through you.

"Let's go," you said, your voice little more than a murmur.

Leeknow visibly relaxed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good answer," he said, his voice still gravelly with want.

He reached out and took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling you out of the park and towards his car.

The ride back to his place was a blur, your mind still reeling from the events of the night. You stole glances at him as he drove, watching the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the way his profile looked illuminated by the passing streetlights.

When you reached his apartment, Leeknow led you inside quickly, his hand still holding yours tightly. The door had barely closed before he was pressing you up against it, his lips on yours once more.

The kiss was urgent, desperate, as if he was trying to devour you. Your body responded instinctively, the pent-up tension of the night finally releasing in a burst of raw desire.

Leeknow's hands were everywhere, roaming over your body as if he couldn't get enough of you. His touch was a mixture of tenderness and need, and you found yourself responding in kind, your hands clinging to him as you lost yourself in the sensations.

You were barely aware of moving, of him leading you towards the bedroom. The only thing that existed was the feel of his body against yours, the taste of his lips on yours.

When you finally fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing, there were no more words. The silence was filled with the sounds of your breath and your gasps, as you continued to lose yourselves in each other.

Hours later, you lay in the darkness, curled up against Leeknow's side. His breathing was slow and even, and the heat of his body was like a comforting weight against you.

You closed your eyes, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Sleep tugged at the edges of your consciousness, but you fought it, wanting to stay awake just a little longer and savor the moment.

Leeknow's arm draped across your waist, holding you close. His eyes were closed, but you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head.

In that moment, all the uncertainties and reservations you'd had earlier were gone. There was only Leeknow, and the peace that came with being wrapped up in his embrace.

As you finally drifted off to sleep, you knew without a doubt that you didn't regret coming back to his place. You never wanted to leave. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, with him by your side and your bodies pressed together.

But for now, sleep claimed you, and your dreams were filled with scenes of passion and longing. And in the morning, you would wake up in the same position, your bodies intertwined and your hearts beating in sync.

As you opened your eyes and took in the sight of Leeknow still asleep next to you, a deep sense of contentment settled in your chest. Leeknow's eyes fluttered open, meeting your gaze, and a small, tender smile appeared on his lips. And you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together.

————————————————————————

a/n: sorry it was so fast pace! but I hope you enjoyed it :)

masterlist is here

[theemissuniverse]

“YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME” HENRY HART X GIRLFRIEND READER

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend Henry has everyone swooning over him and you hate it (Movie Henry)

WARNINGS : none I think?

The argument was stupid. At least to Henry. You were jealous, it was obvious. Since high school, Henry had no problem getting women. Well, now it wasn’t high school anymore. You were both in your twenties and this was the real world now.

But even in the real world, Henry had all the women on him.

It annoyed you. The constant flirting women did with him. Even openly with you present. Granted, Henry always shut the flirting down. He never entertained it.

It didn’t make you any less pissed off.

The argument got heated. Henry was mad you would even think about the possibly of him cheating on you. Then you shut down completely and walked out the house.

Henry has not seen you for approximately seventeen hours.

“Hey, you know who it is. Leave a message at the beep. Or don’t. I don’t really care.”

Beep.

“I swear to god, if you don’t answer me, I’m going to lose my mind. Where the fuck are you?” *sighs* “Look, you want to be pissed at me? Fine. You take the bed and I’ll take the couch but ignoring me for seventeen hours and turning your location off is crossing the line and you know it. Come home. Now.”

You rolled your eyes at the voicemail and deleted it. Were you being a little childish? Yes, but you didn’t care. You were mad. Henry got to be the hero in Dystopia. Signing autographs and having all the women swoon over him.

Who were you? Just his girlfriend.

You were outside of the bar, debating if you should get yourself a drink. You knew it was only a moment of time until Henry figured out some way to track you so you were soaking it in as long as you could.

A man was standing outside of the bar. He was a little bit older than you. He reeked of booze and despair. You tried to not make eye contact so he wouldn’t speak to you but it was too late.

“What? Mad at boyfriend?”

You were trying to be polite. The men at Dystopia weren’t exactly the best so you just gave a polite smile. “Something like that.”

“If you were with me baby, you wouldn’t have worry about that.”

Before you could respond, you heard a voice creeping up behind you. A familiar one. “Good thing you don’t have to worry about that.”

Henry was too quick to find you. Quicker than you anticipated which irritated you.

“How did you find me?!”

“Why were you hiding from me in the first place?”

The guy looked between the two before directing his attention back to Henry. “It seems like she don’t wanna be bothered.”

Henry gave the guy a look, eyeing him up and down. He even looked stunned he would make a remark like that. “It seems like I don’t care.”

You sighed a little, knowing Henry’s attitude. “Henry-“

“Don’t do that. Blackout is still out here and you want to take a stroll in town because what? You think I’m with other women?”

The guy still decided to chirp in again. “The lady doesn’t want you. So leave.”

Henry started to rub his temples in irritation. “Dude if you don’t back the fuck up, I’m gonna punch you in the face.” You grabbed Henry’s arm and forced him to walk away from the man. “No, seriously, who is this guy?”

His attention was focused on the guy so you forced Henry to look at you. “I needed space.”

“You needed seventeen hours of space?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“You can’t just do that.”

“Last time I checked, I’m not you. I didn’t sign up some shitty contract with you and now, you dictate how things go in the relationship.”

“Who’s dictating? If the roles were reversed, my head would be on a stick.”

“Your head is going to be on a stick if you don’t leave me alone.”

Before Henry could reply, the guy walked back up to them. “Leave her alone, asshole. She doesn’t want you.

Henry, very clearly irritated and frustrated, gives in to his impulsive urges. He punches him straight in the jaw, knocking the guy out. You just shake your head, knowing your boyfriend and saw it coming when the guy wouldn’t leave the two of you alone.

“I seriously don’t know how you became a superhero.” You told him honestly.

Henry ignores the statement and changes the subject, feeling the bruise starting to form on his knuckles. “We need to have a real conversation about this. Not you dismissing me like you always do.”

You gave him a look. “Like I always do? You’re the one that’s been dismissing me and my feelings!”

Henry sighed. He scratches the back of neck, pulling at the back of head slightly. “I’m not trying to, babe but I don’t understand what more you want me to do. You honestly believe I would cheat on you?”

“I don’t know.”

Henry looked at you like he couldn’t believe what you just said. “You don’t know?”

“Yeah, I don’t.”

Before Henry could say anything, he saw exactly what he was dreading. News reporters and a whole bunch of fans, specifically women. “Ah shit.”

One of the news reporters came rushing to him. “Henry! Is it true you punched this defenseless man?”

“Now is not the time.” Henry told him. He tried to focus his attention back on you but one of his fans that were women grabbed on the material of his jacket.

“Ooh. I like this. Is this real leather?”

You nodded, officially done with whatever conversation you and Henry were having. “Okay. I’m out of here.”

You were already walking away when Henry was calling your name. “Stop worrying about that loser.” The woman said flirty to him.

The random woman calling you, his girlfriend a loser made his blood boil. He shoved him off of her. Almost to the point where she could’ve fallen on her ass. “Get the hell off of me.”

He doesn’t care for the shocked look on her face. He pushes past the news reporter and keeps walking to get to you. “Baby, stop.” He grabs you and forces you to look at him. “Okay, I’m done. You hear me? I quit.”

You looked at him confused. “Quit what?”

“All this. Fighting crime. Being in the spotlight. If that’s what it takes for you to get over this and trust me again then I will stop. I don’t want to be the hero if it means losing you.”

That’s when it all it you like a brick. Henry was willing to give up everything. Again. Just to be with you. Just like he did when he was Kid Danger.

You were being selfish and you couldn’t keep doing this to him. Not anymore.

Tears were rushing down your face. Henry let out a sigh seeing how upset you were. “I’m sorry.” You told him.

If there was one thing Henry hated, it was to see you cry. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He rubbed your back to soothe you.

Henry’s hugs always felt like a big warm grizzly bear was hugging you. “I just feel like I don’t deserve you…” You said through the tears.

“Baby…”

“We met in high school and sometimes I feel like you settled for me.”

“Me? Settle with you?” Henry asked like he couldn’t believe it. He pulled away from the hug and you looked at him. “I love you. More than anything in the world. So what we met in high school? That doesn’t mean I want to ever explore the idea of other women. I want you and only you.” He takes his hand and interlocks it with yours. “I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have you.”

“Dead?”

Henry laughed a little. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he pulled you closer. “Yeah, probably.” He gave you a peck on the lips. “You done being mad at me?”

You gave him a suggestive smile. “You going to take me home and show me how much you love me?”

Henry immediately caught on. He scooped you up, bridal style which made you let out a squeal. “Yes, ma’am.”

[lara4eclipze]

» I Miss Us

sypnosis: lara was never one to be in situationships nor talking stages, she claimed it was stupid and would only end up with ones heart broken or yearning — yet here she was missing you her only situationship

warning: angst, situationship, hurt no comfort, swearing, ghosting, italics for flashbacks, etc

talks: I'm so sorry for those requests i haven't written yet BUT trust i am gonna write some and release them maybe today and tomorrow!, thank you for your patience ^^

taglist: @ohmyhaely @nyssalvr @vrtualstar @c-yerim @jellaaa @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

lara stared at her phone, at your conversation to be specific — it's been two months since you two have even chatted, in lara's opinion is the longest two months of her life

lara used to get excited just staying up and chatting with you — sneaking out of the dorms just to have drinks or eat out with you, it didn't matter that she could've been caught by her management — what mattered to her was you

the door to the kats shared house creeks louder than lara would've wanted — her eyes adjust to the dark environment only to make out a figure standing near the kitchen, their leader sophia

"where have you been?!, you know i have been worried sick? i called everyone including your mom!" sophia screams at lara, maybe for the first time in a while — atleast lara wants to pretend like so

in reality lara has been on sophias nerves ever since she started to talking to you — she always left without telling anyone she would be lazy in practices just so that she can chat with you

"go to your room — and whoever it is you are meeting up with, stop it lara you're getting too distracted" sophia mutters trying to keep her calm demeanor "stop telling me what to do" lara snaps back

"do it or ill tell the management team" sophia threatened, it all just stopped from that moment on — lara had to choose between her needs and wants, she walked silently to her shared room fidgeting with her phone

she debated whether to chat you or listen to sophia yet as much as she hated what she was gonna do she did it

she ghosted you.

the first week was confusing to say the least — lara who always chatted with you through every platform was now getting cold?, her usual energetic response to your chats were now replaced with "yeah" or "okay"

the second week was weird, lara had took almost 2 - 3 days just to respond to you, you double texted you had even called her a few times yet it always ended with her giving you a honestly lame excuse

the third to fourth week hurted the most, lara had fully ghosted you, she didn't respond at all, you knew she was active on her socials i mean she posted every week — she always saw your texts she just chose not to open them, you got desperate for even a drop of her attention, it got so bad to the point you tried contacting her other mutual friends

by the second month you had started to accept what had happened — you didn't wait for a notification from her user anymore, you didnt expect a miracle to happen

lara breaths heavily as she back reads on your chats — it took all of her courage not to call you during all of this, she tried and tried making herself believe that you were just a waste of time that you were just a distraction

yet every little thing makes her remember you, late night trips?, your favorite food, even your scent — it all comes back to you

maybe you were meant for eachother just not in this time not in this moment — she sighs massaging her temples, her lips pressed into a thin line as longing creeps into her

she types then deletes again, types and then deletes — maybe it was too long?, too casual? — lara over analyzed her text to you, until she just typed something simple

a notification pops up on your phone, it was 2 am who would be awake in such hour?

my laru♡: hi, how are you?

your heart sinks, everything you've worked so hard for has come down to this moment, moving on, crying even denial that she ghosted you

y/n: I'm good.

lara's mood shifts, you really are gone — the period on the end of the sentence and the proper grammar, screamed over her

my laru♡: I'm sorry, i miss us

you wanted to respond saying you do too, you missed hours and hours of taking with her — laughing at the stupidest things ever, god even that stupid nickname she had in your chats

y/n: me too.

yet as reality dawns on lara, its all a sick cycle — she could never date you, because of her career, she just wanted to pretend that it didnt matter just for a few more minutes

[bomber-grl]

Call Me Penelope cause You’re My Odysseus

Pairing(s): Leo Valdez x Gn!Reader (No specific Godly Parent

Word Count:4411

-

Leo… Leo.

Your thoughts wandered again as you patrolled the deck, the cool sea air nipping at your face. You’d told Percy to take a break—he’d been on edge lately, and you weren’t exactly complaining. Honestly, the more space you had between yourself and Leo Valdez, the better. Your face heated up every time he came anywhere near you.

You found yourself staring at the churning waves, hypnotized by the relentless cycle of them crashing over each other. Lost in thought, you didn’t even notice the steps behind you until—

"Hey!"

You jumped, spinning around in surprise. Of course, standing there, looking ridiculously charming despite the late hour, was none other than Leo Valdez, master of bad timing and probably worse pick-up lines.

Leo’s face mirrored your shock for a moment, but then, just like that, he slid into his usual smirk. The one that was half nervous, half confident—basically, classic Leo. He scratched the back of his head. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, voice a little higher than usual. "Didn’t think I’d find anyone else stupid enough to be up this late."

You couldn't help but laugh. "What are you doing up? I wasn’t aware they let you off the ship’s leash."

Leo blinked, the surprise lingering. "Oh, you know. Just fixing some stuff down in the engine room. Festus was acting all weird, and I had to check on the ship's defenses because apparently, nothing is stopping this whole quest from blowing the Argo ll up every five minutes. But, you know, minor stuff." He gave you a one-shoulder shrug that was probably meant to be cool, but just made him look like he’d forgotten how to stand.

You shook your head, grinning. “Still can’t believe you made the ship. Seriously, that’s pretty impressive.”

Leo blinked at you. Once. Twice. His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but then he just closed it again, visibly thrown by your sincerity. You could practically see his brain buffering. He shuffled a little, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in that endearing way he did when he was flustered. Finally, he stammered out, "I mean, I didn’t do it alone but Uh, thanks. That's... really nice of you to say."

And yeah, maybe you kind of like throwing him off balance. There was something oddly satisfying about making the charming, ever-flirty Leo Valdez pause for just a moment.

The thing about Leo? He was a flirt. A big flirt. He could try to charm anyone with a few slick words and a wink, but you learned pretty quickly that Leo’s confidence was just a shiny coat of paint over a ton of... well, feelings—and maybe some issues with his self-esteem.

You’d figured that out one day when you found yourself near him, as he was busily patching up something that had gotten busted in the last battle (because, naturally, everything on the Argo II was always getting busted). Of course, he spotted you and immediately called you over. Because why wouldn’t he?

And that’s how it went: You’d talk for a bit. But then Leo would try to flirt. Sometimes it was an awful pick-up line—so awful it actually made you laugh. And sometimes, he’d lean on something like he was trying to be extra suave and... miss. Then fall. Always a good time.

And on the rare occasions where he didn’t totally embarrass himself? He’d wait for your reaction, face half hopeful, half insecure.

Most of the time, you’d play it cool and pretend to be bashful—making him think he’d won. Other times, though, you’d flirt back. It started as a joke, really. He was always burning up, so one time you decided to play along, and the result? Well, he caught fire. Literally. You weren’t exaggerating. He was on fire, and you had to grab a fire extinguisher before the whole deck turned into an inferno.

“Leo,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You know, if you keep setting yourself on fire every time I talk to you, I’m going to start charging for these rescue missions.”

He flashed you that crooked grin of his, his cheeks turning a shade of red you hadn’t known a person could turn. "I'm pretty sure I'd pay anything to get you to keep talking to me."

And there it was again, that flirtation. But beneath it? Was there something else? Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet? You didn’t know. But damn, Leo had a way of making you want to find out.

-

After one of the many, many exhausting days aboard the Argo II, you had one singular goal in mind: get to your cabin, collapse into your bed, and pray that nothing—nothing—would interrupt your much-needed sleep. It was a rare occasion when you could actually get some peace, and you were determined to make the most of it.

But of course, life had other plans.

As you walked down the hall, a distant murmur of voices caught your attention. You froze. Was this the part where you ignored it and moved on? Definitely. Were you actually going to do that? Absolutely not.

You crept closer, your footsteps barely audible. You could’ve sworn you were moving like a ninja—or at least what you imagined a ninja would look like if they had absolutely no stealth whatsoever. Anyway, it was too late to back out now.

You stopped at a corner, inching closer to the source of the voices. Your heart was pounding in your chest—not from the adrenaline, but from the fact that you had, once again, found yourself doing something questionable for the sake of curiosity.

You strained your ears and waited. And then—there it was. The voices of Leo and Jason, clearly in the middle of some deep conversation. You caught snippets of their exchange.

“...what about you and [your name]?” Jason’s voice floated through the air.

You froze, your eyes widening. You hadn’t been expecting that. At all.

Your heart did a little leap as you leaned in closer. “What about me and Leo?” you thought, trying to make sense of it.

Leo’s voice answered—there was a momentary pause before his usual confidence took over. “I like them. Like, actually like them,” he said, his tone laced with that trademark Leo half-cocky, half-nervous vibe.

You blinked. Your brain might’ve stopped working for a solid second. Did Leo just say—?

Before you could fully process the implications of what you’d overheard, you heard their conversation fade into something less distinct, a murmur of words lost in the distance. You were left standing there, a bit dazed, your face heating up. Your heart, too, was doing that thing where it sped up in an uncomfortable, almost violent way. The idea of you and Leo?

No. No way.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a fake, overly dramatic clearing of a throat behind you. You spun around faster than you had ever moved in your life, nearly bumping into the person who had caught you mid-espionage.

And of course, it was none other than Piper.

Piper. Cool, composed, and way too clever for her own good. The girl who always seemed to be two steps ahead of you. And judging by the smirk she was giving you right now, she had definitely been aware of your little eavesdropping escapade.

She just shook her head, looking at you with that amused grin you’d come to recognize. “Really? Eavesdropping now? That’s a new one for you.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. Instead, you just gave her a sheepish look and shrugged, pretending like you were totally innocent in all of this.

Piper’s smirk softened into a smile. “Come on,” she said, tilting her head as she beckoned you to follow. “Let’s go. Before you get caught.”

You followed her down the hall, your mind still spinning. Leo? Actually liking you? You couldn’t even. This was... a lot to process. And now that you were trying to piece it together, your thoughts were as tangled as the ropes on the ship after a storm.

But Piper—bless her—seemed to sense your mental chaos. She didn’t bring it up again, instead chatting with you casually, like nothing had happened. She was way too good at pretending she hadn’t just caught you doing something totally questionable.

Still, as you walked behind her, you couldn’t help but glance back toward the hallway, where Leo and Jason’s conversation was probably still happening. You could almost feel your face flush again just thinking about it.

Piper glanced at you from the corner of her eye and raised an eyebrow. “You okay back there?” she asked, clearly amused by your dazed expression.

You nodded. “Yeah, totally fine. Nothing weird going on here. Nope. Not at all.”

She laughed softly, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever you say.”

And as you followed her down the hall, you couldn't help but wonder just how much Leo Valdez was going to mess with your head in the days to come. And just how much Piper knew about all of it.

-

The battle unfolded in the blink of an eye. One moment, you, Piper, and Leo were aboard the Argo II, navigating the skies with the hum of the engines beneath your feet. The next, a blast of icy power ripped through the air, and Khione and her goons attacked, freezing everything in their wake. Piper’s charmspeak wasn’t enough to prevent Leo from being thrown violently into the sky, his form disappearing into the distance with an eerie speed.

It was as if time had frozen, leaving you suspended in disbelief. It all happened so fast—too fast. It wasn’t until Piper’s desperate scream rang through the air, her voice cracked with fear, that the weight of what had just occurred hit you. “Leo!” she cried, reaching out as if she could pull him back through the chaos. But Leo was already gone.

The days following his disappearance felt like an endless blur. The crew did their best to carry on, but without Leo’s infectious energy, the Argo II felt eerily quiet. A hollow ache gnawed at you—frustration, fear, and confusion all bubbling together. You couldn’t help but wonder where Leo was, if he was even alive. Had he been lost to the winds of fate?

A week later, there was a commotion—shouted voices, the clattering of metal, the unmistakable sound of Festus’ familiar mechanical whirring. It was Leo. He had returned.

Leo, with his wild grin and grease-streaked face, stood beside Festus, both of them already hard at work in the engine room as if nothing had happened. You watched, your heart in your throat, torn between relief and a growing sense of frustration. You wanted to run to him, to yell at him, to ask him a hundred questions, but there was something in his demeanor that made you hesitate. The old Leo was back, but this version felt... distant.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed him until now. Sure, you had a little crush on him, but that wasn’t all of it. Leo had been your first real friend in what felt like centuries, the first person you’d connected with on a level that went beyond the surface. The way he could make you laugh even when everything seemed hopeless—that was something you never thought you’d find again.

But lately, Leo had been avoiding you. He’d slip away whenever you came near, his eyes darting to the floor or the nearest exit. It stung. And today? You had had enough of it.

You found him underdeck, his back turned as he tinkered with the ship’s machinery. Without a second thought, you shoved him hard against the wall. The impact rattled the room, and Leo's surprised gasp was the only sound that followed.

His eyes widened in shock, his usual cocky grin replaced by an expression of flustered bewilderment. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, trying to process what just happened. But you were done waiting.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you demanded, your voice unexpectedly cracking on the last word. It took everything in you not to shrink back from the vulnerability that slipped through, but you stood your ground, staring him down.

Leo blinked, clearly startled. The tough guy facade faltered for a moment, and you could almost see the invisible weight on his shoulders. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure you’ve heard from the others, but I ended up on Ogygia when I got blasted out of here.”

Ogygia. The name echoed in your mind. The island of Calypso, the witch who had nursed Percy back to health years ago when you and Annabeth and apparently the rest of camp thought him to be dead. You’d heard the stories, but hearing Leo mention it made the hairs on your neck stand up. A sense of suspicion crept in.

“Yeah, and what about it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart was racing.

Leo’s eyes narrowed, clearly frustrated that you weren’t already “in the know.” He threw his hands up in exasperation, though his tone was far less confident than usual. “Well... I met Calypso.” He spoke slowly, almost as if testing the waters, waiting for your reaction.

Your eyebrows quirked. “Uh-huh…” You crossed your arms, a half-amused, half-worried look on your face, but you could tell Leo was about to say more.

He exhaled sharply, dragging the words out like they were heavier than lead. “And I may have promised to come back and rescue her... on the River Styx.”

You froze. For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. “You what?!”

The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, and your anger flared in a way you hadn't expected. Your heart pounded in your chest, the frustration that had been building for days erupting in an instant. “How could you be so stupid, Leo?!" you snapped, desperate for him to understand the gravity of what he’d just said. "You can't be serious!”

Leo seemed startled by the harsh words, but he braced himself, like he’d been expecting them all along. “She needed my help! She’s been stuck on that island for centuries!” His voice was a little defensive, but there was an underlying note of... concern? You exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from your shoulders. It was clear Leo just felt a sort of kinship with her, the way he always did with anyone who needed saving.

Despite your growing coolness, Leo still felt the need to add, “I don’t... like her, though.”

Your gaze snapped back to him, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed between the two of you. You found yourself struggling to hide a grin. “And why are you telling me this?” You tried, but amusement was creeping into your voice.

Leo rubbed the back of his neck, his usual nervous gesture. “Well, I just didn’t want you to think I—y’know—had some... thing for her.”

Of course. Only Leo would accidentally dig a hole for himself in the middle of a serious conversation.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “And why would I think that?”

He blinked, his blush spreading to his ears. If you hadn’t been in the middle of this conversation, you were pretty sure his face would’ve caught fire.

You grinned, shaking your head as you reached out to sling your arm around his shoulders. “C’mon, let’s go eat. I’m starving, and you’ve got enough ‘I’m a walking disaster’ moments for one day.”

Leo groaned, but the way his eyes twinkled told you he was secretly relieved. Just another day in the life of Leo Valdez.

-

You met Reyna. She, Nico, and Coach Hedge had taken the task of getting the Athena Parthenos to Camp Jupiter a while ago. They were all heroes in their own right, but the last thing you wanted to do was sit around and wait. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of uncertainty and battles, you made it back to Camp Half-Blood. But of course, peace would never last.

Not here. Not with the war that was brewing on the horizon.

In fact, peace didn't even stand a chance. It didn't last more than a few moments after you stepped foot back on the camp’s familiar soil. The battle found you again, just like it always did. You were carried from one fight to the next, running on adrenaline and the relentless desire to protect your friends. Monsters fell before you, and the injured campers you helped were a reminder of what was at stake. But even as you fought, you couldn't shake the feeling that something worse was coming.

Then, you heard it.

A loud bang, a crackle in the sky that sets your teeth on edge. You looked up instinctively, already knowing in the pit of your stomach what was going on. Gaea was being fought, her chaos spilling out over the world. Some of your closest friends were out there, battling the earth goddess herself.

But this—this was different.

The air felt colder, the ground seemed to tremble underfoot. Something had shifted. Your stomach twisted into a knot. Something was wrong, deeper than any battle or monster or war you’d fought before.

And before you could even make sense of it, your attention was yanked away. A shout pierced the chaos—someone calling for help, a camper in trouble.

You didn’t hesitate.

There would be no backing down now. You couldn’t give up, not when you’ve already made it this far.

-

Your gut had been right. The battle raged on, but the worst news hit you like a tidal wave. Leo was gone.

It wasn’t just the usual chaos of battle. This was different. Leo. The guy who could fix anything, who joked through every crisis, who had always been one step ahead of the rest of you. But now? Now he was gone. And the words hit you like a punch to the stomach.

You should’ve known. You should’ve realized that something was off. Leo had been acting strangely lately, slipping into moods you’d never seen him in before. Those long silences. The way he kept pushing people away like he was trying to make himself disappear before the inevitable. And now it all made sense in a way that felt like ice down your spine.

Was this it? Was this what he’d been planning all along?

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe it at first. Leo—a martyr? The thought felt wrong in every possible way. Leo wasn’t the kind to give up, to throw himself away for a cause, no matter how noble. He always had a plan. He always had a way out. But now, as the reality settled in, you couldn’t help but wonder. Was this his plan all along? To go out in a blaze of glory? To save everyone at the cost of himself?

It was impossible to reconcile the Leo you knew with the Leo who might have done this, who might’ve sacrificed himself for the greater good.

But as the news spread and the camp was left to mourn, a heavy, bitter ache formed in your chest. You thought of all the times he’d smiled and cracked jokes, of all the times you’d fought side-by-side, laughing and shouting together. And now... Now there was nothing.

It felt like the world was missing a spark. A spark you knew as Leo.

You pushed the grief aside for the moment—it wasn't time to break down. Not yet. But the thought lingered, gnawing at you. Was this really his choice? And if it was... would you ever be able to forgive him for leaving you behind?

-

Two months had passed.

Each day bled into the next like a long, gray smear, and the world had become nothing but the aching void of Leo Valdez’s absence. The loss was a cold weight in the pit of your stomach, a stone that no amount of time could make lighter. Time, it seemed, only deepened the wound.

Camp Half-Blood had continued, as it always did. The camp was used to death. Demigods were used to death and grief, everyone had to learn to carry their burdens or they’d drown. They had learned to march on, even after losing their closest friends. But you? You couldn’t do it. Not this time.

Leo had been different. He had been your Leo, your spark of light in a world that had so often seemed too dark. And now he was gone. And nothing could fill the hole he left behind.

Amidst your grief you had heard of Apollo's appearance at camp. From what you could gather, he had been punished for Octavian's actions and made human. Even more funnily enough, he was a servant to some hot-headed girl.

But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care about Apollo’s strange fate or his odd little master. The only thing that consumed you was Leo. The only thing that mattered was that Leo was gone, and you were left behind in the ruins of it.

Days turned to weeks, and then weeks into two long, endless months. You stayed in your cabin mostly, not wanting to face the world outside. You couldn't bring yourself to do anything but wallow in the grief. The other campers had tried to help, of course. Some had dropped by to check in on you. A few even brought food, but you couldn’t eat. You didn’t want to eat.

And then one morning, when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, you finally decided—today, you would leave the cabin.

You stood up slowly, the ache in your chest never leaving. You had gone days without food, but something in you told you it was time to stop. Time to start existing again, at least for a while.

You stepped outside, the crisp air hitting your skin. The camp seemed as alive as ever, filled with the sounds of training, laughter, and chatter. But to you, it all felt distant. The faces of your friends, Percy, Annabeth, Chiron, they all seemed to move through a fog. They had all moved on, in their own ways. But you couldn’t.

And you didn’t care about the camp’s new gossip, either. It wasn’t important. It wasn’t Leo.

But then, as you made your way towards the mess hall, you overheard a conversation, sharp and full of whispers. “Leo’s back. He’s really back.”

Your heart skipped. Your breath caught. Leo?

You hurried towards the Big House, ignoring the pull of your doubt. When you arrived, there was a crowd of campers, gathered in a long line stretching out in front of the door. And, in the center of it all, there he was.

Leo.

You blinked, and for a moment, it felt like your heart might stop. Was this real? Was this... really happening?

He looked the same, but different. His usual cocky grin was there, though he seemed a little subdued, almost unsure. His hair was a mess as always, and his shirt had the usual grease stains from his latest invention. But there was something new about him—something that made your chest tighten.

The line shifted a bit, and it was like everything fell away. The campers were giving you space, stepping aside. You moved forward, not even thinking, just needing to be close to him, needing to see him, to know that this wasn’t a dream.

"Leo?" you whispered, barely able to get the word out.

His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, he looked stunned, like he couldn't believe his own eyes. Then, in a move that was so typically Leo, he shot up from the bench where he had been sitting, his arms wide open.

“[Your name]” he exclaimed, and before you could even think to react, he wrapped you in a hug. “You won’t believe what’s happened, but—”

You slapped him.

It wasn’t a gentle tap, either. It was a full-on smack, the kind you only give to the person who hurt you most.

Some campers nearby snickered. But you didn’t care. You had to do it. You had to make him feel how angry and hurt you had been all this time. How he had left, without a word, without a goodbye.

Leo froze, his expression turning to one of surprise, then to embarrassment. “Ow! What the—” He rubbed his cheek, eyes wide. “Okay, okay, I deserved it”

You stepped back, your breath shaky, but now that you’d slapped him, something else took over. Something that drowned out all the hurt, the anger, the loss. You threw your arms around him again, pulling him close, holding him tighter this time.

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again, Leo,” you said, your voice breaking. “Do you hear me? I thought... I thought I lost you. You can’t just... just disappear.”

Leo chuckled softly, his voice low and full of warmth, despite the seriousness in your words. “I mean... I didn’t mean to disappear. You know how I am—always making things explode and running off to save the day.” He pulled back slightly, looking at you with that trademark mischievous grin. “But I’m here now. So... does this mean we’re together now? Like... officially?”

You stared at him, blinking in disbelief at his question. For a moment, you almost wanted to laugh—except all the emotions bubbling inside of you weren’t exactly funny.

"Yes," you said, pulling him in and kissing him fiercely, because you couldn’t hold back anymore. Because you needed him. Because you needed him to know you still loved him, even after everything. Even after all the pain.

When you pulled away, Leo was grinning, his usual cocky smile back in full force, despite the tears you both had been holding back. "So... does that mean you're not going to slap me again?"

You could’ve slapped him again. You really could’ve. But instead, you just smiled, shaking your head, and murmured, “No. But I’m never letting you go again.”

And this time, you meant it.

[not-xpr-art]

Curled tight as a question mark...

(01/2025)

Ok so I've been super obsessed with the AMAZING Trolley Problem AU fics by @silverview & @unreesonable (where Drew is the 22 year old Blake abuses instead of Ellie) for literally ages so it was only a matter of time before I'd end up doing some art based on it pfft...

Links to the fics below btw (also gonna ramble about this piece a bit since, as usual, I put way too much thought into it pfft)!!!

a better son / daughter

special arrangements

and all I'll do is kiss him (btw title of this piece actually taken from a line in this one which I really loved!!!)

spaces between

Highly recommend all of them btw, they're so GOOD!!!!!

~~~

Ok, so I immediately wanted to do a sorta twisted version of Klimt's 'The Kiss' but the concept kinda got away from me as I was painting it... Plus I couldn't get the vibrant gold colour to work with the general colouring of the figures so the background became like vaguely vaginal curtains that I could probably spin some kinda symbolic link to Drew's mother if I wanted to lol...

(think I made a joke on bsky that I'm in my Georgia O'Keeffe era and NO one laughed smhsmh...)

I've also been wanting to do something based on the iconic The Fallen Angel painting by Alexandre Cabanel but never really had a particular subject in mind... until NOW! (ofc the emotion is different but idk I think the reference still works... Drew's tears are more desperate, hopeless, resigned, and perhaps less angry than Lucifer's?)

I wanted the piece to feel like Drew is trapped. Trapped by his turbulent relationship with his mother and father, trapped by his status and position in life, trapped by his sexuality, trapped by the drugs... And ultimately trapped by Blake, who was supposed to offer him a paternal embrace, a comforting hand on his shoulder, to properly help guide him out of the hole he's stuck in but all he did was take advantage of his vulnerability and drag him further into that pit...

Also, kinda funny story, but I tried doing a cute romantic in9 art before I started this but my brain and hand were having none of it lol... NO adorable yaoi for you manipulative toxic yaoi ONLY !!!!!!!

Stylistically I wanted to try and make this look sorta traditionally painted, which involved me using a combo of my regular program alongside ms paint since I like the texture of some of the brushes on there tbh (plus those brushes are really great for painting body hair which I had so much fun drawing a lot of here lol)! Overlaid with a vaguely canvas-y texture lol

Oh, and also I put the diamond pattern of the jumper Drew wears in the episode on his underwear here both because it was going to get covered if I put it on his t-shirt and because it's sorta a fun way to reflect how this is an AU lol

Also have some close ups since tumblr has completely destroyed the quality of this lol:

(final close up is actually of a version of the painting without the texture overlay btw which is why the colours are slightly different, but I thought it might be interesting to share so u can see the brushwork texture a little better??)

uh anyway... that's all folks lol!

[forthefictionallesbians]

With a start, you recoil from the table, sending cutlery crashing unheard to the floor. Your heart is beating fast, too fast, demanding attention you can't lend it. The world is dimming, your periphery fading to the grey of single minded focus, shock. Distantly, an incomprehensible presence completes its work, and withdraws from your awareness. You barely even process the sudden lack from your ears, so desperately attuned, so tinnitus-deafened. Lucidity has finally reached you again. And there is a hole in the wall.

It wasn't there before.

That is the one thing you can be sure of, as you sift through and discard your scattered thoughts, the "not again"'s, the shivers of anticipation, the silent hopes and desperate fears. The not-you, the human-you of mere seconds before hadn't registered it. But now, you can focus on nothing else. The hole, dark and jagged, promises your only measure of security.

Security from what? You barely let yourself think that thought. It is not the thought of a mouse, of you. And you are finally yourself again. There is no time to waste on such frivolities.

Besides, your question is answered half a second later as a towering figure stands up from the table. It dwarfs you, standing nearly three times your height, composed entirely of violet vines with luminous leaves and fronds. Pauma- she- the vine thing is making noises, cooing, moving towards you.

Fear floods your body, and you dash for the hole. This was why I looked this way, why I jolted, you don't speculate. You just scamper frantically towards the hole, narrowly ducking a lazy vine thrust and jumping another sweeping swipe. Escape. Find safety. Already, complicated thoughts are becoming outside of your capacity. It has been maybe ten seconds. Too long. You need to keep moving.

The hole. Darkness. Security in the walls. You've made it, dancing through and immediately darting left, then up, taking steps at a breakneck pace. Adrenaline is pounding through your body, far too much for the scenario. But you did it. You escaped. You were fast enough. If a mouse could cheer, you would have. Instead you settle for cleaning your ears, wiping away at them as your heart rate settles.

The little crevice you've found yourself in is surprisingly spacious, and a little familiar. You don't even bother trying to explain that to yourself. It's a labyrinth, passages of wood and rug and plastic and plush running and twisting above and below you. Verticality makes up for its narrow width. Soft shaped things line corners, along with boards of something that smells savory. Experimentally, you skitter up to one and take a nibble. It has the consistency of soft plastic, and a flavour that explodes in your mouth and fizzes in your brain. Moaning slightly, you scrape it with your teeth again and collapse into the plushies soft things, all stress obliterated in the bubbling afterglow of the gnaw-post. A distant part of you doesn't bother remembering Pauma explaining to you why she put them there, to help ease the stress of the hunt.

Time doesn't matter as you drift contentedly, nuzzling and nesting deeper into the pile. They seem to glow on your skin, every gentle touch an ecstacy of stuffing and fur. This is the life. No worries assail you, and when they do, you take another nibble and watch them dissolve. You do hear the rustlings of vines as they creep through narrow hallways in your direction, but can't bring yourself to care. Even when they wrap around your waist, you don't mind. It's only upon being plucked bodily from your spot that you feel even slightly peeved. But what can you do? You're just a ditsy, happy little mouse, and the vine is so strong. You know you should feel afraid, but you just can't bring yourself to.

Pauma The vine thing sighs, discontented, when she drags you out and holds you in front of her face. But her frustration doesn't seem to be at you. One arm ruffles the hair on your head, and you squeak with the little reactivity left in your body. That does drag a slight smile out of her, wooden mask splitting faintly. "Well, I suppose this experiment wasn't a complete failure," she muses softly. "And this beats you passing out from the fear." A contented humming envelops you as she holds you tight, allowing herself to bask in the moment.

"One of these times I'll get the formulation right, and then we'll have the proper hunt we both crave." Distantly, part of your brain fires in appreciation for her continued efforts. The rest of you can't care beyond the gentle stroking of her vines. "Or maybe," she says with a burst of sudden sharpness, "I'll just keep you like this forever, little mouse." Her eyes blaze a dizzying colour, and consciousness begins to tunnel in on her. You shiver despite yourself. "I had no idea you could get this adorable. As fun as capturing you is, I'll have to thank Quellia for introducing me to this combination. Maybe this is how I finally get you to beg me for a collar."

[mattsobvimyfav]

Different (Matthew Sturniolo)

When Y/N starts college, she's eager for a fresh start and new opportunities. Assigned a partner for a lab, she meets Matthew Sturniolo, who seems charming and capable at first glance. But as their partnership progresses, Y/N begins to uncover unsettling truths about Matthew's character, throwing her college journey entirely off.

part 2

A month had passed, and things had settled into a comfortable rhythm. School was still a grind, but with the first few weeks behind me, I was finally finding my balance. Matt and Chris had become a regular part of my days—more than just classmates, they were now part of my circle.

Matt and I were partners in lab now, a decision made by sheer luck in the seating arrangement that had somehow worked out perfectly. Our conversations, which used to be casual, had grown more comfortable, a little flirtatious even, though I never took it too seriously.

Today was different. We had a big experiment to finish in lab, one that was taking longer than expected. My concentration was waning, my mind starting to wander. Matt was across the table from me, meticulously measuring out the chemicals for our next step, his brow furrowed in concentration. I sat back, waiting for him to finish up, tapping my pen against the lab notebook in front of me.

“Hey,” I said, breaking the silence as I scribbled another note on the lab sheet. “Could you grab me the beaker from the shelf? I think we’re almost ready to mix this.”

Matt glanced over at me, his eyes sharp but with a teasing glint. “Which shelf?”

I pointed lazily to the far side of the room, where a row of shelves lined the wall. “The one next to the Bunsen burners.”

He got up from his stool, standing tall as he stretched slightly. “Alright, but…” His voice trailed off as he turned to look at me, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips. “What’s in it for me?”

I raised an eyebrow at him, playing along. “In it for you? It’s called teamwork, Matt.”

He chuckled, the sound low and easy, “Yeah, yeah, teamwork. But maybe I need a little incentive this time.”

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “Incentive? What, you want me to do your part of the write-up or something?”

Matt stopped in his tracks, turning back to face me fully. His smirk deepened, and there was something in his expression—something daring and cocky—that made me sit up straighter. “Nah, I’ve got a better idea,” he said, his tone casual but edged with amusement. “I’ll grab the beaker if you give me head.”

The words hit me like a shockwave, and for a moment, I thought I’d misheard him. My eyes widened as I processed what he’d just said. “What?” I asked, my voice caught between disbelief and laughter.

“You heard me,” Matt said, leaning casually against the edge of the table, his arms crossed. He was grinning now, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I’ll get the beaker if you… you know.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with me. Judging by the way his grin hadn’t faltered, he wasn’t backing down.

“Oh, really?” I said, finally recovering from my initial shock. I leaned forward, meeting his gaze head-on. “That’s your price? A little bold, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Hey, I’m just saying. A fair trade, right?”

I could feel a smirk forming on my own lips now, fueled by the ridiculousness of the situation. Two could play this game. “Alright, Matt,” I said coolly, leaning back in my chair. “Go grab the beaker.”

His grin faltered slightly, and he tilted his head at me, “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug, keeping my tone nonchalant even though my heart was pounding. 

Matt’s expression shifted from amused to something more cautious, like he was trying to figure out if I was bluffing. “You’re serious?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

I met his gaze without flinching, my smirk unwavering. “Yeah?”

There was a long pause as Matt stared at me, his confidence seemingly wavering for the first time. He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Alright then.”

He grabbed the beaker and brought it back to our station, setting it down with a soft clink.

“See?” I said, picking up the beaker and placing it carefully on the rack. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He laughed again, looking down at his pants and smirking. “Harder than you think.”

I shrugged, focusing on the lab work in front of me as though nothing had happened. “You’ll live, Matt. Let’s finish this before we blow something up.”

“Nah, I’d actually love to see you blow something.”

“Die.” I deadpanned and he laughed hard. 

We left the lab together, the sun starting to set as we walked out into the parking lot. Matt’s car was parked in its usual spot. 

“You want shotgun or the trunk?” Matt asked with a smirk, unlocking the doors.

“Wow, such a gentleman,” I said, sliding into the passenger seat. “How do girls resist you?”

“They don't,” he replied, shrugging as he plopped into the driver’s seat.

As soon as he started the car, he reached into the console and pulled out his rolling kit. It was a well-practiced routine by now—grinding the weed, spreading it evenly onto the paper. I watched him without meaning to, my gaze lingering as he carefully rolled the blunt.

And then he licked the edge of the paper to seal it.

I froze for a second, feeling heat creep up my neck. The way his tongue ran along the edge, slow and deliberate, sent a ripple of uninvited thoughts through my mind. I tried to shake them off, but my body betrayed me, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“Relax,” Matt said without looking up, grinning as if he could sense the tension. “It’s just a blunt.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled, tearing my eyes away and staring out the window.

Since hanging out with Matt and Chris, I’d been smoking a lot more than I ever thought I would. The haze of weed had become a regular backdrop to our conversations and late-night drives, and I’d started to crave the quiet calm it brought, even when Matt’s presence kept me on edge.

He lit the blunt and took a deep drag, exhaling smoothly as he turned up the music. The bass-heavy beat filled the car, and I let the sound drown out my wandering thoughts.

“Hungry?” he asked after a moment, glancing over at me.

“Always,” I said, already knowing where this was headed.

“Drive-thru or sit-down?”

“Drive-thru,” I said quickly. The idea of being in public right now, especially after that blunt, sounded exhausting.

“Good call,” he said, taking another hit before passing the blunt to me. “Where to?”

“Anywhere with fries,” I said, taking the blunt from him and inhaling. The smoke filled my lungs, and I felt the tension in my body start to melt away.

We pulled into the drive-thru as the sky darkened around us. By the time we had the bags of greasy goodness in the car, the smell alone was enough to make my mouth water.

“Fries first,” Matt said, shoving a handful into his mouth before pulling out of the lot.

“You’re an animal,” I said, 

“An animal who shares,” he replied, holding out a fry in front of my mouth.

I laughed, biting it from his hand. “Generous. I’ll give you that.”

We drove in comfortable silence for a while, the music playing softly as we ate. Every so often, Matt would make a sarcastic comment about something in a song I picked or the random people we passed on the street.

By the time we got back to my place, the blunt was long gone, and my buzz was in full effect. Matt pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, turning to me with that familiar smirk.

“Who’s your favorite chauffeur, huh?” he said.

“You, of course Matthew,” I tapped his chest as I opened the door.

He leaned back in his seat, watching me. “That’s all I get?”

I grinned, stepping out of the car. “See you tomorrow, Matt.”

“Later, Y/N.”

I shut the door behind me, heading inside.

A couple hours later I was sprawled across my bed, lazily scrolling through my phone when it buzzed in my hand. Matt’s name lit up the screen.

“Hey,” I answered, sitting up slightly.

“Hey,” his voice came through, casual and smooth, but there was a hint of something teasing in his tone, as always. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much,” I replied. “Why?”

“Chris and I are just hanging out. Thought you might want to come over. Chill, watch a movie or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

“Cool,” Matt replied. “Bring yourself, and maybe some snacks if you’re feeling generous.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No.”

After we hung up, I shuffled over to my dresser, pulling out a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. Comfort was key, especially if we were just lounging around. I quickly changed, grabbed my keys, and headed out.

The drive to Matt and Chris’ place was short, and by now, familiar. I parked in the driveway and made my way up to the door, knocking once before letting myself in.

The scent of weed hit me almost immediately, and I wasn’t surprised to see Chris sitting on the couch, a joint in one hand and a controller in the other. Matt was lounging in the chair nearby, scrolling through his phone.

“Look who decided to show up,” Matt said with a grin, glancing up at me.

“Lucky you,” I shot back, closing the door behind me.

Chris looked over, offering a nod in greeting. “What’s up, Y/N?”

“Not much,” I said, plopping onto the couch beside him. As I glanced around, I noticed something—or rather, someone—was missing. “Where’s Charlie?”

Chris shrugged, taking a drag from the joint. “Haven’t seen her in a couple of days. She’s been acting all secretive lately. Weird vibes, you know?”

I frowned. Charlie had been doing the same to me, Ignoring me, not hanging out. “Secretive how?”

“Like… I don’t know,” Chris said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “She’s just been off. Doesn’t say much, dips early when she is around.”

Matt chimed in from the chair. “She’s probably just dealing with some shit. People get like that sometimes.”

I nodded. 

“Well, if you hear anything, let me know,” I said, settling deeper into the couch.

Chris nodded. “For sure.”

“So,” Matt said, clapping his hands together and standing up. “What kind of movie are we watching tonight, Y/N? Your pick.”

I thought for a moment, scrolling through the mental list of my favorite genres. “Horror,” I said finally.

Matt raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Horror? Didn’t peg you as the type.”

“You will never peg me, and why the fuck not?” I challenged.

He shrugged. “I will,” he joked back, “but you just don’t seem like the ‘scare-me-stupid’ kind of person.”

Chris chuckled. “Nah, she seems like a ‘fuck-me-stupid type of person.”

“Shut up,” I said, throwing a pillow at him.

“Alright, horror it is,” Matt said, walking over to the TV. He started scrolling through a streaming service, muttering titles under his breath. “The Conjuring? Hereditary? Oh, how about Evil Dead?”

“Evil Dead,” I said quickly. “Classic.”

Matt grinned. “Good choice.”

As he queued up the movie, I kicked off my shoes and got comfortable on the couch. Chris passed me the joint, and I took a small hit, letting the smoke calm my nerves.

The movie started, and the room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional crack of a soda can or the crunch of chips. I tried to focus on the screen, but my attention kept drifting. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the warmth of the room, or the way Matt occasionally glanced over at me with that ever-present smirk.

By the time the first jump scare hit, Chris laughed loudly as I flinched, but Matt just leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

“Not scared, huh?” Matt teased, glancing over at me.

I rolled my eyes, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “It’s a good movie. That’s all.”

“Sure it is,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The movie ended with the final screams of the protagonist echoing in the room, and Chris stretched, letting out a yawn. “That was solid,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “But I’m beat.”

I checked the time on my phone and realized how late it had gotten. “Yeah, I'll probably get going,” I said, standing up and stretching.

Chris shook his head, sitting up on the couch. “Why? We’ve got class together tomorrow. Just stay over. We’ll all head out in the morning.”

I hesitated, my mind immediately running through excuses. “I don’t have any clothes, though. And I need to shower.”

Matt, who had been lounging in the armchair, glanced over at me with a casual shrug. “You can shower here. It’s not a big deal. I can find you some pajamas or something.”

Before I could respond, Chris jumped in, smirking. “Yeah, and you could borrow one of my shirts or sweatshirts for tomorrow.”

I raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “You guys are really selling this sleepover idea.”

Chris grinned, leaning back on the couch. “What can I say? We’re great hosts. Plus, it’s way easier than driving home and then having to meet us again tomorrow.”

Matt nodded in agreement. “He’s got a point. Might as well save yourself the trouble.”

I bit my lip, still unsure. I hadn’t exactly planned for a sleepover, but they did make a good argument. And the thought of not having to deal with the early morning drive was tempting.

“Fine,” I said finally, crossing my arms. “But I’m showering before bed, and I’m borrowing something decent to wear. Not some of the ugly shit I see you guys wear.”

Matt smirked, standing up and stretching. “Deal. I’ll grab you a pair of shorts and a shirt.”

I followed him down the hall to grab whatever he was offering, and a part of me couldn’t help but smile at how casual the whole thing was. 

I stood under the hot spray of the shower, letting the stress of the day wash away. The warmth was soothing.

After rinsing out the shampoo and washing off the remnants of the day, I stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel. Matt’s shirt—a soft, slightly oversized band tee—was folded neatly on the counter. I slipped it over my head, the fabric falling just below my butt, brushing against the tops of my thighs. It smelled like him—woodsy cologne with a faint hint of something sweet.

I debated for a second before ultimately deciding to forgo the shorts. The shirt was long enough to cover everything, and I hate wearing pants to bed. It felt comfortable, casual.

When I walked out of the bathroom, the cool air hit my damp skin, sending a small shiver down my spine. I made my way to Matt’s room and pushed the door open without knocking.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling on his phone, but he looked up when I walked in. His gaze lingered for a moment, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.

“Here,” he said, holding out a hairbrush. “You’ll want this. Can’t have you looking like a wet dog in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes but took the brush from his hand, plopping down at his desk. The mirror above it reflected my image, and I started brushing through my damp hair, wincing at the occasional tangle.

Matt leaned back on his bed, his eyes still on me. “You know,” he said after a moment, his tone lighter, teasing, “you look really good in my clothes.”

I paused, lifting my arms to brush through the underside of my hair. The motion made the shirt rise slightly, exposing more of my thighs. When I glanced in the mirror, Matt’s gaze had shifted downward.

I smirked, lowering the brush. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking into that familiar smirk of his. “But I bet you’d look even better without them.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Subtle as always, Matt.”

He grinned, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What? Just speaking the truth. You can’t blame me for appreciating your body.”

“Well, appreciate it from over there,” I shot back, brushing through another section of my hair.

“Fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But you can’t be mad when I keep staring. You’re the one walking around in my shirt with no pants on.”

“It’s long enough to count as a dress,” I countered.

“A very short dress,” he corrected, leaning back on his hands. “One wrong move, and—”

“Alright, enough,” I said, turning to glare at him, though I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “You’re worse than Chris.”

He laughed, tilting his head. “Nah, Chris would’ve already made some dumbass comment about being a ‘gentleman’ and offering to help you into bed.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “You guys are the worst.”

“Maybe,” Matt admitted, standing up and walking over to me. He leaned against the desk, his proximity making the room feel even smaller. “But you keep coming around, so we can’t be that bad.”

I looked up at him, still holding the brush in my hand. “You’re the lucky one, Matt.”

“Lucky’s one word for it,” he said, his voice dropping slightly.

The air between us shifted, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what was happening. But then he smiled, breaking the tension. “Hurry up, I want you in my bed”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the mirror and resuming my brushing. Matt lingered for a moment before stepping back toward his bed.

I finished brushing through my hair, smoothing it down before setting the brush on the desk. When I turned, Matt was sprawled out on his bed, his arm resting casually behind his head. 

The faint glow of red LED lights around his TV cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones. He looked unreal, like something out of a book—effortlessly attractive, and entirely too aware of it.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you getting in?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

I rolled my eyes but walked over, slipping under the covers on the side of the bed he wasn’t occupying. The sheets were soft, I kept a little distance between us, settling on my side, but my heart was racing for reasons I couldn’t fully explain.

The red glow bathed everything in warmth, but it only seemed to make the space between us feel more charged. I could feel Matt’s presence next to me, his body heat radiating in the small gap we’d left.

I tried to focus on anything else, but my mind betrayed me, looping back to the moments I’d caught myself staring at him, how his hands looked when he rolled a blunt, the way his lips curved when he smirked, the tattoos that peeked out from beneath his sleeves. 

I hadn’t allowed myself to linger on those thoughts before, but now, in the quiet intimacy of his room, they consumed me.

I shifted slightly, glancing over at him. He was propped up on one elbow now, watching me with a lazy smirk that made my stomach twist.

“What?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

“You,” he said simply, his eyes glinting in the red light. “You’re all stiff. Relax.”

“I’m relaxed,” I countered, though the tension in my body betrayed me.

He didn’t reply, just kept watching me, his gaze heavy. It was as if he could see right through me, see the way my thoughts were spiraling. I tried to look away, but he reached out, his fingers brushing against my chin, gently turning my face back toward him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

“Like what?” I asked, though my voice wavered.

“Like you want me,” he said, his smirk widening.

I swallowed hard, my brain scrambling for a response, but before I could think of one, he leaned in, closing the small gap between us. His lips brushed against mine, tentative at first, as if he was waiting for me to pull away.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned into him, my hand instinctively reaching up to rest on his chest. The kiss deepened, his hand sliding to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. His lips were warm and soft, moving against mine with a mix of patience and hunger that left me breathless.

The red glow of the lights seemed to pulse around us, painting the room in a haze that felt almost dreamlike. I let myself get lost in the moment, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his hand trailed along my side, just beneath the hem of the one I was wearing.

“Y/N,” he murmured against my lips, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down my spine.

I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, my breathing unsteady. His eyes were darker now.

He smiled, his hand shifting slightly, his thumb brushing against the bare skin of my waist. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

I raised an eyebrow, my lips curving into a small smile. “Me? Dangerous? You’re the one who started this.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, leaning in to kiss me again. “But you’re the one who’s making it impossible to stop.”

And for the rest of the night, I didn’t want him to.

The soft rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting streaks of warm light across Matt’s room. I blinked against the brightness, groaning softly as I shifted beneath the covers. My body was heavy with sleep, but my mind was wide awake, replaying the events of the previous night like a broken record.

Matt was still asleep beside me, sprawled out on his stomach with one arm hanging off the bed. His dark hair was a messy tangle, and his face was half-buried in the pillow, making his sharp features seem softer in the morning light. He looked so peaceful, so unlike the cocky, teasing version of him I was used to.

But that wasn’t what had my attention. No, my thoughts were stuck on the way his lips felt against mine, the way his hands had skimmed over my waist, pulling me closer as if he couldn’t get enough.

I let out a quiet sigh, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t like I had feelings for Matt. That wasn’t what this was about. But damn, the guy could kiss.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I replayed the way he’d leaned in, the way his touch had sent little shocks through my body. It wasn’t just the physicality of it—it was the way he seemed so confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing and exactly what I wanted.

I wondered, fleetingly, what else he was good at.

The thought made my cheeks heat, and I rolled onto my side, burying my face in the pillow to hide from my own embarrassment. It wasn’t like I was planning to find out. Last night had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, fueled by proximity and a little too much unspoken tension.

I let out another sigh, forcing myself to sit up. The oversized shirt I’d borrowed from him slipped off one shoulder, the fabric soft against my skin. My hair was still slightly damp from last night’s shower, and I ran a hand through it, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep and the memories threatening to take over.

Beside me, Matt stirred, his head turning slightly on the pillow. For a moment, I thought he might wake up, but he just let out a soft groan and shifted, settling back into his slumber.

Shaking my head, I slid out of bed as quietly as I could. My legs felt wobbly, a mix of morning stiffness and the remnants of whatever spell he’d cast over me the night before.

I was in the middle of pulling on my biker shorts when the door creaked open. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Chris standing in the doorway, his eyebrows raising slightly as he took in the scene.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” he said, his smirk immediate.

“Chris,” I said flatly, covering my chest as I reached for my sports bra. “Ever heard of knocking?”

He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe like he had no intention of leaving. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I’m just appreciating the view.”

Sliding the straps of my bra over my shoulders, I gave him a pointed look. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to be saying that kind of thing to?”

Chris grinned, unabashed. “Sure, but sharing isn’t wrong, right? You look good, Y/N—just saying.”

“Shut up.” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped as I grabbed my hair tie, securing my messy hair into a loose bun. “If you’re done being a creep, what do you want?”

He walked over, holding out a black zip-up hoodie. “Figured you might want something warmer, and this is a classic. Looks good on everyone.”

I shook my head, pulling on the hoodie and zipping it halfway, letting the band of my sports bra peek through. “There. Happy now?”

Chris tilted his head, giving me a once-over. “Very. You wear it well, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah you just said it looks good on everyone. Now go wake up your brother.”

Chris laughed, turning toward Matt’s bed. He nudged Matt’s shoulder, earning a muffled groan in response. “Yo, wake up, kid. We’re gonna be late, and I can’t keep Y/N entertained all morning.”

Matt turned his head, groggy eyes narrowing as he looked at Chris. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Chris smirked, jerking his thumb back toward me. “I’m just saying you better get at that soon before I do.”

Matt’s eyes flicked to me for a moment, taking in the sight of me in Chris’s hoodie. He blinked, his expression unreadable before he groaned and buried his face back into the pillow. “You’re both annoying. Leave me alone.”

Chris laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “C’mon, man. Don’t sleep on this opportunity.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms as I leaned against the desk. “Are you done playing matchmaker? Because I’m about to leave both of you behind.”

Chris raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two alone. But seriously, Matt, get up.”

As Chris left the room, I leaned back in the chair, adjusting the hoodie and smirking to myself. Boys were exhausted, but at least they were entertaining.

The drive to class was quiet for the most part. Matt was behind the wheel, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel while the other rested on the gearshift. Chris sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the aux cord to pick a playlist, while I sat in the back, watching the world blur past through the window.

“Y/N, what do you wanna listen to?” Chris asked, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“Anything but country,” I replied, leaning back against the seat.

Chris turned back around “Glad we are on the same page.”

“Play something calm though. It’s early.” I said back, earning a chuckle from Matt.

“She’s got a point,” Matt said, smirking as Chris put on the neighborhood, earning a grin from me. 

The rest of the ride was filled with music and light banter. When we pulled into the parking lot, Chris hopped out first, holding the door open for me with a mock bow. “After you, princess.”

“Thank yew,” I quipped, stepping out and adjusting my bag.

Matt locked the car, and the three of us headed to class together, slipping into our usual seats near the back of the lecture hall. The room filled quickly, and just as the professor was setting up, Charlie walked in.

Before she even had the chance to sit down, Chris was already on his feet. “Hallway. Now,” he said, his voice steady, leaving no room for argument.

Charlie blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t protest. She just sighed and followed him out of the lecture hall. 

Matt shot me a look, and I shrugged. Five minutes passed, and my patience ran out. I nudged him. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t hesitate. We slipped out quietly, finding them a few doors down. Their voices were low but carried just enough for us to hear.

“I don’t know what’s been up with you, but I’m not playing this game,” Chris said, his tone completely even. Not angry. Not upset. Just done.

Charlie huffed. “What game?”

Chris let out a breath like this was exhausting. “You’ve been weird all week. Distant. Off. I’m not about to sit around and guess what’s going on. That’s not me.”

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” she tried, her voice tight.

“Cool,” Chris said. “Then you can handle it without me.”

Silence stretched between them. Matt shifted beside me, and Chris glanced over, catching us. His face didn’t hold any annoyance, just something like relief. “Are you ready to leave? Im not sitting in this fuck ass class today.” he asked us.

“Yeah.” I stepped into view without hesitation.

We got back to Matt and Chris’s place without much conversation. Chris didn’t seem to care about the breakup at all—if anything, he looked more relaxed than I’d seen him in days. Matt grabbed a beer from the fridge, tossing one to Chris, and I settled onto the arm of the couch, still trying to process everything.

“So that’s just it?” I asked, looking at Chris.

He cracked open the beer and took a sip before answering. “Yeah. That’s just it.”

“No second thoughts?”

Chris smirked. “Second thoughts are for people who care.”

Matt let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Kids got a point.”

Before I could respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. Chris and Matt exchanged a look.

“You expecting someone?” Chris asked.

Matt shrugged and got up to answer it. As soon as he opened the door, two guys stepped inside like they’d done it a hundred times before. They both had that twitchy, wired energy—eyes shifting, hands in their hoodie pockets.

One of them nodded at Matt. “You got it?”

Matt didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, hold up.”

He disappeared down the hall, and when he came back, he was holding a small bag. Not weed. This was different—white powder, packed tight. 

Cocaine.

I must’ve made a face because Chris glanced at me and smirked. “What, you didn’t know?”

I stared at him. “You guys sell coke?”

Chris shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah hun, a lot more than coke.”

Matt handed the bag over, and the guy passed him a wad of cash in return. Quick. Clean. Efficient.

I shook my head, still trying to wrap my mind around it. “I thought you guys just had money because of your jobs.”

Chris laughed, taking another sip of his beer. “That’s cute.”

The guys left without another word, and Matt locked the door behind them before turning back to me, grinning. “You good?”

I hesitated, “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Chris clapped me on the back as he passed me. “Welcome to the real world, babe.”

I stayed at Matt and Chris’s for a little while after their business wrapped up, but eventually, I pushed myself off the couch, stretching. “I should head home. Need my own clothes and stuff.”

Chris, still laser-focused on his game, barely acknowledged me. “You say that like you don’t want to be here.”

Matt smirked. “You sure you don’t just wanna crash again?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be back. I just don’t wanna keep smelling like dude and weed.”

Chris snorted. “Could be worse.”

I flipped him off, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. “Later, assholes.”

Matt gave a lazy “Bye Sweetheart,” and Chris just grunted in response.

The drive home was quiet. By the time I pulled into my driveway, it was already getting dark, and something immediately felt off.

The living room light was on.

I frowned. I hadn’t left it that way.

Stepping inside, I was hit with the smell of food—garlic, butter, something sizzling. Then I heard movement in the kitchen.

And then I saw him.

My dad.

Standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan like this was totally normal.

I blinked. “You’re home.”

He turned at the sound of my voice, like I was the one who wasn’t supposed to be here. “Yeah,” he said, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Figured it was time.”

I dropped my bag by the door and leaned against the frame. “Time for what?”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t bite at the obvious attitude in my tone. “To be home.”

I just nodded, taking it in. I wasn’t mad, not really. Just… surprised. I hadn’t expected to see him again so soon.

“You eaten?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Good,” he said, nodding toward the table. “Sit. I made enough for two.”

I hesitated, just for a second, before pulling out a chair and sitting down. 

I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping against the floor. “I’m going back to Matt and Chris’s.”

Dad’s eyes snapped to me, his brows pulling together. “Matt and Chris who?”

I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “Sturniolo.”

His whole face shifted, his expression darkening. “No.”

I froze, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” he repeated, standing up. “You’re not going over there.”

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “You can’t just waltz back in and start making rules.”

He ignored that. “Do you even know who those boys are? My cop friends talk about them all the time. They’re bad news, Y/N.”

I scoffed. “Oh, so now you care who I hang out with?”

“This isn’t a joke,” he said, his voice sharp. “You don’t need to be involved with kids like that.”

I crossed my arms, leveling him with a look. “Yeah? Well, too late.”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t know what they’re into.”

I stared at him for a second, debating whether to push it further. Instead, I just shook my head and turned toward the door. “I’ll see you whenever you decide to show up again.”

“Y/N—”

But I didn’t let him finish. I walked out, slamming the door behind me.

The drive back to Matt and Chris’s was quicker than usual, mostly because I was gripping the wheel so tight I might as well have been trying to crush it. My dad just showing up out of nowhere was one thing, but acting like he suddenly got a say in my life? Telling me who I could and couldn’t hang out with? Bad news. Please. Like I didn’t already know exactly who Matt and Chris were.

By the time I pulled into their driveway, my head was still spinning. I didn’t bother knocking—I just walked in, letting the door swing shut behind me.

Both of them looked up from their spots on the couch. Chris raised an eyebrow. “Well, good to see you too.”

“That was fast,” Matt added, smirking.

I dropped my bag onto the floor and glared at them. “Shut the fuck up and roll me a joint. It’s been a long hour.”

Chris grinned, reaching for the stash on the coffee table. “Now that I can do.”

tag-

@courta13 @idkwhatthisis2009 @sturniolostories13 @baileysturnz

@tbfaptbfae @ch0lliess @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @mamamadssss @loser41ifee

[hergurlc]

—MOONCOVEY—

Don’t mind me as I yap away my feelings about MOONCOVEY in season2 of XO Kitty cuz I can’t stop watching their arc and their slow burn or hold it in anymore🥹😅😂

Kitty and Minho are starting to finally align themselves with their feelings for each other but their timeline is off so the timing just needs to be right for the both of them and their situations which I think is so close but also not quite yet. Both their feelings are clear(at least to the us) yet very complicated and scary in a vulnerable type of way. They’ve been maneuvering and tip toeing around their feelings, being considerate and supportive of each other while also continuing their good banter and protecting their bonded friendship.

Ultimately this is Kitty’s story and journey and we get to see many things play out thru the lens and perspective of Kitty and girrrrl has been through just A LOT. She has all the right to find herself and be herself in the way she wants. Her life may be chaotic and she may go about things in a chaotic way but everything she does is ultimately out of the big of her heart. She values family, connection, her friends and she loves love and wants that for everyone she cares about including herself (and Minho as we’ve seen in both seasons is someone attentive enough to know that and values that). She can give to so many people but that can also hurt her cuz not everyone can give the same to her as we’ve seen so far.

For Kitty, her feelings for Minho took time. It built up when she didn’t even know it. I think his plane confession did do something to her but we all know she had way too much to sort thru to really try and accept that. However, with time, she recognizes how much he’s been there for her even at her most vulnerable and she wants to do the same for him. She got worried and protective when Stella put him and his family in danger. She wanted to look out for him as a friend but then ended up getting jealous. She was so bothered by their fight to the point that the distance made her miss him. When she realizes her feelings, she doesn’t want to hurt him and she’s hesitant, ‘repressing’ and ‘terrified’ to put herself out there when things are still so complicated and especially when his heart and mind aren’t in the best place after everything that happened with Stella, etc.

Kitty is someone who has a hard time figuring out her own true feelings but when she does, she ultimately will always go with her heart and I don’t think it really hit her until Minho walked away after their hug at the end there and her heart was pounding outside of her chest. It’s probably just me but that scene felt symbolic and after everything they’ve been thru, I could feel like she felt a little pain at the thought of either 1.)Losing him, 2).Not seeing him, 3).Not having him around or 4).All of the above and that’s when her heart jumped into action of asking him if she can join him. It’s subtle yet safe and very Kitty coded. If one little fight caused her to miss him, imagine losing him all together. Honestly, I’d love to see Kitty do the chase now. She needs to confess and align their timeline before it’s too late cuz girl was about to be too late if she didn’t stop him!!

Minho..oh our Moon Minho. He holds a strong front and can go with the flow but he’s been through so much emotionally and internally too. He’s tried to move on but he literally loves Kitty. It’s clear as day. He’s held back and tried to figure out on his own how to be okay and move past his feeling but the truth is, he gave his heart to her a while ago and it never really came back. He loves and accepts her as her even when they’re in a banter or when he’s there just as a friend or when he’s mad at her for overstepping.

He’s soo protective of her and will do anything to support and help her without crossing the line. He’s been hesitant and careful of his feelings bc from his POV it’s one sided and she doesn’t feel the same. I think he’s also taking her words about ‘thinking twice before doing anything impulsive’ to heart which is respectable of him and his growth (but pretty ironic of Kitty cuz she’s almost always impulsive on a lot of things😂). He’s already admitted his feelings once(or twice) and even tho he doesn’t know she’s truly developed feelings for him too, he doesn’t want to put her and himself (and maybe even Dae) in another difficult (or heartbreak) situation. We see him at the end there taking those ‘long walks’, thinking about things, clearing his head and basically deciding to start fresh by swearing off relationships and joining his dad and brother for the summer etc. yet (at least to me) every time I watch that last scene; the way he was and the way he kept looking at her just felt almost sad or solemn. I could dig into it foreverr but some of his smiles were smiles just to smile and right before walking away he takes a slight breath and it’s like he had concluded he loves her but has to let her go(romantically). That is until she stops him to join him and we’re all left to imagine for ourselves. But like Sangheon said in an interview, it’s also something Minho wouldn’t just say no to and he’d just go with the flow….and this is where I wish we had Minho’s lens and perspective cuz I bet his feelings are so jumbled, happy, confused but like didn’t you also just spend days walking the gardens to clear your mind?? I need to know!!!

Anyway, one last thing I will say about the ending scene of S2 is that we’re very lucky it gave us more hope for Kitty and Minho than leaving it with confusion, questions or frustrations. We can still naturally have those feelings but the screen could have gone dark with her watching him walk away or right after she said “maybe it’s not our time” but no, even tho Kitty may have been terrified of her own feelings the writers/producers gave us hope by having her continue her train of thought and going after what her heart wanted(to be/go with him). It was just enough butterflies to lead into a season 3 but if for some odd reason it doesn’t get renewed, that ending (in my opinion) would have still been a happy ending too.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

medialog august-december 2k24

i was like, should i just abandon this and start fresh in 2025... but no. also i'm putting this behind a cut bc it is long but it's shorter than it sounds bc LOL working 7 days a week is not conducive towards having the brain space to interact with a bunch of new art!!

watched

ponyo - THIS IS THE CUTEST MOVIE IN THE WORLD!!! miyazaki/ghibli is a big blind spot for me bc as a kid i was like "but i want anime to be pretty, like sailor moon..." so i never got into kiki or totoro (very stupid but again i was: A Child) and then as an adult, this is embarrassing, i tried to watch spirited away and just literally didn't get it. i was like, i am so confused about what is happening and what emotions i am supposed to be feelings. and i know that spirited away is a movie for children and this makes me stupid. but i have never pretended not to be stupid. anyway i would die for just about every character in this movie and when i watched it a second time to make nick watch it i was so full of tenderness for how lovingly it captures what it's like to be a small child who has a small creature to take care of that i felt like i could explode!

deadpool & wolverine - i think if i had been in a better mood when i saw this movie i would have disliked it more but as it was i was in a HORRENDOUS mood and, basically, had a good time. funny to watch this, the Superhero Movies Isabel Has Never Watched Cameo Show (literally i had never watched an x-men other than first class, in which wolverine only appears to say fuck off, or either of the two deadpools), and still get to experience the same OMG IT'S HIM rush as everyone else did, but for matthew mcfadyen. the guy next to me was like "i love channing tatum" when channing tatum showed up and like, same.

trap - great movie to see with a group of like 10 people with whom to giggle the whole time. josh hartnett understood the assignment and his dad-vibe era is soooo much hotter to me than his twink years ever were (not always the case for me! but between this and how hot he was in oppenheimer i've really warmed to him...). i think it's nice that m. night shyamalan loves his daughter so much. ladyraven has a ballad with the line "faustian trade-offs" which caused me and no one else in the theater to laugh real loud. her music is pretty bad but tbh in an era when people want to put chappell roan on the A-list i'm not even mad. it was funny trying to figure out her niche though because like the vibes are obviously supposed to be taylorish (the cabin onstage... lmao) but the music was giving... idk, ariana? also it's just inherently funny to make a movie premised on the fact that it would be really easy to narrow down who the serial killer is by identifying the adult men at a pop girl concert + this movie REALLY captures the vibe during the opening act no one gaf about a pop event concert, like i saw 5SOS open for 1D and that's exactly what it felt like

popstar: never stop never stopping - rewatch, duh. is this the funniest movie of all time? it's gotta be up there, right?

josie and the pussycats - also a rewatch, duh. love everything about this but most of all the soundtrack, the songs are legit incredible, no fictional band has ever had better music (rip adam schlesinger who contributed some songwriting!!!). first time rewatching this movie since figuring out some Stuff and understand now that rachel leigh cook needs to be on the Oh Those Were Gay Feelings. That's What That Was list. (rosario dawson too, but i already got there with her.)

vice - really incredible to think it would be possible to fuck up a movie about how dick cheney is basically satan but somehow mckay managed. christian bale is a professional though, i feel like we don't appreciate enough that no matter how bad the movie or how stupid the writing he's out there giving an absolute top tier performance every single time.

aliens - sorta half-watched this one but idk i feel like me and james cameron just don't vibe. not as incredible-looking or cool as the first one.

godzilla minus one - really really cute!!!!!!

jurassic park - rewatch on the big screen, still slaps the hardest of almost any movie ever

twentieth century - this is i guess nominally a screwball comedy (howard hawks, 1934, for those of you for whom that means something) but it's about these two toxic theater people who are horrible for and obsessed with each other and it's... darker... than my experience of that genre has usually been. in a way that sort of works in its favor partly because it just gives it a certain interest and partly because the gender politics of screwballs can be so dark themselves so it's kind of a relief that this one lacks the cognitive dissonance of pretending this all isn't horrible? idk. it's a weird one. but i liked it, on balance. there's a (pretty funny tbh) running gag about suicide threats and a really bananas third act plot that comes out of nowhere... great performances across the board and some real bangers dropped into the screenplay!

the substance - i didn't, like, love this, and i think a lot of common criticisms of it are right, but some are also very silly (guys i think the director knows nothing about the morning exercise show makes sense... i don't think she was going for a realistic depiction of 21st century celebrity...), and i did have a good time for the most part (the last 30 minutes is gross in a way that doesn't do it for me... but i know it does it for some people and those people deserve movies too...) and respected its commitment to its own bit, as well as the fact that it's basically a fairy tale (a woman who lives in a tower makes a bargain with a force she doesn't really understand to regain her beauty...). oh also i liked that the thing that drives the back half of the plot is essentially the idea that you simply cannot have a 22 year old's body without also having to contend with a 22 year old's dumb dumb stupid ass piece of shit idiot brain. haven't seen a lot of people comment on that aspect of it but it was like my favorite part!

female trouble - people throw out the word iconic a lot but like what else is there to say? rude, disgusting, occasionally genuinely offensive, mostly (for me) delightfully so... really great to watch with a crowd that would whoop and cheer for I'M SO GLAD I HAD AN ABORTION and THE WORLD OF THE HETEROSEXUAL IS A SICK AND BORING LIFE... also like it's really key for the way this movie functions that divine is a fat drag queen that most people do not consider the pinnacle of beauty but it's incredibly clear that john waters and this movie does... like divine's constant proclamations of her own gorgeousness are in a kind of inherent tension with the average american's disagreement with that sentiment but in a way where it's like, if you disagree you are an idiot and this movie is not yours. she's so hot in this it's crazy!!

michael clayton - i wanted to watch a talky thriller-ish movie and the men of the ringer podcast network literally never shut up about this one so i gave it a shot and it delivered! clooney predictably great but i had no idea tilda swinton & tom wilkinson were in it and they are both also awesome, as is merrit weaver in a small but very well cast role

venom - you can sort of glimpse the movie this movie would be if it weren't shackled to What A Superhero Movie Is Now / loosely to the MCU even though it pretends it's not, and i bet that movie would be a lot of fun!

black christmas (1974) - perfectly done urban legend horror with an interesting little pro choice streak, great cast, camera work so perfectly spooky and tense even i noticed how well it was done, makes good use of the cinematic potential of christmas lights. i really liked that this movie is short and a slasher but all the characters in it feel very well drawn even though we don't spend much time with almost any of them... reminded me that this is actually possible to do and i should be harder on movies that don't do it!

black christmas (2006) - nowhere near as good as the first one, but it is, uh, absolutely bugfuck crazyass bananapants start to end. my favorite of many deranged writing choices in this movie is that the sorority mother makes them all open their secret santa every year with a gift for the murderer who killed his family years ago in this house and then when one of the girls' townie boyfriend is like "this is the house that used to freak us out when we were kids" the sorority mother is like, "why?" ?????????? ok!!!!!

heretic - hugh grant is a fucking movie star. i love sophie turner and the other girl was good too. sort of loses steam once the "actually" scary stuff happens because horror movie shenanigans are hard to make as scary as the situation of two young and not very experienced girls slowly realizing they are trapped in a house with a man who just keeps pushing the boundaries of the social contract a little further, but i had fun

the apprentice - not a good movie but a great viewing experience for those of us who have reblogged in our lifetimes approx. 1 million combined gifsets of sebstan and jerbear... like yeah those are my guys and my guys did great :) i think my favorite thing about it as a movie (other than the way the "look" of it updates with technology, which is a cooler idea i wish had been used for a... better movie?) is that it really beats home the aspect of trmp wherein he has no social skills at all and has never felt authentically comfortable in a group of people in his entire life, which is something i think we should culturally be meaner to him about

gladiator - dumb (affectionate) movie magic. russell crowe has so much movie star charisma while looking so much like Just Some Guy it's literally crazy. when he kisses the little dolly of his wife who's about to die ;_;

raising arizona - miracle movie, can't believe i'd never watched this before. the coens' control of their tone is so incredible to see so early in their work (still gotta watch barton fink one of these day). incredible cast, gorgeous colors, so funny, so weirdly sweet, when it finished i felt like i'd watched a magic trick

erin brokovich - watched this for the first time since high school and like what else is there to say but Queen Icon Legend Slay? i am speaking of course about steven soderbergh but julia is pretty fucking incredible too.

conclave - i'm gonna be real i feel like the hype got to me a lil with this one because it's not as bitchy and fun as i feel like i was led to believe... also requires more buy-in re: the moral direction of the catholic church than i anticipated. however it does have its moments and it's nice to see some of our best actors being good at their jobs and it looks great!

the philadelphia story - i found this movie so delightful to watch that for a moment i really thought she might run off with jimmy stewart at the end and not get back tamed with her abusive ex..... but such was the power of the hepburn/stewart chemistry in that one drunk garden scene that i found myself totally incapable of actually integrating the gender politics of this one into my feelings towards it... like i just couldn't be mad at a movie that gave me a scene that made me want to scream JUST KISS!!!! the most anything has since the first time i watched "cooler"... do you know what that is? for me to bust out "cooler" as a comp? my god... i understand why my friend has been like that about hepburn our whole lives and am also now fully baby jimmy stewart pilled

gladiator ii - the consensus is right on this one: not as good as the first, paul mescal is no russell crowe, but denzel really ate. my friends and i laughed out loud at almost every single denzel scene. we're so lucky to have him.

wicked - bad movie of a bad musical, fundamentally misunderstands the function of songs in a musical and thus shoots every single musical number abominably, as ugly as you've heard, we are not advanced enough technologically for me to emotionally invest in CGI Goat Voiced By Peter Dinklage, but ariana deserves an oscar. the prettyboy was pretty good too. orivo can really sing but her acting was kinda giving Distressed Pixar Mom for me although i'm happy to add this to john m chu's many crimes.

out of sight - the romantic premise of this movie is CRAZY but george clooney kinds of sells it actually because and not in spite of the fact that he's one of those curious Incredibly Handsome But Not Very Sexy actors... like you believe that she wouldn't really hold a grudge against him locking her in a trunk with him, because, what, clooney's gonna act untoward? no... not him... j. lo joins andie macdowell as an actress out of whom soderbergh somehow coaxes a much better performance than experience would lead you to believe she is capable of. shockingly stacked cast of pros doing great, INCREDIBLE production design - banner movie for characters costumed to match or complement their interiors!!!

burlesque - dr. sam from new girl fucks stanley tucci in this movie... i literally can't stop thinking about that. xtina maybe has the all time highest ratio of vocal chops to charisma, she has the screen presence of a recurring character on a cancelled WB drama and then she opens her mouth and you're like, damn. i would watch an 8 season HBO sitcom of cher and stanley tucci running a failing burlesque club. at one point i said out loud "chekhov's air rights." great time

logan lucky - "what if steven soderbergh made a heist movie but decided to put his coen brothers hat on and, also, cast channing tatum as a divorced dad who wants to support his daughter's dreams but is seriously wigged out by pageant culture?" yes please. absolutely. adam driver almost never acts in movies i actually want to see but he really is one of the real ones.

babygirl - one of those movies where i can understand lots of things that didn't work for people but i, personally, was completely rapturous the entire time because i wanted a movie where i could walk out saying "nicole kidman did that" and i got that AND ALSO (a) a story about a perfectionist who hates herself and (b) sex scenes that are funny and weird and awkward and warm and human. that's so many things i love happening at once, i will happily forgive and overlook any flaws. i really just loved how much the two of them are actively figuring this thing out as they go and how that's embarrassing and goofy and also sweet and fun. plus nicole kidman really did do that, i mean, like, my god... my god....

fantasmas - you have to watch fantasmas... why haven't you watched fantasmas yet... i really struggle to imagine the person who would follow My Dumb Blog but not be into fantasmas... "the gay ones don't draw dicks, they draw eyes"... julio torres is the voice of a generation

the franchise - not quite as much of a banger as i wanted to be but likable enough, & i'm a sucker for showbiz jokes (jokes about insecure actors, etc.), although i think chris ryan had a point on the watch pod when he was like, the thing about the satire elements of this show are that if you know anything about the actual production stuff on superhero/franchise movies it's hard to satirize because like, the real stuff is actually just that crazy... there's a running thread about the overworked VFX guy and it's kinda funny but also like, well this lines up more or less with what those teams have actually said... anyway. i want to say i'm a lil bummed it didn't get renewed nonetheless but also i forgot until i was typing up the list of things to document here that i had never gotten around to the season finale, so i guess i can't really honestly claim to be that bummed lol. (watched it while washing dishes - pretty good!) did love daniel bruhl as a sensitive artiste director being soul-crushed by the studio machine though! that guy's great.

read

r. o. kwon, exhibit - this one's tough. ultimately, there were actually a lot of things i liked about this book. it had some moments that felt really human and well observed (when the protagonist says something about how usually orgasms aren't worth the guilt and then says she knows she's letting us down and her paramour says who's us and the protagonist says all women... that's funny and real and not unrelateable to me for different reasons!). the bones of it were i think ultimately solid - like yeah she's terrible at communicating but ultimately the book is about her running away from the hard fact that her husband wants a baby and she doesn't and the psychology holds water throughout, i think. (also a funny paragraph about how she knows how to cook but mostly subsists on like handfuls of nuts and bread dipped into olive oil or whatever and then she's like "and you thought i could raise a child?"... also relateable...) i REALLY related to the idea of being a person who simultaneously has the memory of experiencing the loss of faith in god as genuinely, actually traumatic and also being like "btw my family might be cursed by vengeful spirit, it's a whole thing, but i gotta try to talk to her before i do this because she kind of gave me the idea," and i really liked that the book didn't spend any effort on reconciling these two things because... i mean iykyk, like i really can't explain beyond "sometimes that's what it's like" - AND i also liked the ultimate reveal of that storyline and how it tied into the core character work of the main plot. plus the whole thing is like the "trying stuff out sexually as a vehicle/metaphor for owning your whole self" thing that i (a) have enjoyed writing in fanfiction and (b) really loved watching in babygirl lmao. unfortunately the writing was the most annoying tryhard I Get It You Have An MFA ass prose i have ever encountered... i complained about this at the time but it's craaazyyyy to use the word "mirific" three times in a ~200 page novel lmao. deranged. calm yourself. i also felt like the dialogue was really bad although i guess i can't totally rule out that this is a book about artists and artists actually are that annoying? idk though... it didn't feel stylized it just felt weird... who says "tippled"... so, ultimately i couldn't say that i "liked" this even though it had elements i admired or enjoyed.

naomi klein, the shock doctrine: the rise of disaster capitalism - as i mentioned at the time, very enamored of its framing device in a very popular nonfiction/thomas friedman lite kinda way, but when it's not doing that (which luckily is most of the time), this is an informative and well explicated accounting of the horrors milton friedman has unleashed upon the world. i liked her fundamental argument that you can't politicize along economic grounds horrors committed under communism but not do that for capitalism, which has sort of seeped into general internet leftist thought (a testament to the success of this book) but which i appreciate more having seen how she builds her case.

the red nation, the red deal: indigenous action to save our earth - read this for a mutual aid book club that never happened lol. at the end of this book they're like "well probably none of this is new in the climate justice conversation but we don't think things have to be new to be valuable" and like... on the one hand true... on the other hand if you're even vaguely aware of climate justice discourse... not a lot here is new. i also, perhaps unpopularly, have become kind of a... idk... i mean when people are like "we can't solve climate collapse without dismantling capitalism" these days my reaction is basically "well one of those things might happen in the next two hundred years and it's not dismantling capitalism." i'm not like a tech-zealot but a... tech-realist? idk. this is not what i want to be true but it is my honest accounting of the situation. so, any argument that's like "step one: dismantle capitalism" is... it's just not where i'm at these days.

patrick radden keefe, say nothing: a true story of murder and memory in northern ireland - there are no doubt quibbles or political issues to be had with this book, a story of the troubles focused largely on a particular group of IRA members operating in west belfast in the early 70s - as an idiot coming into this subject basically cold, i would have appreciated slightly more grounding in the political situation leading up to the swelling of violence in this period - but, damn, this book is fucking mesmerizing. keefe really brings the people involved to life, particularly the young IRA members at the heart of his chronicle, and while it's clear he doesn't condone all their actions, my own sense was that he was more interested in truly understanding and making clear their own understandings of their motivations & understanding of themselves & ethical framework than he was in passing judgment (and i also definitely felt like he had a certain admiration for the integrity of someone like brandon hughes or dolours price, who were always willing to own what they did and why they did it, and a genuine disdain for how fucking crazy it is for gerry adams to rebrand as a peacenik when literally everybody knows he spent the early 70s telling people to plant bombs lmao). (also having read empire of pain... he definitely holds the sacklers in lower esteem than the IRA, lol.) the final chapters of the book also touch on the really fascinating difficult question of how you morally reckon with the revolutionary violence you did if the revolution you did it for never came to pass - this is the heart of why his fellow ex-IRA comrades feel so betrayed by adams, who has left them to shoulder the burden of that guilt alone while pivoting to the compromise they once agreed would not suffice which was part of the reason for all the violence, and it is something i think about a lot as someone who would not self identify as a pacifist and thinks the historical record leaves no doubt that sometimes violence is necessary for change but nonetheless feels very reluctant to endorse specific acts of revolutionary violence in theory. thrilling and thorny, ultimately i would say deserving of all the accolades i learned after reading it has apparently received lol.

patrick radden keefe, the snakehead: an epic tale of the chinatown underworld and the american dream - not quite as tremendous-feeling as say nothing, but that's mostly because that's a crazy high bar; this is a really fascinating look at the human smuggling trade (& other organized-ish crime) in NYC's chinatown in the 80s/90s, including the middle aged woman who was at the heart of much of it. contains: some totally deranged gang warfare stories; a really fascinating look at the weirdness of chinese immigration policy in the 90s, when china's one-child policy pushed normally anti-immigration republicans to switch on this issue for pro-life reasons (the one child policy... maybe the one thing every american politician shares the same view on, for different reasons?); interesting background on fujian, the high-outmigration region of china from whence many of the principles in this story came; an accounting of an insane boat journey gone so wrong that at one point after the would-be migrants have been trapped in a harbor off the coast of africa (i forget which country), when they finally leave, two of them decide to stay because the chinese restaurant they've opened is doing so well. i keep thinking about the fact keefe highlights that of the hundreds of doomed migrants on this hugely traumatic journey who wound up deported after crash-landing, nearly all of them eventually made their way back to the US.

kazuo ishiguro, nocturnes - my first ishiguro since my teen ishiguro phase (a concept that should really be regarded the way that teens getting into heavy metal and grunge is in pop culture e.g. a sign to check in on their mental health lmao). didn't love these but i can't tell if that's because i prefer ishiguro as a novelist or because i'm just bad at reading short stories... also to be fair there were at least 2 ishiguro novels i read back then and was like "the fuck was that" lol. some very funny moments and a lot of like, amusing portraits of unlikable people, and i do love his style, which is like, a pathologically conversational first person that years of reading since has taught me is much more technically difficult than it looks, but ultimately it felt pretty slight.

naomi klein, doppleganger: a trip into the mirror world - klein takes on, like, "the wellness to alt right pipeline" is an oversimplification but topics in that neck of the woods, inspired by the wack ass shit constantly being tweeted by Other Naomi (wolf), with whom klein is frequently confused on twitter. this is an inherently very funny premise for a book and a lot of what klein says is in my view pretty accurate, and some of her literary/theoretical musings on dopplegangers as a Thing are interesting to read, plus the whole thing is on topics of interest to me, aka Alt Right Derangement And Weird Shit People Are Up To Online. however..... so klein says that she herself was very offline until covid happened, basically, and so if you have been online longer, and especially if you have been actively reading stuff about Weird Shit People Are Up To Online, then this book is basically a smart person catching up with topics you yourself already know a lot about. so in a funny way i found this a more enjoyable read than the shock doctrine, because it's less of an unrelenting fucking bummer about human evil and suffering, but it was also less enriching, because she didn't really bring any new insight to topics that, again, are probably in the top 5 of Post Headlines I'm Most Likely To Click On. like yeah, deranged alt right types are using the language of social justice and inequality and bodily autonomy to further their various causes... tru... i mean it is tru... i also think the fact that her default is a Not Online person who only changed her vibe after covid makes her a bit more of an internet doomer bc she doesn't viscerally get the nontoxic value possible to find in Online through diligent curation lol. but i do think it was a solid accounting of the subcultures and and ideologies she explores so like i said i basically liked it and if you're less tuned into weird internet radicalization currents than i am you will probably find it informative!

suzanna clarke, piranesi - i don't even know what to say about this one, probably tied with tender as my favorite book i read last year (strong fantasy year for me i guess). it's so crazy that suzanna clarke wrote jonathan strange & mr. norrell, the most perfect book of all time, and then did this, which is also the most perfect book of all time, in a completely different way. her gift for atmosphere and voice is second to none and in this one she uses it to draw us into caring so deeply for a narrator who can't even remember his own past - the book in some ways is a mystery and the doling out of information is perfectly paced but the reason it works is because we just love this guy because of how much he loves the universe. the final chapter expresses something about survival & upheaval & change (&, sure, trauma, if you want) that, as i said before & will come as no surprise, is so so so precisely keyed into an idea so deeply important to me... ahh! just sublime!

v. c. andrews, flowers in the attic - book club!! this book is CRAZY but there's only two real things i want to say about it: (1) a lot of what's totally deranged about it is that on the one hand, it has the most gothic novel ass set-up ever - horrible incest house of dark secrets and shame, children literally living in an attic, physical decay, etc. etc. - and on the other hand in all other respects its sensibilities are the most american 70s suburban ass thing, so that it's like, a gothic novel where the evil mother goes to secretary school and the kids watch sitcoms and cut construction paper in the secret attic... like, the tonal clash is soooo crazy, it's incredible; and (2) ok so like by the time it happens you 100% want those siblings to fuck. like. you just do.

suzanna clarke, jonathan strange and mr. norrell - counting this as last year even though i read the second half in january lol. ummm best book in the world. third time through and i genuinely think it gets better every time. most purely pleasurable reading experience of all time.

stephanie mccurry, confederate reckoning: power and politics in the civil war south - ditto re timing (technically i have like a couple pages of this one left and a few more quotes to post lol). i picked this back up as a comfort reread after the election and it slaps so hard it's crazy. love to read about how a bunch of war-losing loser traitors lost in no small part because it's hard to wage war as a modern state committed to resisting the tides of modernity!!!! sucks 2 suck!!!!!

listened

maude latour, sugar water - i'm kind of obsessed with maude latour not in terms of being obsessively in love with her music, although i think she's very good, but because she's my go-to example of someone out here doing girlpop toiling away in the spotify minds unremuneratively who i would easily and even gladly swap fame-wise with basically any of the pop girls in our current rising class (thinking of olivia/chappell/sabrina... none of whom are like terrible - well ok i have yet to hear a chappell roan song i think is actually good lol but i guess she can sing and it's nice that she's gay - but also alleged newcomers like tate mcrae? addison whoever? madison beer? these are not real people stop trying to act like they're real people! ladyraven ass pop girls...). she just makes really solid, well written, inventive but still catchy pop. i returned to this short album a lot more than i expected to, often thinking i wanted to hear just the first song (a standout) and then realizing i was happy to let the rest play through. also gay stuff, if you care about that.

sabrina carpenter, short n sweet - like it's all very competent and espresso deserves its flowers but who cares? who could possibly ever care? i've been SUCH an antonoff apologist and please please please is the first song where i felt like i was hearing him as his haters hear him, it sounds like shit. there are better moments and worse moments, some ok lines, she can sing, etc., but where's the vision? where's the personality? nothing to grab on to.

beabadoobee, this is how tomorrow moves - beabadoobee is obviously talented and intelligent and her music sounds enough like a kind of music i like that i always feel like i should like her more... but i think she's a little too stripped down and sophisticated for me. that said "ever seen" was one of my top songs of 2024, total absolute BANGER

charly bliss, forever - doesn't quite live up to the heights of young enough, but given that young enough is a strong contender for my favorite album of the past decade, i'm not really sure it could. this one is pop-punkier and very hooky lots of fun, and i just love eva's taffy-pull voice and wanna listen to her sing anything. also it has a song that sounds so much like a pop punk version of a kesha song it's legit uncanny to me.

pom pom squad, mirror starts moving without me - big step up from their last album, IMO, and i liked that a lot too! ambitious in an interesting way but also lots of fun. this one also has a song that at points sounds so much like a kesha song it's crazy, as does a 2023 album i was recently listening to by underscores... i feel like we're living in a big post-kesha moment and i don't know if anyone is appreciating it enough...

pale waves, smitten - i agree with pale waves that "what if avril lavigne got really into shoegaze and was also gay" is a great idea for an album. really pretty production on this one!

070 shake, petrichor - my friend dave was like "this album might be bad but i'm obsessed with it" and i listened out of solidarity and was like, i don't like this but i can understand why you specifically would. friendship!

charli xcx, brat and it's completely different but it's still brat - i never really listen to enough albums to justify having an album of the year but something about the release of the remix album really opened up the whole project to me and i was completely obsessed with it for a while and still love it. track by track most of the remixes are not quite as good as the original track (although some, like caroline polacheck's gorgeous turn on everything is romantic, are definite upgrades), but something about the spirit of generosity that infuses the project, the way it makes it all feel like a project more than an album, the sense that charli has thrown this party and she's invited up and coming spanish rapper bbtrix alongside ariana grande, the way it's less disciplined than the album proper but more expansive, at some points grimier and clubbier and at other points more emotive and romantic... idk. feels like a whole world. the so i remix alone, like - releasing a sad song about your friend who died, and then releasing a faster song about all the fun shit you used to do, that sounds more like a song your dead friend would have produced, is one of the most loving acts i have ever seen committed through art and it made me cry even though i never connected with SOPHIE's music bc i'm not really cool enough to be into hyperpop. rooting for charli at the grammies even though i know it's not gonna happen lmao.

other

jenny holzer at the guggenheim - there was a jenny holzer installation at the guggenheim!! it was really cool!! i finally understood something @rgr-pop said years ago about how it matters that she is a visual artist and her words (incredible as they often are as words) appear physically in a space. it is in fact Different, to see them in a space. in addition to The Classics (i got so fannishly excited spotting IT IS IN YOUR SELF INTEREST TO FIND A WAY TO BE VERY TENDER lmao), the installation also included a lot of her more recent and more overtly political stuff, some of which engaged specifically with the bush ii administration & iraq/afghanistan, which made for intense viewing given that i happened to go right around the time i read the shock doctrine (as did spotting the one about how mothers who have a reason to cry should do so in public....). jenny holzer is great! so glad i could experience that!

[grayskies2525]

Inevitable (male sneezing, contagion) | Part 3/4

Here we continue to follow Evan through the worst cold of his life. There will be one more part after this!

Part one Part two

Another obvious CW for mess!

Word count: 2,200

*** 

Part 3

Bed.

A single monosyllabic word that currently means everything to Evan. The mere thought of having a bed to come home to after his shift is the only thing keeping him going. 

He stands now with his gaze unfocused off in the distance as he tries to even out his breaths. He’s been at the front registers for an hour and he’d estimate he’s sneezed twenty times at least. He’s had the good sense to keep tissues on his person at all times. There’s one tissue that’s been living out its life in Evan’s left hand for a good while now. Evan has deemed this his “wiping” tissue, using it for a quick swipe, or sometimes to clasp it desperately against his nose in efforts not to send a deluge of fluid onto the items he scans. He refuses to blow into this tissue. No, that’s a job for the fresh tissues — the tissues he allows himself to pluck from the box he keeps next to him. These are the tissues he quickly disposes into the  — now close to overflowing — wastebasket.  

Then there’s the tissues he sneezes into. He keeps these in the pocket on the right side of the jacket he’d slipped on earlier when he’d started feeling chilly. He figures it’d be a waste to throw these tissues away if they’re only coated in a light mist. There’s, of course, been many tissues that haven’t survived some of Evans more… forceful sneezes. The tissues with holes or an abundance of thick stickiness were fated for the wastebasket that has now, effectively, become a tissue cemetery. 

God, he just wants to go to bed. And maybe have a bowl of hot soup — tomato soup with Goldfish crackers, and possibly a grilled cheese sandwich to go along with it. But, then, he’d have to make the soup and sandwich and in his current state, he’d rather die of starvation than put in that effort. Maybe Marcus will take pity on him and make it. It doesn’t even need to be homemade. Surely they have a can of Campbell’s somewhere in the cabinet. 

“EDT’shuuuuHHH!”

Evan feels proud the sneeze, while coming on too quickly for him to cover, is only a fine spray. Sure, it does absolutely drench the store’s phone, but in comparison to what was happening to Evan earlier, this is practically nothing. His constant tissue use has kept away the more viscous type of mucus from shooting out of him. He spares a moment to contemplate how he’s reached the point where he considers sneezing all over a phone to be a success just because it wasn’t accompanied by strings of snot.

Kate, one of the associates working the registers today, sighs as she sees him trying to wipe off the phone with a tissue. “I’d tell you to go home, but I know you can’t. But, listen, you’re going to start a literal outbreak at this rate. Like, I’d be surprised if everyone in town doesn’t come down with this thing in a few days time. So, would you consider wearing a mask? There’s a box in the break room.”

Evan stares at her. Yes, wearing a mask would prevent spreading the virus, but that would only work if he could keep the thing on.

“Uh, I don’t really know if that’s feasible, Kate,” he says, wiping his nose with the tissue he has on hand, as if to illustrate his point.

Kate stares at him, her mouth in a thin line. “Well, you should try. It’ll at least give the impression that you’re attempting not to spread your cold to all our customers.”

Evan sighs heavily before turning and heading off to the break room.

* * *

The problem with masks is that their main purpose is to prevent droplets dispersing when people speak, cough, or — of course — breathe. Evan imagines they could be good at preventing sneeze spray from entering the air, providing the sneezes are the light and misty type. Otherwise, after a few sneezes, a person is going to have to dispose of the mask and get a new one— which would be fine if the person only sneezed here and there.

Evan is not sneezing here and there.

“AHD’tshhhUUUHHHH! ADT’SHHHHH! HEhhh HH HEH EH-TSsSHHHH!”

He notices the warmth first, then the wetness. 

It clings to his face, which forces him into having to smell the strong scent of his own saliva and mucus, both of which are teeming with viruses. He needs the mask off now.

But there’s a customer literally speaking to him. A fact he nearly forgot.

“... And I’m just saying if you don’t want customers to think something is on sale, then you shouldn’t have an ‘on sale’ sign so close to the item.”

Evan snorts thickly and holds up a finger in the universal sign for “wait a minute” as he turns around to pull off his mask. It stubbornly clings to his face, as if glued to it, but he manages to pull it off, though he does have to hold back a gag at the sight he’s met with. He pulls a bunch of tissues out of his pocket — the ones previously reserved for sneezing — and wipes up the mess before turning back around.

He plasters on a smile for the customer. “Yes, I agree that sometimes our signs can create confusion if they’re not properly switched out, or if they are too close to another product. So, refresh my memory — you’re saying you thought this 10 quart air fryer was on sale for… for 15 dollars?” he asks, frowning, trying to actually process the words the woman’s been saying.

“Yes. But that lady over there —” she says pointing to Kate who’s working one of the other POS stations. “Told me the sale was actually for mixing bowls. But if the sale’s for mixing bowls, then the sign should have been closer to the mixing bowls and not the airfryers.”

Evan stares. Something about the woman — perhaps her tone of voice, or her pursed lips and self-righteous looking expression — gives Evan the idea that she knows exactly what she’s doing. There’s no way she thought a three hundred dollar airfryer would be on sale for fifteen dollars. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one who moved the sign next to the airfryers. People like this annoy more than someone who outright steals.

“Right. I understand what you’re saying, but — EDT’SHHuuuuHHHH!” 

He managed to aim the sneeze downward at the counter. He watches the droplets settle on a notepad in spots — some large, some small —  all over the top page. He frowns, then looks up.

The woman’s face is contorted into a scowl. “If you’re sick, you should stay home.”

“I — ADt’SHhhhhhhhh! AD’TSHHHHHH!”

Evan can’t even feel ashamed this time of sneezing on someone. She shouldn’t have been so close, and more importantly, so damn annoying. Though, as he stares at her face covered in the glistening evidence of his cold, he does begin to feel a miniscule amount of shame.

“Uhmb, liste’d, I amb so sorry.” He snorts, trying to lessen the congestion he hears in his voice. “Hodestly, I’ve got a killer cold righdt dow ad I —”

“You realize this is unacceptable, right?” the woman says, her tone drenched with bitterness. “You have no business being here getting customers sick. I will be complaining. Give me the name of your manager,” she demands.

He blinks. “Uhb, so the madadger today is actually mbe, so ubm… cobplaidt doted I guess?” he says, giving a heavy snort, exhaustion tugging at every inch of his body.

The lady glares. “I can’t even understand what you’re saying. I’ll be filling out a survey later. I’ve been a regular customer here for years and I hate to say it, but I don’t think I can ever come back.”

Alarm bells flash through his mind as he remembers his training videos. But then the tickle from hell takes sudden residence in his sinuses and he snaps forward. 

“AHHgt’shuuuuuhhhh! AHHHHGG’tSHHUUUHHHhhhh!”

This time there are strings. And they hang down in thick, unbreaking strands. Instinctively, he brings up his bare hand to collect the mess. He stares at the woman, helpless to do anything but stand there with a hand covering his face. The woman’s mouth is curled in disgust, and she gives a quick shake of her head before turning to exit the store. 

Well, that’s the third customer he’s scared away today with his sneezing. Although, the second could hardly count as a “customer” he supposes.

* * *

“Trevor, please," Evan begs as he sits at the break room table, feeling thankful to be alone in the room. "I will take your closidg shifts dext week if you just cobe id today. I hodestly dod’t thidk I cad make it through four bore hours of — of this ihh’shhHHOOO! SHOOO! SHOOO! SHOOO! SHOO!” He takes a deep breath before immediately resuming the pattern. “ACK’SHOOOO! SHHOOO! SHOOOOO!”

Eight sneezes. 

Eight.

He’s dying. 

Each sneeze scraped against his throat and made his head throb. They also tore through the one tissue he’d brought up just in time. There’s a large hole in the middle and a slimy mess coating his hand. At this point, all he can do is sigh.

“Please, Trevor. I’ve dever beed this sigck befo — Eck’SHooOOOOO!”

More spray. More strings. More sighs.

“Jesus,” Trevor says, from the other end of the phone. “Fine, I get it. You’re sick. But, it’s just that, you know…I had plans… and, well, can’t you just call Bethany or something?”

“Already did. Bethady’s at the ebergedcy vet with her dog. You’re literally by odly hope. Please. I’b sdeezi’g all over custobers ad everythi’g, Trevor. Like, you have do idea. I just wadt to get sombe rest so I cad shake this thi’g ad — I — HEH!”

Evan sets the phone down on the table and pulls several tissues from the box on his lap, quickly burying his face into them.

“ECK’shhUUUUUuuuhhhhh! ECK’Shhhhhhhhhh! Heh hh hhh HHHH MPfff’tshhhuuuhhh! MPT’SHUUUHHHH!”

“Goddamn,” he hears Trevor say from his phone, but Evan’s too focused on trying to keep himself from literally drowning. He blows and blows his nose, the sound gurgling. He feels slimy dampness run all down the side of his hand. Clearly he needed more tissues than he grabbed.

“Fine,” he hears Trevor say with a groan. “But we’re definitely trading shifts next week so I don’t have to close.”

Evan’s throat feels scratched all to hell from the sneezing. He clears his throat to alleviate the scratchiness only to find himself lost in a coughing fit. Like, the sneezing wasn’t enough.

“Evan? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, thagk you, Trevor. Ad I promidse I’ll take your evedi’g shifts dext week.”

* * *

“Dude, wake up. I drove forty minutes on my day off to come save your ass just so you can go home to sleep off your sniffles. So, go home.”

The voice is one Evan knows. In fact, he thinks he heard it not too long ago. But, going back to sleep sounds immensely more appealing than trying to figure out the owner of the mystery voice.

Someone’s shaking his shoulder. 

“Dude,” the voice says again, sounding irritated.

Evan’s the one who should feel irritated. He’s just trying to get some sleep and now someone’s shaking him and also he has to — 

“Hmmph’SHHHhhhhh! HEH’tshooooo!”

Evan, instinctively, sniffles. It turns out there’s a lot more than he’d realized to sniffle back up, so he finally raises his head a little from the table he'd apparently fallen asleep on.. He sees large globs of mucus across his arm.

Then he remembers. 

He slowly sits up and finds Trevor’s gaze on him. 

“Jesus, Evan. Clean yourself up.”

Evan wipes his nose with his arm, leaving another trail along his skin. 

God, he needs a shower. 

Trevor’s eyebrows go up and his eyes widen before he shakes his head as if in disbelief. Evan watches, mind still half-asleep, as Trevor dampens a paper towel at the sink in the tiny kitchen section of the break room.

Trevor jogs over to Evan and holds out the paper towel. “For your arm. Man, you are a wreck.”

“I dod’t feel very good,” Evan says, sniffling and looking at the paper towel, feeling dazed.

“No shit,” Trevor says before his expression softens. “Listen, clean yourself up and get home and rest. And don’t come back tomorrow. I’ll cover for you. Just take one of my shifts when you’re feeling better.” He looks back down at the paper towel in his hand. “And for the love of christ, please wipe off your nose. It's pouring like a faucet. I don't even know how that's possible with how stuffed up you sound.”

Trevor reaches the paper towel out again to Evan. Evan goes to take the towel, but since he seemingly no longer has any control whatsoever of his respiratory reflexes, he sneezes.

All over Trevor’s outstretched arm and into the air. Because of course he does. 

Evan takes the paper towel and for reasons he doesn’t understand, begins awkwardly wiping Trevor’s arm with it.

It’s hard not to when there’s little globs of mucus on Trevor’s skin. After this cold is over, Evan hopes to never have to see another “glob of mucus” again.

Trevor just stares down as if in horror, until he finally snaps. “Okay, that’s enough, Evan. I’ve got it. Get yourself cleaned up and for the sake of everyone, go home.”

“Sorry,” Evan mutters before going to do just that.

Part three