#Skyrocket Your Impact

[mydearzero]

Livid | mean!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Annoying Spencer, just to see him get mad, was one of your favourite ways to pass time at the BAU. Emily had warned you not too push him too far. You hadn't realised how right she was until Spencer decides he's had enough and takes you down to the basement.

Contents: DUB-CON, NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, mean!Spencer, no aftercare,, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, co-workers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie (is it even a mydearzero original if there's no coming inside?), spanking, dacryphilia, impact play, choking, spit, degradation, humiliation, semi-public sex, punishment, name calling, sir kink, filming and taking pictures without permission, orgasm denial, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

5K words

this one's a doozy folks. buckle up. it's pure porn - nik

You weren't doing it on purpose at first. It just so happened that you occasionally did things that got under Spencer's skin. You gradually realized which actions ticked him off and started doing them more and more. You just enjoyed seeing him annoyed, huffing and puffing, yet never saying anything. His patience seemed neverending.

Emily had warned you not to push him too far. According to her, when Spencer snapped, he exploded. 

Yeah, right. 

Her discouragement only egged you on. You'd hardly ever seen the genius even get mad. Spencer got irritated at best. He was an angel, really. 

So you continued pushing, taking every possible chance to get on his last nerve. It had turned from enjoying seeing him annoyed to wanting to see him furious. You'd seen Spencer snarl at a snobby police officer once. Hell, you'd even seen him snap at an UnSub. But you'd never seen him absolutely livid. 

It took you a while to figure out why you wanted to see him get mad. 

You thought back to that case, the one that had him yelling at the UnSub. You couldn't even remember the details of the case. All you could think about was Spencer's hands gripping the table as he leaned across it, getting close and personal with the UnSub. 

You cared about the veins straining against the surface of his skin, the bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. The only lasting memory you had of the case was the tone of his voice and what it did to your body. 

A part of you wanted to be on the other side of that table, and it scared you how that part was growing exponentially, especially after Emily's warning. 

You didn't want to admit it, not even to yourself. But the sole reason you continued messing with Spencer was the age-old 'teasing your crush to get their attention' stint, and you hadn't even realized it. 

You shouldn't have been having all these deep thoughts and desires while sitting at your desk on a random Tuesday afternoon. Yet here you were. 

You tried to read the lines on the page in front of you repeatedly but to no avail. Your face sunk into your hands as you groaned inwardly. You had to stop this juvenile behaviour at this second. He was going to catch on. You were certain somebody already must've done the math. 

It shouldn't have surprised you when Spencer did finally burst. It wasn't like you did anything out of the usual. He wasn't even being tormented by a gruelling case. He'd just had enough. 

"God! You think you're so cute, don't you?" Spencer exclaimed, slamming the mouse you'd taped over on the table. The silence from before and after his outburst differed immensely. It was calm and serene before it turned tense and awkward. 

You slowly turned to look at his desk, not meeting his eye. If you had, you would've seen the way his pupils dilated at your meek behaviour. The way he had to regain his composure. 

Your heart rate skyrocketed, feeling caught. You knew reading minds wasn't a thing, but profiling sure was one of the things closest to it in this world. Spencer couldn't have known what you were thinking only seconds prior to him finding your latest childish attempt to invoke his anger. But it felt like he knew. 

Spencer scoffed as you chewed on your bottom lip, suddenly not feeling so funny anymore. "You don't have anything to say for yourself?" 

You gaped as you made eye contact with an overly amused Derek. He was enjoying this show to its fullest extent. "Don't look at me, kid. We warned you." He shrugged. 

You turned your eyes back to a still-aggravated Spencer. He pushed himself away from his desk and got out of his chair. He brushed his hands over his jacket, still sending daggers your way. 

Your gaze followed him hesitantly as he stalked over to your desk. You scrambled to arrange things as if your messy workspace would only annoy him more. 

"Get up." He demanded. You raised your eyebrows in question. Was he serious? 

"Ooh, someone's in trouble," Emily teased in a sing-songy tone. Not helping, Prentiss. 

"You're messing with me, right? Because of all the stupid pranks?" You asked sceptically. Your voice was wavering and uncertain. 

"No, I'm being dead serious. Get up. Follow me." Spencer made an upwards motion with his fingers as he loomed over your seated figure. 

You slowly pushed your chair out and sent questioning glances to JJ, who only shrugged. Your legs were unsteady as you stood. Spencer was your coworker, your friend. So why was your heart beating in your throat as if you were about to be sent to the fifth circle of Dante's Inferno? 

Spencer didn't say another word as his long legs stalked out of the bullpen, uncaring that you were struggling to keep up. You nearly tripped over your feet several times before reaching the elevator. You stood beside a seething Spencer, who turned to push the 'B' button. 

The basement? What business did he, or you, for that matter, have in the basement? Nobody ever- Right. Nevermind.

Nobody ever set foot in the basement. 

You twiddled with your fingers in anticipation, hearing Spencer breathe in an unnatural pattern. The floors passed by quickly, and before you knew it, you were met with the sight of the metal doors sliding open into darkness. 

Spencer flicked the light switch. Harsh, industrial, white light filled the dusty room. It was smaller than you expected. The rows of file cabinets made it look smaller than it really was. A desk was situated in the middle, seemingly abandoned. 

You shuddered a breath as you stepped into the room, feeling exposed even when you knew nobody could see or hear you down here. Your shoes seemed outrageously interesting, your eyes never leaving them as you awaited Spencer with bated breath. 

"Look at me." His words filled the silence. The room had an eerie lack of echo, his voice sounding closer than it actually was. 

You slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze. He appeared taller like this, especially when you were already feeling small, hunching in on yourself. 

"I'm going to give you one chance to apologize for your downright appaling behaviour." Spencer crossed his arms as he leaned against the desk. You felt as if you were being scolded by a teacher for throwing a crayon at another student. 

"Why the condescending tone, Reid? We're all coworkers here." You questioned defensively, mirroring his stance by crossing your arms. 

"That doesn't sound like an apology to me, but I'll bite. We are definitely coworkers. But you know as well as I that you changed that dynamic when you decided to start acting like a spoilt little girl begging for my attention." His composure didn't change as he spoke the incriminating words.

You didn't know what you expected coming down here with him, but this certainly wasn't it. You felt something simmer at his words, something you didn't want to acknowledge. You searched his face for any emotion, but only found a look that said "Well?" 

When he noticed you weren't going to answer, he laughed. It wasn't a hearty chuckle. There was an underlying tone of sarcasm and ridicule to it. 

"You've been at this for months, and now you're not even going to attempt to say sorry? I expected a shitty excuse, sure, but an apology nonetheless." Spencer scoffed. 

You knew he was holding back. You could see it in the way he turned his head and closed his eyes before facing you again. You damned your profiling skills for giving you a foresight of what he had in store for you. You'd seen nothing of his wrath yet. 

You knew he was getting frustrated at your silence, but you couldn't find the words. Nothing you could say could make this any better for you. You ran all the possible outcomes in your head, but every thought was more incriminating than the previous one. 

"Fine." He clapped his hands together, stepping away from the desk. He motioned towards it, signalling you to take timid steps towards the piece of furniture. You looked at him questioningly. 

His eyebrows raised. The words "You know what to do" went unspoken. 

You swallowed as your mouth went dry. You looked at the desk, before looking at Spencer again. He didn't have to say anything. He wanted you to do it yourself. You closed your eyes as you leaned your palms against the unkept wood. You slowly brought your elbows down, leaning on them uncertainly. If this wasn't his intention, you'd just embarrassed yourself into the next century. 

You heard him breathe deeply as he walked behind you. You jerked as his hand ran up your back until it reached between your shoulder blades. He pushed hard enough to press your chest flush with the desk, turning your head to lie it on the surface. His hand stayed there as the other was placed on your hip. 

Spencer let out a content sigh. "Better." 

He stepped away, leaving a cold feeling behind. You didn't dare move, already mortified at your predicament. You tried to breathe as quietly as possible as if any noise you made could set him off. You tried to hear what he was doing, unable to see him clearly in your peripheral. 

Your head raised off the desk at lightning speed when you heard the unmistakable sound of a phone camera shutter. 

"Did I say you could move?" Spencer asked. You shook your head, quickly placing it back on the desk. For a second, you wondered why you were even listening to him. He had no authority over you. But it felt exhilarating to give it to him. 

"You speak when I ask you a question. No shaking your head, understood?" His voice came from in front of the desk. How hadn't you noticed him walking around it? 

"Yes, sir," You squeaked, doing as he asked. Sir? Really? 

"Good girl." 

The words flipped a switch inside you. You licked your lips and closed your eyes, seemingly having to wait an eternity for him to take the next step. You heard the distinct sound of his belt unbuckling. You found yourself crossing your legs at the implication. Surely he wasn't going to whip you? 

You thought you were going to get scolded for the action, but Spencer ignored it. He reached for your wrists, lying awkwardly beside your head. You didn't dare make eye contact. 

You were confused at his next action until you saw the hole near the back of the desk, meant for cables. He threaded the belt through it before bringing your wrists to it and tying them together. The positioning was awkward at best, but you were starting to feel like that's what he wanted, to embarrass you. 

You gave the makeshift handcuffs an experimental tug. They didn't budge, of course. Panic simmered in your chest, a claustrophobic feeling settling at the thought that you were stuck. There was nowhere for you to go, nowhere for you to run from Spencer's revenge. 

He ran a hand through your hair, softly shushing you like you were a child. His hand slowly slid down your back. Your breath stuttered at his deliberate pace. He was taking his sweet time. 

"Shhh... You're fine." He whispered, putting a foot between yours and kicking them open. You grunted at the action just as he was hooking his fingers into your bottoms and taking your underwear clean off with them. He lifted one of your feet, only bothering to untangle one foot and leaving your clothes pooled at your other ankle. 

His fingers trailed up the inside of your leg. The tips of his fingers finally found the spot where you needed them most, but Spencer didn't do much besides feel you up. 

"You're so fucking wet it's pathetic." He mumbled as he wiped his fingers on your thigh. 

"You can pretend that you're tough and grown up all you want, but this is what you are. A pathetic little whore begging for my attention." Spencer walked around the desk and grabbed your chin harshly. The look in his eyes could only be described as animalistic. The ghost of a smirk danced on his lips. 

You saw his eyes flicker down to your lips, and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you. But he did no such thing. 

"Open your mouth." He demanded, squishing your cheeks between his pointer finger and thumb. You obeyed, but it wasn't good enough for him.

"You can do better than that, c'mon." He urged, putting his thumb in your mouth and pushing your head back. He removed his hand and observed you lying there with your mouth open. He seemed pleased at the sight, humming in approval. 

His hand made its way back to your chin, turning your face upwards, craning your neck uncomfortably. You hadn't registered what he'd done until you felt a warm glob hit your tongue. Had he just spit in your mouth? You looked at him aghast. 

"Wipe that shocked look off your face and swallow it if you know what's good for you." He patted your cheek mockingly. You closed your mouth and swallowed his spit, not trying to think too much about the fact that known germaphobe Spencer Reid had just spit. in. your. fucking. mouth. 

"That's what I thought." He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head. You thought he was going to take it off, maybe leaving it on your arms, seeing as they were currently tied to the desk, but he did no such thing. He brought the hem over your eyes, effectively blindfolding you with your shirt. 

You couldn't imagine what you must've looked like. Legs spread, bottoms haphazardly pulled down, shirt over your eyes, hands tied, pussy dripping. Your heart sank as you heard Spencer take another picture. 

"You look so good like this, exactly how you're supposed to be," Spencer spoke with a misconstrued sense of pride. 

You flinched and yelped when he abruptly struck your behind with a flat hand. You'd expected this was coming, that he was going to punish you, but you hadn't heard him approach. He rubbed his hand over the sore spot he'd just hit. 

"You're going to count them for me, and you're going to apologize after every single one. You better mean it because if I feel you're being insincere, you're only gonna get more until I believe you." Spencer set the rules, resting his left hand on your hip. You waited for him to begin, but another strike didn't come. 

"This is the time where you say 'Yes, sir' like you did earlier. I must admit, I didn't expect that one. But I like it, so we're keeping it," he mocked. 

"-Yes, sir," you stammered. Another hum of approval met your ears as he repositioned himself for the optimal angle. 

He didn't hold back as the second slap hit your butt. It stung more than you'd expected, a burning sensation spreading fast. 

"Two. I'm sorry, Spencer." You apologized, putting as much sincerity behind the words as you could muster. 

"No, that was one. The first one was just a warning. And you don't deserve to call me Spencer right now. You'll need to earn that privilege back. You'll learn to respect me soon enough. Now, start over." 

His hand came back down once more.

"One! I'm sorry, sir," you hissed at the pain. 

"What are you sorry for, princess?" Spencer asked as he delivered another smack. 

"Two! I'm sorry for disrespecting you!" You no longer had the energy to keep your head up, giving up the attempt to look at him and resting it back on the desk. 

"And?" He questioned. Another strike. 

"Three! I'm sorry for embarrassing you and pulling stupid pranks." You admitted.

"I don't buy it," Spencer contemplated. 

"Please, sir! I'm sorry. I'm genuinely sorry for being so childish." You apologized. A strike harder than the previous ones landed on your behind. 

"You don't speak out of turn, do you understand?" Spencer gripped your hair and pulled your head up to spit the words straight into your ear. You nodded wildly, as much as his grip on your hair through the shirt would allow. 

"Yes, yes, I understand." You said. Spencer let go of your hair. You only had milliseconds to respond, preventing your head from hitting the wood. He returned to his previous position, not wasting any time before landing several strikes to your ass.

This continued for a while, him smacking, you counting and begging for his forgiveness. Your legs were shaking by the time he reached the twentieth hit. 

"Twenty... I really am sorry, sir. I shouldn't have pushed you." You sighed, feeling Spencer rub circles over the impacted flesh. 

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asked. 

"Yes, I won't do it again. I'm sorry." You didn't remember how many times the words 'I'm' and 'sorry' had rolled off your tongue that afternoon, but it must've been dozens. 

"Good. Now, for good measure, one last time." There was an underlying tone to the threat you couldn't place. You didn't have to wonder long, the last strike landing directly on your pussy. 

"Shit! Oh my god," you cursed, attempting to shut your legs. Spencer's feet kept them from moving. He'd anticipated the reaction. You were glad for the echoless chamber, the humiliatingly wet sound only reverberating slightly. 

"Now I can really be sure you'll remember." You could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying this too much. But then again, hadn't you been the exact same? Gaining joy from inconveniencing him? You sighed at the realization you couldn't judge him for getting off on this. The last smack certainly hadn't been a dry one. 

"Now..." Spencer trailed off. He removed the shirt from your eyes, pushing it further over your head. He pushed the fabric into your mouth as a makeshift gag. 

"Don't you make any noise, okay? I mean, not like anybody will hear you down here." He chuckled. You turned your head and your eyes widened as you saw him walk towards the elevator. He pushed the call button and turned back to catch one last glimpse at you. He snapped a quick picture of your reddened ass cheeks before stepping into the elevator. 

You yelled his name through the gag, nothing but gurgling, obstructed pleas meeting his ears. He wasn't leaving, right? He wouldn't. He couldn't. He was just testing you. 

You were left with the sound of your own pants and racing heart. You tugged at your binds once more. What if he left? Went home? Surely it was past the regular office hours by now. 

Tears welled up in your eyes at the idea of being left here like this overnight. What if nobody came down here? What if somebody did come down here and saw you like this? You were conflicted. 

After 10 minutes of silent contemplation and several escape attempts, the metallic creaking of the elevator coming down sounded through the basement. You clenched your eyes shut, begging the universe it was Spencer and nobody else. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard the familiar sound of Spencer's shoes hitting the linoleum floor. You watched as he sipped his newly acquired coffee, not acknowledging you, only looking at his phone. After presumably sending a couple of texts, he shut it off and put it away on top of one of the cabinets nearby.

He smiled at the sight of the fresh tears rolling down your face. "Tell me, have you ever heard of Dacryphilia?" He asked as he crouched down to your level and wiped a few stray tears from your chin. He removed the gag from your mouth. 

You shook your head before correcting yourself. "No, sir." 

"It's a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing," Spencer explained. Leave it up to Spencer to dive into an explanation at a moment like this. 

"I never thought I was someone who could be turned on by that. But seeing you like this, I can definitely see the appeal." His words were quiet, but so was the room. 

"You look so pretty when you cry for me." He praised, running a hand through your hair. It was a surprisingly sweet sentiment, given the circumstances. He got up from his crouched position before you. You looked up at him. The domineering gaze he gave back told you all you needed to know.  

"Thank you, sir," you whispered, hoping it was the correct response. 

"See? It's not that hard to be respectful. But I'm not done with you yet."  

Your breathing picked up as you remembered your predicament. Spencer didn't waste any time, pushing his pants down. His cock was long and thick. 

You thought he was going to make you suck it. He pushed it in your mouth harshly, not giving you any room to breathe. He held you there, choking on his cock by the back of your head for a few more seconds before pulling it out and slapping it on your cheek. He smiled wickedly before tucking it back in his pants. It had only been a taste, literally. 

He saw your confused look, but ignored it, opting to walk back around the desk. He wasted no time, pushing two fingers inside your mortifyingly wet hole. He curled them exactly right, and you clenched your fist and eyes to stop your legs from giving out. 

Just as you'd started moving your hips along with his hand, he pulled away. "Stay still. Or you don't get anything." 

You willed your entire body to remain frozen as he resumed his activities. He brought his other hand to your clit, rubbing at the exact speed and pressure to make your knees buckle. You had to put all your weight on your upper body to stop moving. 

"God, will you shut up?" Spencer groaned. You hadn't even noticed you were making any noise, the moans and whines falling from your lips sounding foreign. 

You bit your lip to keep them from escaping, but it was hard when Spencer was unrelenting. You felt yourself coming close, soft, high-pitched whines escaping your throat no matter how hard you tried to contain them.  

Your toes curled, and your muscles tightened, but Spencer pulled away. More tears welled up in your eyes at the immensely unsatisfying sensation. You wanted to beg him to please continue and let you finish. But he'd told you to shut up, and you really weren't looking to prolong your punishment. 

You heard your own pathetic sobs, drowning out the sound of him undoing his pants again. Your chest heaved as you tried to stay silent. Sweat dripped down your face, mixing with the tears. 

It was bizarre how quiet he stayed. He was usually so talkative. But the implication that you didn't deserve him speaking to you unless it was an order was clear. 

"This is all you're good for. A hole for me to fuck. And don't you dare forget it." Spencer lined himself up and didn't offer any more preparation before sliding inside. 

"You're just a deplorable, woeful, pitifully sad little girl." Spencer spat as his grip on your hair returned. His other hand snuck around your neck, gripping tightly. He used the grip on your hair and neck as leverage to set a brutal pace, calling you every synonym for pathetic available. 

"You think you're so important? Good enough to be pulling shit like this? You need to learn your. fucking. place." Every word was punctuated by a harsh thrust. "You're expendable at best." 

You didn't dare speak, the only thing leaving you was quiet sobs, whines and moans. Your breathing was strained against the hold he had on your neck. 

You were embarrassed to feel the knot in your stomach tightening worryingly fast. Spencer was treating you like a whore, and you were getting off on it, faster than anything else ever had before. 

Spencer felt you tighten around him and quickly pulled out and stepped away. You felt the cold breeze on your empty hole. More tears spilt as you heard the sound of a video recording starting. 

Spencer zoomed in on your desperate, fluttering pussy, before pushing back inside, keeping the camera focused on his cock entering in and out. 

You tried to hide your face when he turned the camera to it, but his hand yanked on your hair, making you face the camera. 

"Say: 'I'm Spencer's little slut. His own personal hole to use whenever he pleases because I'm a cockwhore hungry for attention.'" Spencer demanded. 

"Please, sir. Don't make me say it on camera," you begged. You'd say it, just to get it over with, but the current footage he had was already incriminating enough. 

"No, you're going to fucking listen to me for once. Say it." The pace of his hips never let up, your figure moving crudely in and out of the shot. 

"I-I'm Spencer's... Please," you began. Spencer's speed inside you increased, interrupting your train of thought. He delivered a harsh smack against your still sore ass, urging you to continue. 

"I'm Spencer's... little slut. His own personal... hole... to use whenever he pleases." You inhaled sharply before continuing. "Because I'm a... cockwhore... hungry for attention." You stuttered over the words, forcing them out. 

Spencer seemed satisfied, putting his phone away. His hand returned to your throat, cutting off the airflow as he fucked you harshly. Every thrust of his hips sent a jolt of electricity through your body. 

The wood was digging into your hips, sure to be beaten and bruised by tonight. Your weight was no longer being held up by your legs, Spencer's presence behind you being the only thing that kept you from collapsing. 

You were tight with desperation, every muscle wanting that sweet release he was depriving you of. 

Spencer grunted unintelligible curses against you as he pistoned inside. His thick cock felt like it was splitting you open with every thrust, no matter how wet you'd gotten. 

"Gonna cum inside you, and there's nothing you can do about it," Spencer mumbled as he sped up. How it was even possible, was beyond you. 

"Please, sir. Please let me cum." You whined. If he denied you one more time, you weren't sure if you could take it. 

"What makes you think you fucking deserve to cum? You're an annoying, good-for-nothing brat who's getting what was coming for her." He moaned against the shell of your ear. The sound ignited something new inside you. You needed to hear it again. 

"Please, Spencer. Please," you begged, more tears threatening to spill after you'd assumed you were all out. 

"What, you're gonna fucking cry? Like a fucking baby? Don't fucking do things if you're gonna fucking cry over the consequences, you fucking slut. And it's sir to you, you whore." You'd never heard Spencer this vulgar. And you could've never imagined what it would do to you. 

"You know what they call this, crybaby?" Spencer asked, tightening the grip on your throat, cutting off most if not all of the airflow. You shook your head aggressively. 

"Karma." He spoke, thrusting harshly to get the message across. The combination of the lack of air and his ruthless thrusts was brutal. You could feel yourself trembling, trying to keep yourself together. 

Spencer pushed his cock sharply one last time, twitching and releasing his spend inside you with a loud groan. He released your throat and pulled out. You fell forward, chest heaving with dry sobs. He hadn't let you come. You cried frustrated tears as Spencer took more photos, as expected. 

You felt the warm come drip from your pussy as Spencer took close-ups. A tense silence overtook the room as he made himself decent before paying you any attention. 

"Garcia still owed me a favour, so she disabled the elevator from coming down here unless you enter a code," Spencer explained as he untied you. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, even if the ordeal was already over. The fact that there had been no real threat settled the uneasy feeling, even if only a little. It was the only consolation he offered. Spencer redid his belt as if it hadn't just been used as handcuffs while he fucked you like you were his property to discard. 

You rubbed your wrists, seeing the red wells carved in them from your relentless tugging. How were you going to explain this when you came in tomorrow? 

Spencer didn't seem to care, simply grabbing his stuff and waiting for the elevator. You looked around for your underwear, only to see a small piece of fabric sticking out of his pocket. You sighed and put your bottoms back on without the underwear, cringing at the wet, sticky fluid still between your legs. Your top was still wet with saliva and tears. 

You got in the elevator with him without saying a word. You'd expected to at least talk to him about it, but as soon as you reached ground level, Spencer was gone. 

Your eyes welled up and cheeks heated when you realized you were going to have to walk through the lobby and go home alone, all without any underwear and while still dripping his cum. 

Spencer had gotten what he wanted. You were mortified. And you sure as hell weren't going to pull any more pranks anytime soon. 

Not while at the office, anyways. 

[etfrin]

The Reward — Coriolanus Snow ♡

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | pinv sex, mirror sex-ish if you squint, dub con if you squint, overstimulation if you squint, face riding, creampie, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), snow is his own warming, dom sub undertones, reader has ear piercings, degradation, hints of a toxic relationship, impact play (spanks your ass a few times), dumbfication if you squint, low-key soft! Snow in the beginning | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Coriolanus Snow! x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Coriolanus Snow gives you a reward by being gentle af and then by being a mean animal (kinda) dnsjsk🤭

⇢☾A/N: it's 3:00 am and i need to sleep, i thought about Snow taking off my heels after a gala and this was born <3

< arranged marriage m.list > < tag list > < masterlist >

Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman but he wasn't gentle. Perhaps this was an alternative universe, a fever dream but you couldn't believe what was happening right now in front of your eyes. Your pupils were in shock, your palms were sweating as you continued to take in the sight.

The sight of Snow being on his knees as he unclasps the belts of your uncomfortable heels. You swallow, “Coryo, you don't have to” but his head tilts up and his eyes are still his. Blue, cold, empty, and never ending like the ocean. A calmness washed over you, the look in his eyes proof enough that this was one of his many tricks to keep you satisfied and happy and you have to indulge him in it.

So you let him gently take off your shoes and set them aside. You await his further actions and let out a soft, small moan as his lips pressed to one of your knees. His mouth keeps pressing wet kisses up to your upper thigh, leaving behind a trail of his saliva on your skin.

This was a reward. Coriolanus was so proud of his pretty and smart wife today. You behaved accordingly in the gala tonight, letting him take the credit for your ideas. You understood your duties and that's why this is one of the few times Coryo will ever kneel for or be this gentle. It's a thank you he can't voice so he does it by his actions.

His lips find themselves kissing inside your inner thigh now, gently nipping the skin as you let out needy mewls. He could see the wet spot forming in your panties and felt the usual pride in his mind bloom. Only he could have you wet so easily and damn, if that didn't skyrocket his ego.

He kissed the wet spot, the juices now glistening onto his pink lips and he pulled back. You whimper as he does, and he wants to coo at you and tease you for being a greedy pet. But he doesn't, it's a reward after all.

He stood up and pressed a kiss to your forehead before his hand grabbed the box of make-up wipes. You still hadn't said a word, letting him do his thing. He gently wiped the makeup off your face, clearing you of the chemicals he hated but you had to apply them to stay in fashion.

His fingers then gently take off the earrings you had worn, and then one by one all the rings you had except the wedding ring of course. His touch had lingered during all of those actions, making your body heat up and your panties soaked. Soft sighs escape you as he continues to adore you in such a gentle manner. As if you're made of the most precious diamond but easily breakable without care.

That's what he might have thought of you. So damn important to his sanity but any action of yours can damn him to hell. A risk, a liability to everything he has. But in his mind, you're worth it all and he has done every single scenario where things can go wrong, so many sleepless nights dedicated to these thoughts.

Snow lands on top.

Nothing you can do can mess him up, nothing. He makes sure of it with his every living breath. It's the reason he can spoil you like this, be a deserving man to his wife otherwise Coriolanus Snow is a monster (and you know that and accept him anyway).

He unzips your dress, his lips now pressing a heated kiss to your nape as his fingertips trace your bare skin. His touch was cold as ice, the heat of your body cooling down to his touch. It gave you relief momentarily but it was clear that you wanted more. The whimper that left your mind as he unclasped your bra was enough proof of that.

With your breasts set free from their confines, Corio’s hands begin to knead your soft tits. His eyes look into the mirror as he watches himself message your soft breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples making the sensitive pebbles hard. He rolls the buds, playing with them until you moan, your body flushing with lust in your veins. You begin to rub your thighs, getting desperate for any sort of friction but you force yourself to stop as he tsks near your ear.

“Don't, doll,” he whispered as one of his hands began the journey of going down on your body, the heat of his palm onto your tummy and then so close to your clothed pussy. “Spread,” he commands and you follow without embarrassment or hesitation.

Your soaked panties come into your view through the mirror and you want to look away from the shyness you still had but didn't. Instead, a whine escapes your lips that makes Coriolanus chuckle. “Such a needy pet. I will take care of you, darling. No need to worry.”

You moan as he refers to you as darling for the first time. Your cunt clenching desperately around nothing as your mind gets dizzy. There was something about how he had said it. Soft and warm, his voice dipping a bit lower as he pronounced the letters and it was tinged with a feeling he wouldn't associate himself with.

Love.

You whimper, “Please” and he hushes you as his fingers snap the band of your panties before he dips a single finger onto your wet folds. He smirks, his face looking into the mirror to gaze into your glazed eyes. “Pathetic,” he muttered and you didn't bother to take offense, his words turning you on as much as his finger circling on your clit was.

A broken moan escapes as his fingers decide to pinch the sensitive nub, and he coats his fingers with your juices. A string of sticky white cream on his digits as he takes his hand out of your panties and places his covered fingers inside the wet carven of his mouth. He expertly sucks clean of his fingers, popping them out of his mouth with an obscene sound.

He smirks to himself as he relishes the taste of you. His. Just his you were. He leaves you there, alone on the chair as he walks to the bed. He wasn't wearing anything except for his pants. His suit and shirt were taken off earlier.

You waited for his further command as he got himself comfortable on the bed. “Come here,” he said and you listen. You take off your wet panties and let them stay ruined on the floor as you practically crawl to Coryo. You straddle him and wait some more.

He doesn't say anything, his face blank but his sky-blue eyes heated. His hands were on your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there, making sure to grip you tight enough to mark you.

His tongue comes out to wet his rather dried lips. Your breath hitches as you see it and the sight of you being so affected by such a simple action made him feel like a. . . Lord.

He doesn't say anything, but did he need to? You knew him all too well, so you don't question yourself as you begin to move. The new position had you gripping the headboard while his hands shamelessly groped your ass, even occasionally giving small sharp slaps onto the flesh, making it red. It was simply another way of marking you.

Meanwhile, your eyes were closed, your mind forgetting about the existence of reality as his hot breath hit your glistening folds and made you quiver. “Go ahead,” he permits you.

Not even a second later, you begin to ride his face. He groans as his lips meet with your cunt. His tongue begins with broad, messy strokes of your pussy, gathering as much as your juices possible. All the while your eyes roll back and you moan. A sharp slap on the flesh of your ass has you grinding yourself onto his face. His nose nudged your sensitive, swollen clit perfectly as his tongue continued to swirl and flick around your cunt with calculated broad strokes that made you whine his name.

Soon his mouth finds your clit and begins to relentlessly suck your bundle of nerves. You cry out, pleading that this is too much and you can't- can't take it! But your begging was unheard and your pleas turned into louder moans, whimpers for pleas, and more. His sucking gets harsher and the overstimulation makes your mind reel. The warmth that was gathering in your lower body begins to spread all over, turning your bones to jelly and your mind to nothing as you cum onto his face. The rolls of your hips slowly as he continues to lap at all the cream released and your pussy keeps on spasming.

Your mind wanted more so you decided to take more. You had understood this was a reward for being good. So you can be a bit bad for now. So despite his grunt of displeasure as you get off his face, you quickly find yourself getting rid of his remaining clothes.

His cock was hard, the red tip angry and gleaming with pre-cum that coated most of his length. The sight had you salivating. Coryo knew you were nothing more than a cockdrunk slut and he called you that, you feel yourself glow from his words, not finding the word even a little bit degrading.

“I love you,” you mumbled as you lowered yourself onto his cock with a wanton moan echoing through the room. He groans, “Fuck yourself good, pet. You're in charge of your pleasure tonight. Go ahead, dove.”

“Yes, Coryo,” you whine as you feel yourself full of his cock. You felt yourself squeezing his thick length, a gasp escaping you as you tried to get used to his cock without being prepped. A groan could be heard as he felt his dick getting squeezed by your wet, tight cunt.

He wants to fuck into you and he almost does. But Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman and a gentleman kept his word. Especially when he can see his wife looking so fucking pretty being fucked out from his cock merely twitching inside her walls.

“Begin,” he demands, his voice haughty and filled with lust but you weren't ready. However, you couldn't bring yourself to care. You begin to rock your hips, slowly at first, you let yourself savor the action of his cock grinding against every hidden pleasure spot inside of your cunt. You moan as your pussy takes his cock deeper until his tip is pressed right against your g-spot making you see stars. You begin to grind back and forth so he keeps hitting that spot, you begin to sweat, your thighs clenching, and you couldn't keep focus as pleasure feels your every vein and his cock making you dumb. Simple actions seemed impossible to you and you wanted to beg him to take over, to make you cum again and again until you were broken.

He was unaware of your turmoil, his eyes onto the sight where his cock meets with your cunt, the combined fluid of his pre-cum and your slick dripping down onto his skin. The sight was filthy and he loved it. He clenched his jaw, trying so hard to be a patient gentleman to his wife.

He treated this like a test against himself because he knew what you did to his self-control. You aren't going to win this, he's not going to let go. He will not fuck into you like an animal, he refused to.

But was it losing when you were out of it like this? As if you were truly nothing but a dumb slut who just needs to cum. He decided that this wasn't a loss, but a win. He was doing you a favor when his hips began to snap upwards, his cock thrusting inside of you faster than the pace you had set. It was a pity that he felt so that's why he went back to his words. He was in control of your pleasure and he always will be. Self-control had nothing to do with it, he told himself.

You scream out in pleasure as several spanks are delivered onto your ass, turning the flesh red. It was clear that you liked the sting because of how tightly your pussy suffocated his dick after each slap. ‘Fucking whore of a wife’, he thought. He doesn't voice his thoughts but merely grins at the sight of tears filling your eyes. His dick twitched, an indication of being close.

However, he had to make you cum on his cock first. His hips begin to rut in faster into you, his hands holding you down as he thrusts in faster and harder. His dick kissing all of your hidden spots you didn't even know existed, his cock was perfect.

All you could do was take and take the reward he was giving you. Tears of satisfaction fell down your cheeks and it nourished his pride. You begin to ramble as you get closer to the edge. You ramble about how perfect he is, how much you love him, and fuck you can't think- you can't think. He is perfect, perfect, perfect.

Each of your praises makes him fuck you harder, deeper, a thrust so deep that his cockhead kissed your cervix making you gasp from a hint of pain and a hundredfold of pleasure. You begin to cum, and he shallowly thrusts into your cunt as you ride out your high. Your pussy spasms continuously around his cock as you cry out from being overwhelmed.

“That's a good girl,” he coos at you, “that's my girl.” You whine, your mind unable to process his words. You couldn't even sit up anymore, your body falling onto his. He wraps his arms around you, caging you to him. “My perfect wife,” he whispered as he continues to fuck into you despite your protests of being too much.

He doesn't listen to your pleas, his reward for you ultimately was his cum. Now he can't stop until he finds release himself, otherwise, how would you get your gift, right?

So he continues and it doesn't take more than a few minutes to fuck his thick, hot load into your womb. You whimper as his cock slips out and sighs in relief. You were in his arms and will be so for the rest of the night.

Coriolanus Snow wondered briefly if you liked your reward if not, well you have full access to his credit cards.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964

@skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness @hansbasement @louweasleymalfoy @lettersandwhiteroses @arzua10 @wotcherpeak @ever8ea @daughter-of-the-stars11 @blippys-blog @iguanagwen @moonlight-by-the-sea @snowlandstop @badbleep88 @hobireasns @floswife @weeeoosworld @ludasgf

@sushirolliee @poppyflower-22 @dilucpegg3r

[kiesbrainjuice]

— SPACE SONG ! kenma kozume

syn : your boyfriend is rather distant because of his streams but make it up to you

wc : 3.4k

tw : angst, smut, fluff, timeskip!kenma, afab!reader, ruined orgasm, missionary then cowgirl, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, reader get drunk (not during smut)

Kenma Kozume, once a skilled setter for the Nekoma High School volleyball team, had transformed his passion for gaming into a lucrative career. His YouTube channel and Twitch streams boasted millions of subscribers, eagerly tuning in to watch his expert gameplay and witty commentary. His fame had skyrocketed, leading to numerous sponsorship deals with major gaming companies, each vying for his endorsement of their latest releases.

You stood in the doorway of Kenma's state-of-the-art gaming room, watching your boyfriend of nearly a year as he sat hunched over his setup. The glow of multiple monitors illuminated his face, his cat-like eyes darting across the screens as his fingers danced over the keyboard and mouse. You couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness, despite being in the same room.

"Kenma," you called softly, careful not to disrupt his stream. "Do you have a minute?"

Without taking his eyes off the game, Kenma responded in a low voice, "Not now. I'm in the middle of a crucial match."

You sighed, used to this response but still disappointed. "I was hoping we could talk about our plans for the weekend. Maybe go out somewhere?"

Kenma's brow furrowed slightly, more from concentration on the game than your question. "This weekend? I have a sponsored stream for that new MMORPG. It's a big deal."

"But we haven't had a proper date in weeks," you protested, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Kenma paused for a split second, his character on screen momentarily idle. He glanced at you, his expression a mix of guilt and irritation. "Look, I know it's been busy lately. The channel's growing faster than ever, and I can't pass up these opportunities."

He turned back to the game, his fingers resuming their frantic pace. "Do you want something? Use my credit card as you like, buy anything. And don't disturb my work hours," he added, his tone indifferent as he refocused on the live match.

You felt a lump forming in your throat. "It's not about the money, Kenma. I just want to spend time with you."

But Kenma was already back in his gaming world, his microphone reactivated as he called out strategies to his teammates. You knew he wouldn't respond now, not with tens of thousands of viewers watching his every move.

As you turned to leave the room, you caught a glimpse of the chat flying by on one of the monitors. Fans were speculating about Kenma's personal life, some wondering if he was single. You remembered the conversation where Kenma had asked to keep your relationship private, fearing the impact it might have on his career and your privacy.

Now, standing alone in the hallway of your shared apartment, you couldn't help but wonder if there was room for you in Kenma's life of pixels and paychecks. The sound of his voice, animated and engaged with his audience, drifted from the room behind you, a stark contrast to the quiet, disinterested tone he had used with you moments ago.

You made your way to the kitchen, your footsteps heavy with disappointment. The sleek, modern appliances and granite countertops that had once excited you now felt cold and impersonal. As you leaned against the kitchen island, the emotions you'd been holding back finally broke through.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and you covered your mouth to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for Kenma to hear you crying over his livestream. The contrast between the enthusiastic voice coming from his gaming room and the silence of the kitchen where you stood alone was painfully stark.

With shaking hands, you pulled out your phone and opened your group chat with your closest friends.

You: Hey guys. Anyone up for going out tonight? I really need to get out of the house.

Ami: What's wrong? Everything okay with you and Kenma?

Yuki: I'm free! Let's hit that new club downtown. You sound like you could use a girls' night out.

Hana: Count me in. We'll cheer you up!

You: Thanks, girls. I just... I need a distraction. Things have been tough lately.

Ami: Say no more. We've got your back. Meet at my place at 9?

You: Sounds perfect. I'll be there.

You wiped your eyes, feeling a small sense of relief. At least you had friends who cared and were there for you. As you headed to the bedroom to get ready, you could still hear Kenma's voice, now punctuated by occasional laughter and excitement over some in-game achievement.

"I'm going out," you called out, knowing he probably wouldn't respond or even notice your absence.

As expected, there was no reply. You sighed, picked out an outfit that made you feel confident, and started getting ready. The night out with your friends wouldn't solve the underlying issues in your relationship, but at least it would provide a temporary escape from the loneliness that had become all too familiar in your shared apartment.

As you applied your makeup, carefully concealing the evidence of your tears, you couldn't help but wonder how long you could continue like this – loving someone who seemed to exist more in the digital world than in the real one beside you.

–

As you arrived at Ami's place, your phone buzzed with a message. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was from Kenma.

Kenma: Where are you?

You hesitated for a moment before replying.

You: I'm out with the girls. Told you I was leaving.

Kenma: Oh. When will you be back?

You: Not sure. Don't wait up.

You stared at your phone, half-hoping he'd say something more, express concern, or ask you to come home. But no further messages came.

"Everything okay?" Ami asked, noticing your frown.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, just Kenma checking in. Let's go have some fun."

The four of you piled into a taxi, the excitement of a night out slowly lifting your spirits. As you approached the club, the pulsing beats could be heard even from the street.

"This is exactly what you need," Yuki said, linking her arm with yours. "A night to forget about everything and just dance."

The club was packed, bodies moving in sync with the music. The DJ was skilled, mixing tracks that kept the energy high. You and your friends found a spot on the dance floor, and for the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to relax.

As you danced, the rhythm pulsing through your body, you tried to push thoughts of Kenma aside. But every now and then, you'd catch yourself checking your phone, hoping to see a message from him.

Hana noticed and gently took your phone. "Hey, tonight is about you, okay? Let's live in the moment."

You nodded, grateful for your friends' support. The night continued, a blur of dancing, laughter, and overpriced cocktails. For hours, you lost yourself in the music and the company of your friends.

It was nearly 2 AM when you stumbled out of the club, your feet aching but your heart lighter than it had been in months.

"Thank you all so much," you said, hugging each of your friends. "I really needed this."

As you got into a taxi to head home, the euphoria of the night began to fade, replaced by the reality waiting for you. You wondered if Kenma would still be awake, if he'd noticed your absence, if he'd care that you'd been out so late.

The taxi pulled up to your apartment building. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you inside. As much as you'd enjoyed the night out, you knew that come morning, you and Kenma would need to have a serious conversation about your relationship and your future together.

As you fumbled with your keys, the door suddenly swung open. Kenma stood there, his hair disheveled and eyes wide with concern.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

The sudden show of affection, combined with your inebriated state, caught you off guard. You giggled, your words slurring slightly as you spoke.

"Kenmaaa," you drawled, poking his cheek. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a cutie? 'Cause you are. Such a cute kitty."

Kenma's brow furrowed with worry as he realized your state. "You're drunk. Come on, let's get you inside."

As he guided you into the apartment, you stumbled, nearly falling before he caught you. "Whoopsie! My hero," you giggled again.

"I'm so sorry," Kenma said, his voice thick with remorse. "I shouldn't have ignored you earlier. I didn't realize you were so upset."

You waved your hand dismissively, nearly hitting him in the face. "S'okay. You were busy with your millions of fans. Who needs a girlfriend when you have millions of fans, right?"

Kenma winced at your words. "No, that's not... I've been terrible to you. I'm so, so sorry."

He helped you to the bedroom, where you flopped onto the bed, your world spinning. Kenma knelt beside you, gently removing your shoes.

"You know what?" you said, your voice suddenly serious despite your drunken state. "I miss you. Even when you're here, I miss you."

Kenma's face crumpled with guilt. "I know. I've been selfish and blind. I promise I'll make it up to you."

He helped you sit up and handed you a glass of water. "Drink this. It'll help."

As you sipped the water, Kenma busied himself getting you comfortable. He helped you change into pajamas, brought a bucket in case you felt sick, and made sure you had painkillers nearby for the inevitable hangover.

"There," he said softly, tucking you in. "Try to get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning, okay?"

You nodded sleepily, already drifting off. Just before you fell asleep, you felt Kenma's lips press gently against your forehead.

"I love you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I haven't shown it lately. That's going to change."

As sleep overtook you, you felt a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. 

–

As you slowly regained consciousness, your head throbbing and your mouth dry, you became aware of movement in the room. You cracked open an eye to see Kenma looking at you with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

You groaned in response, your voice hoarse. "Is it morning already?"

Kenma chuckled lightly, taking in your disheveled appearance. "It's almost noon, actually. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," you mumbled, slowly sitting up.

"Come on," Kenma said, helping you to your feet. "I've made coffee. It should help."

You shuffled after him to the kitchen, squinting against the light. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you.

As Kenma busied himself pouring you a cup, you leaned against the counter, watching him. Something felt different, but in your hungover state, you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Then suddenly, a realization hit you.

"Wait," you said, your brow furrowing in confusion. "Don't you have a stream right now?"

Kenma turned to you, coffee in hand, his expression serious. "No, I cancelled it."

"You... cancelled it?" you repeated, stunned. Kenma never cancelled streams, especially not sponsored ones.

He nodded, handing you the coffee. "I cancelled all my streams for the next few days, actually. We need to talk, and you're more important than any sponsorship or subscriber count."

You took a sip of coffee, trying to process this information. "But... your career, your fans..."

Kenma shook his head, cutting you off. "They can wait. I've been neglecting what really matters - you, us. I realized last night how close I was to losing you, and I never want to come that close again."

Despite your hangover, you felt a surge of emotion. "Kenma..."

He took your free hand in his, his golden eyes meeting yours. "I'm sorry for how I've been acting. I got caught up in the success and forgot about the most important person in my life. Can we talk? Really talk, about us and where we go from here?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. "Yeah, we should talk."

Kenma squeezed your hand gently. "Finish your coffee, take a shower if you want. I'll be here when you're ready.”

As you settled on the couch, Kenma positioned himself between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. Your fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, gently running through the soft strands. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on either of you.

"I've missed this," Kenma murmured, nuzzling closer.

You smiled, twirling a lock of his hair around your finger. "What, using me as your personal pillow?"

He chuckled softly. "Among other things. Your touch, your scent, just... you."

"Careful, Kozume," you teased. "Keep talking like that and I might think you actually like me."

Kenma tilted his head to look up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh? And what if I do more than like you?"

Your heart fluttered at his words. "Prove it," you challenged playfully.

In one swift motion, Kenma sat up and cupped your face in his hands. His golden eyes locked with yours, full of warmth and affection. "Challenge accepted," he whispered before pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

When you parted, you couldn't help but grin. "Not bad for a gamer boy."

Kenma raised an eyebrow. "Gamer boy? I'll have you know I'm a gamer man."

You laughed, pulling him close again. "Oh really? Then show me your high score, gamer man."

He smirked, leaning in for another kiss. "Game on."

As you feverishly clutched each other, all the pent-up desire from months apart erupted into a frenzy of passion. The hunger and longing was palpable as you devoured each other's lips, your hands greedily exploring every inch of skin. Words were unnecessary as your bodies spoke their own language, a primal dance of pleasure and release. There was no need for discussion, only the wild abandon of two lovers reunited at last.

Kenma's hands slid under your sweatshirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck as his lips met your skin. You couldn't help but let out a small gasp as he squeezed your breasts gently. "I need you," you moaned, craving more of his touch. With each kiss, the desire between you grew stronger, igniting sparks of passion like wildfire. Your breaths mingled, creating a symphony of pleasure as the world around you melted away. In that moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heartbeats and the overwhelming feeling of being consumed by each other.

As his skilled fingers traced a path over the fabric covering your heated core, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his hungry mouth. "That's it, baby," he murmured against your lips, his movements becoming more fervent. With a quick swoop, he removed your panties and shorts, exposing your now throbbing center to the cool air. As his fingers continued their maddening circles, his tongue eagerly explored your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. Just as you felt yourself on the brink of ecstasy, he abruptly stopped, leaving you flushed and wanting. "Kenma..." you breathed out, pleading for him to continue.

He slowly removed his pants, revealing the outline of his erect member through his underwear. "I'll show you just how much of a man I am," he said confidently as he peeled off his underwear, causing you to gasp in excitement. You couldn't help but admire the size and girth of his throbbing cock as it stood proudly before you. He smirked at your reaction and teasingly rubbed the tip of his dripping pre-cum along the edge of your soaking wet pussy. "Look how wet you are," he whispered huskily in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, he pulled back and only brushed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, making you whimper with frustration. "Please," you begged, gripping onto him tightly as he held your thighs apart. Without hesitation, he thrust himself into you fully, causing you to moan loudly into his neck. Your bodies moved together in perfect synchronization as he pounded into you with every ounce of strength and passion he possessed. And for that moment, nothing else existed except for the two of you locked in an ecstatic embrace.

With a predatory gaze, he slowly undressed, revealing the outline of his impressive erection through his tight underwear. "I'll show you just how much of a man I am," he growled with confidence as he slid off his underwear, exposing a throbbing and girthy cock that made your mouth water with desire. He smirked at your obvious arousal and teasingly dragged the tip of his dripping pre-cum along the edge of your soaking wet pussy, eliciting an eager gasp from your lips. "Look how ready you are for me," he purred huskily into your ear, sending delicious shivers down your spine. But just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he pulled back and only grazed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, making you whimper in desperation. "Please," you begged, desperate for him to fulfill your burning desires. With a feral hunger in his eyes, he gripped onto your thighs tightly and plunged himself inside you with a powerful thrust, causing you to cry out in pleasure and cling onto him desperately. Your bodies moved together in a primal rhythm, each thrust driving both of you closer to the brink of ecstasy. And in that moment, nothing else existed except for the raw passion between the two of you as you were consumed by unbridled desire and pleasure.

Your bodies collided in a frenzy of passion, each thrust causing your entire being to jolt with euphoria. The taste of his saliva lingered between your lips, igniting a primal desire within you as he devoured your mouth. "Kenma...'s t-too much...t-too good," you gasped, feeling yourself on the brink of explosion. But before you could surrender completely to ecstasy, he flipped you over and guided you onto him in the cowgirl position, his depths reaching even deeper inside of you. "Ride me, baby," he commanded, and with a few moments to adjust and find your rhythm, you began to ride him with reckless abandon. Your hands gripped onto his torso for support as you moved together in perfect harmony, both moaning and groaning in ecstasy. His words of praise only fueled your desire as you picked up speed, feeling the rough friction between your bodies. He grabbed onto your ass, guiding and assisting your movements as you cried out his name in absolute bliss. Every sensation was heightened in this position, every thrust and grind sending shivers of pleasure through your body as you reached the pinnacle of pleasure together.

Each powerful thrust sends you spiraling further into a state of pure ecstasy. Your cries reach a deafening crescendo, urging him to never stop as he takes you with an unrelenting force. His torso presses against yours, his head buried in your chest as he hungrily tastes and teases your sensitive breasts. The overwhelming sensation of pleasure consumes every inch of your body, building towards an explosive release that you can no longer hold back. With a final desperate cry of "Fuck! K-Ken...!", you both shatter into oblivion, consumed by the intensity of your passion until there is nothing left but the sound of heavy breathing and the taste of each other lingering on your lips.

As you both lay entwined in the afterglow, your hearts beating in sync with one another, a sense of peace and comfort washes over you. Kenma's arms envelop you protectively, and you can't help but marvel at how this gamer boy has turned into a man who thoroughly knows how to take care of you.

You trace your fingers along his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch. "I love you, Kenma," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion.

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his own shining with love and devotion. "And I love you too, more than words can express." He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your cheek in a tender caress.

Ⓒ kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[creepy-friday]

PLS PLS PLS I NEED MORE PROXY THINGS I KEEP REREADING THE OLD ONES AND U WRITE SO WELL

Sure thing!I noticed a lot of people are rereading the old ones so I promise I will come back with more ideas!

Female!Proxy toughts Headcanons for every creep of the mansion

Warnings: foul language, suggestive themes, violence

Masky thinks he should've been in your place.He wants your attention but at the same time hates your guts.Always wants to pick a fight with you,maybe he's in such a contradiction with himself because your personality softened his sharp edges making him confused.

Hoodie acts all buddy-buddy with you when the two of you aren't on duty.He doesn't hide the way the tension rises from other people's perspective when he talks to you.He's simply curious about who you truly are,an individual like you in such a fucked up place and in such a high position is..intriguing to say at least.

Toby follows your orders and values your presence the most out of the other proxies he's biased. Because he's been taken advantage of many times,your humanity sparked his hope,he thinks that in you he can actually find something heart warming in this hell hole.

Cody is a little annoying at times.Since you didn't shove him off he deeply thinks you're into him,that's why he keeps on inviting you to see the dangerous shit he's creating.

Kate uses every chance she has to imply that you have sexual relationships with the proxies.She's isn't jealous nor wants to take your place,she simply sees herself as slightly superior since she's been here before you.

Jeff has personal issues with every resident near him,including you.He doesn't think of himself as highly as Masky tough.All the mocking and tantrums are because he doesn't belive your good intentions.

Ben is a fucking menace and fucks with your head since he knows you can't physically hurt him.He thinks you're by far the most interesting creep to watch.

EJ respects you.He thinks that you are disgusted by him almost as he is of himself given your role as a demon hunter.His insecurity made him give up any reason to try to talk to you.Watching from afar he knows you're one of the few residents that are still human by heart.

Liu has a very high opinion about yourself.You already proved to be a good person to him when you took EJ's side in an argument with Masky.He would make conversation with you whenever you two are around.

Sully might act like Liu around you so that he can see more of you.Just like other creeps,he fantasies about having a hand to hand spare with you.He talks to you like you're a pice of meat sometimes but he acknowledges your strength.

Slenderman's presence is being known by his general sickness to the other creeps but the fever is high and tormenting when it comes to you.It's clear that he favors you and the fact that he chose you as his watchdog is enough to bring your confidence skyrocket.

Jane watches you from afar.She thinks you're a good fit to be a leader.Surprisingly,she agreed with your every decision and never had anything to add or to take.

Zero is jealous of you and your high status.She despises your guts and would team up with anyone to put you down or to shame you.She's a bitch but I bet she would fuck you tough.She's the "do I want to be her or be with her?"

Clockwork likes how a woman is top shit and she treats you as an equal.Might ask you for your opinion and expects you to listen to hers as well.She thinks you're a good leader.

Nina adores you.You genuinely had a good impact on her mental health and looks up to you.She would be shocked if you would hurt her in any way,after everything she went trough all she needs is a friend.The choice is yours.

Sally thinks that you are really cool and wishes you would take that mask off more often.Since you don't brush her off like the others she's looking forward to talk to you when you're not busy.Confidently slips tea parties invites down your door.

Bloody Painter is mostly indifferent to the power dynamics in the mansion.Sure,he will be respectful to you since that's in his personality but he's apathetic to anything that isn't "aesthetically pleasing".He judges a book by its cover and the ghoul-like design on your mask makes him believe you're no different from the creatures you encounter in the forest.Misunderstanding at its best

[seat-safety-switch]

Vans aren't "cool," but they are enjoying a sort of renaissance of sorts. The desirability of these boxy, cargo-hauling conveyances represents some admittedly minor hope for the future. If vans regain their ancient popularity, there is a chance that we can overthrow the dictatorship of the pickup truck and return to our traditional values as a society.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not some wacko van fundamentalist. Sure, I do get into theological arguments with Ford people about which generation of the Econoline is derived most purely from van theory, but that's on our own territory. Not something for the regular folk to see.

You have nothing to fear about me giving you a shank if you accidentally call a half-cut container truck the deeply unfunny slur that is "cube van." I won't even get mad if you prefer a hatchback. Anything that can haul cargo in an enclosed vessel, and does so often, is an honorary van in my book. And it's a good idea, before we proceed, to talk about just why vans are becoming more popular.

Vans are in fact the only houses that many people can own. Sad but true. You could live in a pickup truck, too. Nobody is denying that, but that's like living in one of those strange Arizona desert homes where there's only enough roof for your bed, a novel about libertarianism, and a small overhang to keep your ammo and canned beans dry. Just not enough enclosed area. No sense of security. Throbbing paranoia at all minutes that if you stop at the Home Depot just for a minute that someone will steal your groceries out of the bed.

Me, I like to have a nice personal space which will be largely protected if I roll the thing into the ditch doing triple the speed limit. It's bad enough already without having to walk half a kilometre back from the impact site, picking up all your strewn possessions from the roadside. Better to keep the sleeping bags, provisions, and pet chickens on the inside of the vehicle.

If there can be said to be a downside to the growth of van popularity, it is that they are more popular than ever. Demand means resale value skyrockets, which means I can't easily get a new van to replace my old one when it gets towed by the cops or love-taps the bollard in the Tim Hortons drive-thru. That's why I've started investing in motorhomes, which are the van for people who can't afford vans or houses. They just so happen to come with big-ass V8s, too, like all of the other places I've ever lived. It's like I was never evicted at all.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Here’s a Jason idea for you: imagine a criminal he’s fighting as Red Hood suddenly mentions you, by name, to mess with Jason. Jay would absolutely obliterate the criminal, but that leaves the question of how his enemies know about you… I love the potential for angst/protective Jason 😍 Also, I love your writing so much, it always makes my day to see you on my feed! Thank you for sharing your writings 💞🥰

Tw: blood and violent stuff.

Also thank you for enjoying my stuff! It’s really appreciated and makes me wanna write a lot more in the future. It’s just nice being reminded that people do like the stuff that I put out and not hate it as much as I do when looking back on them.🤣 🦦

A well placed punch to the face landed the criminal flat on his back as he groaned upon impact and was currently struggling to get back up to his feet, only to be pinned by a heavy combat boot weighing down on his chest. Finally Jason had caught up with the drug dealer that had been lurking near children and vulnerable adults alike for the past couple of days, and right where he wanted him too.

‘It’s such a shame that you caught me as fast as you did RedHood because just you came along, I was going to pay one last person a visit before the night was over.’ The criminal smiled, showing off his blood stained teeth in the process, his smile then became a grimace as Jason put more of his weight onto his chest. ‘Well it was a good thing that i came when I did because after tonight, you won’t be selling drugs to anyone anymore, that I can guarantee.’ Jason growled, feeling his blood boil hotter for every second that he didn’t put a bullet in this assholes head.

‘What was their name?’ The criminal trailer off, not heading Jason’s warning and throwing his head back and laughing. ‘Oh right now I remember, it’s Y/n. What a pretty name for an even prettier person.’ Jason froze at the mention of your name, his blood had gone cold but his anger skyrocketed at the insinuation of you being placed in any sort of danger. Whether it be by a drug dealer or otherwise, the same conclusion was to be expected with Jason and that was that he would personally hunt down every last thug, drug dealer and crime lord that ever dared to speak your name.

Jason wordlessly then grabbed the criminal by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a wall with all his strength. Watching on as the scumbag crumpled the floor as he then began to stalk towards him before gradually breaking out into a run and brutally ramming his knee into the criminals head. Jason wasn’t done there though, not by a long shot. He wanted the make the bastard pay for having your name come out of his filthy mouth, he wanted to tear him limb from limb, put him back together again so that he could rip him limb from limb all over again before ever giving him the satisfaction of death.

‘You will never, ever, ever bring anyone to harm ever again! Not while I’m here, not while I’m still breathing and able bodied enough to tear you fuckers to bits!’ Jason hissed pure venom as each of his punches become more and more brutal then the last, his knuckles were going to bruise like hell and hurt like hell too, but the pain and punishment he’d receive would be all worthwhile if it meant keeping you safe and sound. Jason would gladly taken on any punishment anyone could throw at him if it meant you remained unscathed, he’d happily gain more scars on his body if it meant that you could sleep easier at night, Jason always had your best interests in mind whenever he was clearing the streets of Gotham.

He was doing it for you, he was doing it for the kids at Crime Alley, he was doing it so that everyone could have a peace of mind; And he didn’t care about the methods he took to obtaining that.

It wasn’t long until the criminal stopped moving all together, Jason didn’t care that his fists were stained with blood, he just stood up and left the criminal in the alleyway where he was brutally beaten to death and headed home; to you with a heavy mind and a growing pit within his stomach because if a low life scumbag like him knew you by name…then who else did? Black mask? Penguin? Two face? Scarecrow? Carmine Falcone? He didn’t like to think about this one but does Joker know? All these thoughts running through Jason’s head didn’t do him a whole lot of good with his ever growing sense of dread and slight paranoia; He had to get to you and he had to get to you now before anything else happened before the night ended.

‘I’m coming baby, just please still be there when I get home, please don’t let them take you away from me.’ Jason muttered under his breath as he pushed himself forward as he ran from rooftops to rooftop, determined to make it to the apartment before anyone else does because if they did, may god have mercy on their souls because Jason would go to war for you and will violently cut anyone down to size if they were to come between him and you; For nothing got between you and Jason and if they did, Jason would make sure to deal with it before it became more of a problem.

‘Sweetheart? Are you in here?’ Jason called as he slammed the door behind him.

‘Jason? What’s-‘ you rushed into the room and gasped upon seeing the dried blood on his knuckles and his paling face as though he looked about to pass out where he stood. ‘Oh my god.’ You whispered as you rushed towards Jason who rushed towards you, arms out stretched to grasp your waist while your hands held his face. ‘What happened out there? I thought you said it was a simple mission.’ You said, concerned for Jason as he seemingly let out a sigh of relief and rested his forehead against yours.

‘It was meant to be a simple mission but then…’

‘Then what?’ You asked, stroking his cheeks reassuringly and feeling him melt into your touch like he did every night he came home from a long patrol or mission, but he also did it when he needed to feel you on him after waking up from a nightmare.

‘He said your name chipmunk.’ Jason squeezed his eyes shut as though he was trying to rid himself of the events that happened early on and focus on the feeling of your thumbs caressing his cheeks lovingly instead. ‘He said your name -clear as day I heard him say it- and before I knew it I was wailing on him until he stopped moving…all because he said how he was going to come for you next and I couldn’t…’ Jason paused to regulate his breathing that he hadn’t noticed had become fast and uneven the more his mind lingered on that small detail. ‘I couldn’t let him do that. I won’t let them take you from me. Never.’ He then tightens his grip on your waist as he kept uttering the extent he was willing to go to keep you in his life under his breath, almost as though it were a prayer or a promise, which ever one it was you weren’t quite sure but you let Jason squeeze you against his chest with his strong arms like a stress toy to his hearts desire.

‘It’s okay Jaybirdie. I’m right here, can’t you feel my warmth? Hear my voice? I’m right here baby. So you can squeeze me, hold me, cuddle me as much as you need to feel alright again because I’m not going anywhere with my Jaybird.’ You said loud enough for him to hear over his thoughts, pressing kisses into anywhere that you had access to, whether it be his shoulders, face, neck, forehead, you’d plant several kisses to each of those areas respectively. You may act calm but much like Jason, you too didn’t like the idea of some random criminal knowing your name. The implications of that were endless and it would be enough to put anyone on edge or even over it depending on their mental state, and to put it lightly Jason’s mental state wasn’t the healthiest.

The occasional whimper and sniff that came from him only made your heart hurt even more that you were willing to put aside your own fears about the situation to instead focus on comforting Jason, who must be feeling it ten times worse then you were, but it was the fact that in this moment you were bonded by a shared fear but that fear could be eventually overcame by the pair of you working together. ‘It’s okay baby it’s okay, we’re not going anywhere, they can’t make us because we’re stronger together.’ You spoke into the skin of his cheek as you finished pressed a thousand kisses onto them.

‘Stronger together.’ Jason echoed as he pressed himself further against you to feel you closer to him. ‘We’re stronger together.’ You smiled softly, seeing that you finally go through to him somewhat. However you were more than willing to stand in this position all night if it meant bringing Jason back from the edge within his mind because nothing was more important than having your Jason back.

‘That’s right baby.’ You cooed. ‘We’re stronger together, nothing will tear us apart.’

‘Promise?’ Jason asked looking deep into your eyes, it felt as though he was looking at you rather then through you which has your breath hitching in your throat momentarily.

‘I promise.’

[muzansfangs]

Coitus interrupted.

Starring: Kokushibo x f!reader; Muzan x f!reader (separetely).

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (reader receiving), language, breeding kink, mention to pregnacy (Muzan’s part), dirty talk, hair pulling, creampie

Format: short imagines.

Plot: you and your boyfriend were having a steamy make out session, but one thing leads to another and you found yourselves moaning each others name. Everything was great, until someone interrupted you. Will it kill the mood, or ignite a devious spark within them?

Author note: Dear anon, I have lost your message, but here we are! I hope you’re going to enjoy this! And, honestly, if something like that ever happened to me, I’d die of embarrassment. Oh, wait, it kind of happened once -.-“

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Muzan Kibutsuji.

Nights like this, when he came back from his business trips and his hunger for you had skyrocketed throughout the week, mind fuzzy for the hours spent in yearning for your touch, were the best ones. You knew he did not hold back.

Eyes clouded over in lust, he had discarded his briefcase carelessly on the couch and marched towards you, who were staring at him in adoration just a few feet away from him. You did not have time to greet him properly, his lips harshly captured yours in a fervent kiss. His hand slided behind your neck, tilting your head to the side for granting him a better access to your mouth.

After a couple of minutes, he pulled back to catch his breath and pressed his forehead against yours “Yes, I have missed you. – he breathed out, pushing you against the wall, careful to shield your nape from the impact by securing his hand on the back of your head – I am sorry, love, but I can’t wait” he purred, burying his mouth onto the crook of your neck and nibbling at the tender flesh in search for your sweet spot.

A series of throaty moans left your parted lips, your fingers tangling into his dark locks, as you hoisted your leg over his hip to pull him closer to you “Someone’s hungry, I see” you whispered, biting your lower lip as one of his hand slipped between you two to work on unbluckling his belt. Muzan grinned, his plum red eyes boring into yours as he finally got to unzip his trousers.

“I am so sorry for your cunt, darlin’, but my cock is begging me to let it ruin you – he uttered, hiking your skirt up to expose your clothed core and hastily pushing your panties to the side – Scream for me” he said, a devious smirk crossing his face as he freed his bulge from his tight boxer and dragged it up and down your wet folds.

Your hands gripped his firm biceps as you nodded your head at him, eager to finally welcome his shaft back between your warm walls. He did not need anything else, the pleading look in your eyes was enough to make him understand how badly you wanted it. With a quick, deep thrust he entered you. You cupped his smooth cheeks between your hands and moaned into his mouth, as he bottomed out.

“Fuck— All those years of fucking and you’re still as tight as the first time I fucked your little cunt” he hissed, his hips snapping up with deep and harsh thrust.

You moaned again, mind already fuzzy as your half-lidded eyes stared at an indefinite point behind his back. It was right in the middle of your steamy reaunion, lost into your ecstasy, that you thought you were allucinating, when you spotted a tall figure on the threshold. You squinted and you finally recognized him.

“Fuck, Kokushibo!” you squeaked out panicking, only to make Muzan freeze solid. What the hell did you just say? Were you screaming another man’s name, while climaxing around him? Did you cheat on him?

His blood ran cold as his hand grasped your jaw roughly and his plum red pinned you on the spot “What the fuck did you say, love? What’s with Kokushibo? Did he f—” he started, his voice dropping of a few octaves in a threatening tone.

“Kokushibo’s here, Muzan! Turn around!” you cut him off, cheeks flushing up in embarrassment as your husband processed what you had just said. He whipped his head to the side, glancing over his shoulder, and he saw his coworker staring at his feet uncomfortably.

Muzan sighed, his irritation fading away instantly as he nodded his head at tall man who had interrupted your reunion “What’s the matter?” he flatly asked, as you hid your face onto his chest in shame. You wanted to disappear, let the floor swallow you, but it was impossible and you were forced to stay still and witness to your worst nightmare.

Kokushibo cleared his throat, showing a phone to Muzan, before settling it on the nearest coffee table “Y-You had forgotten your phone in my car, I… See you tomorrow” the poor man stammered, blushing and stumbling towards the front door to make his getaway from the crime scene.

“Wanna stay for the show? Have you heard how delightful her moans are? – Muzan teased you and his coworker, giving you a hursh thrust to make you squeal out in pleasure – Damn, I’mma fuck a baby into you tonight” he hoarsely said, turning his head back towards you and ignoring the fact that Kokushibo had not wasted any more precious time to leave your house.

“M-Muzan, please…” you whined, staring up at him bashfully.

He chortled, picking you up and walking towards the couch, dropping you onto it and helping you to get on all four “Beg all you want, darling. I am a little bit upset you know? For a second, I had thought you had cheated on him with him. – he said through gritted teeth, grabbing a fist of your hair and forcing you to arch your back for him – Consider this my payback” he added, before shoving his length into you again.

And, dear God, he lasted for hours and, maybe, he really got you pregnant that night.

Kokushibo.

You were sitting on Kokushibo’s lap, wearing nothing but your panties and one of his oversized t-shirts, as you watched a movie at this place. The summer heat was too intense to go out and you had thought that, staying over and cuddling with the help of the cool the air-conditioner, was a good idea. Additionally, Yoriichi would have not come back until later in the evening and it was your chance to finally have some privacy with your boyfriend.

You were fidgeting with your bracelet absent-mindedly, when it slipped your fingers and landed underneath the coffee table at your feet.

You were still focused on the screen, not really paying much attention to your boyfriend, when you climbed down from his lap and bent to the floor to reach it. Unfortunately, you had to stretch your arm a little more to get it and you were forced to slither down until your chest grazed the carpet and your ass was held up by the pose you had struck, exposing it at the vicious maroon eyes of the Tsugikuni twin.

You had finally grasped your silvery bracelet, when you yelped out in surprise at the sudden smack on your arse. You blushed, glancing over your shoulder to shoot an interrogative look at your boyfriend “What was that?” you asked him, arching an eyebrow up as you slowly stood up.

He did not reply at first, he sighed and simply grabbed the remote, turning off the tv. You knew something was on his mind by the way he was taking his time in pondering what to do. You cocked your head to the side, sitting down beside him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“What’s wrong, babe?” you whispered, resting your chin on the top of his shoulder as you waited for him to open up and speak his thoughts.

“Sit on my face… – he blurted down then, placing his large hand on your thigh and giving it a firm squeeze – Please” he added shortly, sending shivers down your spine. His tone was serious, his eyes sparkling with a malicious glint that only revealed what he had in store for you. You blushed as his hand travelled up your leg, until he reached the hem of your panties. You knew exactly what you had to do. Kokushibo praised you day and night and was not a selfish man seeking only his ultimate pleasure. However, when it came down to giving head, he was definitely prone to be a receiver, not a giver and you would have been damned, if you were going to lose your chance to enjoy a good oral session.

Therefore, you stood up, watching your boyfriend laying on his back, moistening his lips in anticipation. You did not waste time in getting rid of your panties and, with Kokushibo’s help, you straddled his face. Once your heat was right above his mouth, you felt his tongue licking a stripe down your folds, eliciting a soft moan from you. His hands gripped your legs, caging you into this position, enjoying the way you squirmed above him with every flick of his tongue.

“Koku— Argh, please, don’t stop” you cried out, lolling your head back in ecstasy as he sucked on your throbbing clitoris.

You were so lost into the realm of pleasure, eyes closed as you neared your climax, that you had not noticed your brother-in-law staring at you riding his brother’s face. You moaned, arching your back as your orgasm engulfed your stomach, causing the shy twin to drop his packets in shock.

Your eyes snapped open, shrieking in fear, as you quickly tried to pull the shirt down to cover your pussy from the other twin’s eyes “Yoriichi! Gosh! Don’t stand here!” you yelled, hopping down from the couch and from of your boyfriend’s face. Kokushibo was absolutely shocked, face beet red as he wiped away your juices coating his chin with the back of his hand.

“I think I’ve forgotten to… buy something” Yoriichi commented, leaving the living room in a nick of time.

Your boyfriend, naturally, did not recover from the traumatic event he had just experienced. He would have never forgotten Yoriichi’s face staring at you two judgementally. From that day on, you two only made love in your house, safe from Yoriichi’s eyes.

Dt: @doumaslotus @doumadono @tired-writer04 @astrasolitaris @koyuki-the-flower my lovely icons❤️

[prismuffin]

May i ask for a one shot pls.

Can it be where the reader and miles is dating, but she's been acting weird and mile finds out there is a new spider man, and its really the reader.

A/n: wow It’s been a minute since I’ve written a full fic no? Pris is almost back babyyy~

Coincidence

Miles Morales x fem!spiderman!reader

( summary: being the new Spider-Man is hard, but hiding it from your boyfriend is harder )

!-!more under the cut!-!

You groaned as you walked through the hallway, stretching and rolling your shoulders to loosen the aching pain that spread across your entire body. You were sore, though after a night full of training how to swing around the city and stop crime you weren't the least bit surprised that it was so.

“Ayo Miles!”

The sound of your boyfriends name pulled you away from your mind as you turned towards the direction of the shout. There he was, Miles Morales, your boyfriend who you’ve been promptly ignoring for the past week and a half. You feel like shit for it but not too long ago you got bitten by a radioactive spider and became somewhat of a new Spider-Man, a Spider-Woman if you will. You’re still getting used to the new gig and the powers that come along with it and in your conflicted state you’ve been ignoring not only Miles but the rest of your friends as well.

You turned back around, not missing how his eyes barely caught yours right before you did and started walking towards your final class of the day.

Just one more class and then you could go....fight crime- after homework of course! Once again, you've been so swamped with this new Spider-Woman gig recently it's really had a terrible impact on your life. Your stress shot up after you scrambled to get your work completed so that you could train to help save the city that never sleeps. You never took that nickname more seriously in your life. It also sucks that your social life has dropped immensely. No more after school hangouts with friends let alone your boyfriend who you feel so bad for blowing off. Sometimes you think life would be better if you just cut everyone around you off but you don't want to lose them it just seems like the easy way out.

—TS—

You bolted out of your seat as the bell rang, dashing through the schools halls before the mass of students could begin to overwhelm them. You needed to get to Mays, do some calculus work, then suit up-

“Y/n!”

You shoes screeched against the floors as you stopped yourself from crashing into Miles, who stood in front of the main entrance, arms out ready to catch you if you tripped. You stopped in his arms and he firmly held you from falling forwards. You breathed heavily as you pulled back from him. "Why are you-" looking up, you winced as your senses skyrocketed, your "Spidey-senses" were activating as you looked at Miles, a sense of familiarity filled your mind.

"You're just like...-" Miles started, his eyes searching yours for any type of answer but you quickly remembered where you were supposed to be. "Miles! I-I gotta go-" You moved around him and dashed out the door, ignoring his calls for you to come back. With your backpack in hand you ran into the subway station, ready to head to May's house. She had found you initially after you'd been bitten, recognized the symptoms and took you in under her wing. She got you web-shooters and a suit and allowed you to train in the confines of the Spider-Lair.

Today was meant to be your debut! You were gonna go out, save a few civilians, meet the Spider-Man that had appeared after the original had died and make your name as Spider-Woman. But that's after you help May with her banana bread recipe.

Knocking on her door you smiled at the sight of the older woman as she opened it. She greeted you, beckoning you inside after introductions were done. The rest of your afternoon was spent finishing that calculus work and making banana bread.

After finishing both tasks were completed, you were ready to make your debut, but the doorbell had delayed that. You looked at May in confusion as she smirked and stood. "There's a slight change in plans," "what?" You wondered aloud as your eyes followed her across the room. "I wanted you to meet Spider-man first, get yourselves acquainted before I sent you out on patrols for the first time." She said as she closed in on the front door, grabbing the knob, she cleared her throat a bit before opening it. You could hear her greet someone, you could see the side of his suit so you knew it was the Spider-man. You turned away to calm yourself as the reality truly sunk in that you were about to meet spiderman, hero of New York!

May cleared her throat, "Y/n this is Miles, or Spiderman and Miles this is-" "Miles?" "Y/n?" You turned around quickly, noticing Spiderman's shocked expression as he stared at you. May's eyes flickered in between you both, her expression becoming increasingly more confused. "I knew it! I knew I felt something earlier- What is- You're a Spider-man too?!" Miles yelled, pulling his mask off near the end of his sentence. "Spider-Woman actually-" May corrected him and your heart sped up as you stared at the previously masked mans face. "I- I didn't- Miles? You're Spider-man!! And you never told me?!" You yelled in shock and he crossed his arms. "Technically I can be mad at you for the same thing." You shook your head, laughing in disbelief before a silence overtook you two.

"So, I'm guessing you both know each other than."

"She's my girlfriend-" May gasped, standing there for a moment before clapping her hands together. "This is great news! See, you both already know and care for each other so you're sure to have each others backs on the streets." You blinked and sighed at the enthusiasm of the older woman. "Let's go to the lair shall we?" She walked off, leaving you and Miles to follow her but you stopped him before he could.

"Can we just- talk for a second?" You asked and he sighed and nodded, leaning against the circular table in the kitchen. "Look I- I never meant to ignore you- well I did! But only until I figured all this stuff out. I was bit by some kind of spider, May found me and took me in, I've been training with her for a while and it's been really stressful." Miles eyebrows creased at the sight of your saddening expression. "Yeah I get what you mean, it took me a while to find a good balance." He scratched the side of his head, looking away from you for a moment. "We're still good right?" He asked and you immediately nodded, a small smile growing on your face. "Yeah we're still good Miles." You stepped closer to him and he followed your lead, grabbing you and bringing you into a solid hug before kissing the side of your cheek. You laughed as you pulled back, still holding each other comfortably. "I can't believe my boyfriend is Spider-man!" "I can't believe my girlfriend is Spider-woman!" He laughed along with you, the previous tension being forgotten as the humor swept it away.

"We probably shouldn't keep May waiting," you said, still giggling from the previous conversation. "Yeahhh good idea, lets go." You both started making your way to the backyard, and for the first time in almost two weeks, you held your boyfriends hand.

———

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my SLOTS & Request Info first!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

[lifebloa]

İO-GAMES-2025 - DEVASA+

These browser-based multiplayer games have taken the online gaming community by storm, offering a unique blend of simplicity and competitiveness that appeals to players of all ages. Whether you're looking to battle against others in real-time or collaborate in a delightful, chaotic environment, IO games provide a thrilling escape from your daily routine. In this blog post, we'll explore various aspects of IO games, including how to access them without restrictions, the most popular titles in the genre, and tips for unlocking your gaming experience.

As the world of online gaming continues to evolve, the rise of io games has captured the attention of players around the globe, combining simple mechanics with highly addictive gameplay.

One of the best places to explore the exciting realm of io games unblocked is at https://io-games-2025.github.io/, where players can dive into a variety of thrilling and entertaining games without the hindrance of restrictions, making it an ideal site for those looking to enjoy the best of these experiences.

Whether you are an experienced gamer or a newcomer eager to join in on the fun, accessing io unblocked games provides a fantastic opportunity to enjoy seamless gaming without barriers, allowing for endless hours of enjoyment

İo Games

When discussing the evolution and popularity of online gaming, one cannot overlook the immense impact of io games, a genre that has captured the attention of millions across the globe through its simple yet engaging gameplay mechanics, which allow players to enter a world of competition and collaboration instantly.

The appeal of io games unblocked lies in their accessibility; players can often access these games from various locations, whether in a school setting or at home, without the restrictions typically imposed by firewalls, allowing for a seamless gaming experience that fosters both casual play and competitive spirit among friends and strangers alike.

Moreover, the concept of io unblocked games has revolutionized how gamers interact with one another, as these easily accessible online platforms enable innovation in game design, giving rise to diverse game modes, styles, and strategies that keep players engaged for hours on end.

İo Games Unblocked

In recent years, the popularity of io games has skyrocketed, captivating players across various age groups with their simplicity, engaging gameplay, and competitive nature, making them a staple in the online gaming community.

One of the most significant advantages of io games unblocked is that they provide players with the opportunity to enjoy these games anywhere, whether that be at home, school, or in a public space, without facing the frustrating restrictions typically set by network administrators.

Additionally, the availability of io unblocked versions means that gamers can easily access their favorite titles without worrying about pesky firewalls or filters, allowing them to dive into fun and challenging adventures on platforms that support unblocked content.

İo Unblocked

When it comes to enjoying the online gaming experience, io unblocked games have become a popular choice among players who seek both entertainment and accessibility, as they provide a vast array of engaging options that can be played directly in the browser without hefty downloads or installations.

The appeal of io games lies in their simplicity and competitive nature, allowing players to jump right into action, whether they're engaging in a thrilling battle royale, a strategic team-based game, or a unique multiplayer experience that keeps them coming back for more fun.

Many gamers, especially students or individuals in restricted environments, have turned to io games unblocked options to bypass limitations imposed by schools or workplaces, ensuring they can continue to enjoy their favorite gaming experiences

[curatorofvibes]

Observations

Photograph from Stefan & Audrey Photography

Don’t let astrology limit you, you can be who dream you are and have the relationship you dream of!

༄ Solar Return ༄

These observations are based on both personal experience and the experiences of those in my life.

ᥫ᭡ Scorpio Rising in the Solar Return Chart

-Becoming aware of what’s holding you back and taking steps towards shedding that skin

-Wanting to grow and move on from the past

-Wanting to evolve

-Focused on self-improvement and development

-Wanting to ”glow-up” in every way, mentally, physically, and spiritually

-Keeping this process and journey of self to self, not really sharing with others what you’re going through internally

-Forming better habits in life

-Holding yourself accountable

-Wanting your actions to reflect your words

-Feeling a sense of maturity, as if you’re letting go of who you once were to welcome the being under the shedded skin, a rebirth

ᥫ᭡ Moon in the 7th house in the Solar Return Chart

-Wanting to keep the peace and be more diplomatic

-Realizing that sometimes it’s best to not say the first thing that comes to mind, but to be more kind and considerate of other peoples feelings and emotions

-Learning that everything you think, doesn’t have to be said

-Wanting to please others and make them feel good about themselves through the way you express your thoughts and emotions

-Putting more effort in your grooming and appearance

-Feeling an urge to be romantically involved or emotionally closer to others

ᥫ᭡ Mercury in the 11th house in the Solar Return Chart

-Urge to connect to people and socialize more

-Wanting to go out and meet new people

-Wanting to improve social and conversational skills

-Wanting to make friends with others, even those completely different from who you are

-Not wanting to be around an echo-chamber

ᥫ᭡ Uranus in the 10th house in the Solar Return Chart

-Unexpected career change

-Being sort of forced to make a career move

-Finally quitting an undesirable work environment

ᥫ᭡ Pluto in the 3rd house in the Solar Return Chart

-Meeting people who unintentionally encourage you to stand up for yourself and speak up more. For example, people can say things that you don’t agree with and normally you would ignore it, but for some reason you just can’t, you have to say something

ᥫ᭡ Mars in the 12th house in the Solar Return Chart

-Hiding and concealing your anger

༄ Numerology ༄

Through the information on numerology provided by @lilithgreye and @astrosky33 Tumblr accounts I was able to make these observations based on both personal experience and the experiences of those in my life.

➷ Personal Year #3

-Feeling like everything is going right in life, can’t lose

-Letting the inner child free

-Simply joyful

-So many new and fun memories with family and friends

-Traveling A LOT or after yeaarrrssss since the last trip

-Positive impact on confidence in a way that the effects can still be felt years down the line due to how unforgettable the year was

➷ Personal Year #5

-Long travels

-Finally doing fun activities always wanted to try

-A change in schools

-Overall, enjoyable year

➷ Personal Year #7

-Confidence and self-esteem skyrocketed

-Spending a lot of time alone, more than usual and not by choice

-Using the alone time to pour love into self and take care of self

-On the other hand, feeling very loved and receiving a lot of people expressing their love and appreciation during this time

➷ Personal Year #8

-Getting a job leading to financial stability

➷ Personal Year #9

-Going back to school

-Feeling very insecure and filled with anxiety

-Confusing and frustrating time

➷ Personal Year #1

-Feeling very liberated, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon

-New experiences, emotions, just feeling very open-minded to new ways of life and living

-Definitely happy, blissful and new beginnings welcomed with open arms

༄ Random ༄

These observations are based on what I noticed tend to be prominent placements in the charts of professional wrestlers.

✿ North Node/Rahu - Mars Aspects

✿ Mars - Jupiter Aspects

✿ Serpent Yoni Nakshatra Placements (Rohini & Mrigashira, especially Mrigashira Mars)

✿ Mercury Nakshatra Placements (Ashlesha, Jyestha, Revati)

✿ Ketu Nakshatra Placements (Ashwini, Magha, Mula)

✿ 1, 3, 5, 8, 9 numerology (according to numerologists, 1 is associated with leadership and athletes, 3 is associated with communication and comedy, 5 is associated with conventional beauty and entertaining, 8 is associated with karma and money, 9 is associated with adaptability and completion). I can see this making sense because in wrestling you have to have some form of athletic ability and be able to talk on the microphone, providing comedy when it is called for. A big part of being a wrestler has to do with your looks, so remaining fit, healthy, and attractive in some way, shape, or form to the audience, always providing entertainment. Seeing as plans can change within the blink of an eye or anything can happen, you have to have the ability to seamlessly adapt on the spot without making it obvious to the audience that it wasn’t in the original plans. With 8 numerology, I noticed wrestlers who have it tend to be very well-regarded and/or see success outside of the wrestling business.

✴︎ In regards to 8 numerology, in letterology the capital letter R is 44 (4 + 4 = 8). I noticed wrestlers with this letter capitalized in their names tend to be known outside of the wrestling business (For example: The Rock, Rhea Ripley, Roman Reigns, etc.)

Notes:

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson (Mula Moon, Revati Mercury atmakaraka, Mrigashira Venus & Mars, Rohini Saturn | 8 numerology)

Trish Stratus (Mula Sun, Mrigashira Mars, Revati Jupiter | 9 numerology)

Steve “Sting” Borden (North Node/Rahu trine Mars; Revati Mercury & Ketu, Ashwini Venus, Mrigashira Mars, Mula Saturn)

Adam “Edge” Copeland (Mars square Jupiter, North Node/Rahu trine Mars; Mula Moon & Rahu, Jyestha Venus atmakaraka, Ashwini Mars | 3 numerology)

Amy “Lita” Dumas (North Node/Rahu square Mars; Ashwini Sun, Revati Mercury atmakaraka, Mrigashira ASC | 5 numerology)

Rey Mysterio (Jyestha Sun atmakaraka & Mercury, Mula Venus, Ketu in Rohini | 8 numerology)

Kenny Omega (Mars square Jupiter; Ketu in Jyestha, Rahu in Mrigashira)

Christian Cage (North Node/Rahu trine Mars; Ashwini Mars, Ketu in Mrigashira, Rahu in Mula | 3 numerology)

Bianca Belair (Revati Sun & Venus, Ashwini Mercury, Mrigashira Mars, Rohini Jupiter, Ketu in Magha | 9 numerology)

Kurt Angle (Mars Trine Jupiter; Jyestha Sun, Mula Mercury, Ashwini Saturn | 1, 9 numerology)

These observations are based on a pattern that I noticed in Saturn Atmakaraka Natives which mainly is that they tend to have success longevity, beginning from around the ages of 30-35+.

Miley Cyrus (19° Shravana pada 3, 10th house)

notes: released her song flowers at the age of 30 which led to her winning her first Grammy Award at the age of 31. Maybe hers being in the 10th house shows themes of her career success or longevity in her career (?) since shes been working since she was a child and is still receiving accolades and royalties.

Vanessa Williams (25° Dhanishtha pada 1, 8th house)

notes: recently released a music video with choreography at the age of 61.

Mike White (25° Bharani pada 4, 8th house)

notes: season one of the white lotus released when he was at the age of 51 and is currently his biggest success in his career (based off of how well-acclaimed it is) since he released school of rock in 2003 at the age of 33.

༄ Vedic Astrology ༄

Through the information on vedic astrology provided by @youremyheaven and @venussaidso Tumblr accounts, along with Claire Nakti’s and The Hidden Octave’s @thehiddenoctave YouTube channels, I was able to make these observations. They’re not in-depth, they’re based off of random things I noticed in some of my sources of entertainment that I felt connected to things others have observed in these placements.

ೃ༄ Actors ೃ༄

H. Jon Benjamin (Krittika Sun, Mercury, Mars & Rahu)

Is the voice actor of Sterling Archer In the show “Archer”.

✴︎ Says : “I’m not really much of a planner.” (connects to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Sun-Ruled nakshatra natives being people who don’t really plan for things and who rely on improvisation)

Jason Sudeikis (Sun in Uttara Phalguni and Ketu in Krittika)

Plays Ted Lasso in the show “Ted Lasso”.

✴︎ A manager/coach with carefree energy, improvisation and not really planning anything (connects to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Sun-Ruled nakshatra natives being people who don’t really plan for things and who rely on improvisation)

Leo Woodall (Uttara Phalguni Sun)

Plays Jack in the show “The White Lotus”.

✴︎ Came across as pretending to be a “himbo”

✴︎ Bad boy charm with undertones of sadness and inner conflict

Alan Ritchson (Anuradha Sun)

Plays Jack Reacher in the show “Reacher”.

✴︎ Says : “That takes time, which is something I have in great quantity.” Can relate to Saturn’s connection to time (?)

✴︎ Skillful and rebellious character

Juno Temple (Pushya Sun)

Plays Keeley Jones in the show “Ted Lasso”.

✴︎ Her character was highly sought after by men and sexualized (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Pushya nakshatra natives)

✴︎ Her character was kickass in a male dominated field (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Saturn-Ruled nakshatras natives being in male dominated fields in films)

(Magha Venus & Ketu)

Plays Keeley Jones in the show “Ted Lasso”.

✴︎ Her character had a sex tape leaked which can connect to the Magha yoni animal being exploited (?)

✴︎ The character is open about her sexual curiosities (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Magha natives being open about their sexual curiosities)

Hannah Waddingham (Pushya Sun)

Plays Rebecca Welton in the show “Ted Lasso”.

✴︎ Her character was kickass with a masculine edge in a male dominated field as the owner of a football club (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Saturn-Ruled nakshatras natives being in male dominated fields in films)

✴︎ Her & Keeley’s character (both Pushya Suns) had respect for each other and their strengths

✴︎ Her character could easily destroy the male ego (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Saturn-Ruled nakshatras)

✴︎ Very disciplined character with a sharp and stern personality (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Saturn-Ruled nakshatras natives)

Vanessa Williams (Uttara Bhadrapada Sun)

Plays Renee Perry in the show “Desperate Housewives”.

✴︎ Her character was described as having a, “style seems to be more like chrome and glass and teeth” teeth being apart of the description of Saturn

Marcia Cross (Uttara Bhadrapada Sun)

Plays Bree Van de Kamp in the show “Desperate Housewives”.

✴︎ Her character described as suppressing emotions, stoic, cold, and tightly wound. (In relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Saturn-Ruled nakshatra leading to being emotionally hardened)

✴︎ Her character described as courteous, elegant, graceful, never letting people know what she’s thinking

✴︎ Her character described as an “ice princess”

✴︎ Her character described as too resilient, always bouncing back (In relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of having Saturn-Ruled nakshatras allowing one to naturally adapt by building upon virtues such as personal restraint and composure)

✴︎Said about her character : “No matter what the circumstances, Bree Van de Kamp always found a way to stay in control. She curbed her impulses. She enforced a strict dress code. She maintained a strong moral center. Yes, Bree was always in control, so when it came to handling a crisis… It made perfect sense that she was in the driver’s seat.”

Marcia Gay Harden (Ketu in Uttara Bhadrapada & Pushya Mercury)

Plays Margaret Wright in the show “So Help Me Todd”.

✴︎ Her character described as a controlling mother

✴︎ Says : “I’m not judgmental, I’m a realist.”

Emmanuelle Beart (Ashlesha Sun atmakaraka, Venus & ASC)

Plays Claire Phelps in the movie “Mission Impossible”.

✴︎ Her character is meant to manipulate Ethan through seduction into believing he can trust her after her and her husband fake his death in order to frame Ethan for being a mole. Like a snake, connected to the Naga Diety of this nakshatra, she had to be secretive and stealthy.

Cillian Murphy (Rohini Sun)

Plays Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow in the movie “Batman Begins”.

✴︎ His character is a psychologist who studies peoples fears in particular and uses it against them as a way to gain control over them. Can connect to observation made by those who study Vedic saying that Moon-Ruled nakshatra people study other people

✴︎ The actor himself has Intoxicating eyes and is a private person, not on social media (serpent yoni)

Paul Johansson (Shravana Sun & Mars)

Plays Dan Scott in the show “One Tree Hill”.

✴︎ His character killed his own brother then framed it on someone who committed suicide

✴︎ His character likes to tell elaborate manipulative lies that are hard to disprove (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras)

✴︎ His character manipulates his own son into doing what he wants (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras)

✴︎ If you wrong his character, he WILL get revenge and try to one-up you (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras)

Chad Michael Murray (Magha Sun)

Plays Lucas Scott in in the show “One Tree Hill”.

✴︎ His character wanted to change his last name due to a dilemma on who fathered him. His Uncle Keith was more of a father figure than his actual dad who basically disowned him (in connection to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Magha Nakshatra being associated with ancestry roots and the origins of oneself)

✴︎ Says : “For the longest time I’ve been an outsider.”

✴︎ His character was romantically connected to a Punaravasu woman in the show and chased after her despite her wanting to be “non-exclusive” at first. Despite his connection with the Punarvasu woman, his attraction for the Ardra woman (can connect to observation made by Vedic astrologers of nodal placements being attracted to each other) that he was attracted to from the very first episode never waned

✴︎ Says to the Ardra woman : “I kind of have this habit of crawling into my shell.” (Can maybe connect to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Ketu-Ruled nakshatra natives being inwardly drawn?)

Anthony Head (Ketu in Punarvasu)

Plays Rupert Mannion in the show “Ted Lasso”.

✴︎ Although a villainous character, he had a story of being a poor boy when young and sneaking into the stadium to watch matches, getting kicked out by a security guard (who he eventually repaid with a raise in the future), to eventually becoming a billionaire and owning his boyhood football club. (This is in connection to the Vasutva Prapana Shakti of this nakshatra which is, “the power to gain wealth or substance”)

✴︎ His character struggled with commitment, but towards the end of the show it did seem like he was on the path to becoming a better person (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Punarvasu natives who tend to struggle with commitment)

Sophia Bush (Punarvasu Sun)

Plays Brooke Davis in the show “One Tree Hill”.

✴︎ Her character was once referred to as “Miss Sunshine” (in relation to to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Punarvasu nakshatra natives being able to easily bring light and optimism to situations)

✴︎ Her character is very optimistic and playful, yet aloof and cold to ppl who try to befriend her friends

✴︎ Her character was romantically connected to a Magha man in the show and he chased after her (in connection to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Jupiter nakshatras natives being emotionally spacious with the ability to hold a lot within them and Ketu nakshatra natives being attracted to them because they’re pulled in by that expansiveness)

✴︎ Her character is a social butterfly

✴︎ By the time her character graduates high school, it was brought up how much she had grown as a person for the better within those 4 years (in connection to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Punarvasu nakshatras boundless nature that leaves a lot of room for growth)

✴︎ Her character’s parents were never around during her high school years, she basically lived alone or with friends

✴︎ Her character created her own fashion line called “clothes over bros” while in high school (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Punarvasu Nakshatra natives who tend to contribute a lot to the fashion world and in the show her clothing line brought her a lot of opportunities in the fashion industry)

Hilarie Burton (Ardra Sun)

Plays Peyton Sawyer in the show “One Tree Hill”.

✴︎ Her character’s mom died when she was young

✴︎ Her character wasn’t addicted, but was sucked into doing cocaine a few times

✴︎ Her character identified with loneliness and being a talented artist, expresses how she feels internally through her art (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Ardra being a Rahu-Ruled nakshatra and being internally spacious, trying to find ways to fill up that emptiness through external sources)

✴︎ Says : “You don’t know anything about my pain.”

✴︎ Wants to be immersed by her love for Jake and went above and beyond for him and his daughter Jenny, he left her in the end to find his daughter and she was broken by this love (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Nodal nakshatra natives tending to be obsessive in romance to feel more stable)

✴︎ Her biological mom that she did not know about comes back into her life at 17 and says she left because she liked drugs more than she liked her child. Went through a lot of life changes for a 17 year old (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Ardra nakshatras natives often going through traumatic events in life that they have to deal with alone)

✴︎ Hides behind her sadness and art

✴︎ Her character loses her biological mother to cancer and her adopted mother to a car crash, her adopted father is always traveling for work so he is hardly ever around and she never knew her biological father (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Ardra nakshatras natives often going through traumatic events in life that they have to deal with alone)

✴︎ Had an obsessed stalker who pretended to be her long lost brother (in relation to the observation, are by Vedic astrologers of Rahu Nakshatra natives being often seen in the charts of people who can be the source of other people’s obsessions and unwanted attention)

✴︎ Painted a dog on her bedroom wall as a “watchdog” for protection after her stalker situation (which can maybe connect to the Dog Yoni of this nakshatra?)

ೃ༄ Football Managers/Coaches ೃ༄

José Mourinho (Shravana Sun, Moon & Saturn)

Outcast Nakshatra native and a popular/well-regarded football manager/coach.

✴︎ Started out as a translator for FC Barcelona before becoming “one of the world’s greatest managers” (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Shravana nakshatra being a common placement in the charts of polyglots)

✴︎ Calls himself “A Special One” which can be connected to Shravana being labeled “The Chosen One” (?)

✴︎ Said about Mourinho : “He could see the future, what the opposition would do… what substitutions the opposition’s coach would make.” (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Shravana nakshatra being a common placement in the charts of mind-readers and psychics)

✴︎ Said about Mourinho : “He told us he wasn’t interested in fair play or a positive image. Only in winning. He managed to bring qualities out of me that I didn’t even know I had.” (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Shravana natives having the ability to open the qualities of others that they have trouble accessing)

Carlo Ancelotti (Uttara Phalguni ASC)

Outcast Nakshatra native and a popular/well-regarded Italian football manager/coach.

✴︎ Nicknamed “Don Carlo”

✴︎ Said about Ancelotti after Real Madrid beat Manchester City in the 2024 quarterfinals of the Champions League : “As a man, Carlo just fills you with calmness and confidence. Before the game, I caught him yawning and asked him: ‘Boss, are you tired?’ He said you need to go and excite me out there. That’s the calmness and confidence he brings.” Which can be an example of his carefree energy as a Sun nakshatra native, observed by Vedic astrologers

✴︎ It is said that as a manager/coach, he doesn’t really have specific instructions and allows his players to have freedom and creativity on the field and in how they adapt and approach the game. Also, described as a very versatile and creative manager/coach. This all connects to Sun nakshatra natives being described as people who don’t really plan for things and relying on improvisation

✴︎ This praise can also relate to the criticism that he receives, a lot of people say that his tactics are “just vibes” which can relate again to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of the carefree energy and improvisation that Sun nakshatra natives tend to have and rely on in life

ೃ༄ Musicians ೃ༄

Edgar Varèse (Rahu in Swati & Ardra ASC)

French Composer.

✴︎ Created music with a futuristic focus conceived of as “bodies of sound in space”

✴︎ Focus on merging science and music together

Avril Lavigne (Hasta Sun & ASC)

✴︎ song “Girlfriend” asking someone to break up with their girlfriend to get with her

Ariana Grande (Hasta Moon)

✴︎ song “break up with you girlfriend, I’m bored”

(this one is my observation, I just thought it was interesting)

Melanie Martinez (Bharani Sun)

✴︎ Her song “DEATH” starts out by saying “death is life”, and talks about being back from the dead (in relation to this nakshatras Diety being, Yama, aka “God of Death”/“Catcher of Souls”/“The Final Judge”)

ೃ༄ Wrestlers ೃ༄

Drew McIntyre (Rohini Sun & Mercury and Mrigashira Mars)

✴︎ Intoxicating eyes (serpent yoni)

✴︎ Long hair (in connection to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of it being common for Moon-Ruled Nakshatra men to grow out their hair and leave it long. His Rohini placements, he also has a Shravana Jupiter)

Mike “The Miz” Mizanin (Hasta Sun atmakaraka & Moon)

✴︎ A wrestler who is known for his good wrestler impersonations (in relation to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Hasta natives being linked to impersonation)

Toni Storm (Chitra Sun & Rahu)

✴︎ Wrestler with an Old Hollywood Starlet gimmick as “Timeless” Toni Storm inspired by the movies “All About Eve (1950)” and “Sunset Boulevard (1950)” (connecting to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Chitra/Mars-ruled nakshatras being common in the charts of old Hollywood starlets)

Roman Reigns (Rohini Sun, Mrigashira Mars, and Shravana Jupiter)

✴︎ Plays a wrestling character who is incapable of seeing his flaws

✴︎ Doesn’t see how his actions hurt others or is wrong

✴︎ Doesn’t feel guilt or remorse

✴︎ Difficult for him to trust others (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras. His Rohini & Shravana placements)

✴︎ Makes you question your own motives. Manipulator (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras. His Rohini & Shravana placements)

✴︎ Compensates for his bruised ego by finding a way to one-up you (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras. His Rohini & Shravana placements)

✴︎ Concerned with how others perceive him… wanting them to “acknowledge” him (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras. His Rohini & Shravana placements)

✴︎ Does not like appearing weak or being vulnerable (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras. His Rohini & Shravana placements)

✴︎ Uses his opponents vulnerabilities against them (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras. His Rohini & Shravana placements)

✴︎ As a heel character he says and does terrible things, but still enjoys a good reputation by the audience (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras. His Rohini & Shravana placements)

✴︎ Obsessed with power (in relation to the observations made by Vedic astrologers of Moon-Ruled nakshatras. His Rohini & Shravana placements)

✴︎ Long hair (in connection to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of it being common for Moon-Ruled Nakshatra men to grow out their hair and leave it long. His Rohini & Shravana placements)

✴︎ In connection to the serpent yoni of the Rohini and Mrigashira nakshatra placements, his private life off camera is typically kept under wraps and hidden (snakes being great at hiding), not much is known about who and what he does outside of the “Roman Reigns” character he plays on television

Randy Orton (Revati Sun)

✴︎ Elephant yoni which is the largest yoni animal (?) and Randy is known for being a HUGE man in person

✴︎ He also has double Mercury-Ruled nakshatras in his big 3, his wrestling character is charismatic and manipulative in the sense that he’ll convince you that you’re allies, but ultimately you should never trust “the viper”

(Ashlesha ASC)

✴︎ Comes across as intimidating which can be in connection to the feline yoni of this nakshatra (?)

✴︎ The Visasleshana Shakti of this nakshatra is “the power to inflict poison” and he is known as “the viper” which is a venomous snake

✴︎ In connection to “the viper” nickname and this nakshatra is the Diety being, Naga, which is a serpent God. When he goes to the place where he hears voices in his head (can also connect to the observation made by Vedic astrologers of Ashlesha nakshatra natives being buried in their own subconscious minds and having inner conversations and narrations), he sort of moves like a snake that relies on its intuition in those moments

✴︎ His character is also one that you can’t trust, he’s sneaky and methodical and if you turn your back on him, he can attack you (with an RKO) out of nowhere… even if you’ve been led to believe that you’re friends or have formed an alliance

✴︎ Honestly, everything about him reminds me of a snake, from his appearance (especially in the year 2009 when his character derived pleasure in hurting others) to the way he moves, he’s so fast yet lethal at the same time and if you look into his eyes you can see that he’s probably thinking in his head what’s the best way to attack his opponent and catch them off guard for the win. Another nickname of his that can connect to these actions is, the “Apex Predator”

( I was really excited to share the Randy Orton observation ◡̈ )

I would like to state that I’m not an astrologer, so I hope that I wasn’t disrespectful to any astrologers with these observations in any way whatsoever (especially with the Vedic observations seeing as how there’s Hindu roots involved). This tumblr account has been fun, but I’ve reached the point where my pinned post is relatable to how I feel in real life, so I don’t plan on making anymore posts related to astrology or along those lines. If you would like to check out some of my previous astrology related content, they can be found under the tag #curatorofvibes. These observations were things I had written down over the years and I thought it best to share it with whomever comes across this post instead of just deleting them. Wishing everyone more life and more genuine love! ♡ ~ curatorofvibes

NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO REPOST, PLEASE GIVE CREDIT.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 4

Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words : 6k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, October 12; 9:20 AM - In Class

Exactly one week ago, I left Barcelona to join this school. I am slowly getting used to this new environment, even though it's not easy every day. Right now, I'm in my second hour of class, chatting quietly with Alexia. She is no longer as uptight and serious as she was at the beginning. We laugh and talk a lot. It's become a bad habit since we tend to lose focus on the lessons and get scolded by our teachers. Our laughter mingles with the sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway. The thick walls pick up every sound when the door is open. No one pays attention until there's a knock at the door. Silence reigns, except for my laughter, which I can't suppress. This earns me a stern look from my teacher, who walks towards the door to invite the unknown visitor in. He wouldn't have needed to bother when I see that it is my furious supervisor. Everyone shrinks back as she visually scans the room until she locks eyes with me. Her eyes narrow and turn black with anger. Alexia has to nudge me to stop my hysterical laughter.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Smith,” she begins without averting her eyes. “I just need to take a student who won’t be returning for the rest of the day. Could you inform your colleagues?”

“Oh, uh... Yes, of course, Miss Bronze.”

Even my teacher is intimidated by her. Pathetic. I understand better why my reputation has skyrocketed in just one week. Most people already know me as the brave student who dares to stand up to the commander. I am tired of this charade. I look to my neighbor for support, but she seems paralyzed by what’s happening. She recoils when Bronze slams her flat hands on my desk, making me jump. Our faces are just inches apart when I turn my head towards her.

“Hey!” I exclaim indignantly. “Be careful with the school property, come on!”

“Shut up, Ona. Just shut up if you don’t want to make me even angrier,” she threatens. “Pack your things. Now!”

She’s really fired up today! I’ve never seen her this angry or heard her use such a disdainful tone. I smile as I gather my things. I must not have been quick enough for her because she grabs my bag from the floor and starts packing my notebook herself while I collect my pens in my pencil case. I barely have time to close it before she snatches it from my hands and throws it into the bag. She shoves it against my chest so hard that my chair slides back from the impact.

“I hope you're ready because I won't spare you today. Move it, let's go.”

I barely have time to put on my camo jacket and sling my bag over my shoulder before she pushes me down the aisle to lead the way. I don’t resist and, more importantly, I don’t talk back. I barely dare to when she’s calm, so doing it now would be like challenging the devil himself. I’ve spent enough time with her last week to know her coldness and strength. I clearly don’t measure up, mentally or physically. I wait in the hallway while she apologizes for the disruption to my teacher. When she rejoins me, I instinctively lower my head to avoid her eyes. I might have pulled off the best trick of my life, but facing her imposing presence, I already dread what’s coming next.

“I don’t know how you managed to do what you did, but you’re in deep trouble!” she scolds.

The thought of denying it crosses my mind, but it wouldn’t help. My silence prompts her to pull my arm to move forward. She still holds me the same way, but this is the first time she’s hurt me this much. She’s really furious. I struggle to keep up with her pace. I say nothing, fearing she might speed up if I complain... But then, damn it, I shouldn’t just take it!

“It’s not like I didn’t warn you that I’d get revenge.”

She stops abruptly, making me instinctively step back after bumping into her. I regret my words the second her icy green eyes pierce through me. I swallow hard.

“You’re really just a poor idiot!” she spits. “You don’t understand anything! You want to play the one who’ll face the worst revenge? Fine, let’s play then! Now I don’t want to hear a word from you until I say so!”

My eyes widen in surprise. I already regret my unnecessary provocation. We reach the first floor of the instructors' dorms. She releases her painful grip only when we arrive at room 7. She roughly pushes me into the room I’ve recently become familiar with. I barely avoid falling headfirst due to her strength. It seems I deserve it now that I see the state of her place. Her room has the same furniture as mine. The only difference is the layout. She has a double bed – which looks more comfortable than my single bed – and her wardrobe stands next to the window. As for the desk, it’s on the opposite side.

“You’re going to tidy up this mess!” she exclaims. “I want everything back in its place! Not a single thing out of order, understood?”

“Don’t you like your new room? I think it’s pretty nice.”

“Don’t push me, Batlle. You don’t even realize what a slippery slope you’re on.”

Oh, I realize it, but it’s worth it. It’s all her fault. I warned her I would get revenge for what she made me endure.

“You shouldn’t have taken my phone and computer!” I retorted.

“And you shouldn’t have disrespected your superiors!” she raises her voice. “Clean up this mess!”

She drags the desk chair to the entrance and sits down. I watch her for a moment, quickly understanding that she will stay here until I finish. I sigh as I assess the extent of the damage. Her anger is justified, but so is mine. I rummaged through her stuff as much as she did through mine to find my hidden electronics. I am proud of my revenge idea.

Our relationship has deteriorated since the shower incident. She hasn't stopped punishing me for the slightest infraction. The first was for being late to my sports class on Thursday morning. As expected, I was sent to Bronze's office. Her decision was radical... I had two hours of personal training doing laps around the field.

Add to that my morning delays, which my bed continues to cause. For that, I got dishwashing duties in the cafeteria on Thursday and Friday after every meal. The upside was being assisted by Leah, who received the same punishment from Engen, Bronze's partner, for skipping classes. Time passed faster. We even ended our last day with a water fight that Bronze interrupted. I thought we would extend our punishment, but in the end, she just scolded us for being soaked and told us to clean up our mess.

I accepted all of this without complaint because it was expected. What I couldn't tolerate was her confiscating all my electronics behind my back just before the weekend. It didn’t take me long to notice and tell her what I thought. She justified her action by keeping her cool. It turns out she had learned about my inattentive and provocative behavior in class. She wanted to make me reflect over the weekend when my outing pass was denied. However, my cheekiness made her change her mind, and she decided to return my things at an unspecified time, more precisely when I had calmed down, according to her.

Because of her, I was irritated all weekend to the point of conducting my little investigation during her absence. My first idea was to find her room to recover my belongings. The problem was, I found nothing while searching it. I then changed my plans, not wanting to waste the opportunity. I knew it would drive her crazy to know I was here, so I emptied her wardrobe and all her drawers, scattering everything around. Surprisingly, I discovered nothing valuable. I expected her to look for me earlier this morning, but she must have been absent since it was Engen who checked our room. It’s a shame because Bronze missed my first-ever achievement of being ready on time. It takes me a good hour to finish cleaning her room. I intended to collapse onto the desk, but she stops me in my tracks.

“Uh-uh. Change the sheets on my bed while you’re at it.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“I’m sorry, OK?” I grumble. “I get it, I crossed the line! I just wanted to get my laptop and phone back!”

“You don’t get it at all,” she says in a dismissive tone. “You’re just trying to weasel your way out. If you really understood the lesson, you wouldn’t be talking back!”

I stay silent, faced with the truth. Her words won’t make me regret my actions. I step back as she gets up from her chair. I expected her to do something, but she just walks past me to get new sheets. So she wasn’t joking. I don’t hide my boredom.

“Come on, make my bed,” she encourages. “Then we’ll leave.”

“Again?” I sigh.

“You’re mine for the day. I plan to make you endure things that will make you think twice before pulling your next stunt.”

I go to her to get a sports uniform that she hands me. It's a new one that she must have picked up from the stock. I lock myself in her bathroom, a room I hadn't even thought to check. It's newer than mine. It has a sink with a larger countertop and a big mirror. My small shower cubicle doesn't compare to her huge walk-in shower behind the toilet. I stop making comparisons and place the clothes I'm wearing next to her sink to replace them with sweatpants, a t-shirt, and my jacket. I might need it if we stay outside. I don't linger and rejoin Bronze, who hasn't moved from her spot since earlier.

"What should I do with my uniform?" I asked.

"Where did you put it?"

"Folded next to the sink."

"Leave it there; you'll put it back on later."

I nodded, and she jumped off her desk. We headed out to the multi-sport fields. I didn’t wait for her orders to go to the edge of the field, ready to run. Her grip finally stopped me.

"We’re not starting with that today. First, you’re going to do fifty push-ups," she ordered.

"What? But there’s mud everywhere!"

"So what? At least next time, you’ll remember not to mess with me."

"Please-"

"No, Ona. Stop arguing! I’m already very patient with you, so don’t ask me to be even more patient because it’s not possible!"

"I can't do them..." I finally admitted in a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"I’ve never managed to do them," I said louder, avoiding her eyes.

"Well, you’re going to learn now. Come on, get on the ground, I'll help you."

I sighed but obeyed, looking for a spot with less mud. I could only blame myself for this punishment. My knees weren’t spared, but at least I avoided stains on other parts. I fell onto my hands and extended my legs to stay elevated. It was hard to hold. Even more so when I felt my supervisor's hands on my waist. I tensed, but I held on to avoid making her pull back immediately.

"Relax. I just want to position you correctly, okay?" she said.

I nodded at her explanation. I tried to relax, but it was hard. Her presence was unsettling. One of her hands slid under my belly while the other was on my shoulder to straighten me up.

"Don’t move your back. I’m going to reposition your legs, so try to hold your position."

She unexpectedly grabbed one of my ankles. My body reacted by keeping it on the ground. Again, she asked me to let go. Once I did, she brought my ankle closer to the other until they were almost touching. When she announced I was good, my arms gave out. I ended up flat on my stomach in the mud, growling in frustration.

"It’s okay. You’re just not used to working your arms," she explained. "Try to get back into position like I just showed you."

I nodded and got back on my hands and feet. My position must have been correct since she didn’t have to adjust much. Just my back, which was rounded again.

"Do them with motivation. I’d like you to find a regular rhythm if possible."

"It’s going to be hard," I mumbled.

"That’s the point. I want you to feel your body heating up tomorrow and think of me, remembering why I made you do this."

"I get the lesson, Bronze," I tried.

"No, you don’t. Do something like this again, and it’s going to be worse for you. It won’t just be push-ups and laps around the field next time. Do we agree?"

"Yes..."

Throughout this, I was still holding myself up on my arms. They started to shake from lack of strength. Bronze was no longer angry, but her voice remained firm. She wanted me to submit, and she was getting it. I was at her feet in every sense of the word. I was on the verge of giving up, but she ordered me to hold on. I really had to dig deep mentally to manage it.

"I want you to understand that if I give you a sanction, it’s not for my pleasure. Every punishment has its reasons."

"I understand..."

"No, not yet," she replied. "But it will come."

"I’m telling you I un-"

"I said no," she cut me off harshly. "Do you understand that I’m not against you?"

My silence spoke volumes about my thoughts. No, that I didn’t understand. To me, she was holding me back, so she was against me. I just wanted to be left alone and live my life. Bronze did the opposite by always coming down on me.

"Then you don’t understand," she concluded. "You’ll understand the meaning of your sanctions when you accept that I’m not the villain. Anyway, let’s get back to where we were. Start your push-ups. You’ll even count them out loud for me. I’ll reduce them to thirty since it’s your first time. Okay?"

"Yes, Bronze."

"Let’s go. One!"

I groaned at the sound of the first number. I bent my arms and pushed to try and lift myself. In vain. I fell pitifully to the ground. If I had been in Bronze’s place, I would have laughed at myself, but she didn’t. Instead, she encouraged me to try again with more effort. I’d like to see her try! If she had my body, she’d understand my struggle. I didn’t doubt hers was very athletic. I tried again, putting all my strength into it. I shouted the number in a victorious cry when I managed the push-up. I was back on the ground the next second. I felt my morning was going to be very long...

Monday, October 12; 1:10 p.m. - Bathroom.

I was washing my hands for the second time to remove the dried mud that was hard to get off. The sky had been clear this morning, but yesterday’s rain hadn’t spared me. I had just finished my punishment. Bronze was leaning against the sink next to me, watching me with a mocking smile. I didn’t see what was funny. I was covered in mud, both my clothes and the few inches of visible skin. Don’t even mention my face. I had fallen countless times during the push-ups. My record was probably three in a row.

"Are you okay?" she asked cheerfully. "Let me help you."

"No, it’s fine."

"Oh, stop being a killjoy and let me help."

She tore off a piece of paper towel meant for drying hands and wet it. I tried to take it, but she slapped my fingers. I realized too late that she had trapped me between the faucet and her. I grumbled as she wiped the wet paper on my face.

"I could have done it."

"I’m trying to be nice; can’t you tell?"

I smiled slightly, averting my eyes. I let her continue, crossing my arms. She might be nice in real life, but not with me.

"Stop pouting."

"I’ll pout if I want to."

"Child."

I looked at her indignantly. I doubted an instructor had the right to insult a student. She probably allowed herself because it was unlikely anyone would believe me if I reported her.

"I give myself every right with you, and you’re probably right. No one would believe you."

"Did I speak out loud?"

"It seems so," she smiled. "Don’t move; I’ll be right back."

It was hard to leave with my face dripping water. She got another paper towel to dry my face before throwing it away. I looked in the mirror to admire her work. I thanked her as she washed her hands. I would have liked to change before eating, but Bronze had made it clear it wasn’t possible if we still wanted to be served. It would be the last straw if we couldn’t eat when she planned to keep me this afternoon. I wouldn’t last without something in my stomach. We arrived at an empty cafeteria. Fortunately, the cook offered to reheat a meal for each of us. He probably felt sorry for my appearance. I went first in line and greeted the staff I had recently worked with. They were all super nice. Once served, I went to my usual spot among all the empty tables. I flopped down on my chair, taking a deep breath. This break would finally let me relax. The soreness was already setting in. At the same time, she hadn’t gone easy on me. She had pushed me to the limit, though she admitted holding back. It was a good lesson. I wasn’t going to anger her anytime soon.

"Can I sit?"

I swallowed my bite with difficulty, nodding. I hadn’t expected her to join me. After all, it was just the two of us. It would be ridiculous to eat at two different tables. My break would be less restful than I had imagined.

"I’m here if you ever feel the need to talk," she said, surprising me.

I look up at her two emeralds that disturb me so much. She shows no hint of joking. This isn't the first time she's told me she wants to help. It seems she still doesn't understand that I don't want it, that I can't. It's beyond my strength.

"No, it's okay, thanks. It's not my thing."

"But it would do you good."

"You don't know me, you have no idea," I retorted coldly.

"You're right. So tell me about yourself."

"I don't see why it matters to you. It's been a long time since anyone's taken an interest in me. It's not going to change now."

"I care about you. You owe me that much after what you've put me through. Let's start with something basic. Do you have a passion, perhaps?"

She never gives up. I just found someone even more stubborn than me. I didn't think it was possible. I relax my shoulders and resign myself to answering her.

"I like art. Sometimes I draw."

"Draw?" she repeats, surprised.

"Yeah... It lets me express myself on paper and clear my head," I argued.

"But you don't have any drawing supplies in your room."

"I knew you searched my room!" I exclaimed.

"I didn't search, she rolls her eyes, exasperated. I just looked for your devices."

"You searched!"

"Okay... I searched if you want. Now answer me. Why don't you have any drawing supplies?"

"I thought I'd have access to downtown, but that's not the case."

I've only been here a week, but I admit I miss my pencils. It was my way of clearing my mind before sleeping. Now I listen to music or go on the computer. At least... I used to.

"When can I get my things back?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replies. "We could make a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yeah, we've made one before. I'm ready to give them back to you in exchange for something."

"It depends on what you're proposing..." I said, skeptical.

"Okay. Hmm... How about I give you your things back on Friday if you're on time every morning this week?"

"Really?" I asked enthusiastically.

"It's not the end of the world, is it?" she asks, tilting her head. "I'm not even asking you to stop your other nonsense. Just to be ready in the morning."

"Deal," I agreed, extending my hand.

She looks surprised at my quick response. She shakes my hand firmly. I wouldn't have agreed to the deal if I wasn't sure of myself. I know I can do it.

"And if I fail?"

"We'll extend the deal to the following week. Again and again until you succeed."

"I'll succeed."

"You seem very confident," she says with a smile.

"I practiced making my bed perfectly this weekend," I tell her. "It shouldn't be a problem anymore."

"Well, we'll see if your training pays off. In any case, keep it up, I prefer this behavior."

I smile shyly, lowering my head. I'm not used to being praised. It was quite the opposite in recent years.

"Miss Bronze, I've finally found you!"

I straighten up as I see the director approaching us. Bronze was her entire focus until she saw me. She furrows her brows and turns back to my supervisor when she reaches us.

"Ona has been causing trouble again by not being in class at this time?"

"You could say that," she replies. "Nothing too serious."

Why is she lying? I turned an instructor's room upside down - hers, to be exact. I don't think Wiegman would call that "nothing too serious." She just sighs.

"Fine, if you say so. Are you busy this afternoon?"

"I decided to keep Ona with me," she admits. "Do you need me?"

"Actually, we're missing quite a few things for tonight's meeting. A buffet was supposed to be arranged, but nothing is going right. I'd like you to make a trip to town."

I observe the exchange attentively. My supervisor seems annoyed. She has a habit of running her hand through her hair when something displeases her. She must not appreciate Wiegman changing her plans at the last minute.

"Alright, but I have one condition."

"Which is?"

"That you allow me to take her with me," she says, pointing at me.

I'm as surprised as Wiegman by her request. Nothing would make me happier than for her to take me to town. All I want is to get out of this place, even for just five minutes. The director doesn't share my enthusiasm judging by her expression.

"Is that necessary?"

"Yes," she says, crossing her arms. "I want to keep an eye on her."

"Fine, but you'd better be careful. This is the first time I'm allowing a student to leave the establishment in the middle of the week."

"That's my intention, mam," she replies promptly. "I prefer knowing she's with me rather than leaving her alone here, unsupervised."

"Alright, I trust you anyway. Here's the list of what we need," she says, handing it to her. "Thanks again."

She turns away without waiting for a response. I can hardly believe what just happened. Bronze asked for me to accompany her to town. I can't believe it. I'm going to be able to leave this place! I thought she wanted to skin me alive after what I did to her.

"Wipe that smile off your face," she says, which makes me lose it. "I just don't want to leave you alone. You lost my trust the moment you entered my room."

"I promise you I regret it. At least... Not at first, but now I do."

"Whatever. You've just earned having me more on your back. It's time you got used to my presence, Ona, because you and I won't be parting from now on."

I swallow hard. If she intends to make me regret my mistake, she's already succeeded. She lets me finish my dessert before we clear our trays. Not knowing what to do or where to go, I follow her. We first return to her room where she asks me to put on my uniform.

"Put the one you're wearing in my laundry basket. I'll have it washed."

"When will you stop giving me orders?" I muttered under my breath.

"When you stop doing things your own way."

I thought she wouldn't hear me... I was wrong! She surprises me by giving me a kick in the butt to prompt me to enter the bathroom. I don't hesitate to go. I can finally take off these clothes. I put everything in her laundry basket, as she asked, then I put on my uniform. I come out fixing my messy hair. Bronze is waiting for me patiently on her bed.

"Can we go?"

"Yep."

We head out, passing the cafeteria on foot. I discover a place behind the gym hidden by trees. It's a large parking lot. Bronze unlocks a car from a distance with the key. I think I'm dreaming when I see the orange lights flashing on a black Audi A5.

"Is this your car?"

"Whose else would it be?"

"Well, I don't know... Maybe your boyfriend's."

She smiles slightly, shaking her head. I get into her car, forgetting her answer. I'm in an Audi! I've always had a soft spot for this brand. It has an undeniable class. To think my supervisor owns one. I'm jealous. The interior is equipped with black leather seats more comfortable than my own bed. It has just the right amount of space. I love it! She drives without exceeding second gear to reach the entrance. I'm sure she has a sports package given how the car purrs. I have no doubt when she takes off furiously down the street, leaving me completely pressed into the seat.

"It's mine," she snapped.

"So, no boyfriend then?" I asked playfully. "Not surprising, given your commanding attitude."

"Shut up," she retorted with a slight smile. "I might not know much about you, but you know nothing about me."

"Exactly, I told you something about me. You could do the same."

"No. I don't trust you anymore, and anyway, the rules forbid me from talking about my private life."

I sighed in frustration, settling into the seat. The trip continued in silence as I distracted myself with the scenery. Only houses passed by. It’s always better than the dilapidated walls of the camp. I'm seeing Manchester for the first time. I was so on edge when I arrived that I didn’t pay attention to the outside. We arrived at the supermarket parking lot, where she parked with a view of downtown buildings in the distance. She got out of the car while I looked at the supermarket. It seemed huge, almost double the size of the one I'm used to in Barcelona. I jumped when Bronze knocked on my window.

"Move it, we don't have all day."

Always so friendly... I unbuckled the seatbelt that still held me hostage as she opened the door for me. I grabbed what I recognized as a shopping cart token.

"Where should I get this?" I asked.

"We're going together; I’m not leaving you alone."

The opposite would have been strange. We grabbed a cart at the entrance, and unsurprisingly, I was the one tasked with pushing it. We entered the supermarket. I discreetly observed Bronze, who was busy reading the shopping list.

"Are you from here?"

"None of your business."

"You seem to know the place..."

"Stop."

"You're not funny," I sighed, leaning on the cart.

"I'm not particularly trying to be. Stand up straight, you're not a pasha."

I groaned in frustration. It seemed she decided to go back to being the unpleasant officer. I observed the environment I missed. I hadn't had any social contact for a week. It was mostly old people, but it was still better than the annoying faces of the camp students who kept staring at me. I was brought back to reality when fingers snapped in front of my nose.

"Stop daydreaming, Batlle. Let's go."

I sighed, walking beside her. She kept my pace, giving me time to notice that there were a lot of people for a Monday afternoon. We went aisle by aisle, as they came. We stopped whenever we found something on the list. The cart gradually filled up with towels, plates, drinks, snacks, and biscuits. The guests for tonight's meeting would be well-treated. I wished I could be in their place.

"Wait here, I forgot something in the next aisle."

I nodded. Anyway, I couldn't go anywhere without her. She was driving, and even if I wanted to leave, I didn't know the city and had no money or phone. I wouldn't get far. I watched Bronze until she was out of sight. I sighed in boredom. Shopping with an instructor was far from fun. The worst part was that she hadn't spoken since I insisted on getting information about her. That was stupid. I took advantage of her absence to lean on the cart and scan the surroundings. My gaze stopped on two young people in particular. They were the only ones I'd seen since the beginning. One of them was covered in piercings and tattoos. Nothing too extreme, just enough. I observed their hands seeking each other. I straightened up suddenly. I couldn't believe it! How could they do that in a supermarket! It might have gone unnoticed by others, but not by me. I felt suddenly shaky. Damn... I should never have seen that. The young man who had grabbed the merchandise continued his route as if nothing had happened. The other must have felt someone watching because he turned his head towards me. It was now or never. My hands were trembling. I stood up from the cart. I needed to talk to him, to negotiate to get some too! Just as I decided to go, a strong hand on my shoulder dissuaded me. I turned to see Bronze with a disapproving frown.

"Where were you planning to go?"

I slightly parted my lips, searching for a quick excuse. She looked up at the dealer. I did the same and saw that the guy I was about to approach was fleeing. Damn, he must have been scared!

"I... Well, since you were taking your time... Um... I wanted to see where you were."

"Don't bullshit me!" she snapped coldly.

I widened my eyes, not expecting such an excessive reaction. She understood everything, no doubt about it.

"Walk ahead," she said, pushing me from behind.

My hands clenched around the cart. I couldn't stop trembling. So close to the goal... I was frustrated and had messed up again. Bronze knew. The situation was even tenser than before. We made one last stop to get the final item on the list.

"If you've come this far, you better avoid relapsing," she broke the silence.

"Hmm."

"I'm serious," she frowned. "You don't need that crap to feel good for a short while."

"What does it matter to you? I have the right to do what I want."

"No, you don't have that right since I'm with you. And maybe I care because I'm worried about you!"

"Worried about me?" I scoffed. "Don't bullshit me! No one has worried about me for a long time. I don't need your pity, thanks."

I sped up, trying to find the registers alone. Bronze told me to slow down, but I ignored her. I just wanted her to leave me alone. Unfortunately for me, she caught up quickly.

"You really need to stop being so stubborn! I'm responsible for you, OK? And yes, I worry about you! You'll have to deal with it."

She sighed when she got no reaction from me. I didn't even flinch. I couldn't help it if I didn't believe her. Words are easy to say. It's another thing to back them up. She just guided me to the register when she realized she wouldn't get anything from me. I'd had enough arguments for today. I helped unload the items onto the conveyor belt when it was our turn, then did the reverse. When we finished, she paid with an envelope Wiegman had given her in the cafeteria. We loaded the car, then I returned the cart. The drive back was silent. Thankfully the trip was short because I couldn't stand the situation any longer. It was all my fault, and to top it off, my hands were still shaking.

"Give me your hand."

I shook my head vigorously. I didn't want any contact with her, especially since we were supposed to be on bad terms. But she didn't give me a choice and took my hand herself, slipping hers into mine by force. I hated my body for betraying me. I was supposed to refuse being touched, but I had no strength left. I was mentally disturbed, and my body decided to seek comfort from the person I hated the most at that moment. I hated her for being who she was. I hated her for daring to touch and care about me. And yet, I also hated her when she let go to shift gears. I could have done without her little smile, letting me know she understood that I needed her. I'm so contradictory. My tremors subsided during the ride. We arrived at the camp. She turned off the car after parking.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah... Thanks," I managed to get out with a tight throat.

"Let's take it easy for the rest of the day. You'll help me set up the meeting room, and we'll take the chance to talk and lower the tension between us. Okay?"

I nodded, and she smiled back. Maybe my day wouldn't end as badly as I thought. I was grateful she didn't continue with punishments. I couldn't imagine doing anything physical after this episode. Once again, I was mentally and physically drained because of her. She'll be the death of me one day, for sure!

[lividstar]

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ Chapter Eight: A Great Friend

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 11.5k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Your day immediately turns eventful at the very second you open your eyes, receiving a congratulatory message from Hongjoong which was apparently because of your sudden popularity that skyrocketed overnight, following your first photoshoot. As you grapple with this sudden surge of attention, Seonghwa offers a welcome distraction by suggesting you assist Hongjoong with his designs for the upcoming autumn collection, all of which are still in progress.

a/n: apologies in advance, but it should probably be in your best interest to expect slow updates starting from now on 🥲 i’ve been getting busier and busier lately so it might take a little while to upload the following chapters ㅠㅠ lmk what you think about this chapter! reading people’s feedback cheers me up a lot, and i’d really appreciate them especially rn since i’m having a hard time haha

tags: @beabatiny

You awaken to the soft chime of a message notification, the early morning light casting a gentle glow in your room. Blinking away sleep, you reach for your phone on the bedside table, the screen glowing softly in the dim light. The message is from Hongjoong, and your heart skips a beat as you read it.

Seems like you got a good head start in the industry. Congratulations!

Confused, you sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to make sense of his words. You quickly type back, asking him what was going on, as you had just woken up. Hongjoong’s response comes swiftly.

The pictures from your first photoshoot were uploaded last night and they’re currently going viral.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you hurriedly exit the conversation to check the social media platforms associated with Hongjoong’s brand. The notifications are overwhelming. As you scroll through the posts, your face appears repeatedly—each shot capturing a different angle of the Parisian venue, each pose more captivating than the last. The comments are a flurry of excitement and admiration. Each one is a testament to the impact the photos have had.

“Who is this stunning new face?”

“She looks like she stepped out of a painting!”

“Her expression is so captivating; I can’t stop looking!”

“Such a refreshing presence, she’s going to be huge!”

“She exudes this ethereal vibe—like a modern-day muse!”

If there was one thing you were expecting the moment you stepped into the industry, it was definitely not this. Well, you probably should’ve. Your hands tremble slightly as you continue scrolling, unable to fully grasp the scale of the attention. It’s surreal to see yourself through the eyes of so many strangers, each comment adding another layer to the overwhelming reality.

A hand ghosts over your mouth in shock, trying to stifle the gasp that escapes. “Is this real?” you whisper to yourself, the room around you suddenly feeling too small, too quiet compared to the roaring storm of notifications and messages on your phone.

Rushing to the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face, the chill jolting you awake. You even slap your cheeks lightly a few times, trying to dispel the surreal feeling that’s settled over you. The mirror reflects your wide-eyed expression, confirming that this is, in fact, happening. You stare at your reflection, the reality of your newfound attention slowly sinking in. It feels like stepping into another world, one where your life has suddenly taken a dramatic turn.

Still in a daze, you return to your bed, clutching your phone tightly. You reopen the conversation with Hongjoong, asking him if any of this was real. You could’ve just been having a highly realistic dream, for all you know. On the other side of the screen, Hongjoong can almost sense your disbelief.

As real as it can be.

But even through the text, you sense a smile, a quiet confidence in his words. Just as you’re beginning to process everything, your phone rings again. It's Seonghwa. His voice is warm, laced with a hint of amusement as he says, “You’re quite the hit lately. Have you heard of it?”

You let out a small laugh, still overwhelmed. “Yes, Hongjoong actually beat you to it.”

There’s a brief pause, and Seonghwa’s voice becomes thoughtful. “Hongjoong texted you first? That’s... unusual.”

“Huh?”

Seonghwa’s mind lingers on this revelation. Hongjoong, known for his reserved nature, seldom initiates contact with others. He was the type to keep his thoughts to himself, preferring the solitude of his creative processes. For him to reach out so directly is… well, it’s unexpected. He wonders if there’s more to this than meets the eye, but he quickly shakes off the thought, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

He continues, his tone lightening again, “Nevermind that. But seriously, congratulations! This is huge.”

You sigh, a mixture of happiness and anxiety bubbling up. “I still can’t believe all of this is real. It feels like things are progressing too quickly, and while I’m happy, there’s this overwhelming feeling somewhere deep inside.”

Seonghwa’s voice softens with empathy. “It’s completely normal to feel that way, especially since this all came out of nowhere. It can be a lot to take in at once.”

You nod, though he can’t see you, and explain your usual method of coping with major news—pushing it aside until you’re ready to fully process it. “So… what I’m saying is I kinda need to put that method to use right now. Is there anything I can help with over there? I need something to focus on, just to distract myself.”

Seonghwa thinks for a moment, considering your offer. “Well, you could help bring some of Hongjoong’s designs to life. Unfortunately, he rarely accepts help, preferring to work alone because it helps him focus. But I’ll mention it to him and see what he says.”

Seonghwa hangs up the phone, placing it gently on the table in front of him. The lounge area of the building is quiet, save for the soft hum of distant conversations and the occasional clink of cups. He leans back in his chair, lost in thought about the conversation he just had with you. Just then, as if on cue, Hongjoong strolls into the lounge, his presence commanding a subtle shift in the room's atmosphere. He spots Seonghwa and heads over, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Things are turning out well for her, aren’t they?” Hongjoong remarks, settling into the lounge chair across Seonghwa. His tone carries a hint of pride, and Seonghwa can see a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

Seonghwa, remembering something from the call, tilts his head slightly. “You know, she mentioned you were the first to tell her about all the attention she’s getting. That’s... not exactly your usual style.”

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “What do you mean? I just wanted to congratulate her, that’s all.”

Seonghwa isn’t convinced and leans forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “You don’t even text first when it comes to both me and Wooyoung. What’s the deal?”

Hongjoong chuckles, shaking his head as if dismissing the notion. “It’s nothing. Just thought she should know.”

But Seonghwa isn’t buying the nonchalant act. His eyes narrow playfully, clearly intrigued by this rare deviation from Hongjoong’s usual behavior. Hongjoong, noticing the look, quickly grabs a crumpled paper from his blazer pocket and tosses it at Seonghwa, laughing. “Stop reading too much into it. There’s nothing there.”

Seonghwa catches the paper, laughing as well despite not being entirely convinced. He decides to change the subject, leaning back in his chair. “So, how are the designs for the autumn collection coming along?”

Hongjoong’s eyes light up at the mention of his work. “I’ve been making good progress with the tailoring and even started on some new designs. Though I left my sketchbook in my office today, I’ve got some photos of the pieces.”

He leans forward, pulling out his phone and handing it to Seonghwa. As Seonghwa scrolls through the images, he’s greeted with a series of designs that reflect the collection’s theme. The first few designs are ethereal yet grounded, capturing the essence of the season. There’s a long, flowing coat made of rich, burnt orange wool, adorned with delicate embroidery of falling leaves. The next outfit is a layered ensemble featuring a deep forest green velvet dress, cinched at the waist with a leather belt, and paired with a capelet that mimics the texture of fallen leaves.

Each piece exudes a sense of elegance and warmth, perfectly encapsulating the quiet beauty of autumn. The use of earthy tones, mixed with subtle metallic accents, creates a harmonious blend of nature-inspired elements and modern fashion. Seonghwa can see the meticulous attention to detail in every stitch and fold, each piece a testament to Hongjoong’s artistic vision. It was admirable, as always.

As he continues scrolling, Seonghwa’s eyes widen slightly when he stumbles upon an unexpected photo—a candid shot of you holding a cat, your face soft with a serene smile. It’s a stark contrast to the fashion designs, capturing a moment of unguarded warmth and simplicity. Seonghwa’s mind raced with questions, his curiosity piqued even further. Why does Hongjoong have this photo, and what does it signify?

Quickly, he scrolls back to the fashion designs, masking his surprise. He hands the phone back to Hongjoong, his expression composed but his thoughts swirling. “These are incredible, Hongjoong. The way you’ve captured the essence of autumn is truly impressive. I especially like the use of textures and the color palette—it feels very grounded yet still has that ethereal quality.”

Hongjoong nods, pleased with the feedback. “Thanks, I’ve been working on capturing that balance. Autumn has this quiet, reflective beauty, and I wanted that to come through in the designs.”

Seonghwa nods thoughtfully, but his mind lingers on the photo he saw. He can’t help but wonder if there’s something more going on between you and Hongjoong, something beneath the surface that he hasn’t yet understood. As he hands the phone back, he decides to keep this little discovery to himself, at least for now, storing it away as something to discuss with Wooyoung later.

Clearing his throat, Seonghwa leans forward, his tone thoughtful. “You know, I was talking to her earlier, and she mentioned feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the sudden exposure. It’s a lot for anyone to handle, especially someone so new to the industry. She was wondering if there might be any way she could help with the tailoring of the designs. Not only to get some practical experience but also to have something to focus on, something to keep her grounded while everything else is so chaotic.”

Hongjoong listens intently, his expression contemplative. Seonghwa continues, “I know you usually prefer to work alone, to have complete control over your creative process. And I get that—it’s part of what makes your designs so unique. But maybe just this once, it could be beneficial to have an extra pair of hands. She’s genuinely interested in learning and contributing, and I think it could be a good experience for both of you.”

As Seonghwa speaks, he watches Hongjoong closely, trying to gauge his reaction. Before he can elaborate further, Hongjoong cuts him off with a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind at all. We can start tomorrow.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. That was a quick agreement, far quicker than he expected. “Good, alright. I’ll inform her,” Seonghwa says, still processing Hongjoong’s easy acquiescence. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, almost tentatively, “Or do you want to do it instead...?”

Hongjoong’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Seonghwa quickly waves him off, standing up from his seat. “Oh, no, no, nothing. I’ll let her know.” He makes a quick exit, leaving a bewildered Hongjoong behind, still puzzled over the odd exchange.

As Seonghwa strides towards the elevator, the gears in his mind are turning. The ease with which Hongjoong agreed to your involvement, coupled with the candid photo and the early morning text, is starting to form a pattern in Seonghwa’s mind—a pattern that suggests something more than just professional interest.

As the elevator doors open, Seonghwa is met by Wooyoung, who looks ready to step out. Without a second thought, Seonghwa gently but firmly shoves Wooyoung back inside, pressing the button for the floor where his office is located.

“What the hell—” Wooyoung begins, startled by the abruptness of Seonghwa's actions.

Seonghwa cuts him off, a serious look on his face. “There’s something important we need to discuss. Just trust me.”

Wooyoung, sensing the gravity in Seonghwa’s tone, complies without further protest. As they reach Seonghwa’s office, Seonghwa gestures for Wooyoung to double-check the lock on the door, ensuring their privacy. “Just in case Hongjoong walks in.”

Wooyoung complies, yet thete was a puzzled look on his face. “Hongjoong? What does he have to do with this?”

They settled into Seonghwa’s office, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. Seonghwa starts, his tone hushed. “Alright, so get this: Hongjoong texted her first thing this morning to congratulate her on the viral photos. Can you believe that?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise. “No way! Hongjoong? Mr. ‘I-Don’t-Do-Small-Talk’? Like, for real?”

Seonghwa nods, his expression mirroring Wooyoung’s shock. “For real. And it gets better. He even had a candid photo of her on his phone. You know, not a posed shot or anything, just her holding a cat. She looked so natural and relaxed. I accidentally saw it while scrolling through his design pictures.”

Wooyoung leans forward, clearly intrigued. “A candid photo? From Hongjoong? That’s... well, I definitely didn’t see that coming. What else did you see?” he asked, pushing for more details.

Seonghwa goes into a contemplative gaze. “That’s the thing, Wooyoung. He never keeps personal photos like that. And then, when I mentioned her feeling overwhelmed by all the attention, he was totally understanding. And, get this, he agreed to let her help with the tailoring for his autumn collection without even hesitating.”

Wooyoung's eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa, hold on. Doesn’t he literally hate people interfering with his work? What do you mean he agreed just like that?”

Seonghwa holds his hands up, still a bit in disbelief himself. “That’s what I don’t get either. No arguments, no reservations. Just ‘sure, she can start tomorrow.’ It’s so out of character for him. Usually, he’s all about keeping things strictly professional and handling everything himself.”

Wooyoung leans back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So, let me get this straight. Hongjoong, who never texts first, texts her before anyone else. He’s got a candid, personal photo of her on his phone. And now, he’s okay with her helping out with his designs? That’s…”

Seonghwa nods. “Exactly. And when I asked him about texting her, he brushed it off, saying he just wanted to congratulate her. But I know Hongjoong. He doesn’t do things like this for just anyone. Hell, he doesn’t even text us first, and we've known him for years.”

Wooyoung grins, clearly entertained. “So, what do you think? Is he interested in her? It sure sounds like it.” This was definitely worth the gossip drought that lasted for weeks.

Seonghwa shrugs, though his eyes gleam with curiosity. “I don’t know, but it’s definitely out of the ordinary. I mean, Hongjoong’s not one to show personal interest in anyone, let alone a model he just met.”

Wooyoung clasps his hands together, shaking his head. “This is going to be interesting. We should keep an eye on this. Maybe they’re just friends, or maybe there’s something more. Either way, it’s unusual for Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchange a knowing glance, an idea slowly taking root in Wooyoung's mind. He leans forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You know,” Wooyoung begins, “we could give them a little nudge. Like, play matchmaker. It could be fun.”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, hesitating. “We shouldn’t make things awkward between them. What if they’re just forming a friendship? We don’t want to overstep.”

Wooyoung waves off the concern, his enthusiasm undeterred. “I get that, but think about it. Most great love stories start with friendship, right? They’re already getting along well, and there’s clearly something different about how Hongjoong is acting lately. Maybe it’s worth exploring.”

Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head with a faint smile. “You’re incorrigible, you know that? But I suppose you have a point. It’s just... Hongjoong’s been very private about his personal life. We shouldn’t push him into something he’s not ready for.”

Wooyoung nods thoughtfully. “Well, yeah, but he’s been alone for as long as I’ve known him. He’s always so independent and hardworking, constantly putting the company and his designs first. Wouldn’t it be nice for him to have someone who reminds him to take a breather, to enjoy life a little?”

Seonghwa looks away, pondering Wooyoung’s words. He knows that Hongjoong is fiercely dedicated to his work, often to the point of neglecting his own well-being. It’s a quality they all admire, but it also worries them. Hongjoong’s solitary nature, while admirable in its focus, sometimes seemed to be a shield against something deeper.

At the same time, a part of Seonghwa agrees with Wooyoung. Hongjoong deserves to experience love, to be taught what it means to love and be loved in return. To have someone who sees past the professional facade and connects with him on a deeper level. Hongjoong has always been the rock for everyone else, the leader who guides and supports, but who supports him? Seonghwa knows that beneath Hongjoong’s calm exterior is someone who longs for a connection, even if he doesn’t consciously acknowledge it.

Seonghwa finally exhales, nodding in agreement. “Alright, maybe you’re right. He does deserve that chance. But we need to be subtle, okay? We can’t just throw them into situations and expect magic to happen.”

Wooyoung grins, practically bouncing in his seat. “Of course, of course. We’ll be subtle. Well, as subtle as we can be.” He chuckles, already plotting. “We could start with simple things. Like arranging for them to spend more time together, under the guise of work, of course.”

Seonghwa nods, though he can’t help but smile at Wooyoung’s eagerness. „Fine, but let’s keep this quiet. The last thing we need is Hongjoong finding out and feeling pressured or uncomfortable. We’ll just... create opportunities for them to bond naturally?”

Wooyoung’s eyes light up with excitement. “Yes, exactly! This is going to be great. Just trust me on this one.”

Seonghwa sighs, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Alright, but no wild schemes, okay? We’re not in a rom-com here.”

Wooyoung laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “No wild schemes.”

—

The sound of fabric being meticulously fed through the sewing machine filled the room, but despite the soft hum, your mind was anything but calm. The task at hand was supposed to be a distraction from the whirlwind of unexpected fame and the gnawing anxiety about potential backlash—something that often follows a sudden rise to internet prominence. However, the complexities of threading needles and manipulating fabrics were proving to be more challenging than anticipated. You couldn’t help but think that perhaps this was a bad idea, a sentiment only reinforced by the knots of frustration building in your stomach.

Hongjoong had stepped out to go to the restroom for a moment, giving you a brief respite. It was just enough time to let out a sigh of frustration, your hands pausing their clumsy movements. You were aware of how out of your depth you were, fumbling with the sewing machine in a way that likely confirmed his suspicions. He had asked several times if you needed help, always with a gentle tone that hinted at his concern. But pride—or perhaps a stubborn streak—had kept you from admitting just how lost you felt.

“Maybe I should’ve just volunteered to be burned at the stake in a Salem witch trial—”

“Are you alright?” Hongjoong’s voice sliced through your musings, making you jump slightly. You straightened up quickly, feigning concentration as you adjusted the fabric under the needle. The effort was futile; the moment Hongjoong leaned over your shoulder, his hand resting gently on yours, your cool façade crumbled.

His close proximity, the soft warmth of his hand, and the subtle, intoxicating scent of his cologne were all too distracting. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I’m gonna need you to answer it in full honesty. Is that okay?”

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting from his hand to his face and then back to the sewing machine. “I... um... sure, go ahead,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice at bay.

“Do you know how to use a sewing machine?” he asked, his tone patient yet direct.

You winced, slumping in your seat as you covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. “I thought it would be easy,” you admitted, your voice muffled by your palms. “But I had no idea it would be so... intricate? I think I’ve used up half my patience already.”

Before you could spiral further into self-recrimination, Hongjoong’s soft laughter broke the tension. It was a soothing sound, yet its proximity sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. He pulled a chair over and sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. You kept your eyes fixed on the sewing machine, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“Don’t worry,” he said gently, taking your hand in his once more. “Everyone starts somewhere. Let me guide you through it.”

“Alright, let’s start with the basics,” he began, his voice warm and steady. “First, we need to thread the machine properly. It can be a bit tricky at first, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes second nature.”

He gently guided your fingers to the spool pin, showing you how to place the thread. “Make sure the thread is placed securely here,” he explained, his hand lingering over yours for a moment. “Then, we’ll pull it through the tension disks. This part is crucial because it controls the tension of your stitches. If it’s too loose or too tight, your fabric might bunch up or the stitches might break.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his instructions rather than the slight warmth of his hand. “Got it,” you murmured, glancing at him again. His eyes were intent on the machine, but there was a softness in his gaze.

“Next, we bring the thread down here,” he continued, guiding your hand to the take-up lever. “This part moves up and down as you sew, pulling the thread through the fabric. It’s important to make sure the thread is seated properly in the eye of the lever.”

You tried to mimic his movements, your fingers fumbling slightly. He caught your hesitation and gently corrected your grip, his touch light but firm. “Like this,” he demonstrated, pulling the thread through the lever with practiced ease. “See? It’s all about smooth, even motions.”

You nodded again, feeling a bit more confident but still acutely aware of the slight tension in the air. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just... different. “And finally, we guide the thread through the needle,” he said, his voice low and patient. “This part can be a bit tricky, especially if the needle’s eye is small. Just take your time and don’t rush.”

As you attempted to thread the needle, your hand shook slightly, and you fumbled with the delicate thread. Hongjoong leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he steadied your hand. “Here, let me help,” he offered, his tone gentle. He carefully guided the thread through the needle’s eye, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

“There we go,” he said with a satisfied smile, leaning back a bit. “Now, let’s get to the sewing part. Start by placing the fabric under the presser foot, like this.” He demonstrated, his hands guiding yours to position the fabric correctly. “Make sure it’s aligned straight with the needle and the edge of the foot.”

You followed his instructions, your eyes focused on the machine but your mind wandering slightly. There was something about this whole situation—the quiet focus, the close proximity, the shared task—that felt nice. You couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of self-consciousness, wondering if he could sense your awkwardness.

“Now, gently press the pedal to start the machine,” Hongjoong instructed, his hand still lightly resting on yours. “Don’t go too fast; just a slow, steady pace. That’ll give you more control.”

You did as he said, the machine whirring to life as you guided the fabric through. Hongjoong watched closely, offering occasional tips and corrections. “Try to keep your hands steady,” he advised. “And remember, it’s okay to stop and readjust if you need to.”

“Okay, got it,” you replied, focusing intently on the fabric and the machine’s needle. But despite your best efforts, you could feel your heart beating a little faster, your palms slightly sweaty. It was all so new, and the added pressure of having Hongjoong right there, guiding you, was both comforting and nerve-wracking.

As you continued to sew, the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. Hongjoong’s instructions were clear and patient, and his occasional praise—“Good, that’s perfect,” or “You’re getting the hang of it”—helped to ease your nerves. Still, there were moments when you couldn’t help but feel a slight, almost imperceptible tension. It wasn’t unpleasant, just a subtle awareness of his presence, of the closeness between you as he guided your hands and offered gentle encouragement.

After a few more passes, he smiled at you, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “You’re doing really well,” he said, giving your hand a light squeeze before releasing it. “Just keep practicing, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

You smiled back, feeling a mix of relief and a strange, fluttering excitement. “Thanks, Hongjoong,” you said, your voice a bit softer than you intended. “I really appreciate your help.”

As you continued to practice, the room was filled with a quiet focus, the sound of the sewing machine blending with the soft rustle of fabrics and the occasional tap of Hongjoong’s fingers on the table as he worked on his designs. The space was filled with mannequins adorned with various pieces in different stages of completion, each a testament to his creativity and skill.

Hongjoong stood by one of the mannequins, testing out different fabrics and adjusting the drape of a garment. It was a half-finished piece, a beautiful autumn-inspired dress, rich with deep, warm hues and delicate detailing. The design was stunning even in its incomplete state, with layers of fabric cascading down in elegant folds. The room, spacious and filled with natural light, was a perfect backdrop for his work, highlighting the textures and colors of his creations.

As you worked, you found yourself unconsciously humming. It was a habit you’d developed over the years, a way to keep yourself company during moments of concentration. The tune was “La Vie en Rose,” a classic melody that had always been a favorite of yours. Lost in the rhythm of your work, you didn’t notice Hongjoong glancing over his shoulder, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he recognized the song.

The peaceful atmosphere continued until you completed your practice piece, checking the fabric carefully. To your delight, it was flawless, and you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp of triumph. You looked up, catching Hongjoong’s eye as he turned towards you, clearly curious about your reaction.

“I think I’m ready to help out,” you announced, holding up the fabric proudly.

Hongjoong smiled, a warm and encouraging expression on his face. “Really? Let's get to work, then.”

You quickly tidied up your workspace, eager to join him. As you approached, you got a closer look at the dress he was working on. It was even more beautiful up close, with detailed stitching and a careful blend of textures. The design was both modern and timeless, capturing the essence of autumn with its rich color palette and sophisticated lines.

On the table next to the mannequin, you noticed Hongjoong’s sketchbook. The sketches inside were detailed and precise, showcasing his vision for the final piece. You couldn’t help but compliment him, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “This looks incredible, Hongjoong. The sketches were already amazing, but seeing it come to life... It’s even better.”

He waved off your praise modestly, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s not even halfway done yet,” he said, glancing at the dress. “There’s still a lot of work to do. That’s where your help comes in.”

He gestured towards the dress, explaining his vision for the piece. “I need to work on the intricate details around the neckline and sleeves. There’s a specific embroidery pattern I want to incorporate, but it requires a steady hand and a lot of patience. I thought we could split the tasks—I’ll focus on the main body of the dress, and you can help with the embroidery.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “I’d love to help with the embroidery. It sounds like a challenge, but I’m up for it.”

Hongjoong smiled, clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. “Great. I’ll show you the pattern and we can go over the details together. It’s important to get the proportions and spacing just right, especially since the embroidery will be a key feature of the design.”

“For this part,” he said, pointing to a section on the sketch, “we’ll use a simple running stitch to outline the design. It’s straightforward but effective, especially for creating clean lines. The trick is to keep your stitches consistent in length. If they’re too short or too long, it can throw off the balance of the pattern.”

As he demonstrated, you watched closely, noting the way his fingers moved deftly with the needle and thread. His attention to detail was impressive, and it was clear that every element of the design had been carefully considered.

“Next, we’ll add some texture with a chain stitch,” Hongjoong continued, switching to another part of the design. “It’s great for creating a sense of depth and can really make certain areas pop. You’ll want to keep your tension even, not too tight or too loose, so the stitches sit nicely against the fabric.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but notice the passion in his eyes. It was evident in the way he talked about each technique, his dedication to his craft shining through. There was something incredibly admirable about his focus and commitment, and it made you feel even more determined to do your best.

Once you both began working, the conversation naturally shifted to lighter topics. Hongjoong broke the comfortable silence first, glancing over at you with a curious expression. “By the way, earlier... you were humming a song. Was it ‘La Vie en Rose’?”

You blinked, momentarily confused. You hadn’t even realized you were humming. “Oh, was I…? Yeah, that’s a favorite of mine,” you admitted with a small chuckle, recalling the familiar melody. “My dad used to play it all the time when I was younger. He had this old recorder, and ��La Vie en Rose’ was always his go-to song. I guess it just stuck with me.”

Hongjoong listened attentively, a soft smile forming on his lips. “It’s a beautiful song. There’s something timeless about it.”

You nodded, feeling a warm nostalgia wash over you. “Yeah, it’s one of those songs that just... helps me focus. I hum it when I’m trying to concentrate, and sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”

As you shared your story, Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you, a subtle fondness in his eyes. He seemed genuinely interested, as if he enjoyed hearing about these little aspects of your life. When you looked up from your work, catching his eye, he quickly averted his gaze, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

You smiled, amused by the small moment of shyness. “Do you have a favorite artist?”

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up at the question. “David Bowie,” he replied without hesitation.

“Really? Great choice,” you said, your admiration clear in your tone. “How did you get into his music?”

Hongjoong leaned back slightly, reminiscing. “Back in my school days, a friend of mine always shared their earphones with me. They had a playlist full of David Bowie songs, and I just... got hooked. His music was so different from anything else I’d heard at the time.”

“Was it Seonghwa?” you asked, curious.

Hongjoong shook his head, a faint, nostalgic smile playing on his lips. “No, it was someone else. We’ve… lost touch over the years.”

Before you could ask more, your phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with a notification from an app you rarely used. Hongjoong glanced at the screen and recognized the image on your lockscreen. “You set that as your wallpaper?” he asked, a note of amusement in his voice as he saw the candid photo he had taken of you and the cat.

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I couldn’t resist. It’s just too cute not to use as my lockscreen.”

Hongjoong chuckled, clearly pleased. “How’s the little guy doing?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” you replied with a grin. “Running away from me and munching on the flowers in our landlord’s garden. He’s a real troublemaker.”

Hongjoong laughed at this, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s hard to imagine him being so mischievous. He looked so sweet and innocent when I saw him.”

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Maybe you should come by again sometime and see for yourself just how mischievous he can be.”

Hongjoong paused, momentarily caught off guard. Was that an invitation? The way you said it, with a casual laugh, made it seem like a harmless joke. But there was a part of him that wondered if there was more to it. He quickly dismissed the thought, reminding himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

As you continued working on the embroidery, a sudden sharp pain shot through your finger. A fairly large needle had slipped through your grasp, piercing your skin and drawing a bead of blood. You hissed in pain, “Ow!”

Hongjoong immediately turned his attention away from the dress, concern etched across his face as he took a few quick steps toward you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft yet filled with urgency. “Let me see your hand.”

You extended your injured hand toward him, wincing as you saw the small but painful wound. Hongjoong frowned, setting your hand gently on the table. “Hold on a moment,” he said, heading over to one of the drawers where he kept a first aid kit. He quickly retrieved the necessary supplies, including antiseptic wipes, a bandage, and some ointment.

Returning to your side, he crouched down to be at eye level with you. When you made a move to stand, thinking you should let him take the seat, he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, guiding you to sit back down. “Stay put,” he instructed softly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he focused on your injured finger.

Hongjoong took your hand with a surprising tenderness, carefully cleaning the wound. “You’ve got to be more careful next time, alright?” he said, his tone gentle yet firm.

You nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” He looked up at you and smiled, a small, reassuring curve of his lips that made your heart flutter unexpectedly. He then returned his focus to your finger, diligently applying ointment and wrapping it with a bandage.

As he worked, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on his face. The way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the soft lines of his features... It struck you how effortlessly handsome he was, even in such a simple moment. You found yourself thinking that models must be relieved he chose to become a fashion designer instead of competing with them in front of the camera.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly blurted out, “Your lashes look pretty.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, catching both you and Hongjoong by surprise.

He paused, then chuckled, clearly amused. “No, I mean, sorry,” you quickly tried to recover, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I just have this habit of accidentally saying things out loud that are supposed to stay in my head...”

Hongjoong’s laugh, warm and genuine, cuts off your rambling. “It’s alright,” he said, still chuckling softly. “I’m flattered.”

As he continued tending to your wound, you noticed the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when he smiled, and how his presence seemed to have a calming effect on you, even when you felt like you were spiraling. You realized that he had probably picked up on your tendency to speak in a single breath whenever you were nervous or flustered—a trait you found a bit embarrassing, but he seemed to find endearing. It’s a little strange.

“Tell you what,” Hongjoong began, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked up at you. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll share one of my unsaid thoughts too.”

You tilted your head, intrigued and a little wary. “I’d appreciate that,” you said, though you weren’t sure what to expect.

Hongjoong smiled, finishing up the bandage on your finger. “I think you look pretty.”

The words hit you like a gentle wave, unexpected yet disarming. You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. Did he… did he really just call you pretty? Your mind raced, heart pounding as you tried to find a response. Was he just being nice? Or was there something more to it? Maybe he was joking? Or not, given his sincere gaze? You felt your cheeks heating up again, and you could barely string together a coherent thought.

As you stared at him, wide-eyed and flustered, Hongjoong laughed softly at your reaction. “Sorry,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “Didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”

You knew from the look in his eyes and the slight smirk on his lips that he definitely meant to say that.

You both returned to your respective tasks, but focusing proved more difficult than before. Your heart raced, and every so often, your thoughts drifted back to Hongjoong’s unexpected compliment. It lingered in your mind, making it hard to concentrate on the delicate stitches you were working on. The realization of why your heart was fluttering was something you preferred to push aside for now, not wanting to dwell on the implications.

Meanwhile, outside the room, hushed whispers filled the corridor, inaudible to you and Hongjoong inside. Wooyoung, eyes wide and a hand covering his mouth, turned to Seonghwa beside him. “So...” he began, trying to process what they had just overheard.

Seonghwa met Wooyoung’s gaze with a similar look of surprise. “No way. Are they really...”

Wooyoung furrowed his brows in contemplation. “But if they were together, wouldn’t she have responded with something flirty? Like, you know, bantering back?”

Seonghwa shook his head, disagreeing. “She’s not that type of person. Not from what I’ve seen.”

Wooyoung pointed out, “Yeah, but when she told him his lashes looked pretty, she started apologizing like crazy. Would she do that if they were dating?”

Seonghwa considered this, then shook his head again. “Uh… no, definitely not. It’s not every day someone apologizes for complimenting their partner.”

“So... what’s the deal with them?” Wooyoung asked, genuinely puzzled.

Seonghwa shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think they’re just friends, but there’s definitely something more simmering beneath the surface. You can feel the chemistry, even from out here.”

Wooyoung nodded, his curiosity piqued. “The awkward tension between them definitely supports your theory. That’s how these things usually start, right?”

He paused, then added with a mischievous grin, “Do we even need to play matchmaker? It feels like they’re figuring it out on their own.”

Seonghwa laughed softly, a sound almost lost in the quiet hallway, but Wooyoung quickly hushed him. “Shh, we can’t let them know we’re here!”

Wooyoung then pondered aloud, “Now that I think about it, they would make a cute couple. Imagine being a model and dating the creative director of the brand you’re working for... It’s like something out of a romance movie.”

Seonghwa nodded in agreement, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s only a matter of time before he starts designing pieces specifically for her, just like he used to—”

Their conversation was abruptly cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps from inside the room. Panicking, Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged wide-eyed looks before quickly scurrying away, eager to avoid getting caught eavesdropping on their friend’s private moment.

Hongjoong spared a glance at both sides of the hall, a confused expression on his face. “I could’ve sworn I heard something from out here…”

—

A couple of weeks passed, and although the internet buzz surrounding you hadn’t entirely died down, you managed to keep yourself distracted from any concerns about potential media backlash. The credit for this went to Hongjoong, who had embraced your offer to assist with his designs. This partnership provided you both with a creative outlet and a much-needed escape from the spotlight.

You stood before the now-completed outfit you had both worked on, admiring the intricate details and the seamless blend of fabrics. “It’s stunning,” you remarked, your voice filled with awe. “I can’t believe how beautiful it turned out.”

Hongjoong smiled warmly at your words, pride evident in his eyes. “You should take some credit too,” he replied. “I genuinely think it wouldn’t have looked this good if I had done it all alone. Your input was invaluable.”

His compliment made you feel shy, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Well, if you ever need a hand in the future, I’d be more than happy to help,” you offered, your voice slightly timid.

“I’d like that,” Hongjoong murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. An idea seemed to cross his mind, and he looked at you with a glint of excitement. “How about I take you out to dinner tonight? You deserve a proper thank you for all your help. It’s not every day someone offers their time and skill like you did, and I’d like to show my appreciation in a way that’s more than just words.”

You started to shake your head, feeling that such a gesture was too much. “Oh, you really don’t have to. It’s nothing, really...”

But Hongjoong was persistent—as he always seemed to be. He smiled reassuringly, his tone firm yet gentle. “Nonsense. You’ve done more than enough to earn a nice evening out. So, let me treat you. I’ll pick you up from your apartment around eight. Just be ready.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his insistence, knowing you wouldn’t win this argument. “Alright, alright,” you conceded. “But I’m not expecting you to take me anywhere high-end.”

Hongjoong’s smile grew a little mischievous. “Maybe I will be,” he teased, refusing to give a clear answer. “Just be ready, and leave the rest to me.”

A part of you wondered if this dinner had been on his mind for a while, but you pushed that thought aside, nodding in agreement. Your phone buzzed with a message from Madame Dupont, urgently informing you that Pompidou was scratching at your apartment door. Your eyes widened, and you quickly told Hongjoong, “Oh no. I’ve got to go. See you tonight!” before rushing out.

Hongjoong watched you leave, a bemused expression on his face. He shrugged lightly and turned back to the outfit on the mannequin, admiring the final product one last time before heading back to his office. When he arrived, he found Wooyoung lounging comfortably in his chair, looking as if he belonged there.

“Sometimes I wonder if this office belongs to you or me,” Hongjoong mused, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

Wooyoung grinned cheekily. “It’s not my fault your office is so comfy. Anyway, are you free tonight? I need someone to go grocery shopping with me,” he whined dramatically. “My fridge is empty, and I feel like I might starve to death.”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, maybe next time. I’ve got plans tonight.”

Wooyoung’s curiosity piqued, his eyes narrowing with interest and a mischievous glint in them. “Plans? With who?”

Hongjoong hesitated for a moment, knowing where this conversation was headed. “With her,” he finally said, referring to you. “I’m taking her out to dinner to thank her for helping me with the designs.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, a playful glint appearing in them. He leaned forward, his expression full of intrigue and mischief, as if he had just discovered the juiciest piece of gossip. “Oh? Really? Just the two of you?” he teased, his voice dripping with implication.

Hongjoong sighed, deadpanning, “I know that look, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a grin spreading across his face. “So, is this a date?” he asked, stretching the last word with a teasing tone.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. “No, it’s not a date. It’s just a dinner to say thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” Wooyoung drawled, clearly not buying it. “You hesitated. You’ve got to admit there’s something there. The way you two have been spending time together...”

Hongjoong shook his head, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re reading too much into it. It’s just dinner.”

“Just dinner?” Wooyoung echoed, disbelief lacing his tone. “You don’t take just anyone to a fancy restaurant, do you? I mean, I can’t remember the last time you took me to a nice place, and I’m practically your best friend.”

“It’s not about the restaurant,” Hongjoong insisted, though he couldn’t help but chuckle at Wooyoung’s theatrics. “It’s about appreciating her help.”

Wooyoung leaned back, crossing his arms with a knowing grin. “Sure, just dinner. But you don’t have to dress up for ‘just dinner,’ do you? Or pick her up personally? It’s almost like... I don’t know, like a date?”

Hongjoong could feel himself being cornered, yet he maintained his stance. “It’s not a date, Wooyoung. It’s a gesture of appreciation. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Wooyoung leaned in closer, his grin widening. “Oh, I see. So, if she shows up looking stunning and you two have a great time, it still won’t be a date?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re dodging the question,” Wooyoung shot back, laughing. “But seriously, it’s great that you’re taking her out. You two would look good together.”

Hongjoong shook his head again, though his smile remained. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Wooyoung grinned. “But hey, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Well, let everyone think what they want. We’re just friends.”

“For now,” Wooyoung teased, his voice sing-song. “But you know, friends can become more. It’s like a... pre-date.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Pre-date?”

Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Like a test run. You get to see how you feel about it, how she feels about it. It’s perfect! And if it goes well, who knows? Maybe it’ll turn into something more.”

“You’re really reaching here,” Hongjoong said, though he couldn’t help but laugh. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

“Well, someone has to be enthusiastic about your love life,” Wooyoung quipped, grinning. “You’re too busy being all serious and professional.”

Hongjoong shook his head, still smiling. “I think I can manage my own love life, thank you very much.”

“Sure, sure,” Wooyoung replied, waving his hand dismissively. “But just remember, if it turns into a real date, I called it first.”

Hongjoong laughed, finally giving in to the lighthearted teasing. “Fine, you can have the credit if it does. But for now, it’s just dinner.”

“Just dinner,” Wooyoung repeated, still grinning. “We’ll see about that.”

Hours later, Wooyoung was proven right as he and Seonghwa found themselves in Hongjoong’s penthouse, assisting him in choosing the perfect outfit. The room was filled with various clothing options—jackets, shirts, pants—scattered across the furniture. Hongjoong stood before a full-length mirror, trying on a sleek dark blue suit that accentuated his figure.

“He kept insisting it’s not a date, but look at him now,” Wooyoung whispered to Seonghwa, chuckling as they observed Hongjoong’s meticulous attention to detail. He adjusted his tie, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Maybe he just didn’t want to admit it’s a date because then he’d have to acknowledge it’s the first time he’s taken someone to a fancy restaurant,” Seonghwa whispered back, both of them stifling laughter. The idea that Hongjoong was fussing over an outfit over an occasion he swears isn’t a date was both endearing and amusing.

Hongjoong turned to them, an unamused expression on his face. “Are you two going to help me decide which of these looks more presentable, or are you going to keep gossiping about me even when I’m right in front of you?”

“The latter,” both Wooyoung and Seonghwa replied in unison, causing Hongjoong to roll his eyes with a sigh of resignation.

“Alright, alright, let’s get serious,” Wooyoung said, standing up from the bed. He approached Hongjoong, scrutinizing the suit. The tailored fit and elegant fabric gave off a sophisticated vibe, yet it felt a bit too formal for the occasion. “Maybe something a bit less formal?” Wooyoung suggested, tilting his head in contemplation.

As Seonghwa was about to offer his opinion, his phone buzzed with a message notification. Glancing down, he saw it was from you, containing photos of two different outfits with a message.

Which one looks better?

Seonghwa smiled, knowing you hadn’t mentioned the dinner to him but aware of it nonetheless. You probably thought he was unaware of the plan. He quickly assessed the outfits you sent, noticing that the second—a chic, knee-length dress with elegant detailing—would pair perfectly with one of the outfits Hongjoong had yet to try on. Without revealing his thoughts, he texted back, “Go for the second one,” before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Hongjoong, try on the dark black suit with the silk dress shirt of the same color,” Seonghwa suggested, nodding towards the outfit laid out on the couch. The combination was stylish yet not overly formal, balancing sophistication with a touch of modern flair.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow but complied, heading to the bathroom to change. When he returned, the outfit fit him perfectly, the deep blue contrasting nicely with his complexion and highlighting his eyes. Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged satisfied looks.

Seonghwa walked towards him, undoing the first two buttons. Once he was done, he stepped back and nodded approvingly. “You should wear that one.”

Hongjoong looked puzzled. “Why this one?”

Seonghwa simply smiled, shaking his head. “Just trust me on this one,” he insisted, not revealing that the choice was to complement your outfit.

Meanwhile, you were at home, finishing up your preparations. After much deliberation, you had chosen the outfit Seonghwa recommended. The dress was elegant yet understated, perfect for an evening out without feeling too over the top. You sat on your bed, waiting for Hongjoong’s message, your heart fluttering with anticipation and nerves. As the clock struck 8 PM, your phone buzzed with a message from him.

I’m outside.

You quickly grabbed your purse, slipped your phone inside, and made sure to lock your apartment door before heading down to the ground floor.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the sight of Hongjoong leaning casually against his car, his eyes focused on his phone. The soft glow of the streetlights highlighted his sharp features—the strong jawline, the soft curve of his lips, and the way his hair was neatly styled. The suit he wore brought out his eyes, making them seem even more captivating in the dim light.

“Hongjoong?” you called out, your voice slightly hesitant. He looked up immediately, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, his expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face as he took in your appearance.

As you walked over to him, you could see the admiration in his eyes. He seemed momentarily taken aback by how beautiful you looked, the dress flattering your figure in all the right ways. The elegant fabric and subtle detailing accentuated your features without being too flashy. “Hi,” you greeted him, offering a shy smile.

Instead of a typical greeting, Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you, and he finally spoke, his voice soft but sincere. “You look beautiful.”

You laughed lightly, feeling a flush of warmth at his compliment. “Isn’t that supposed to be an unsaid thought?”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “Not tonight, it isn’t.”

He moved to the passenger side of the car, opening the door with a gentlemanly gesture. “After you,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere. You thanked him, slipping into the car, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He closed the door gently, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

As the car pulled away, you found yourself gazing out the window, mesmerized by the city’s beauty. The streets were alive with lights, the architecture blending old-world charm with modern elegance. The cityscape seemed to sparkle, creating a romantic and enchanting atmosphere. “Paris is so beautiful...” you whispered, almost in awe of the city’s charm.

Hongjoong glanced over at you, smiling. “It is, isn’t it?” he agreed, his tone reflecting the warmth of your admiration.

The drive continued in comfortable silence, the city's lights creating a mesmerizing backdrop. Eventually, the car came to a stop in front of a high-end restaurant. The building exudes elegance, with large windows showcasing the warm, inviting interior. You looked over at Hongjoong, a hint of hesitation in your eyes. You weren’t used to such fancy places, and the grandeur of the setting made you feel slightly nervous.

Hongjoong noticed your unease and offered you a reassuring smile, his eyes filled with warmth. “It’s going to be great,” he said softly, his voice calming your nerves. He stepped out of the car and walked around to open your door, offering his hand to help you out.

Inside, the restaurant was elegantly decorated, with soft lighting and tasteful decor creating an intimate atmosphere. A waiter greeted you both with a warm smile. “Good evening, sir, madam. Welcome to Le Ciel de Paris,” he said, his voice professional. “May I say, you look lovely this evening, miss,” he added, glancing at you appreciatively.

Hongjoong nodded in acknowledgment, and the waiter led you to the highest floor—a stunning rooftop with a breathtaking view of the city. The night sky was a canvas of deep blues and purples, dotted with stars. A reserved table awaited you, set with fine china and candles, adding to the comforting ambiance.

As you took your seat, you couldn’t help but express your gratitude and slight apprehension. “This is all so... beautiful,” you whispered, your hands fidgeting slightly. “But honestly, Hongjoong, I really don’t think I deserve—”

Your words were cut off as Hongjoong placed his hand gently over yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “Hey,” he said softly, his gaze steady and sincere. “You deserve this. You’ve been amazing, and I wanted to show my appreciation.”

The sincerity in his voice eased your worries, and you nodded, smiling gratefully. Just then, the waiter approached your table, ready to take your orders. “Good evening. May I start you off with something to drink?” he asked, his pen poised over his notepad.

Hongjoong glanced at you, then back at the waiter. “We’ll have a bottle of your finest white wine, please,” he said, and the waiter nodded, jotting it down.

“And for the main course?” the waiter inquired, looking between the two of you.

Hongjoong smiled at you. “What would you like? Do you have any preferences?”

You looked at the menu, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the options, none of which were familiar to you. “I haven’t tried any of these before... I think I’ll just have whatever you recommend,” you said, smiling sheepishly.

Hongjoong nodded understandingly, then turned to the waiter. “She’ll have the grilled sea bass with lemon herb sauce, and I’ll have the filet mignon with truffle butter,” he ordered confidently, choosing dishes he thought you would enjoy.

The waiter nodded, noting down your orders. “Excellent choice, sir. Your meals will be out shortly,” he said, giving a polite bow before leaving.

As the evening continued, you and Hongjoong indulged in light conversation, gradually easing into more personal topics. You took a sip of your wine and asked, “So, how are you feeling now that Fashion Week is drawing closer? I know there’s still a few months left, but it’s not as far as it used to be.”

Hongjoong leaned back slightly, exhaling softly. “Honestly? I do feel a little pressured and stressed out. The beginning of the process was quite overdue, which has added some tension,” he confessed, his eyes reflecting the weight of his responsibilities.

Hearing this, you immediately felt a pang of guilt. You were acutely aware that the delay was partly due to the time it took for you to return his sketchbook. “I’m so sorry about the sketchbook... I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble or delay,” you began, your voice tinged with regret.

But Hongjoong quickly shook his head, raising a hand to stop you. “No, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault at all. I completely understand why it took a while. You had your own reasons, and I respect that,” he assured you, his tone gentle and understanding. “Besides, I’m grateful it was you who found it. The sketches are as personal as they are professional, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to return them.”

He then shifted the conversation, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “As for my goals for Fashion Week, I’m really aiming to showcase something unique. I want my collection to tell a story—something that resonates on a deeper level with people. I’ve been working on integrating sustainable practices into the designs, focusing on eco-friendly materials and innovative techniques. It’s a challenge, but it’s important to me. I want to highlight not just fashion but also a message about sustainability and conscious consumerism.”

You listened intently, impressed by his dedication and vision. “That sounds amazing. It’s great that you’re thinking about the bigger picture, not just the fashion itself but the impact it has on the world. It’s a refreshing approach in an industry that can sometimes seem so detached from these issues,” you responded, your admiration evident in your voice. “It’s inspiring to see someone so committed to their values and willing to take on the challenge of integrating them into their work.”

Hongjoong smiled, appreciating your support and understanding. “Thank you. It’s definitely a journey, but it’s one I’m passionate about. There’s a lot of work to be done, but I believe it’s worth it.”

As the conversation naturally flowed, Hongjoong turned the focus back to you, his expression curious and concerned. “How have you been handling the sudden exposure to the media? It must be a big change for you.”

You sighed, glancing around the restaurant. You noticed a fair portion of the other diners occasionally glancing in your direction. It was hard to tell if they were looking at Hongjoong, you, or perhaps both of you. The attention felt overwhelming, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Hongjoong noticed your unease and seemed to read your thoughts. “They’re definitely looking at you,” he said, a wry smile on his lips. “People are still curious about you. The media has been persistent, trying to learn more about your background.”

You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck, feeling the weight of his words. “It’s quite a lot to take in,” you admitted, your voice carrying a hint of anxiety. “Honestly, it’s a bit scary. What often happens with people who suddenly go viral is that the media and the public can switch up on them. One moment you’re the person everyone wants to know about, and the next, they’re tearing you down for no reason. I can’t help but worry about that, about what people might say or think. There’s probably already hate comments about me out there, and it’s just... unsettling.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, his gaze sincere and reassuring. “I understand your concerns, but you shouldn’t waste your time or energy worrying about those people,” he said firmly. “There will always be people who are negative or try to bring others down, especially online where it’s so easy to hide behind anonymity. But what matters is how you handle it. You’ve been genuine and true to yourself, and that’s all anyone can ask for. The people who care about you and respect you will see that, and they’re the ones whose opinions truly matter. The rest is just noise.”

His words were comforting, a reminder to focus on the positive and not let negativity overshadow your experiences. Just as you were about to respond, the waiter arrived with your meals, expertly setting down the plates before you. The aroma of the food was enticing, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the delicious meal in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said to the waiter, then turned to Hongjoong with a smile. “And thank you, Hongjoong, for this lovely dinner. It’s really thoughtful of you.”

He smiled warmly. “It’s my pleasure. I’m glad we could spend this evening together.”

You took your first bite of the grilled sea bass, savoring the delicate flavors. The lemon herb sauce complemented the fish perfectly, creating a harmonious and delightful taste. You looked up at Hongjoong, your eyes shining with delight. “This is really good! You definitely recommended the right dish.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Hongjoong said, his smile broadening. “I wanted you to have a good experience here.”

Curious, you asked, “Do you come here often?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I usually only come here when Wooyoung or Seonghwa or both invite me to dinner. I rarely go to extravagant places alone. I prefer staying home or in the office, losing myself in work. It’s just more comfortable for me that way, I guess.”

The evening seemed to slip away like sand through your fingers. Before you knew it, you were seated comfortably in Hongjoong’s car, the soft hum of the engine a soothing backdrop as he began the drive to your apartment. The day’s events, from the delightful meal to the heartfelt conversations, had left you pleasantly exhausted. As you gazed out the window, watching the city lights blur past, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. Hongjoong glanced over, noticing your drowsiness.

“You can sleep if you want to,” he offered kindly, his voice a soft murmur. “I’ll wake you up when we reach your apartment.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it would be alright to take up his offer. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

He smiled gently, reassuring you with a calm, “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s no trouble at all.”

Relieved, you returned his smile and shifted in your seat, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window. As your eyes fluttered closed, the rhythmic motion of the car lulled you into a peaceful slumber. Hongjoong kept his focus on the road, but every now and then, he glanced over at you, noting your serene expression. As the car came to a halt at a red light, he took the opportunity to gently remove his blazer and drape it over you, ensuring you were warm and comfortable. For a brief moment, he found himself mesmerized by your features, a sense of quiet admiration washing over him. A stray strand of your hair fell across your face, and without thinking, he reached out with the intention to brush it away. Just as his fingers were about to touch your skin, the light turned green, pulling him back to reality. He quickly withdrew his hand, clearing his throat and refocusing on the road.

As Hongjoong navigated the familiar streets leading to your apartment, he gently tapped your shoulder three times, rousing you from your nap. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, until your eyes met his. The warmth in his gaze instantly put you at ease. “We’re almost there,” he informed you, a soft smile on his lips.

You nodded, slowly coming back to full awareness. It was then that you noticed his blazer draped over you, the scent of his perfume subtly filling your senses. It carried a complex blend of fruity, floral, and musky notes. Grateful for the warmth, you pulled the fabric closer, a small, appreciative smile gracing your lips.

Upon reaching your apartment building, Hongjoong exited the car first, walking around to your side to open the door. He extended his hand, helping you out of the car. “Thank you,” you murmured, taking his hand and stepping out gracefully. You took a moment to straighten the slight wrinkles in your dress, feeling a bit more composed.

Just as you were about to express your gratitude, a familiar feline figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The cat leaped up, not into your arms as expected, but into Hongjoong’s, causing him to let out a small gasp of surprise. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight of him awkwardly adjusting his grip to properly hold the cat.

“Looks like Pompidou missed you,” you remarked with a fond smile, tilting your head as you watched the scene unfold.

Hongjoong chuckled, a mix of amusement and affection in his eyes as he gently petted the cat. “I can definitely picture you being mischievous now,” he cooed, lightly tapping the tip of Pompidou’s nose with his index finger.

An idea sparked in your mind. You quickly pulled out your phone, taking a few steps back to capture the candid moment. Hongjoong, caught in the act of playing with the cat, looked both charming and endearing. You snapped a photo, giggling softly to yourself before putting your phone away.

“You have a kind soul,” you whispered, almost to yourself, as you observed Hongjoong. “That must be why Pompidou likes you.”

As if on cue, the cat suddenly jumped down from Hongjoong’s arms and trotted towards the entrance of your apartment building. Hongjoong watched the feline’s departure with a soft smile, then turned back to you.

“It looks like it’s time for you to go inside,” he said gently, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you prepared to bid him farewell. “Thank you for tonight, Hongjoong. It was really wonderful. And thank you for letting me help out with your designs. It was a great way to distract myself from everything that’s been going on,” you said sincerely, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I’ll definitely make sure to return the favor.”

He shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips. “You don’t need to. Your presence is enough for me,” he said, then quickly added, waving his hands as if to clarify, “I mean, you’re a really great friend. It’s nice to have you around.”

The term “great friend” resonated with you, touching a part of your heart that hadn’t felt such warmth in a long time. You smiled softly, a heartfelt look in your eyes. “I’m glad you think of me that way,” you replied, your voice soft and sincere.

With that, you exchanged goodbyes, Hongjoong standing by until you safely entered your building. As the door closed behind you, you watched from the lobby as he walked back to his car, giving you one last wave before driving away. You stood there for a moment, reflecting on the evening’s events and the unexpected bond you were forming with Hongjoong. The night had been more than just a distraction; it was a step towards something new and meaningful, leaving you with a warm, lingering feeling as you made your way up to your apartment.

Once you were back home, you quickly settled on the floor with your journal in hand, leaning your back against the bed. The quiet of your apartment contrasted with the eventful day you had, and you felt a comforting sense of calm wash over you. As you opened your journal, the blank pages seemed to invite you to pour out your thoughts and feelings. You began writing, your pen flowing across the paper.

The past few days have been really eventful, thanks to Hongjoong. At first, practicing the ins and outs of sewing was proving itself to be quite the struggle, but I was lucky enough for him to lend me a helping hand with zero judgment. Honestly, I still feel a little embarrassed over offering to help while being well aware I barely knew how a sewing machine operates... But anyway, when I got used to it, I wasted no time in helping him out with one of his designs for his upcoming collection for autumn. We finished it today, and I think it’s safe to say that it turned out great.

He insisted on treating me to a celebratory dinner tonight, and while I had initial hesitance since fancy places weren’t exactly my style, I think his presence helped me get more comfortable with it over the minutes we spent there. He said I was a great friend, too, and I have to say that it was really heartwarming. I can’t even count how many years have passed since the last time someone called me that...

But overall, I had a lot of fun today, and hopefully, I’ll continue to.

🪞 — lividstar.

[matchadobo]

KIDD; the captain has an allergy!

wc: 2061 summary: kidd has an allergy, he's allergic to... you. warnings: afab reader, none, just dumb kidd who can't figure out his feelings while killer tries to compartmentalize the captain's head to sort out his feelings for you, just fluff, a bit suggestive but no nsfw, kidd rambling abt you that's it

something's wrong with eustass kidd. he reckons that he's fatally ill. he feels like he could die any second. his chest feels tight, his muscles feel tense, his vision hazy, his body temperature skyrocketing, and his body perpetually weak most times of the day. he wanted to kill someone, the next pirate king shouldn't be so frail!

"man, i-huff-i feel like i'm having a-huff-a heart attack." the redhead clutched his chest tight, discarding his fur coat off and tossing it somewhere in the blond's quarters. killer looked quite offended that his captain interrupted his knitting.

"what's wrong with you?" killer started as he watched his captain sit by the edge of his bed, taking his vest off as he tries gathering air. "not a fever perhaps?" he stood up and placed the back of his hand atop kidd's forehead, he seemed to be sweating coldly. "talk to me, kidd."

"can you- huff- can you get allergic to someone?"

killer looked at his best friend like he grew a another head. it took him a while to respond. he cleared his throat and continued. "sorry, kidd but... whatever the fuck do you mean?" he tried searching clarity from his captain's eyes as he tried racking his lacking-medicinal-terms brain.

"this is fuckin' ridiculous, alright mate? don'tcha dare laugh at me." kidd started, leaning his arms back behind him as they supported his weight. after taking in a deep breath, he continued. "i think i'm allergic to name."

killer tried stifling his laughter but failed, receiving death glares from the other. "oh you're serious, damn." the blond soon realized and cleared his throat. "how did you... arrive at that verdict, kidd?"

"to start: whenever that fuckin' woman's around, she always makes my stomach feel funny. like i'm about to puke rainbows and shit." he started. "i feel all hot and my throat goes dry, like cat got my damn tongue." he moved his hands around for emphasis, mostly towards his head and chest.

at this point, killer's not getting enough credit for stomaching whatever bullshit his captain brings upon him. he's thanking all the gods there is for his mask because he can't muster how contorted his face looks from the dumb shit his captain is spewing. the amount of times his best friend rambles incoherent drivel about you will send him to madness the next time he hears about them and not see any development. it's nonsense like these that makes him rub his temples and would rather physically punt kidd to make that boneheaded captain realize what he truly feels about you.

the blond stared at him with a grim aura around him, "the fuck are you staring at me like that for?!" kidd protested.

"do you not realize that maybe- just maybe- she makes you feel something else more than... just a fellow crewmate? like i don't know maybe fucking love?" killer tried tiptoeing, piecing it out for him. that is until kidd just blankly stared at him, blinking his eyes as he waits for a word that he understands.

"love?! pft, hell no, shit doesn't sound like me. and that's impossible, i am in hate with her." he shook his head, crossing his arms. "that's why she makes me sick all the way to my stomach. she's a witch i'm tellin' ya."

killer worried at how serious kidd was at that last bit, the redhead's brows furrowed earnestly as he clasped his hands together. "and you think these are all uhh- symptoms for your allergy?"

"not just those!" he interceded, fist slamming down the wooden table. the impact shaking the cup of tea killer had before this disaster walked in. "my chest, i can't breathe each time she's there. just like earlier before i came in, she walked pass me and then i feel like she casted some kind of stupid witchcraft and then i suddenly struggle to breathe...! have i told you that i strongly think that she's a goddamn witch?!"

"yeah, that's twice now."

"i can't eat, feels like i'll throw everythin' up once she sits beside me. and each time she does, her touch feels like i'm bein' stung. she'll walk up to me with that annoyingly beamin' smile and bright fuckin' eyes, i just end up embarrassin' my damn self if i associate myself even further..." he downed the rum in his hands, "there it is! i feel fuckin' hot again! that woman really-"

"what woman?" you suddenly came around, peeking at killer's quarters. kidd jumped at your voice, knocking over things from the table and immediately falling off his seat. killer could be seen with a hand buried on his face, well in this case helmet. you let out a laugh at your rum-drenched captain who was sitting bashfully on the floor.

despite that, you sauntered towards him and squatted down. you took your hanky and unfolded it, drying his hair and wiping the residue liquid on the rest of his face. "what dumb shit are you up to again, captain?" you tilted your head to get a good look at him, but he refused to meet your eyes. you sighed, realizing he was too embarrassed to speak. "well, pick yourself up cuz you look stupid. also, it's not good to see the future pirate king on the floor, don't you think? whatever, see ya." you stood upright, waving to the two men goodbye.

"kidd, you alright?"

"you're right. i'm in love, am i?" he looked up at his best friend, fisting his pants bashfully.

killer rested his chin by his hands with a sigh, "about time you fucking realize."

"that's fuckin' funny, how could i be fuckin' in love?! cuz i hate that she shuts me up cuz i think she's right most of the time. i hate that all that i see is her, every minute for every day. i hate how her eyes shine when she smiles. i hate how she looks at me with that much faith that i'd make it. i hate how she calls me captain and it messes with my fuckin' head, drivin' my chest abnormal. i hate how i constantly want to be beside her. i hate that i always think about where she is and what she's up to. i hate that i am dying to know if she feels the goddamn same for this helpless sack of fuck that can't even pull himself towards her!"

"damn." killer clicked his tongue. "you really are crazy for her, aren't you?"

"from the beginning of it all," he shook his head in disbelief. how can a woman, manage to weaken eustass kidd like this?! just how?! "but i doubt this'd happen, have you seen her and have you seen me? she's way out of my league." he picked himself up, padding his bum with dirt and wiping himself with that hanky you gave. your perfume mixing with rum on his hands.

"oh? humbling yourself, kidd? now, that's not like you." killer countered.

"i-i'm not!" his ears turned red just as fast as he shot out a response. "she's just..."

"too precious you don't want to ruin her?" killer finished, the shock in kidd's eyes proved his accuracy. killer stood beside his best friend and put an arm around his shoulder. "come on, kidd. i look at the two of you and all i see are a couple of hardheaded crooks from the same mould with the same attitude, same stubbornness, and same passion for their dreams. she's tamer than you yes, more intelligent yes, more emotionally aware yes, and much calmer than you yes. that's exactly why you need each other, she regulates your storms and you give her peace a little peril. and trust me, i've seen how much she craves for your danger."

that bit made something primal awaken within kidd, something that he won't be apologizing for once it reveals itself later.

"so go, kidd. get her." killer gave him a little pat on the shoulder and pushed him out his quarters. a sigh of relief as he finally sees the end of this farce.

kidd took a deep breath and went on a search for you. he went looking for you in almost an hour, only to find you in his workshop as you mused at his trinkets and creations. "name, i've been looking everywhere for you. the hell are you doing here?"

"jeez, a hello would be nice." you rolled your eyes. "i wanted to tell you something."

"that's crazy, so do i." he shut the door behind him. he saw the shift in your expression as you heard his statement.

"you can go first." you smiled, making his heart skip a beat again.

"nah, you go."

"i insist. go on."

"no, go ahead."

"captain, just spit it out."

"you spit it out."

"you were the one looking for me, you go first!"

"well, you're the first one who said you were gonna say somethin'!"

"you know what?! neverfuckingmind! i can't with your dumb, stubborn ass!" you walked pass him. that is until he impulsively grabs your wrist and puts you back in your initial place.

you felt your skin burn at his touch, sucking in a deep breath as you regulated your rhythms from his firm grip.

"stay." he announced, seriously this time. you got a good look at his face, the faint light of the lantern along the little window by the other side of the room illuminated his sharp features. his eyes glowing with earnest and the genuine

need to say something he seems to be keeping for a while now.

he got closer and closer until your bum met with his worktable settled at the other side of the room, your hands holding at the edges for support as he got precariously close. you looked away as to not make your heart explode, mustering something up to calm yourself down. "w-why are you s-so clo-"

"look at me." he raised your chin with his index finger, directly locking eyes with you. "you aware that you've been driving your captain fuckin' insane ever since you set foot in the victoria?"

you furrowed your brows lightly, looking for any sort of clue in his honey eyes. your mouth was agape, too lost at the situation and too aroused at the proximity between the two of you. "from the way you always oppose me on the littlest things as you measure up to my stubbornness and knock some sense into me, to the way you usher me on to my dream like my pocket-sized cheerleader." he started, hypnotizing you with the fiery burn of his golden orbs; honey swirls swimming in them. "i love you." he placed a kiss on your forehead, down to your nose, to each side of your cheek, before pausing and waiting for the green light to your lips.

"well?" he raised a brow, keeping a milimeter distance away from your lips you could choke physically.

"tease." you replied, pulling him by his collar as you two clash your lips against each other. you wrapped your arms around his neck and he did too around your waist. it went on for a while before you two pulled away to get some air, panting in each other's lips. "your breath stinks of rum."

"as if that doesn't off you." he smirked, playfully tugging at your lower lips between his teeth. "so, what were you gonna say?"

"that i'm nuts about you too." you kissed his cheek. "funny how this whole shit works, right?!"

he threw his head back as he laughed. "all this time i thought i was the only crazy one."

"well, you're not very good at hiding how you like me so much." you teased, poking his cheek.

"shut it and kiss me more." he changed the topic, growling as he nuzzled his face by your neck. grinning as he elicited a little moan from you.

"have i told you how much i love your perfume?" he sucked in a deep breath, buttering your jaw and neck with kisses as the red pigment from his lips spanned further across your skin.

"no i thought you hated it."

"that's code for love, you dumbass." he breathed in your ear, making you giggle. he littered your neck with kisses, reveling at the fits of giggles he kindles from you.

i took this idea from an ao3 fic i read abt todobaku aND I CAN'T FIND IT ANYMORE! but anw i thought it'd be a good idea to incorporate kidd into this hehe. FINALLY FLESHED OUT A FIC IN SO LONG WOO

[trashpandato]

The sun in your eyes made some of the lies worth believing

When Lex slips out of her grip hundreds of feet above Shelley Island and plummets, Kara knows better than to just assume that this is it. This is Lex Luthor. She’s not sure what trick he might have up his sleeve, but she is sure that he has a plan for his escape, so she dives to follow. She can see the moment something impacts with the ground, but still, she’s convinced that he’s managed to disappear before that happened, so she continues her search.

“Alex! I lost him. We need to find him.”

The comms system crackles a little but Alex comes through loud and clear:

“He’s gotta be dead. There was a mini explosion when he hit the ground.”

“I don’t think he is, but if you’re right, I want to see the body.”

Alex tries to argue, but Kara won’t have it. They’ve been on the back foot for so long while fighting Lex, she knows this would have been too easy.

They search the impact site. There’s a small crater, there are pieces of Lex’s warsuit, but it’s impossible to know if Lex is dead until they’ve done a thorough analysis of the debris. Kara is about to call for Brainy’s help to speed up the process when she hears it:

Lena’s heartbeat.

It’s skyrocketing. Kara freezes for a second to listen more closely, to locate Lena, and then she’s off, briefly yelling into the comms device that she needs to find Lena.

When she lands, she’s at a cabin of sorts. It blends in with the environment and Kara thinks she might be in the wrong place. Nothing here looks suspicious. But then she hears voices and Lena’s short, shallow breaths. She wants to rush towards the sounds, to make sure Lena is safe, but she’s frozen in her spot when she hears Lex say it.

“Kara Danvers is Supergirl.”

He sounds weak, the words are gasps more than anything else but to Kara, they are the sounds of a dying world. She stops breathing, her limbs suddenly feel leaden. She wants to burst into the cabin, but she can’t move. She needs to see Lena. She needs to explain. Suddenly, she feels sick to her stomach. Kara knows she should have told Lena long ago, but the fact that it’s Lex in the end who shares her secret is too much. Images of Lena’s face flash through her mind as she imagines the shock and pain Lena must be feeling in that very moment.

But then Lena’s voice comes through, steady and calm.

“I know.”

It’s followed by the sound of one solitary gunshot, and then silence. 

Kara takes a steadying breath and then rushes into the cabin. Inside, she finds Lena, gun in hand, staring down at Lex’s slumped body. A quick x-ray confirms no vital signs. He’s dead. Kara looks up and takes in the room around her. There are several monitors showing a video, a collection of images of Kara using her powers: the day Mercy Graves attacked, then in Kaznia. It’s dizzying to watch and Kara wonders how Lex got this footage in the first place, but then she remembers Lena’s words. Lena knows.

“Lena.”

Her back is still turned to Kara and she flinches a little at the sound of her voice but she doesn’t turn around, not right away. Lena’s hands are shaking, her heartbeat is almost violently loud in the small room.

Kara isn’t sure what to say. She wants to comfort Lena, hug her, make sure she’s okay, but she’s not sure what Lena needs right now. So she waits.

“You all really think I’m stupid,” Lena scoffs, her gaze still fixed on her brother, “that I didn’t see through the world’s worst disguise with ease.”

Kara winces. She knows others have pointed out that glasses and a ponytail aren’t enough to hide who she really is. Alex makes fun of her for it regularly. But hearing Lena say it, hearing the disdain in her voice as she spits out those words, makes Kara’s stomach clench.

“How long have you known?” Kara’s not even sure she wants to hear the answer.

The question finally makes Lena turn around, and it’s better than only seeing her back but Kara swallows hard when Lena locks eyes with her.

“Definitively? Since that day you saved me when I was pushed off the balcony. Your story about Supergril and Kara Danvers having coffee when I called was a little too convenient. But I had my suspicions since you flew to my office, on a bus.”

Kara grimaces. She’s never been particularly good at coming up with excuses around Lena.

“Lena. I’m so sorry.”

Kara wants to apologize, to explain, but Lena cuts her off.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

And that, Kara isn’t sure what to do with that.

“You…you do?”

“I can’t say that I understand entirely why you felt the need to keep up the charades for as long as you have. But I get that you couldn’t trust me. Not really.”

“No! Lena, that’s not why,” Kara starts, her voice taking on a frantic note. She needs Lena to know that this was never about trust.

Lena lets out a harsh huff, half-turns her body towards where Lex is still slumped over in his chair and waves her hands around at the room.

“Kara, come on. I’m a Luthor. Both my mother and my brother have hurt you, multiple times, have tried to kill you and your family. I don’t blame you. I get it. Hell, I doubt myself several times a day, so of course you would, too.”

Kara shakes her head. She takes a step towards Lena and Lena stiffens but doesn’t retreat.

“That’s not why. I mean, maybe at the very beginning that was a consideration, but you’ve shown me over and over again that I can trust you. And I do!”

Lena frowns. Her head tilts slightly like it often does when she is trying to solve a problem, a puzzle, but where Kara usually finds an open, curious expression, Lena looks guarded. 

“Then why?”

Kara wants to tell her that she did it to protect Lena. Images of Alex trapped in a tank rapidly filling with water flash through her mind and she shudders. There have been too many moments when people close to Kara have been in danger because of her secret.

But this is Lena, who fends off several assassination attempts a year, who is in danger so much already but somehow manages to keep going, to protect herself and others over and over again. Not wanting to add yet another target on her back might have been one motivation for Kara, but it has never been the main driver for keeping Lena in the dark.

Kara’s real reason has always been more selfish.

“Because I liked being Kara with you. Just Kara. Not a Superhero who is expected to save the day, every day, not an alien refugee who watched her world die in front of her eyes. Just Kara, who loves watching silly rom coms with you, who refuses to try your kale salads…who is your friend.”

A thought pops into Kara’s head then, a question that she’s almost too terrified to ask.

“Are we still friends?”

Lena shifts her weight a little, straightens her posture and raises an eyebrow. Kara has seen Lena do this many times, usually at work, when she’s trying to gain the upper hand in an uncomfortable conversation. 

“I don’t know. Are we?”

The question hits Kara right in her chest, and she almost feels winded. She knows she deserves it, deserves whatever anger Lena might feel towards her for lying for so long, but it still hurts to hear that Lena is questioning the very foundation of their connection.

“Of course,” the words rush out of Kara’s mouth in a panic, “I mean, I hope we still are? I would understand if you, um, if you need some time to, to decide if you still want to be. Friends, I mean.”

Lena sighs then. She sounds tired.

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs to decide that, Kara. Look around,” Lena pauses and looks over her shoulder at Lex. “I’ve made it pretty clear where my loyalties lie, don’t you think?” 

Kara’s thoughts are racing. She tries to find the right words to say, to explain that she trusts Lena, she really does, but all she can see is that Lena is trying to blink back a few tears and she wants to sweep her into a hug but she feels frozen in place.

After a moment of silence between them, Lena clears her throat.

“Right. Well. You should probably call Alex and tell her about this,” she waves around the room again. “I’m sure you’ll both want to get rid of the video and any other evidence Lex might have kept here about your identity before you call the authorities about him.”

“Lena,” Kara tries to walk towards her but this time Lena does step back.

“I’m going to go. When you’re done here, if Alex thinks I should turn myself in or give an official statement or something, you know where to find me.”

“What?” Kara’s brows are furrowed. She’s not sure why Lena would turn herself in. 

“I shot him. With intent to kill. Pretty sure that no matter what he’s done, that’s still illegal, so…”

Kara nods. She can barely breathe. Lex is dead, and Lena is the one who shot him, willing to face whatever consequences that might follow, and she did it for Kara. The full extent of it all makes Kara feel dizzy.

Lena turns towards the door and takes several steps before she stops.

“And Kara?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens now, moving forward, it’s up to you. It’s always been up to you. The only thing I ask is that you’ll be honest when you tell me what you’ve decided. Don’t,” Lena warns, “don’t insult my intelligence again.”

“Okay,” Kara nods again, “I promise.”

Dealing with the cabin ends up taking the better part of two days. Brainy scans the computers and finds a couple of encrypted backup servers that hold copies of the video Lex showed Lena, along with the source materials. Once found, he erases any trace of it and any trace that anyone accessed or modified content on the servers. They dismantle the tech itself and strip the cabin to its bare bones to ensure that no other evidence of Lex’s machinations remains.

As for Lex himself, Alex is shocked when she arrives and hears from Kara what happened.

“Lena killed him? Just like that?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t just like that, Alex. He showed his cards, that he knew my identity and was willing to expose it for personal gain.”

“So she did it for you?”

Kara pauses, replaying her conversation with Lena in her mind.

“She’s always done everything she could for me. She’s saved my life so many times. She’s saved yours, too. She’s always been there for us, for our friends, for the city.”

Alex huffs. “You’ve both been there for each other many times.”

“I don’t think so, Alex. I mean, sure, I’ve saved her life a couple of times, but don’t you see? She’s always done all these things for us, for me. And all this time, I was lying to her.”

“You had to, Kara.”

Kara shakes her head vigorously. “I didn’t. Maybe for the first month or two, sure. But after that? She’s proven so many times that we can trust her, that when push comes to shove, she’ll put our safety above her own interests. And I lied. I pretended. And all this time she knew. Rao, I don’t even know how she listened to my stupid excuses for when I had to run off to deal with the next emergency and just…rolled with it.”

Kara sinks down onto a large box that’s filled with all kinds of Lex’s tech from the cabin and buries her face in her hands.

“Alex, I messed up. You should have seen the way she looked at me. She wasn’t angry, not really. But she doubts our friendship, and I have given her every reason to think that I haven’t been fully committed to it.”

Kara feels Alex’s arms wrap around her in an awkward side hug.

“Hey. You did what you felt you had to do. You had your reasons, and I’m sure it hasn’t been fun for her to be kept at arm’s length, but you can change that now. You get to show her you’re all in.”

“How?” Kara asks, her tone almost desperate.

“You’ll think of something. You know Lena better than anyone.”

Kara sighs. “Yeah, okay.”

Kara ends up keeping her distance from Lena for the better part of two weeks. At first, it’s just a couple of days, and Kara can justify it with all the work they have to do to dismantle Lex’s various hiding places, to make sure he doesn’t have any more information on Kara that can fall into the wrong hands. But then, days turn into a week, one week turns into two and Kara no longer has any real excuse for not going to see Lena. It’s just that she doesn’t know what to say, not yet.

Nia finds her hanging around at the Tower one evening. She throws herself on the couch next to Kara so forcefully that Kara is sure she hears the frame crack slightly. But before she can chastise Nia for jeopardizing the structural integrity of the furniture in their place of work, the other woman claps a hand against Kara’s thigh.

“You really have to stop moping. It’s messing up the vibes in this place.”

“What? What vibes?”

“You know, the ones where we all work together as a team of Superfriends? Who have each other’s backs even when the world is about to end?”

Kara lets out a frustrated huff but doesn’t respond.

“Just talk to her,” Nia says. “Because honestly, this is killing me. I want Lena back. And so does Brainy. And I’m sure Alex does, too, in her own way.”

“I’m not keeping you from reaching out to her,” Kara snaps. She’s pretty sure that Nia is perfectly capable of sending Lena a text.

“Dude. You know the only reason Lena pulled away from all of us is because you lied to her, and by extension we all did, too. But she’s waiting for you to make a move here, to show her how you want to proceed. And until you do that, the rest of us are sort of, well, background noise.”

Kara disagrees. “No, you’re not. You have your own relationship with Lena, you all do. You can go and tell her that you’re sorry for lying, that you did it for me. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to accept that.”

“Sure. And then what do I do when Lena inevitably asks me about you and why you haven’t called her yet? Do I lie again by not telling her that you’re sitting here like a lovesick puppy because you can’t admit that you have feelings for her?”

Kara’s head snaps up and for a brief moment she has to focus on controlling her heat vision when she glares at Nia.

“What?”

“Oh come on, Kara. I’m not blind.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to. We’re friends. Or, well, at least I hope we still are.”

Nia sighs and shifts her body so she can look at Kara more directly.

“You and I are friends, right?”

“Um, of course. Why do you even ask?”

“Because you sure as hell don’t look at me the way you look at Lena.”

Kara squirms in her spot. She wants to end this conversation. In fact, she wants to go back to a time where they never have this conversation in the first place.

“Nia,” she sighs, hoping her tone lets her know to drop it.

But Nia is undeterred.

“Kara. As your friend, I’m going to say this once and only once: tell her how you feel. Sure, things right now are…tricky between the two of you. She knows you lied, and she’s wondering whether you were ever really friends at all. But that means the door is open to redefine what you two are. Show her you trust her, that you care about her, as more than a friend.”

Kara wants to deflect, to tell Nia she’s on the wrong track, but something about the way Nia pins her in place with a heavy look makes Kara deflate.

“But what if that’s not what she wants? I can’t lose her, Nia. It’s safer if I just go and apologize to her profusely and try to mend our friendship and that’s that.”

“She’s not stupid, Kara. In fact, you said she explicitly told you not to insult her intelligence again. If you pretend that all you want to be is friends but you keep making heart eyes at her every opportunity you get, she’ll know that you’re still lying to her. Just not about secretly being a superhero this time.”

Kara rubs her hand across her face and lets out a frustrated sigh. She knows Nia is right about Kara owing Lena the truth, all of it. She’s just not sure if she is strong enough to risk it.

“You’re right,” she says after a moment, sounding defeated. “I just…I’m terrified.”

At that, Nia slips one of her long arms around Kara and pulls her against herself.

“I know. But hey, you’re Supergirl. You do scary stuff all the time. You can do this, too. You owe it to her, and to yourself.”

Kara sags against her on the couch. Nia is right. She can do this. But right now, she simply lets herself be held for a moment.

It takes another day full of frantic pacing, stress-eating three dozen donuts and a box of chocolates that Alex informs her “were for Kelly, thank you very much” before Kara plucks up the courage to send off a text that has set in her app as a draft for way too long now.

KD: Can we talk?

Lena’s reply isn’t immediate, and Kara can’t tell if that’s deliberate or if Lena is simply too busy dealing with the aftermath of Lex’s death. Alex didn’t think Lena should take public responsibility for it, so they had created a cover story to explain that he had died in a shootout with federal agents who were trying to apprehend him. The story allowed Lena to officially take over Luthor Corp and Kara has seen through media reports just how much work this has been for Lena.

When Lena’s text comes in later that afternoon, it’s both a relief and a source of worry.

LL: You know where to find me

Kara reads and re-reads the text more times than she can count. She knows it’s hard to pick up on tone over text, especially one so short, but Lena sounds guarded, defensive, which is not a great place to start for the conversation Kara knows they need to have. On the other hand, Lena is still talking to her, inviting her to find her, so at least that means she’s open to hearing Kara out. 

She spends the next three hours obsessing over Lena’s text and over what she wants to say to her. Kara knows she has to apologize for lying, for keeping Lena at arm’s length for so long. But she also wants to know why Lena never told her that she knew, that she has been playing along for years. With her stomach in knots and her thoughts pinging around in circles, she decides to talk to Alex first. She needs some outside perspective before she can have this conversation with Lena.

But when she makes her way over to her sister’s place, Alex isn’t home.

“Kara, hi,” Kelly says with a warm smile as she steps aside to let Kara in. “Come on in.”

“Um, hi. Is, um, I need to talk to Alex.”

Kara follows Kelly as she leads them both into the kitchen.

“She’s not here. She took Esme out for ice cream. A little bonding time after they had a bit of a stand-off this morning over what counts as appropriate breakfast food.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m, that’s good. I’m glad they’re doing that.” 

Kara stumbles over her words and looks down at her feet. She really needs to talk to her sister, but she also doesn’t want to intrude on their family moments. She knows how much being a mom means to Alex, and how hard it is with their jobs to spend quality time with loved ones. Kara scuffs her toe against the tile floor a little as she contemplates her options.

Kelly’s voice pulls Kara out of her thoughts.

“How about I make us some tea and you tell me what’s bothering you. Maybe I can help?”

Kara hesitates. 

“Oh. Um. I don’t want to keep you from anything important.”

Kelly just smiles and fills the kettle with water.

“You’re important, Kara. You know that, right?”

Kelly’s soft voice is soothing, and for the first time since receiving Lena’s text, Kara feels her shoulders relax a little.

“Is this about Lena?” Kelly probes, and before Kara even thinks about whether or not she wants to have this conversation with her, she nods.

“Yeah. I, um, I want to talk to her. Need to talk to her. But I’m terrified and I don’t know where to start.”

Kelly hums and plops two tea bags into their mugs as she waits for the water to boil.

“What is it you’re most worried about?”

Kara thinks it’s deliberate that Kelly isn’t looking at her in that moment, that she appears focussed on the task of making them tea. She wonders if this is a tactic she uses with Alex as well.

“Honestly, I’m not even sure. I mean, I spent years worrying about what would happen if she ever found out who I am. I was so sure there’d be a, um, a big confrontation. A fight. That I would lose her. It’s part of why I kept it from her for so long.”

Kelly hums but doesn’t say anything, so Kara continues.

“But now I know that she knows. That she’s known all along, and she’s still, I mean, she’s here, she never left. So my fear about telling her was unfounded all this time, only I didn’t know. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

“It sounds like you feel caught off guard. And that’s understandable. You only just found out that something that was foundational in your relationship with Lena wasn’t the same for her at all. That would be pretty disorienting.”

“Yes!” Kara bursts out, but then she softens her next words. “I mean, it feels weird. I’m the one who lied to her, so it’s not like I can complain about her not telling me that she knew.”

Now Kelly does turn to look at Kara.

“You could. Look, I think the most important thing for both of you moving forward is that you find a way to be on the same page. And honesty is going to be a key piece of that. Not just telling her who you are, officially, but I think you should tell her that it’s confusing for you that she’s known all along and never said anything. I’m sure she’s had her reasons, just like you had yours. Hear her out, don’t hide what you feel just because you feel guilty about keeping her in the dark.”

Kelly hands Kara her mug and the immediate heat she feels through her hands is comforting.

“But what if she pulls away now? What if telling her how I feel, um, about everything, is the thing that makes her leave?”

“You can’t control what other people do. All you can do is show her what you want things to look like going forward. But Kara,” Kelly pauses and waits for Kara to look up from her mug, “I think Lena has shown you for years what she wants. That she’s willing to work with whatever you’re willing to give her. It can’t have been easy, knowing but watching you keep her at a distance, but her commitment to you has never waivered.”

“I know,” Kara sighs. “I know.”

Kara’s gaze drifts down to her mug again. Kelly is right. Lena has been there for Kara all along, so maybe it doesn’t matter that they weren’t able to be completely honest with each other in the past. Maybe all that matters is that they’ve been here for each other despite it all.

Kara’s head snaps up when she feels a warm hand on her elbow.

“Just talk to her. Be honest with her and with yourself and tell her what you want from her moving forward.”

Kara nods. “I will. Thank you, Kelly.”

Kara leaves but still doesn’t go to Lena immediately. Kelly’s words echo in her ears. Tell her what you want from her. And then there’s what Nia said, and Kara can’t deny it. She does want things to change between her and Lena. She wants more, has for a long time.

It’s late when Kara finally finds herself in front of a familiar door. She decided against the balcony, not wanting Lena to feel ambushed. Being here now, her hands poised to knock, makes Kara feel jittery and unsure. She takes a few deep breaths and knocks.

It doesn’t take long for Lena to open the door, and she doesn’t look surprised to see Kara either, even though it’s been hours since Kara texted her and weeks since they last saw each other. Lena greets her with a quick nod and turns around to walk back into her penthouse, leaving Kara to trail after her. And after a second of stunned silence, Kara does. When she makes it fully inside, she watches Lena set a kettle on the stove and turn it on.

“Tea,” Lena says, her voice about as neutral as Kara has ever heard it. But then she finally turns around, flicks her gaze up to meet Kara’s and asks: “Would you like some?”

“Uh. Sure. That. Yes, that would be nice.”

Lena nods and continues prepping the tea. It’s clear that she’s looking for something to do, to fill the space between them, and Kara can relate. 

“How have you been?” Kara says, and she knows this is a weird thing to ask as soon as the words leave her mouth, but she needs to break this tension between them somehow.

“Oh, you know. Kind of busy dealing with the fact that I murdered my own brother and then took over his company.”

Kara grimaces. “Right. I can imagine that’s been…a lot. How are you, how are you holding up?”

Lena stops fiddling with the tea mugs then and leans back against her kitchen counter, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Is that what you’re here to talk about? My stress level?”

“Um, not really. I mean, I do want to know how you are doing, but, um,” Kara starts but cuts herself off.

She’s in the middle of trying to shove her hands into her pockets when she realizes that the pants she is wearing tonight don’t have any pockets, so her arms fall down awkwardly at her side and she lets out a frustrated huff. 

Not a great start.

But then there’s a twitch of a smile tugging at Lena’s lips and in that moment, Kara’s frustration shifts into pure adoration for the woman in front of her.

“You know, I had this whole speech prepared, in my head,” she begins again. “It was a good one, too. But now that I’m here, all I want is to, um, can I hug you?”

And Lena’s eyebrows flick up at that but she nods and Kara doesn’t hesitate. She’s around the kitchen island in a flash and then carefully but firmly pulls Lena against her, loops her arms around her back and holds tight. 

Kara has missed this. She’s always been touchy with Lena, has always tried to express her admiration and love with little touches and big hugs. These last few weeks without her have felt cold and confusing, but being here now, having Lena in her arms again, reaffirms Kara’s conviction to make things right.

She keeps her voice low for her next words.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lena. I never should have lied to you for so long.”

She feels Lena stiffen a little but she continues: 

“I can’t even really explain why I kept the lie going for so long. Like I said, at first it was because I didn’t really know you, but then, I don’t know, it just, it got away from me. There were so many moments when I wanted to tell you, but I always chickened out. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Slowly, she eases the hold she has on Lena and leans back but keeps her hands on Lena’s arms, unwilling to break contact.

“I know it wasn’t fair to you. And you have every right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Lena interrupts, but her tone isn’t cutting or sharp like Kara would have expected. Instead, her voice is quiet. “I, maybe I was, at first. It wasn’t fun to be kept at a distance, to watch you come up with really bad excuses to cover up your rapid exits from our lunches.”

Kara grimaces at that. She’s always felt bad about those, always worried about Lena thinking that Kara didn’t want to spend time with her.

“But I understand why you kept this part of yourself hidden, Kara. I told you. I know who I am, who my family is. I get it. I’m not angry.”

“But I made you doubt our friendship,” Kara adds, and it’s not a question.

It’s then that Lena extricates herself a little and steps back towards the kettle. She pulls it off the stove and pours hot water into two mugs sitting next to it on the counter. With her back to Kara, she responds.

“I don’t know what to think anymore. It’s been, it’s been so confusing for so long. One minute, you’re there, and so kind and gentle and more supportive than anyone has ever been in my life. And maybe it’s because I spent so long without that, without genuine…without anyone who would defend me and check on me and bring me lunch knowing how bad I am at remembering to eat. For a long time I thought we had…something. But then you would rush out the door for some emergency and it always felt like a bucket of cold water. Knowing that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me. So I don’t know. I don’t know if this,” Lena turns around then and waves a hand between them, “if this is something or if I’ve simply been so starved for affection that I imagined it and it was never there in the first place.”

The confession breaks something in Kara. She can see now how Lena has spent years teetering back and forth, torn between the mixed signals she was getting from Kara. Thinking about how confusing that must have been, especially for someone like Lena, who’s had to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of love in her life, makes Kara’s eyes sting.

“Lena,” she whispers and takes a careful step towards her again, “you didn’t imagine anything. There was always something there.” She loops her hands around Lena’s wrists, trying to ground them both. “There still is.”

Lena’s eyes are locked with Kara’s and for a moment she doesn’t say anything at all. It’s like she’s trying to read Kara’s thoughts, to make sure that the words are true this time. When it’s clear that Lena isn’t going to say anything for now, Kara presses on.

“Why didn’t you tell me? That you knew?”

Lena’s expression is still a little guarded. Kara can feel her pulse race where her fingers are still circled around her wrists, can hear her heartbeat hammer in her chest. She knows they’re on the precipice, and they both have a choice to make.

“You had your reasons for not telling me. And you seemed very invested in keeping it that way, so I thought it would be best to just…play along.”

“Why? Why not call me out, get things out into the open?”

When Lena looks up at her then, her eyes are focussed, clear. Like she’s just made a decision for herself.

“Is it so hard to believe that I wanted to keep you happy?”

And that, that’s the answer that pops the lingering worry in Kara’s chest like a balloon. It’s like the puzzle pieces finally fit together and Kara can’t help the crooked grin that overtakes her face.

“Listen, I know I’ve, um, I know that by not telling you, by keeping you in the dark for so long, I made decisions for the both of us. About, um, about us. And I want that to change. If you want friendship, I’m here. I’m all in, and I promise, no more secrets. But if you want, um, if you want something else, that’s fine, too. Anything. Lena. I’ll give you anything.”

For a long moment, Lena is silent. She stares at Kara, her eyes roaming along every inch of Kara’s face, and Kara briefly thinks that this is it. This is the moment when Lena will pull away and tell her to get out, that too much has happened for her to ever fully trust Kara.

But what Lena says instead is small, almost pleading.

“I need you to say it, Kara. I need to hear what you mean by something else. No more secrets. I can’t…I need clarity.”

Kara lets her hands fall on Lena’s hips and pulls her closer.

“I mean something more. More than friendship. You, you mean everything to me, Lena. You have, for a long time. I’m sorry that it has taken me so long to work up the courage to tell you. About who I am, and about how much I love you.”

Lena is so close to her now that Kara can feel the sharp intake of breath as soon as those last three words are out. She squeezes Lena’s hips gently and repeats them again. No more secrets. No more vague innuendos that leave a door open for backing out. Lena has been there for Kara all this time, unwavering in her support, despite Kara’s lies. The least Kara can do now is be honest. Finally.

“I love you, and I think we could be…more.If that’s, if that’s what you want.”

A long sigh works its way out of Lena’s chest before she says: “I want it all with you”

Kara knows there’s a dopey smile on her face now. “Yeah?”

In lieu of an answer, Lena crashes her lips against Kara’s in a kiss that’s both fierce and desperate. Kara can feel years of longing and uncertainty in the way Lena presses herself as close as possible, in the little gasps that escape her mouth as they deepen the kiss.

It’s not the soft, hesitant kiss that Kara had imagined their first kiss to be. But then again, nothing about Lena has ever been what Kara imagined. She knows they need to talk, still. To sort out what they both want from each other. And she knows she still has to make amends, that it will take a while to re-establish their connection, this time without the lies, without secret identities that hold them back. She indulges in the kiss for a while longer before she gently pulls back, giving them both a moment to gather themselves.

“How about that tea now?”

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Little libraries -

Free little Libraries are a great passive mutual aid project. Originally inspired by DIY projects they are easy to build, are generally low maintenance once established, creative and fun artworks within themselves, and its a great way to introduce a gift economy into your neighborhood!

History-

2009- Todd Bol of Hudson, Wisconsin, built a model of a one room schoolhouse. It was a tribute to his mother; she was a teacher who loved to read. He filled it with books and put it on a post in his front yard. His neighbors and friends loved it, so he built several more and gave them away.

UW-Madison’s Rick Brooks saw Bol’s do-it-yourself project while they were discussing potential mutual aid projects. They were inspired by community gift-sharing networks, “take a book, leave a book” collections in coffee shops and public spaces, and most especially by the philanthropist Andrew Carnegie.

2010 the name Little Free Library was established and the purpose of these Little Free Library book exchanges became clear: to share good books and bring communities together.As Bol and Brooks continued to give away Little Free Libraries with wooden charter signs, engraved with official charter numbers, curiosity and demand for more Libraries grew. The acceleration centered on the enthusiasm of early adopters and stewards, who were crucial advocates. Some small grants and informal partnerships began to have an impact on Little Free Library’s ability to keep up with demand.

2011 brought national media attention, and by the end of the year there were nearly 400 Little Free Libraries in existence. That number would skyrocket to over 4,000 Libraries within a year. 

2012  Little Free Library became a registered 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization in the states!

Little Free Libraries have continued to grow by leaps and bounds every year. In 2022 we surpassed 150,000 registered Libraries in more than 120 countries worldwide. Even establishing an online map and app to help people locate the libraries!

How do I do this?

The little library website hosts a bunch of plans and blueprints to make a library or get ideas for locations. Even having ready to order kits if you want!

You will need either land or public approval to establish one however, this can be by the city, neighbours, or other public spaces but they are technically put on private land. You wont find anyone ho would object to their installation but I would not recommend just installing one unless your okay with it being taken down.

Pick a location that has a lot of foot traffic and be highly visible to anyone nearby and is accessible as possible.

Register your library! You can get an official charter sign by doing this step!!

Fill it up with books!!

[superluver]

Dingy Camera G.S.

6.2k words | cw: Angst, Gore, Character death, MAJOR JJK MANGA SPOILERS, S2 Spoilers, (No)happy ending/ slight comfort, Follows the Events of Gojo's Past arc+un-canon events at ending for the plot, MAJOR mental health warning, FEM READER

THIS STORY DOES NOT CONTAIN PEDOPHILIA

Gojo is very pushy

Description: Gojo was in love with you—his Highschool teacher and the strongest sorcerer of your time— who had known him since he was young. You don't see him in that light, but he is stubborn, even as a highschool student. You are watching your students grow up, becoming stronger with each passing second. And after the failed Star-Plasma Vessel trip, you set out on a man-hunt for your father, who is harboring a new woman's body as his own...

☆*:.｡. Starting here .｡.:*☆

It's dark in the apartment, well.. condo�� he is a rich man after all— yet, he can see it all.

He remembers his way around the place, has for many years. He doesn’t even need his six eyes to know where he stands.

He just knows.

When he bought the condo, he purchased the furniture along with it, to keep that memory alive. It was all he had left. Sometimes he wonders if she were alive, how strange it would be, if the Zenin, Gojo, and Kamo clan’s prized possessions all sat at a dinner table, chatting about their days in peace.

He finds himself standing at the table, near the door, with a photograph. A much older woman, patting his and Suguru’s head aggressively, her chin laying on Shoko’s. Her grin was broad, a cigarette peeking out from the corner of her mouth. He and Suguru had an annoyed expression, hence the blurry photo. It was them trying to pull her off them as she was pressing their heads down so she would appear taller.

She was tall already, but two boys that were in the midst of their puberty, skyrocketing like a bean sprout, was a bit degrading to her very large ego. Her upper arm, hardly visible to the camera’s view, has a cloth— the exact same Satoru uses to cover her arm— wrapped around it with a cute little bunny knot that pokes from the side.

He closes his eyes, pulling the cloth from his eyes, breathing out.

“Hey, Sensei! Spar with me!” Satoru shouts, he’s a first year, not knowing anyone but you, the woman who watched him grow up. “Hah?” You chuckle, shaking your head with a smoking cigarette peeking from the corner.

You're sitting at your desk in your chair, it has wheels, which you occasionally spin in circles when no one is watching. Though, since your class is in session, you lay your feet on the wooden desk, which is dented from the amount of time you’ve slammed your heels on it. With your free hand— the other occupied with a newspaper— you shoo him off, continuing, “No way, you’re too weak. And,” you fwip your newspaper, “I’m busy, as you can see.”

He gapes, extremely offended. “I’m the strongest there is!” He shouts, his thumb pointing at his chest, which he puffs out.

“Alright, strongest.” You tease, watching his face grow red as you bare what you like to call, a shit eating grin.

“Let’s see, how strong are you?”

Your head turns to your other first year students, Suguru and Shoko.

Suguru sits with his head in hit palm, clearly dazed and exhausted, and Shoko has her head up in the air, leaning back in her seat with a straw in her mouth. Her arms dangling at her side.

The nearing summer heat is killing all of you, but it's impacting your classes too. The windows are open to let the breeze in, but if you close it, the classroom will turn into an oven. You have a fan running in the background, but only at you.

You know what they say, beggars can’t be choosers.

“If— if I win, we get the fan.”

Suguru and Shoko’s ears perk up, their attention on their classmate.

You shrug, placing the newspaper down. “Alright,” your fingers take the cigarette from your lips with one last puff, blowing the air away with the side of your mouth.

“Here's the deal—” you put it out on the already ashened ashtray. “If you guys win, I’ll buy all three of you fans” you tell them, holding three fingers up, then pointing to your own. “And you can even have mine.”

Then, you smile, it's a scary one that sends shivers down Satoru’s back. “But if I win, not only will the three of you work your asses off outside, you’ll be fully clothed in your uniforms, no unbuttoning, no fans, no water—”

“But Sensei, we’ll die without water!” Shoko whines, still chewing on the straw.

“No you won’t, I'll make sure you three won't. So might as well hydrate before. From dawn till dusk, we’ll train like you’ve never trained before, for the entire week, starting as soon as he loses."

That last sentence froze the room, and you continued with your closed eyes smile, waving Satoru off. “I’ll let the three of you discuss it amongst yourselves.”

He gulps, nodding before trudging back with a slouch to his friends. You observe them whisper, then watch as Satoru gets him in the head before all three of them nod.

He seems more confident, striding back. His hands slam on your desk, his glasses gleam, and that grin you taught him, “I’ll do it!”

You mirror that grin standing up, towering over the growing student, “Atta boy,”

He finds himself in the outdoor gym, right beside the track.

You, even as a teacher, never wore the Jujutsu Uniform, maybe the bottoms at times, but your top was always a tank top. In the bleachers, most of the staff. Your Colleague Mei Mei, old student Utahime, Yaga, everyone was there, to witness the worst defeat that the first years could ever experience.

“Satoru?” You call out sweetly, a newly lit cigarette sitting in the corner of your mouth. You turn, smiling to the camera that Mei Mei points at the two of you, quickly holding up a peace sign.

“Yes?”

“You have anymore conditions you wanna add before I beat you?”

He looks around, almost contemplating whether he should tell you before pointing at himself.

“Go on a date with me?”

“START!”

You laugh, dropping the cigarette and stomping on it.

“In your dreams.”

Satoru is quick, activating his infinity like it’s nothing, then going in for a quick blow. “Cursed Technique Lapse—”

You yawn.

His hand is angled to you, “Blue.”

The ground beneath you is pulled, most things around are pulling into him. All but you, standing still on the ground before being thrown back at you.

It's loud, the rubble falling onto you causing gasps from the Bleachers from students. It's a cloud of smoke, and when it clears, you’re no where to be found.

Hell, even Gojo grows worried. Blood pools from underneath the rubble, and he wants to step forward, make sure you're alright, but he remembers your words.

'Satoru, if anything happens, don’t come near me. If you think the battle is over, it’s just beginning.'

He sighs, awaiting something, anything, but still, nothing. He finds himself putting down his infinity, and Suguru slaps his hand into his face, sighing. He never listens to anything anyone has to say to him.

He finally takes a step, but this is when you finally make your appearance.

“Hey, Satoru.” You groan, pushing off a large slab that sits atop of you.

“You really— wow that was heavy —you need to start listening to the things we adults tell you.” You sigh, bringing a hand in front of yourself, clenching your fist with only your pointer finger out, pointing it at him.

“Cursed Technique,” Your blood behind to fly in front of you, turning into objects similar to needles.

You smile at him, not saying anything else, and he tries again, only to find you were tricking him.

The needles fly, hitting his pressure points.

His eyes fly open, before he falls, paralyzed.

Your binding vow allows you to access a higher amount of your cursed energy for every attack given. Blood Manipulation, a technique handed to you from your Clan, Kamo, allows you to manipulate your own blood at will. You decided to create a binding bow with yourself, allowing you to create a higher input of Cursed energy, to 120% into your attacks. Every attack given to you, that causes you to lose blood, would cause an even greater attack to be inflicted on the person because of this. It's confusing to explain, but you made sure to demonstrate it to your first years.

Satoru just doesn't listen.

Mei Mei is still taking photos of the ordeal with your camera, sure to share them with Yuki, your former classmate.

Satoru stares up at you, who is looking down at him with a smile, your hair falling with gravity, the sun behind your head, illuminating your strands.

“I am the strongest for a reason.” You grin at him, kneeling down and placing a palm on his chest, taking back your blood, which sits in a ball in your hand.

You turn to the bleachers, whistling to your other students who are in the midst of running away.

“Cmere.”

They sigh, walking off.

“I’ve got an errand to run, so you’re going to stay with Yaga—”

“WHAT!” Yaga shouts in the distance, but you ignore him completely, continuing, “and his students. Kapeesh?” You point at them.

They all nod, and you help Satoru up, patting his shoulder.

“Yaga, make sure their uniforms are completely buttoned up, no water, nothing. Just make 'em run. I don't want to see a jog, no walk, just run.”

He nods slowly, watching you send him a thumbs up before patting Shoko’s head.

You scurry off, and are gone for quite some time. So long in fact, that it's already dusk. The trio is sweaty, out of breath panting, and overall exhausted. They walk back to the classroom, the hallways are hot and expect the room to be an oven, yet when they enter, it’s chilly.

On their desks, each their own fan, and you, with your arms crossed, asleep.

No matter how annoying their teacher was, she was always the best.

Was.

By the time they became second years, you were always in and out, or just on the phone. Yaga was now their teacher, but you are still their favorite. Days when you were there, they would sit in your classroom after ditching Yaga’s, sitting with Kento and Yu.

“You three better run off back to your class.” You tell them, smoking with your reading glasses sitting at the bridge of your nose. You has a piece of chalk in your hand as you wrote on the chalkboard, equations that now seem like a piece of cake to them.

They grew too fast over the summer, the boys towering over you. Shoko was still a short girl, who was now smoking. You wonder where she picked that up from.

“Nah! We’ll stay here.” Satoru told her, sitting in your seat and swirling around.

Defeated, you sigh, “Suit yourself.”

He stares at you as you write; really taking in your state. Eyebags that were darker than usual, chapped lips, more empty cigarettes boxes, and don't forget to mention the frequent phone calls.

And, as ironic as it sounds, your phone rings. From the title, he can see a name, read as Yuki.

You click your tongue, placing the hall down and running your hand through your hair. As you pass by, you place a hand on his head, ruffling it while flipping open your phone.

“Yea, Yuki?” Then, you walk out.

Your voice is muffled, slowly fading out the more you walk down the hallway. The last thing he could make out was the word ‘Dad’.

The five students sit in awkward silence before Satoru finally breaks the ice.

“What’s up with her?”

The question was for everyone in general, but mainly towards the first years, who got to see her more than he did, which did get him jealous.

“A mission! Supposedly she’s hunting someone down.” Yu speaks up, and Satoru quickly asks.

“Who?”

“A man named K—”

“We don’t know.” Kento speaks up, and it's obvious he’s lying considering the fact that Yu was about to say the man's name.

He didn't press any longer, only narrowing his eyes. Then, humming, leaning back in her seat. It smelt just like her.

He closed his eyes, the plan running through his mind. He nods, thinking how genius he is.

Later, he finds himself in your apartment, sitting at your dining table.

You would jump if you didn’t feel his cursed energy waving from the parking lot.

“Well, here we have a rogue student.” You joke, slipping your shoes off at the door.

“Your shoes off?”

He looks down at his feet, then back up, nodding. “I remember some things.”

You grin, “I know, I didn't make you completely useless.”

It's silent, his eyes wander to the stove. The time was 3:42am, he had been waiting for her for a long time.

“What were you doing?” He asks, staring as she begins boiling water. “Hm? Mission. Tea?” You ask, trying to lighten his mood and overall pressing.

He shakes his head, and you stare at him. His clothes are changed, hair damp, almost completely dry. “Who are you hunting—”

The handle of your tea cup breaks off, the base falling to the ground. It shatters, you stare down at it blankly.

“Satoru.” You say his name coldly, the kettle begins to whistle loud.

“My affairs have nothing to do with you.”

The distance between the two of you is great, like a ripple in time, about immeasurable.

“B-but! I can help you—!”

“Satoru!” You shout, glaring at him, your eyes glowing, face darkens. You calm when you see his expression, almost hurt, and scared. His eyebrows contorted, his lips parted. “Satoru.” You whisper now, walking to him with your arm open. You embrace him, his head to your stomach. Fingers play in his white hair.

“I don’t want you getting hurt. The last thing I want of you is for you to get hurt. This is my own burden,” you take his face in your hands, smiling, “You understand? Taking the future away from children is unforgivable.”

He sighs heavily, wondering when you would stop seeing him as a child, and in a new light as a man.

“I’m not a kid.” He grumbles, his arms wrap around your torso willingly.

“Then a baby,” you joke with a coo, shaking him left and right softly.

“Mei is taking Iori on a mission, I’ll be accompanying them. So, we’ll be gone for no longer than a day.” You inform, stroking his head.

He nods, his eyes growing heavy.

“If you're tired, go to bed.”

“No.”

You shake your head, a light chuckle escaping past your lips. So stubborn. “Suit yourself.”

You go back around to the kitchen, turning off the kettle. “I’ll go shower, your tea is ready.” You tell him, walking over and holding his cup by the rim, placing it on the coaster in front of him. His eyes stare at the cup, almost cautiously. He nods, taking the cup from the table.

By the time you're done, you find the boy asleep upright on the chair, his head down and eyes closed, small snores escaping his lips.

You find yourself scurrying to your table by the door, rummaging through the drawer to pull out an old camera, snapping pictures of him. You laugh, placing the camera on the table he’s at, kneeling in front of him to stare.

You don't remember him growing up this fast, it kind of hurts.

Your hand goes up to his face, squeezing his nose to stop him from breathing. His eyes open wide, and you laugh at his panicked face.

“To bed with you.” You whisper, and he tiredly nods, taking your hand as you lead him to the guest bedroom, but he stops when you try to pull him into the room.

“Satoru,”

He looks down with a pout, his shaggy hair covering his eyes.

“I want to sleep with you.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, shaking your head with a sigh before leading him to your room. Allowing him to open your sheets and sprawl into your bed. You tuck him back in, patting his stomach as you lay down.

“Just like when you were a child. Always asking your parents to sleep over, and of course I let them. You were so cute!” You exclaim, positioning yourself to your side. He stares up into the ceiling, and you watch him. Your head on your hand.

“Stop staring into Narnia, sleep—”

“You won’t die, will you?”

His voice is soft, and he won't look at you. He doesn’t want to see how you're staring at him. Your eyes wide, lips puffed, clearly taken aback.

“Ah, what makes you say that?” You whisper, your tone dropping.

“You don’t sleep, your never home—”

“You’ve been in my house?”

He pouts, “Technically, it’s not a house.”

You laugh at his response. “Satoru, I’m a human.”

“But the strongest.”

“You’ve seen me bleed. I don’t plan on dying right now, but everyone dies, some sooner than others.”

Now, he finally turns to you and your smiling face. He doesn’t cry, not that you’re surprised. He's never cried.

You hear him breathe out a hum, closing his eyes. A smile graces your lips, and you brush his stray hairs from his twitching nose, which tickles him.

“Good night,” you whisper, before getting up and sitting at the chair beside your bed, and wrapping a blanket around yourself.

After a few days of no sleep, it finally hits you like bricks, a shame you have to wake up at seven, but you’ll be sure to thank those two hours of sleep that grace your schedule.

—

The yawn that passes your lips is atrocious. It's the 13th one that you’ve done, and Iori is growing irritated. “Sensei—”

“(Y/N) to you champ,” You correct her, and she bites back her tongue.

“(Y/N)-san.. did you sleep by any chance?” She asks, smiling with tight lips. You, on the other hand, raise an eyebrow, your head leaning on Mei Mei's shoulder, who’s clicking through her red flip phone.

“My personal life is none of your concern.” You tell her.

You swear, the younger these new sorcerers are, the more disrespectful they get.

It’s raining, the roads are wet and slippery. Silence fills the vehicle, aside from the frequent wipes of the window shields and Mei tapping through her phone. You don’t even remember dozing off, just appearing in front of a screwed up house.

Iori turns around, staring at her old teacher and new colleague. She respects her, but can’t stand her. She is the reason Gojo is the way he is.

“You have to keep watch out here in case anything happens.”

With your pinky finger deep in your ear, you're clearly disinterested. “Yeah yeah..” waving them off, Mei mei gives you one final look, her features resembled that of a feline, elegant and cool, she smiles, striding off with her umbrella behind the young sorcerer.

“Two hours!” You shout at their disappearing figures.

That's the reason you were there, to determine whether this was a time warping curse. It’s quite possible the flow of time is distorted in there.

So you sat, and waited. And waited, and waited, until two hours did pass.

With a sigh, you take out your flip phone, dialing Yaga and explaining to him the situation.

“The flow of time is different here, yeah. Utahime is with Mei. … After two days, come assist if Utahime can’t get it.”

You close your device, trudging into the building. Your eyes close, the smell of blood reeks, but you continue to follow the familiar cursed energy, followed by a high pitched scream.

“With a scream like that, you could be a scream queen.” You laugh, throwing your head back.

“Kamo-san!” Utahime exclaims, almost in relief.

“Yoohoo!” You greet, waving your hand at her, the other lost in your pocket.

“Have you figured it out yet?” You ask, your head tilting.

She stares at you, almost annoyed.

“Not yet.”

“You best hurry,” you start, fishing a cigarette from your pocket. It’s not boxed, your pocket is just full of cigarettes. The other pocket held the lighter. Your hand cups it, lighting the cigarette. A cloud of smoke hits her in the face, and you laugh at her, pointing as she waving her hand away.

“Sorry about that, but anyways,” your pointer finger is pointing in the air, moving in circles. “Time is running differently in here.”

“I had the feeling,” Mei says, standing besides you.

“Go on Utahime, figure it out.” You shoo her, sitting on the ground of the hallway. It's dirty, dust and bugs crawling throughout the space, but you’ve dealt with worse.

In a daze, you hear Utahime and Mei’s muffled voice, a couple thuds, then the ground, which you were sitting on, crumbling apart.

The three of you in a free fall, though the only one panicking seems to me Utahime.

You're falling in circles, hair flying everywhere, cigarette still in your mouth, you take off the bandage from your finger, opening the scab and drip blood. You bring the heat of your blood to almost boiling, turning it into vapor so you can stay above in the air.

Utahime is screaming bloody murder still, and no doubt in your mind that she could be the next scream queen.

You find yourself next to Shoko, listening to Satoru tease Utahime. “You cryin?"

“No! I’m not, respect your Seniors!” She shouts, crushed by the rubble.

You ruffle Shoko’s hair before coming behind Satoru, closing your fist you knock the back of his skull.

“Ow!” He whines, holding it in pain.

“Be respectful, kid.” You scold, blowing the smoke from your cigarette away from him. Your hand grabs ahold of the large rubble that crushes Utahime, allowing her to crawl out.

“If I was crying? Would you console me?” Mei asked, Gojo responding seriously, but also playfully.

“No way! You wouldn't cry, you're strong Mei!” He tells her, and you sigh.

Utahime, still on the ground, shoots up. The rubble pieces on her back fell, and you stared blankly at him.

“GOJO!”

Behind her, a large curse pokes up, startling Utahime, and even you a little. Utahime jumps on you, who is still holding the rubble piece up. You drop it, eyes wide as you stare at it.

“Yikes.” You whisper, when another curse eats it.

“Hey, Satoru. It’s not nice to pick on the weak!” You hear a familiar voice.

Suguru, under the influence of Satoru.

“How long do you plan on holding on for?” You ask teasingly, feeling the girl shake.

She stares into your eyes before jumping off, her face red as a tomato, teeth clenched while her finger waves at you accusingly.

“I-I- I DIDN’T MEAN THAT! I THOUGHT YOU WERE.. uh.. My dog! Yea, my dog!”

You raise an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was a bit, comforting..” you tell her, teasing her by showing her your embarrassed face, gaze to your side, flickering around before looking back into her eyes. Your arms hold yourself, and you laugh right as her mouth pops open.

She quickly leaves when she notices Shoko. Hugging the girl tightly,

“Sensei!” Shoko calls out, and you notice something.

It’s as bright as day. The sun shining down on all of you, the clouds on the blue sky.

You gaze up blankly, slightly in a daze.

“What is missing?” You whisper to yourself, your fingers rubbing on your chin.

Then, amongst their conversation, you hear one of them talk about a veil, presumably discussing an outfit, and you internally hear glass shatter.

The three students kneel in front of Yaga.

“Who was in charge of the veil?” He asks, and the two point to the one in the middle.

Satoru.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, groaning.

Again, your phone rings. Satoru stares at you, almost accusingly, but you pay him no mind.

“Yuki,” you start, walking out the room. Satoru looks in a daze watching you leave, and Yaga following suit, punches the boys on the head before he leaves.

“Hey, we can see the hearts in your eyes.” Suguru teases, hitting his shoulder.

“Really!? You can?!” He asks, genuinely curious.

The two stop and stare at him, and Satoru feels stupid.

“I’m obviously kidding.”

“..”

“..”

“You can’t send them on that!” You shout at Yaga, so loudly that just they can hear you as clear as day.

The school rumbles under your wrath, a fee students in the classrooms fearful. But the trio in the gym stand uncaring.

“Please, Yaga.”

Yaga looks down at you, sighing before patting your head. “It’s not my decision, kid.”

You right the corners of your eyes, chewing on your bottom lip.

“I know.” You whisper, walking away from him.

When your kids were going on a life threatening mission, you were being sent off by the higher ups, finding your father.

Kenjaku.

It would be hard, considering he changes his body every few years.

You don't understand why Riko Amanai was being in the care of two second years. You’ve already been in contact with her for a couple months, filling her in on things no one else wanted to do.

You could easily take care of this, but higher-ups said Kenjaku was first.

So you bit down your tongue, swallowed the ball forming in your throat, and walked away from the school campus.

I remember Dad, he had that scar over his forehead.

You flipped open your phone, receiving a message from Yuki, which read, Sendai City, and an attached image of a woman, bobbed hair, and that same scar through her forehead holding a toddler.

You hold your breath.

A brother.

Even though the two of you, biologically speaking, had different parents, you couldn't help but notice similarities the two of you had. Same gleam in your eyes, same cheeky smile.

You found yourself chuckling a bit at the photo, and at the boy.

“Okay,” you whisper, your phone back into your pocket with a nod. Hand clenched. “Sendai,” you tell yourself, marching off.

…

…

You should have come earlier. The Jujutsu Tech, was a nightmare. Blood everywhere, a destroyed entrance, and a failed mission.

They sent you to get rid of Kenjaku, but when you heard of what had happened, you rushed back home.

Your mind running a million times a minute. Toji killed Riko, he hurt your students.

All you could think about were your boys.

“Satoru?! Suguru?!” You shout, running towards the dorm rooms. Just as your about to knock on Satoru’s door, Suguru is beside you. “He’s not in there.”

You almost gasp at his appearance, so different from what your used to. His hair is out, his eyes purple and bloodshot from crying, he’s not in his uniform.

White baggy shirt and some sweatpants you gave him as a first year that had finally come to fit him.

You give him a broken smile.

“C’mere,” you whisper, opening your arms to him. You pat his back, rubbing it in circles, but he doesn’t cry.

He trembles, but he doesn't cry.

“It was my fault, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have left—”

“I’m too weak.” He cuts you off, his forehead on your shoulder. “I can’t keep up with him anymore.” He tells you, and your heart almost breaks.

You give him a reassuring squeeze, sighing. “Suguru, in this world, nobody is truly equal.” It's the honest truth, you think. Something you wish someone had told you in your younger days. “I just hope, in this life, you can all find happiness.”

You hold his face in your hands, smiling up at him.

“My kids are growing up so big, so fast. So I'll do this one last time.” You tell him, that last part confusing him, but you notice his eyes gloss over.

One last time.

You make your way to Shoko after taking Suguru back to his bed, who is in the second year classroom, alone.

You lean at the doorway, and she doesn’t notice you. A cigarette sticking from the corner of her mouth as she flips through her medical books. A bag of opened chips sit on the three desks she put together. The room is dim, but familiar.

“There’s my favorite girl,” you greet, finally walking up to her.

She too, seems more tired than usual.

You pat her head, ruffling her hair a bit.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” She asks with a smile, watching you stare at the three desks, letters carved into them. You chuckle, responding without looking.

“I’m here to say goodbye.”

She blinks, then laughing. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you're.. going to die..” realization hits her.

You only smile back, hand on her cheek as you stroke her with your thumb.

“Lay off on the cigarettes,” you begin, and she takes her head out of your grasp, shaking her head profusely.

“No..”

“Make sure to make your bed in the morning, brush your teeth, wash your face,”

“Stop.” She says, chewing on the cigarette.

“Oh and make sure those morons take care of themselves as well.

“Sensei!”

You stare at her, and she looks in your eyes.

You find your eyes watering. This has never happened before. You don’t recall a single memory of you crying. But, here you are. In front of one of your old students, crying.

“Ah, this is so strange.” You mutter, wiping your eyes, and Shoko stares at you, her own face growing red, eyes filled with emotion.

“Take care, Sensei.” She tells you, hugging you hard.”

You snort, squeezing her back. “You too, I love you all very much.”

You leave her back to her studying. Your first years, took it easier. They’re too gullible, to innocent, you can’t tell them.

You wave them goodbye, and lastly was Satoru.

But he wasn’t there.

He was, somewhere.

Not where she needed him.

She laughed at herself, shaking her head as she made her way back to Sendai.

Her last phone call was made to Yuki, “Hey,” you start. And she’s silent. You hear sniffles from her end of the phone, and you can’t help but tease her. “If you start crying now I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“I love you.” You tell her, and she’s crying on the line, unable to say anything. You end the call, the last one to make, Satoru. Of course, he doesn’t answer, so you talk for the voicemail.

“Satoru, my boy. My pride and joy, you weren’t at school so I couldn’t talk to you face to face. And I have a lot that I want to say, but I'm running on limited time.”

You swallow, walking down the street, and hand in your pocket, other holding your flip phone to your ear.

“Don’t blame yourself, number one. I don’t wanna hear, I should have been there, or blah blah blah. Only I’m allowed to do that. Anyways, I'm sure at this point, you’re stronger than me. Way stronger than me. But, not the strongest. I’m the strongest. Does that make sense? I'm sorry, I'm rambling, I just wanted to tell you, it’s been a pleasure knowing you, and I'm sorry I won’t be able to see you become the man you’ve dreamt of being. I love you, Satoru, and take care of yourself and the other—”

Your time with the caller is over, your voicemail has been sent.

“Ah damn.” You mutter, standing in front of a warehouse.

Cursed energy if radiating from the center, so you bring your fingers up. Your pink and ring fingers interlock, your middle fingers curl, fitting side by side, and your pointer fingers are straight up, the tips touching each other, your thumbs too.

“Domain expansion: Bloody Mirror.”

Satoru hears glass breaking while on his way back to the school, his hands are in his pockets, and he’s care free, thinking about bothering his Sensei—

Screams is all he hears. Sobs, and Yaga, his head down and shaking, holding what seemed to me a bloodied armband.

Heh, funny. It looks like the same one that (Y/N) used.

Utahime stands in front of Yaga, head in her hands and shaking her head. This was just a dream, she kept telling herself, but her sobs wouldn’t stop.

“Satoru.” A voice called out, it was Yaga. Even from far away, his voice was just so clear.

His steps grew heavier, like weights were on his ankles. His posture even began slouching, with his heart racing.

“Hey Yaga! Say, where’s (Y/N)- Sensei? She’s always out and about—”

“She’s dead.”

“And she never comes home..” he says, whispering the words home. He doesn’t even realize his eyes go wide, of that the only sound he can hear is his beating heart. It scared him. Really badly, it scared him. His feet carried him to Shoko’s ‘Lab’, though it was really a morgue.

He didn’t expect to find Suguru, who was usually holed away in his room since the incident, sitting on the chair looking down. His hands clenched, he didn’t want to get up.

Shoko’s eyes were red, puffy, tired.

A cloth over the body, and his feet took him to it.

He saw someone, with the same hair color as you under there, and it had felt like he had died again.

He began peeling the cloth away, but that’s when Shoko stopped him, right below your eyes, that's where she stopped him.

What he didn’t get to see, what only Shoko saw, was the largest, hole in a person’s face she had ever scene in her small, but broad highschool years as a healer.

Not only was your mouth missing, but your arm was completely ripped off, and if she had to describe how it had been torn, it would have looked like string cheese, as though someone had torn it off in such a way, as to torture you.

Another hole through your chest, your intestines no longer existed and your spinal cord severed, but, through and through, they were told you still won.

Only dropping down when a sorcerer came, giving them a smile before plopping down.

“Let me see her.” Satoru tells her, but his grip is weak, his hands tremble.

“Let me heal her first—”

“Let me see her first! I want to see.. I want to see how she won.” He says, his voice going from a loud shout to a soft whisper.

Shoko lets go, turning away because she doesn’t want to have to bear the sight of the scene once more.

Satoru drops it, wanting to scream but nothing will come out, wanting to cry, but his eyes are just so dry.

He wants to say something, but his voice is gone.

He’s gone.

He stares down blankly at the corpse, The Strongest is dead.

The next one will take over, the cycle never ending.

He doesn't even realize that his breathing grows labored, his eyes, for the first time in his life, are unable to see.

His six eyes, the jewels of his clan, prevent him from seeing.

He can’t feel anything, he can’t move, but he finds himself in the middle of your apartment. Pictures of him and you and Shoko and Suguru, and Yaga—

Everybody.

With that dingy camera, you snapped hundreds of photos. He knew where you would hide the camera, so when he skimmed through it, he found himself falling apart. Pictured from days he doesn't even remember, his childhood all in this stupid old camera.

So stupid.

But he can’t contain himself. He can’t control his heart, the way his forehead hits the wood floors as he begs God, He who blessed the young Gojo, for her back. He would give anything for her back. His heart was with her, it would never come back.

The more he clicked through them the more he would ache. Looking at the photos with a trembling hand, he comes across one where the four of them are smushed in the back seat of a car. All of them sleeping, with someone else, presumably the driver that you threatened begged to take a photo for you. You were winking, finger to your lips like you were shushing.

Shoko was on top of your lap, Suguru and Satoru on either side, leaning on your shoulders.

He chuckled, and the more we went, the more silly photos he came across. He found himself wiping his tears away, replacing them with his laughter.

Shoved away in his pocket was your armband, which he now used as his blindfold, and in the other.

A dingy old camera to take photos, and make memories with his students.

But, sometimes, he’ll go back to the original camera, that hides away in the same drawer, looking at the past and reliving those memories.

He wonders how Megumi feels every time he looks at the numerous photos of you that are scattered in the house. The carvings of Gojo’s height, made by you as he grew. The two strongest, living in one house, at the same time. So, he looks Megumi, possibly as a projection of himself, but he has Tsumiki. He also finds it funny, when Itadori is with him, baring the same smoke you once had.

Wanting to laugh, it seems that the Strongest are always taking in the enemy's kid. It’s like a bong between them all.

From one strongest to another.