#my shoes were really uncomfortable too and i was standing for most of it so uh oww

[dailyloweffortpace]

Day 20: aaauughfgsgxgvnnfgjnd

[ccwpidsblog]

crashing out — onyakopon

⭐️: nsfw 18+ in which you learn why your fiancé retired from his old ways

cupids arrows: if you’re new here pls ignore my old post 🙏🏾

Onyakopon was the chillest man you’d ever met.

You remember the first day you met your fiancé like it was yesterday. Your puppy had slipped her leash and bolted after the two of you got caught in the rain. Mud was everywhere—on her paws, on the soaked sidewalk—and you watched in horror as she ran straight for the tall, dark-skinned man with deep waves and glistening golden grills, his baggy jeans and fresh Dunks standing no chance against the chaos she brought.

The muddy paws left stains all over his jeans, and you were mortified. You snatched her up quickly, firing off apology after apology, even offering to clean his shoes and pants. You were so embarrassed you swear you felt your soul leave your body.

But he just shrugged it off, his low brown eyes soft, paired with a small smile that eased your panic.

“You good,” he said simply, his voice calm and mellow, while you were seconds from collapsing in shame.

That day never left your mind, especially after you somehow ended up in a relationship with the man. Ony was so... nonchalant.

You yapped his ear off from morning until sundown, never running out of things to say, and he never once complained. When you accidentally knocked over his grinder, spilling his entire stash of weed, he didn’t get mad—he just kissed you on the forehead to quiet your babbling apologies. When you bleached his Chrome Hearts hoodie, almost crying over it, he shrugged and said, “It’s just a hoodie. I’ll get a new one.” And he did.

He was a sweetheart through and through. He spoiled you, listened to you, and made you feel like you could do no wrong. Even when he proposed—after three years together—it was the most emotion and the most words you’d ever heard him say all at once.

Most of your love lived in unspoken gestures. A look, a kiss on the temple, his hand resting on your knee when you ranted about your day. You always seemed to read his mind before he had to say anything. And you were okay with it—Ony’s silence spoke volumes.

So when his friends sat around telling wild stories—about your Ony chasing some guy down three blocks for stepping on his shoe—you just blinked, completely dumbfounded.

“That was not my Onya,” you said, shaking your head.

It was one of those late summer days where the air felt heavy with heat and conversation. You and Ony were at one of Sasha’s backyard barbecues—loud music, too much smoke in the air, and way too many faces you didn’t know. You didn’t mind, though. Ony always brought you along, hand warm in yours, whispering low in your ear, “You good, ma. I got you.”

But today, Ony had disappeared somewhere in the crowd. Probably off somewhere smoking a blunt to cool. You didn’t mind. Coco was leashed at your side, her tail wagging as she sniffed around, and you were content grabbing a soda from the cooler, letting the afternoon sun warm your shoulders.

Until you noticed him.

Tall, built like Ony but rougher around the edges. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and something about him set you on edge.

“Cute dog,” he said, nodding at Coco, who barked happily.

“Thanks,” you replied, polite but wary. “She’s a menace, but she’s ours.”

The man chuckled, eyes lingering on you. Too long. “Yours and Ony’s, huh? Never thought I’d see the day Ony got himself all... domesticated.”

You blinked, thrown off by his words. “Yeah. We’re engaged.”

For emphasis, you lifted your hand and showed off the engagement ring sitting proudly on your finger. Ony had picked it out himself, saying something about it being “the only rock that could keep up with you.”

The man’s grin faltered for a second before turning sharp again, something ugly flickering behind his eyes. “Man... Ony really cleaned up. Bet you don’t know half of what he used to be on.”

You shifted your weight, suddenly uncomfortable. “Do you know Ony?”

Before he could answer, you felt it. The shift in the air.

You turned to see Ony stepping up, shoulders squared, jaw tight. His calm, lazy demeanor was gone, replaced with something cold and dangerous.

“Yo,” Ony’s voice was low, sharp like a blade. “What the hell you doin’ here, Ricky?”

The man, Ricky, smirked, completely unfazed. “Relax, bro. Just catching up with your girl. Didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to say hi.”

Ony ignored him and stopped in front of you, his hand gently brushing your elbow, like he needed to feel you there, steady and safe. “You okay?” he murmured, voice softer now.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, searching his face. “Who is—”

“You don’t talk to her,” Ony cut you off, his voice sharper again as he looked back at Ricky. “Ever.”

Ricky barked out a laugh, shaking his head like the whole thing was a joke. “Damn, Ony. You really changed, huh? Wife. Dog. Family barbecues. You think this erases all that sh*t we did? Think it makes you better than me?”

You looked between them, confusion swirling in your chest.

Ricky’s smirk widened. “You ain’t gonna tell her? About Kev?”

The name hit Ony like a physical blow. His whole body went rigid.

“Who’s Kev?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Ricky grinned, ignoring you. “The one who didn’t make it ‘cause we were out there actin’ reckless. But you remember that, huh?”

It happened so fast you gasped. Ony’s fist collided with Ricky’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

“Ony!” you cried as Coco barked wildly.

The crowd turned, the music seeming to dim as Ony’s voice rang out. “Keep my name out your mouth!”

Ricky spat blood and grinned like he’d won. “Same old Ony.”

Ony let Eren drag him back, but his face was still tight, his body vibrating with rage. He didn’t stop to explain. He just scooped Coco into your arms and pulled you out of the backyard, his hand gripping your waist.

“What the fuck was that, Onyakopon?” you hissed as you reached the car.

“Get in the fuckin’ car,” he snapped.

The tone stunned you into silence. It was the first time in three years Ony had ever raised his voice at you. Before you could argue, he lifted you off your feet, set you in the passenger seat, buckled you in, and slammed the door. 

The ride home was silent, the tension so thick it choked the air. Ony’s jaw was set, teeth gritted as his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. You sat stiff in the passenger seat, arms crossed over your chest as you stared out the window. Even the low hum of the engine felt deafening.

When you got home, the silence followed. Ony unlocked the door, opened it for you like he always did, and set your purse down, but his movements were robotic, like he was on autopilot. You didn’t move—just stood there staring at him.

Finally, you snapped.

“You don’t get to act like nothing happened, Ony!” Your voice trembled with anger, eyes blazing as you threw your hands up. “What the hell was that back there?”

Ony didn’t answer. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the couch, walking straight to the kitchen like he hadn’t heard you.

“Don’t walk away from me!” you shouted, following him. “Don’t you dare—”

“I said it don’t matter!” he barked, whirling around. His voice was sharp and raw, cutting through the air like a blade.

You flinched but stood your ground, refusing to let him shut you out. “How can you say that? That man knew you, Ony. He knew things about you I don’t! And the way you hit him? Who was that?! Because it sure as hell wasn’t the man I know!”

Ony ran a hand down his face, pacing back and forth. “You don’t need to know that part of me.”

“Why?” you shot back, stepping closer, fists clenched at your sides. “Because you’re ashamed? Because you don’t want me to see who you used to be?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving as he looked at you, eyes dark and stormy. “It ain’t like that.”

“Then what is it, Ony?” you pushed, voice trembling. “You can’t stand here and tell me you love me—ask me to marry you—and then keep this huge part of yourself locked away like it doesn’t exist.”

“You don’t get it!” he snapped, voice booming. “I was reckless, alright? I was a dumb kid, running around, doing shit I ain’t proud of. You really wanna hear how bad it got? You really wanna know the kind of man I used to be?” His voice cracked, his fists shaking at his sides. “I ain’t that man anymore. I can’t be.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “I want all of you, Ony,” you whispered fiercely. “Not just the version you think I deserve. I don’t care how ugly it gets. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect from the truth.”

He froze, shoulders slumping as he stared at you, something breaking behind his eyes. “I’m tryin’, ma,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tryin’ so damn hard to leave that shit behind. You don’t know what it’s like, carryin’ that with me every day. Losin’ Kev... I don’t ever want to feel that again. I don’t want you to look at me like I’m some monster.”

Your face softened, tears spilling as you stepped closer. “I’m not gonna look at you like that,” you said, your voice shaky but sure. “But I need you to trust me. I need you to stop pushing me away.”

Ony’s gaze flickered to yours, the fight finally draining out of him. He let out a long, unsteady breath and sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough. “I’m sorry I scared you back there. I just... when I saw Ricky talking to you, all I could think about was keepin’ you away from that part of my life. Away from him.”

You took a deep breath, the anger still simmering but softened by his words. “I’m not going anywhere, Ony. But you gotta stop keeping me out.”

He looked up at you then, eyes raw and vulnerable. “You deserve better than the mess I used to be.”

You stepped in front of him, taking his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “You’re not that man anymore,” you said softly. “I see you, Ony. I see who you are now. And I’m here because I love you—all of you.”

His expression cracked, something deep in him finally breaking free. He let out a shuddering breath, his hands sliding up to rest on your waist. “Damn, ma,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Stop saying that.”

Ony’s hands tightened on your waist, his eyes holding yours. “Let me make it up to you,” he said softly, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You blinked at him, breath hitching. “Ony...”

His gaze darkened, the tension between you shifting—charged and electric. Slowly, he stood up, his towering frame forcing you to tilt your chin up to keep looking at him. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it made your knees weak.

“Please,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and full of promise. “Let me make it up to you, baby. I got you. Always.”

His hands slid up your sides, slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and possessive. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss—soft and tender at first, then hungrier, like he couldn’t get close enough to you.

“Ony,” you breathed, your voice trembling as he kissed down your jaw, his lips trailing warmth along your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your neck, his words punctuated by soft kisses. “For everything. I swear I’m gonna be better. You just gotta let me show you.”

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Show me, then.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours. “I will,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “Starting right now.”

And that’s how you found yourself lying back on the bed, your body a tangled mess of need and warmth as your fiancé, lost himself in your ocean. His hands gripped your thighs with a possessive force, pulling them up and against your chest as his tongue worked in ways only he knew how to, bringing you to places you’d only ever reached with him. Every motion was deliberate, skilled—each flick, each touch of his fingers pushing you further, deeper into pleasure. His strength held you in place, leaving you no space to escape the sensations he stirred in you. His mouth, hot and insistent, tasted you, marked you, as if he couldn’t get enough, as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The pleasure became too much. Your body jerked, squirming away from the relentless skill of Ony’s tongue, but he was quicker, stronger. His grip tightened on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His large palm landed on the side of your thigh with a sharp smack—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you freeze and gasp.

“Where you think you goin’, mama?” His voice was low, husky, as he leaned up, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. His golden grills caught the light, making him look both dangerous and divine. “Why you runnin’ from me? I’m just tryna apologize.”

Your whine came out incoherent, the words caught in your throat as his dark, smoldering eyes stayed fixed on you. He towered over you now, his body an imposing figure as he crawled over you, caging you beneath him. His breath was hot against your cheek, and you stared up at him, dazed, your vision swimming with glassy tears of overwhelming bliss.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips pulling into that half-smile, wet and sinful. His smooth, dark skin gleamed, catching the dim light in a way that made him almost unreal, too beautiful to belong to one person alone—but he was yours. Completely yours. “So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he praised, brushing a thumb over your cheek to catch a stray tear.

Your body trembled as he shifted, lining himself up with slow precision. Then he pushed into you, your shared groans filling the room as he sank in deep. Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he stretched you perfectly.

“My pretty fuckin’ wife,” he growled against your lips, his voice thick with possession and reverence.

You didn’t have the strength to reply—just a soft moan as your legs locked around his waist, anchoring him to you, letting him take you to where only he could.

The slow, deliberate roll of Ony’s hips sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you trembling beneath him. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “You feel so good, baby. Perfect—just for me.”

You could only moan in response, your hands sliding down his back, nails raking gently across his skin. Every movement he made was precise, deliberate, and meant to unravel you. His pace quickened, his control slipping as he pushed deeper, his grunts mixing with your cries.

“Ony,” you gasped, your voice breaking. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist, desperate to feel all of him.

“I got you, mama,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Ain’t lettin’ go. You hear me?” His words were both grounding and intoxicating, pulling you further into the bliss he created with every stroke.

The heat built between you, your breaths turning shallow and ragged. Ony’s forehead rested against yours, his dark, hooded eyes never leaving your face. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice deep and low.

Your glazed eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the intensity in his gaze made your chest tighten. “I love you,” he said suddenly, his voice raw, almost breaking.

The words hit you like a tidal wave, a sob catching in your throat. “I love you too,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as your hands cupped his face.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss, his pace growing erratic, matching the desperate beat of your heart. “You’re mine,” he growled against your lips, his movements growing sharper, deeper. “All mine.”

Your body tensed, pleasure coiling tight in your core until it finally snapped, sending shockwaves through you. Your back arched as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Ony wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, a guttural groan escaping his throat. His body shuddered against yours, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he whispered your name like a prayer.

For a while, neither of you moved, the only sounds in the room your mingled breaths and the faint rustle of the sheets. Ony’s weight was solid and grounding on top of you, his hands still gripping your thighs as though he was afraid to let go.

Finally, he shifted, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone before rolling to the side, pulling you with him. He tucked you into his chest, his large hand splaying across your back.

“You good, mama?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“More than good,” you murmured, your voice still shaky. You tilted your head up to look at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his gaze. “I love you, Ony.”

“I love you more,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, before resting his forehead against yours.

As your breathing evened out and sleep began to tug at your senses, Ony whispered, “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, baby. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you replied softly, nuzzling into his chest. “And I’d do the same for you.”

The last thing you felt before drifting off was Ony’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, his lips pressing one last lingering kiss to your hair.

[wqnwoos]

You were once deeply and irrevocably in love with Kwon Soonyoung, and it’s incredibly hard to avoid that fact when he works literally two offices down from you. It’s even harder to avoid when you’re stuck in a broken elevator with him for hours, and he seems determined to dissect everything that went wrong three years ago.

as part of the don’t hate, litigate! collab hosted by the wonderful @haologram

⇢ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, exes!au, lawyer!au

⇢ wc: 5.6k

⇢ warnings: minor alcohol consumption, lots of flashbacks

⇢ a/n: early happy new year!! this is my gift to u all <3 thank u to @haologram for hosting this collab and for just being alive. and thank you SOO much to ally @lovetaroandtaemin and em @gyuswhore for beta'ing i appreciate u both endlessly 💗

SOMETIMES IT TRULY feels like God, or the stars in your skies, or whatever the hell is controlling your fate down on this measly earth, hates you.

Sometimes it truly feels like this indefinite being is determined to deal you the worst set of cards, and this – this trumps all. Being stuck in an elevator with your ex-boyfriend sounds like the beginning of a shitty romcom, except it’s not. It’s your life, and it’s been your life for the past eight minutes, since the metal box you stepped in ground to a creaky, noisy halt halfway between the sixth and seventh floor. 

And it takes eight minutes before Soonyoung sighs resignedly. “Are you just going to ignore me forever?” 

Forever, you think, is your least favourite word. There were a lot of things you thought you’d have forever, and one of them is standing right next to you.

You swallow thickly. Your reply comes measured and clipped. “For as long as possible.”

When he speaks next, you can hear the attempt at a forced smile in his tone. “Well, you kinda just failed.”

You stay silent. If anyone had told you five years ago that Kwon Soonyoung would be begging to talk to you and you’d be ignoring him, you would have called them crazy; and yet, here you are. Ignoring him like your sanity depends on it, because actually, it does. So for the past eight minutes – nine now, but who’s counting? – you’ve barely spoken a word. You’re both stuck; the recovery team can’t make it for two hours at least; and God hates you, basically.

Soonyoung’s trying to make the most of it, and you’re not letting him.

He says your name, ever so softly. “Really, though. How – how have you been?”

It’s weird, going from years of no contact to working together. It’s been a year since Soonyoung joined your company, but it hasn’t become any easier. Not when he’s such an open book, so fucking easy for you to read. Every time you cross paths, he gets this look in his eyes – sad puppy, you’ve nicknamed it. Now is no different.

“I’ve been okay,” you say finally, stiltedly. You’ve never been able to resist that face, and you’re pretty sure he knows it too. “What about you?”

The silence is painful, but the way he says fine stings a little bit more. You know when he’s lying, and he never used to do that to you.

“So…” He shifts his weight awkwardly, huffing out an uncomfortable laugh as he gazes intently at his shoes. “This is weird, right?”

You match him with an equally uncomfortable smile. “The weirdest.”

“Our longest conversation after forever,” he says. “But I wasn’t expecting it to go like this.”

You cock your head to the side, fixing him with a questioning gaze. All hopes of ignoring him are sailing out the hypothetical window. “How were you expecting it to go?”

Soonyoung looks up at you with one of those embarrassed, endearing smiles. “Better.”

There’s a pregnant pause, and then – “You know, Jeonghan calls you the one that got away.” 

He’s always had a habit of dropping things like that on you; things that leave you a little winded.

“That makes it sound like I escaped,” you say, with an ease you don’t feel.

Clearly, Soonyoung doesn’t feel it either — he exhales heavily. “Maybe you did. Escape, I mean.”

You snap your head towards him, eyes almost owlish in your surprise; “You’re not serious.” When he doesn’t say anything, you continue haphazardly, “Soonyoung, that’s not — there wasn’t anything to escape from.” 

Your ex-boyfriend looks miserable. Avoids eye contact, staring fixedly at his shoes with a dejected expression he can’t properly disguise; even throughout the three years of your relationship, you rarely saw him like this. He looks…

Heartbroken, your mind suggests.

“I’m serious,” you insist again, pushing the thought out of your mind. “You weren’t a bad boyfriend, Soonyoung.”

He snorts then. “Okay, we both know that isn’t true.”

“It is!” 

“If we had, like, a counter of who fucked up however many times, I would leave you in the dust.”

You don’t know how to tell him this might even be half of it. This weird pedestal he puts you on – it’s not even guilt-tripping. You’ve seen that, but never from him; Soonyoung just truly, sincerely feels bad. Whenever you look back on your relationship, which is more often than you’d care to admit, it’s plain as day. He truly, sincerely feels that he has never deserved you. Like you’re something out of this world, out of his world. 

“Wow.” Soonyoung huffs out the one word, and it’s half a laugh, half admiration. “You are so out of my league.”

“Stop,” you whine, pushing his shoulder lightly. “Don’t say stupid things like that.”

“Well, not everyone gets to date the prettiest girl in law school,” he retorts quickly, lifting his brows. “Not sure why I of all people get to, but thank you.”

“Stop it,” you repeat, rolling your eyes and fixing the tie he’s wearing. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. You should know it, at least.”

“Not just that!” he protests quickly. “I just mean… you’re so smart. And good. And kind, and funny, and — ”

“Ah, yes! Of course, Kwon Soonyoung, known famously for being mean and horrible and extremely unfunny,” you say sarcastically, before tugging his tie and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I choose my league, and you’re the only one in it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he murmurs, slightly breathless.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

There were a lot of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung. You’d started off wonderful: both of you bright, flaming, drawn to each other like magnets. You managed the stresses of law school, graduated together, and lined up jobs – jobs that were miles and miles from each other.`

There were lots of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung, but if you had to pick one, it would be long distance.

“When did we stop trying?”

The question makes you snort. “What, you want a date and a time?”

Soonyoung smiles ruefully, but there’s nothing happy about it. It’s more of a painful grimace. That’s always been the way with you both: you deflect, he feels. He doesn’t hide the way you do, not from anyone. And for a few years, he was the only one who you didn’t hide from. 

Maybe that’s what has you opening your mouth again. “I could probably give you one. A date, I mean.”

Soonyoung hugs his knees to his chest, eyes searching your face. You can read him so well it physically makes you ache. The hint of uncertainty in his eyes, the twitching of his fingers – he’s nervous. He’s torn between wanting to know what you have to say and the strong sneaking premonition that it might hurt. “Go on,” he says finally, just as you knew he would. 

Honestly, you don’t have an exact date. Things fell apart slowly, and then all at once. A toppling tower – leaning, leaning, leaning, until it crashed. 

“There were probably a few things,” you say, softly. “My birthday, for a start.”

He winces reflexively. “That…” he begins, and then breathes out, shutting his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that.”

“I mean, in the end, it wasn’t that big of a deal.” You’re not sure why you’re trying to reassure him, even if it's true. You forgave him almost immediately.

“Shit.” 

Soonyoung’s first eloquent word when he walks into the apartment only means you become sure of what you already suspected. He takes in the half-eaten cake on the table, candles blown out and tossed to the side, the scraps of wrapping paper littering the floor, the cards; you take in his face. And you know, as quick and as simple as that – he forgot. 

Some small part of you had been holding a sneaking hope that maybe this was just an elaborate attempt at a surprise. You’d told him once, months and months ago, that you didn’t think ignoring people on their birthday to surprise them later was a very nice thing to do. But you’d rather he forgot that than your entire birthday.

His eyes meet yours, both of you frozen to your places. Him at the doorway, you at the table. The distance between you isn’t more than a few metres, but suddenly it feels like an engulfing abyss. Still, even from the other side, you can feel the guilt pouring out of him. 

“Shit,” he says again, before rushing his words out. “Shit, baby, I’m so sorry.”

You haven’t cried all day. You haven’t let yourself, but this has your eyes brimming over before you can control it.

“I’m going to bed,” you say finally, hugging yourself tightly, making yourself smaller. The apartment is warm, but you suddenly feel freezing. And despite your best efforts, there’s a waver in your voice, verging on a crack. “I’m tired.” 

You glance over the remains of your birthday party, one that you plastered a fake, painful smile on the whole way through, and then you turn to leave. 

“Baby, wait,” he implores quickly, and takes a step towards you — you mirror it immediately with a step back, and it makes him pause, his expression falling even further. “Baby.”

“You’re not allowed to call me that.” Your voice is obviously shaking now. “Not today. Maybe — maybe tomorrow.”

Maybe tomorrow you’ll be able to hear his excuses, his promises, but today, you’re allowed to be upset. You’ll let yourself have today, at the very least.

He’d driven hours to see you that day, but he’d still forgotten why he was there. You hadn’t really celebrated your birthday before you met him. Soonyoung was the one who made it a big deal, back when you first started dating, and even now, there’s a sharp pang in your chest when you remember how hurt you were that day.

“You made up for it tenfold,” you remind him now, because it’s true. He made the rest of the week practically a utopia, once you banned him from apologising. And he’d been so busy at work, so incredibly tired the whole month before, and you could understand. Both that he upset you, and that it was an innocent mistake. And you’ve never seen more sincere apologies than those that came from Soonyoung.

He looks grim, shakes his head, but doesn’t say any more. Probably because you’ve had this conversation a few times already, both of you too stubborn to give in. 

“Keep going,” he says, then, looking at you head on. “What else?”

All of a sudden, you don’t want to talk about what else. All of a sudden, you’re annoyed with him, his stupid face, this stupid elevator. “Do we have to do this?” Your voice has switched from somewhat reassuring to harsh – for want of a better word, angry. It makes his brown eyes a little round with surprise, his mouth parting a little.

“What?”

“What else and what if have been on my mind for three years, Soonyoung,” you say acidly. “Forgive me if I don’t really want to talk about it to your face.”

Again, his mouth opens a little bit, stays open as he tries to form words. Until he gives up, seals his lips and nods. “Alright. Okay. That’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine!” you cry out, only more angry that he won’t argue back. You’re lawyers, it’s what you do. And just to be petty, you add — “Besides, I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about this anyway.”

Finally, his passive poker face drops, and he looks a little confused. “My what?”

Immediately, you regret opening your mouth, but it’s too late to back down. “Your girlfriend. You know, that girl from accounting.”

“The girl fr— You mean Rachel?” Soonyoung gapes at you, and something in you bridles, until he continues. “Mrs Choi, who's married to her wife and adopting a kid next year?”

Well, now you feel stupid as fuck.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he continues, and if you weren’t afraid to look at him right now, you’d swear he was hiding a smirk.

“Whatever. I don’t care. Why are we even talking about this?” you snap, irritated and embarrassed.

He still sounds smug. “You brought it up.”

“You sit with her every lunch hour,” you mutter, heat creeping up your neck. “I just assumed.”

“Well, there’s nothing there. So don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried! I don’t care who you date, Soonyoung!”

He looks a little taken aback, blinking once or twice, cockiness gone without a trace. “Wow,” he says, finally. If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you wouldn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name since — ”

He cuts himself off, but you complete the sentence in your head — three years ago. Three years since you packed up and walked out of his life. It feels like a decade ago; it feels like last week. You’d been so sure that you wouldn’t see his face again after that, that it was a decided end of a full four years of your life. Until last year, when he’d waltzed straight back into your life, this time at your workplace.

“This is the new hire.” Your boss is speaking, but you’re still finishing up the last sentence on the document you’re working on, and you listen absently as he fires a couple instructions — “Jeon, you’ll show him around. Filing system, get him logged on, the works.”

You look up then, to cast Wonwoo a knowing smile, because he always gets lumped with showing around the newbies, but halfway to making eye contact with your friend, you catch the familiar tilt of a jaw, the soft lines of a nose you know so well.

You’ve seen Soonyoung in a hundred people since you left him. You’re always looking over your shoulder at the bus stop, at the grocery store, at the library, finding a tiny piece of him in everyone and everything, a tiny piece that lodges itself tight and sharp into your throat until you take a second look, until you see unfamiliar eyes or too dark hair or shorter legs. Until you find something to make you swallow, exhale, and keep walking.

Now, your second look doesn’t yield anything unfamiliar. Except maybe his hair, gone from blonde to black, but everything else — everything else. It’s him, and he looks just as shocked to see you as you are to see him. There’s a heavy moment that seems only heavy to the two of you, everyone else still talking, the boss still giving instructions, but you and Soonyoung are looking at each other, dumbfounded, and all you can think about is the distinct taste of bile in your throat and the tie he’s wearing is the one you got him for his birthday.

Your initial plan is to avoid him. He foils that plan within two hours, cornering you in the break room, whispering urgently, “I had no idea you worked here, I swear I’m not, like, following you or – ”

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, and you just pin him with a blank stare. 

“I could quit.”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish the sentence. “I’m not so butthurt that I can’t be a professional.”

“Right,” Soonyoung nods, breathing out a little. His lips are chapped. He never used to wear lip balm, just used to borrow yours. You hate yourself a little for remembering that.

The memory almost makes your lips twist with an sardonic smile. “I was so pissed when you showed up here.”

You can see his half smile, rueful and charming, through your peripheral vision. “I felt so bad about it, you know. But you just seemed annoyed when I saw you in the break room, so I figured you weren’t… mad or upset or anything.”

“I went straight from the break room to cry in the bathroom for fifteen minutes,” you admit truthfully. “I had to tell Wonwoo I had curry for breakfast.”

“You cried?”

You scowl. “I’m not saying it to be pitied, Soonyoung. I’m just saying, I’m not, like, some heartless jerk with no feelings. Of course I was upset.”

“I know that,” he says quickly, vehemently. “Of course I know that.” He hesitates, and then continues, words practically inching out of him. “It’s not really my place to ask, but… you and Wonwoo… are you guys…?”

“You’re right,” you say, and press your cheek onto your knees to fix him with your eyes. “It’s not your business. But that’d be hypocritical of me, so… no. No, we’re just friends. I’m friends with his girlfriend too, Cam, she works at the plant shop down the road.”

Soonyoung tilts his head back, lets out one of those breathy laughs that aren’t really laughs. “It’s so weird that you have new friends now.”

“Thanks,” you say, dripping with sarcasm.

“Not like that! I just mean I’m so used to – like, it used to be our friends, you know what I mean?”

“Not since three years ago,” you say with false lightness, because when you lost Soonyoung, you lost the friends he brought you too. You catch the glint of pity in his eyes again, and scoff. “It’s not a big deal. They were your friends first.”

Frowning, he speaks again. “First doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter to them either. Seungkwan said you were the one who stopped answering their calls.”

It’s true, and the feeling still burns a little, because Seungkwan and Jeonghan had called so many times. Even Vernon called a couple times, and you weren’t even that close to him, but Soonyoung has always attracted good people. Like calls to like. Maybe that’s why you ended up leaving.

“I was trying to make it easier,” you say bluntly., “for them to choose you.”

Your ex-boyfriend clicks his tongue, rakes a hand through his dark hair. “It’s not about sides, ___, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, it felt like it at the time, alright?” Your words come out louder than you mean them to, and you pause, trying to quell your defensiveness. 

Soonyoung raises his hands in half-hearted surrender. “Alright. Alright.”

Something in your stomach feels acidic. Leaning your head back against the cool wall of the elevator, you manage to meet his eyes apologetically. “How – how are they, though? Seungkwan and everyone?”

Graciously, he ignores your quick show of temper. “They’re good. Seungkwan’s working freelance photography now. Jeonghan still hates his job, but keeps getting promoted anyway.”

Jeonghan. You told him you thought you were going to break up before you even told Soonyoung. You wonder if he remembers it, because that night is seared into your memory – New Year’s Eve, three years ago.

You’re much drunker than you ever intended to be when you finally find a place to sit in the cramped apartment, waved over by a sympathetic looking Jeonghan. He pats your head affectionately as you groan. 

“Feeling alright?”

“No,” you say elaborately.

Jeonghan never pries, which is probably what makes people tell him everything. He only raises his eyebrows at you, a hint of scepticism toying with his smile.

You look away, eyes drawn immediately to your boyfriend, laughing in the middle of the kitchen. Throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, looking so fucking happy; when you see him like this, your heart always feels so incredibly warm and so incredibly full. 

Except today, there’s something else intertwining it, something similar to dread, and it causes the faint smile on your face to fade a little.

Jeonghan sees it, of course, and when you look back at him, his eyebrows only raise higher. 

You sink further into that horrible, looming feeling. “Jeonghan.”

“___.”

“I think I’m going to break up with him this year.”

If you didn’t know Jeonghan as well as you do, you’d think the information hadn’t affected him at all; his features remain completely impassive, but you catch the flash of surprise in his eyes. He stays quiet for a long time, the silence between you filled with thumping bass and indistinct conversation, until finally, he asks the only question there is to ask. “Why?”

It’s ridiculous, how one word can bring you to the verge of tears. But that one word holds so much weight – why would you break up with him? Why would you, when you’ve pictured a future with him a thousand times over? 

Why would you leave the best thing that ever happened to you?

You blink back the tears, and Jeonghan waits.

His voice is soft, but you still hear him under the din of the party. “Is this about your birthday?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.” You stop. “Maybe. It’s – there’s just – little stupid things.”

“Little things add up,” Jeonghan says gently. You hate how he’s already understanding.

“Sometimes – ” You swallow thickly. “Sometimes I just feel so far away from him.”

You don’t have to explain that you don’t mean physically. Because that’s part of it, but it’s not all of it, but without you saying that, Jeonghan knows. You barely notice when he takes your plastic red cup from your hands, setting it on the table next to him. “And I know he loves me, and he’d never hurt me on purpose, and – he’s been so good to me, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan only hums, waits for you to continue. And you do, the alcohol only pushing more words out of your mouth. “The distance,” you say, “is killing us.” You rub furiously at your eyes. “No matter how hard we try, Jeonghan, it’s not working, and I feel like – I’m the only one who can see that. He’s ignoring it, but we can’t keep going like this.”

Jeonghan hesitates for a second, looking torn, more torn than you’ve ever seen him look. “Do you still love him?”

Tears blur your vision again, but don’t quite escape this time. “I don’t know how to stop.”

When you kiss Soonyoung after the countdown, your cheeks are wet.

“Long distance.”

“What?”

“You asked what else,” you say, picking at your nails. “I think it was the distance. I think that’s what – you know. Broke us up.”

Soonyoung has that look in his eyes, the one where he wants to argue but knows he’s going to lose, knows that you’re right. He breathes out, licks his lips and tries to speak. “We tried so hard.”

It’s not even a counter-argument. You agree with him, even. The two of you were brilliant at long distance, until you weren’t. Hours-long video calls, surprise weekend visits, staying over for the holidays, until it all started collapsing. Weekly movie nights kept getting postponed. Visits had to decrease in number. You were missing each other’s calls – if one of you wasn’t working late, the other always was. It was like the entire universe was working against you both, and suddenly, you felt like a burden rather than a lover, and Soonyoung would probably say the same. It’s hard not to feel that way, when you’re celebrating your anniversary over FaceTime and both of you keep dozing off while the other talks.

In a way, Soonyoung is right: you both tried so hard. In a way, he’s so wrong: neither of you tried hard enough.

Towards the end of it all, you were too tired to fight. Both of you were. The breakup was a quiet affair, mostly. You brought it up first, standing in the kitchen of Soonyoung’s apartment after realising you had no idea where he kept his cereal bowls.

“Soonyoung?”

“Babe, I told you, it’s the third cupboard from the left,” he calls, but he’s rounding the corner to his kitchen anyway. He stops in his tracks when he sees your face, smile fading, and for a second, time freezes.

“Soonyoung,” you say again, quieter.

And he knows. “Don’t,” he says, faintly, but there’s no weight behind it, because he knows.

Tears are already brimming your eyes, and you’re wrapping your arms around yourself, shaking your head. “I can’t,” you say, and you’re not sure what you mean. I can’t end it. I can’t keep going.

The picture before him is enough for Soonyoung, and any defence, any fight he still had in him (because he’s always been the more tenacious) drains. He gives in, same as you. 

“Okay,” he says, in a voice that’ll haunt you for years to come, a clashing harmony of gentle and damning. “Okay.”

You try to formulate words. You fail. All that you can say is “Soonyoung.” before you trail off. 

You don’t finish. He gives you a tired, forced smile, says something about, “We had a good run, didn’t we?”, but you’re too busy trying to wrench the tears back into your eyes to focus properly. Your efforts are in vain, of course, tears slipping down your cheeks hot and heavy, no matter how much you try to stop.

“I’m sorry,” you say tearfully, but he shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry.”

After that, he only helps you load your bags into your car and says thank you when you give him the house keys. He does everything so quietly, so methodically, so defeatedly. It’s like he’s just lost a war he’s been fighting for far too long.

It turns out that in the end, four years can be reduced down to this: two cardboard boxes, three bin bags, and two broken hearts.

It’s your fault, in technical terms. You finished this. You’re the one who said the words, or almost said them, the one who spelled out what was so obviously ignored. More than once, because you’d tried this before, six months ago. Soonyoung was the one who fought back. He’d said no, of course, that first time. He’d said no with tears in his eyes, like it was a surprise to him, like he couldn’t see it the way you saw it — that you were on two very different paths. 

Soonyoung didn’t believe in following diverging paths, he believed in forcing yourself straight ahead hand-in-hand, come hell or high water. He believed in it, until he didn’t, and then he let you go.

When it’s time for you to leave, he accepts the hug you can’t help but fling on him just before you step in the car. Both of your arms around each other, fitting into place like you have a hundred times before, but so much tighter and so much briefer this time. Soonyoung clings to you like he’s never going to see you again, because he isn’t. You cling to him like this is the last time you’ll ever hug him, because it is.

And then both of you are pulling away, laughing awkwardly at the wet patch you’ve left on his shirt, and then you’re getting in your car and he’s waving you off and it’s over, just like that.

“It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?” There’s an acerbic quality to Soonyoung’s laugh as he continues. “We broke up because of distance, and here we fucking are.”

There’s a metre and a half between you two.

“Maybe it was a dumb reason,” you say. Voicing the thought that’s tormented you since the day you drove away. Because maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was a temporary rough patch, and if you’d stayed, if you’d fought a little more and a little longer, you’d still have Soonyoung.

But you didn’t, and you don’t.

There’s a heavy expression on Soonyoung’s face, a strange mix of anger and confusion and guilt. “Maybe,” he says, at last. There’s the vaguest trace of bitterness, the little tiny sting that reminds you again that you’re the one who called it quits. 

“It felt like the weight of the world at the time,” you say ashamedly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second.

Soonyoung takes the chance and scoots closer to you, sitting against the wall with you, shoulder-to-shoulder. (How easy it would be to just rest your head there, as you’ve done a thousand times before.) “It can’t have been easy,” he says, patting your hand with his own. Warm and familiar in its unfamiliarity, which is when you realise you’ve misread him, for once – he’s not bitter. He’s empathetic.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Soonyoung continues softly, rubbing his eyes, “but God, I wish you’d just talked to me. Actually — I wish we’d talked to each other.”

“Yes, well,” you say dryly, wondering if he’s going to catch your reference, “I’ve always had a problem with communication.”

He catches it; it makes him pause, lift up his head, give you a tiny smile.

It takes you a minute to register that the seat across from you has been occupied. When you do look up, you realise Soonyoung’s mouth has been moving since he sat down, and you haven’t heard a word of it. Also, somewhere between the class you guys shared two days ago and his presence in the library this morning, his hair’s gone from a discreet dark brown to a particularly indiscreet blond.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, taking out your earphones and setting down your pen. “What?”

“I said – do you have a problem with communication or something?” Despite the nature of his words, he’s practically beaming at you.

You blink at him, bewildered. “I mean… maybe? But — what?”

He holds up his phone. “Project,” he explains elaborately. “I’ve been texting, and I didn’t get a reply, and then I saw you over here, so I thought I’d ask.”

You frown, grabbing your phone. “I didn’t get any texts.”

Soonyoung mirrors your expression, tapping at his screen, and you’re struck by how much the blond suits him. As did the brown. As did the black he had a semester ago. Not that you’ve been keeping track, but it’s hard to not notice someone like Soonyoung. Even if the first time you talked to him was two days ago to organise the project you’ve been paired up for — you know him. Of him, at least.

He swivels his screen round to face you, showing you a contact with your name and what you quickly realise is almost your number. You smile a little awkwardly, tapping the last digit. “That’s meant to be a seven. You’ve got an eight.”

“Fuck,” he exhales, “that explains it. Who the hell have I been texting about litigation then?”

Something about his expression and his tone is so comical it makes you laugh, which surprises him a little – he glances up at you with a blatantly admiring smile, and he taps the edge of the desk. “Your eyes light up when you laugh, did you know?” And as quickly as he says it, he moves on, gesturing to your phone. “I’ll text you about the project, okay?”

He’s like a hurricane, and you’re trying your best to keep up. “Okay,” you agree confusedly, still hot-faced from the sudden compliment. “Yes. That’s — yes.”

As he gets up to leave again, he shoots you another one of those blinding, dazzling smiles, and sticks his hand out. “We’re friends now, right?”

His question sounds childishly sweet, and you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than agree. 

Your one little reference sets you both off. You spend the next two hours talking and talking and talking, every other sentence beginning with “Remember when…”, as the two of you dredge up the long-buried memories of four long years spent together.

Soonyoung talks about the massive crush he had on you before you even got paired up for the project. You talk about how you never believed him, even when he did ask you out – it took three tries before you understood how serious he was. And then you remember the time Soonyoung sprinted from campus to his accommodation and back just to get you the calculator you forgot for your exam – and the time you both went to a frat party and ended up playing the most intense game of UNO in the bathroom with Vernon, which ended in a drunk Soonyoung trying to flush the cards down the toilet. 

He talks about the surprise party you threw for his birthday, and you talk about the time he tried to make you pancakes for National Girlfriend Day and failed horribly. You ate them anyway.

You don’t, however, talk about other things, even if you remember them. You remember Soonyoung kissing your forehead every morning he woke up next to you. You remember him buying your favourite flowers for your favourite vase every week. You remember coming home after a long day to food already delivered and paid for when he was working hours and hours away. You remember being so incredibly in love that it made you giddy and so in love it made you calm. And you don’t talk about it, just store it away somewhere as a reminder of what love is meant to feel like. If four years with Soonyoung brought you anything, it’s that: it taught you how to love and be loved.

When the recovery team finally arrives, you leave the elevator feeling like a new person. It doesn’t hurt when you look at Soonyoung anymore, there’s only a vague, warm fondness. And he can look you in the eye now, which he does. He smiles at you, sticks out his hand the same way he did all those years ago.

“We’re friends now, right?”

an / AHHH!!!!!! i know this fic is only like 5k but it took a lot out of me so i’d love to hear your thoughts. literally any thoughts. i wanted this fic to be longer but it happened this way and. what can i do. i may be the author but im NOT in control. it’s not a fic i’m 100% proud of but i think it’ll still hold a special place in my heart!!!! i love an angsty exes au.

anyway — this will be my last fic this year!!! see you all in 2025 and thank you so much for all the notes and all the reblogs and all the wonderful conversations this year i love you

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[arminsumi]

“you’re short”

“okay? so put some inches in me”

-

all i can imagine is a sassy/bratty reader and a cocky gojo 😭

we’re going to ignore that i’ve only seen one ep of jjk and i’m already requesting smut over it ☠️

OOH, YOU FLIRTIN'?

💗 GOJO さとる

[ Note ] : 🥵😳 what a vision! and lol one ep into jjk n alr thirsty for gojo love that 👍 also u n me are so small compared to him 🫠 also idk if he's more cocky or dorky in this oops lol. and i am writing this on my phone at a sleepover lord help me i have been awkwardly shifting around and avoiding showing my screen to any eyes 😭😭

[ Warnings ] : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : suggestive/18+ content/smut, mentions virgin reader, getting caught

[ Playme ] : XXX

"You're so short."

"Okay, so put some inches in me."

"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, huh?"

"I would, actually."

"Ooh, you flirtin' with me, shorty?"

"Yeah, well you started it, big boy."

Big boy...? 😳

Gojo Satoru, your very cheeky and very bold classmate, who has not held back on flirting teasing you about your height since he met you, is rendered speechless for the first time.

But only for a moment. Soak up your victory quick. He stutters. His brain chokes up. His heart throbs like he's just developed an instant crush. His uniform pants feel uncomfortable.

And then he reanimates himself once he hears Suguru snickering next to him.

"That's pretty bold of you, huh?" he smirks toothily, sinking his shaky hands in his pockets. "Now you're gettin' me all worked up—"

"—oh yeah?" you lid your eyes and flirt. He's taken aback again. "Worked up how?"

"Get a room, you two. Honestly..." Suguru grumbles.

"Yes, I think we will." Satoru winks at you. It's a failed wink. Deep down, he's not confident in his flirting. No. Deep down, he's an awkward dork.

His brain short circuits when you continue flirt back. He actually runs out of things to say.

She's a mature flirt. I'm an immature flirt. How the hell do I keep up? Fuck.

When you and him get alone together, clearing up the chairs after a class, you tease;

"Come on, big boy, what's the matter? Lost your edge?"

"No... I'm just thinking." his voice cracks at the end, he clears his throat. It feels tight. His pants feel tight too.

"About what?"

"About what you look like naked."

You let out a laugh, and laugh and laugh, like he's the most ridiculous flirt you've ever met.

"What?" he raises a brow.

"You're so ridiculous."

Oh yeah. That irks him. That flippant comment. You're not even looking at him as you say it, you're scooting a chair into a desk.

He walks over to you and peers down, making the height difference between you and his 6'3 frame sorely apparent. What a big boy.

"Wanna repeat that for me?"

Ooh his voice is heavy and low, low enough to cause goosebumps on your skin. And the proximity? It makes you feel more than just small, it makes you feel a tingling between your thighs.

He comes closer. Grazes his lips across yours. Mixes breaths with you.

"Uh—" you get flustered.

"—haha, just kidding." he pulls away suddenly. Maybe because he got too nervous (true) or maybe because he felt victorious in knocking you off your high horse (also true).

"I thought you were gonna—" you begin disappointedly.

Satoru cuts you off.

"—do something? Aw, are you horny?" he winks.

"Yeah. For you." you roll your eyes.

Fuck.

My pants feel too fucking tight. Can she see the outline of my dick? Is she looking there?

"Is that so?" he raises a brow, staring right into your eyes. No one holds eye contact quite like Mister Six Eyes.

He chuckles, Addam's apple shifting up and down deliciously. "Aren't you a virgin?" he sneers.

"Yes. I am. Are you gonna do something about it, or just stand there like an idiot?"

He nearly chokes.

Wow. What? She actually just said that?

"Of course I'll do somethin' about it, sweetheart. But..." he leans into your air again, closer than before, 'n breathes tauntingly against your quivering lips.

"... does a goody-two-shoes like you really wanna lose her virginity in a classroom?"

"Stop stalling, big boy. I'm not a "goody-two-shoes"; I'm fucking horny." you seethe lustfully.

Fuck.

He's not sure how to respond. His brain is malfunctioning.

"Alright... then use your words like a big girl and ask me nicely to fuck you." he mutters, lips grazing yours. You can feel how badly he wants to kiss you.

Please say it.

The sexual tension has his heart racing, pretty cock pressing flush against the fabric of his dress pants.

"Satoru..." you begin, pulling on his collar.

He gulps and listens intently. The small touch your fingers make with his neck drives him wild.

"... fuck me."

Something just snaps inside him right there.

He crashes his lips onto yours with a feverish intensity, the rest his history—

—er, until the teacher walks in on you two right as things get toasty, catching Satoru with his hand up your shirt and your hand down his pants. And then you giggle off to detention with Satoru.

He promises to put some inches to your height. Uh... you know... by lifting you off your feet while he stuffs you up with his cock 😌

© arminsumi

No copying/plagiarizing/reposting. Do not promote me on other platforms.

[thebearer]

fall into me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: part 2 of follow me. your date with carmen.

contains: fluff. anxious carmen. mentions of mikey. but all fluff :)

Carmen was sure he was going to be sick. A new kind of sickness, where his stomach felt like it was going to fall out of his mouth and ass at the same time. He changed his outfit six times, slacks and a tie felt too formal. Jeans felt out of the question, and while the very cool guy on TikTok swore that slacks and t-shirts were in this season… Carmen couldn’t bring himself to wear it. 

So he wore his slacks, good shoes he still had from pretentious meetings in the restaurant, and his good button down, a steely type blue- the saleswoman told him it really complimented his eyes, then wrote her number on his receipt. Of course, Carmen didn’t call it. He’d never allow himself the simple pleasures like that. 

Carmen smoked the whole way to the restaurant, a bottle of cologne in his pocket, which he doused himself in on the corner, popping a mint. He saw you standing there, awkwardly on your phone by the light pole, head ducked to your screen in your black, silk, cowl neck dress. Carmen could feel his heart jump at the sight of you, cursing while he started to jog in the still new shoes. 

“Hey, shit, sorry.” Carmen apologized, his chest tightening and burning as he slowed in front of you. “I-I couldn’t find my phone.” Definitely not because I tried on a million different outfits and had a panic attack.

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t text me back. Thought you ghosted me at your own restaurant.” You quipped, his heart plummeting, face falling with it. You grinned, shoving your phone in your tiny purse. “‘M fucking with you, Carm. I just got here.” 

“Oh,” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, good. That-That’s good. Do you want to go in?” 

“Sure.” You giggled. “After you, Chef.” 

“C’mon.” Carmen laughed lightly, shaking his head, hoping it would hide his burning cheeks. You were ahead of him, reaching for the door, his heart skipping when he saw it. “I got it!” 

You drew your hand back, looking at him carefully. The blush in his cheeks spread down to his neck. “I-I got it, let me get it.” Carmen nodded, pulling the handle. You glided past him, his hand ghosting on the small of your back, leaving you shuddering under his touch. It was casual, you doubted he even knew he did it, just a slight usher while he followed you in. 

“It’s so different being here at night.” You whispered to him, your arm brushing his while you walked to the hostess station. 

Carmen nodded. “I know, it’s, uh, it’s nice to see it like this, ya know?” He muttered. “See it from a customer’s perspective.” 

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” You asked, your head tilting to the side softly. “Why we’re kinda doing this?” 

Carmen’s heart fell, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He could feel his own mind racing. Of course, you didn’t think this was a date. Why would you ever want to be on a date with him?

“I mean, yeah, sorta. Here f’you too. To thank you for everything.” Carmen nodded, eyes cutting to yours. Fuck, he knew he needed to look at you, he wanted to look at you, but it was so fuckin’ hard. When you looked so pretty, so effortlessly calm and cool. It made him fluster. 

“C’mon, Carm. You hired me, paid me. And you guys have been so nice. Most places are… horrible. Act like I’m bothering them when they hired me. You’ve got a good place, great staff. I’m glad you wanted me to be a part of it for a while.” You smiled, stepping up to the hostess station.

Carmen could feel his heart squeeze, an uncomfortably tight realization that this would be the last time he saw you. He’d been running numbers all night, seeing where he could take cuts so he could keep you, but even then, you’d be gone for at least another two months since you already took another job. By then, whatever you had here, would be gone. 

“Ah, there you are, the VIP customers for the night.” Richie schmoozed, sliding behind the hostess stand. 

You grinned, Carmen’s eyes downcast making Richie’s jaw tick. “How are you two this evening?”

“Great.” You beamed. “Excited to try this place. I’ve never been here before. Heard it’s the best in Chicago.” You nudged Carmen playfully with your hip, grinning at him. 

He gave you a tight lipped smile, hands by his side, trying to nonchalantly wipe his hands on his slacks. Richie smiled at you, glaring lightly at Carmen. “Well, you heard right, sweetheart. We want your night to be extra special, so we have this booth back here just for the two of you.” 

“Hey, Syd,” Tina muttered, looking up from her plating to see your head pass with Carmen’s curly locks. “They’re here.” 

“Shit, are they?” Sydney turned, looking through the window. “God, Carmen looks like he’s about to pass out.” 

“Fuck, he does, doesn’t he?” Sugar huffed, her hands on her hips. 

Richie caught Sugar’s eye through the window, a flickering glance that told her exactly what she needed to know. “So, I will have the focaccia out for the two of you shortly. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” 

“‘M good.” Carmen muttered, taking the leather bound menu into his hands, knee bouncing under the table. 

You looked a little uncomfortable, eyes cutting to Carmen’s before a moment of hesitation flashed over your face. “Uh, I’ll take a glass of whatever you think would pair best with the meal?” 

“Perfect. I’ll have that out.” Richie smiled, hoping his silent screams at Carmen would be enough for him to catch on. Fak passed, slipping a piece of paper in Richie’s hand. Richie stepped away, reading Sugar’s scribbled writing: “GET CARMEN BACK HERE NOW!!!!” 

“Excuse me, folks,” Richie greeted apologetically, though the two of you weren’t talking. “Carmen, I hate to do this, but I need you just for a second, ok?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth without so much as looking at you. Richie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’ll just be a second. That focaccia and riesling are on the way.” Richie grinned at you, stepping beside Carmen. 

“What’s goin’ on? Did we run out of-” 

“-No, you fuckin’ moron.” Richie huffed, letting the door slam shut. “The fuck is your problem, huh? You’re not even- hey, send that to six with the Cakebread white, ok?- You’re not even looking at her, c’mon, Cousin.” 

Carmen blushed, running a hand through his hair. “What? I-I’m talkin’ to her-” 

“-No, you’re not.” Sugar snapped, rounding the corner. “You look like an ass, Carmy. You’re on a date with her and-” 

“-It’s not a date.” Carmen shook his head, brushing it off. 

Sugar blinked. “You’re on a date with her,” She repeated, her tone firmer- a mom tone she’d adapted since working here that would help with the baby. “And you’re acting like a total-total…” Sugar waved her hands, stuttering over the word. 

“Jagoff.” Neil added, passing through the kitchen for a moment before going out the doors. 

“Thank you! Yes! A total jagoff.” Sugar glared at Carmen. 

“I-I don’t even think she thinks it’s a date-” 

The kitchen erupted in groans, shouting at him irritatedly. “Look at how she’s dressed. If she thought this was a free meal ticket, she wouldn’t wear that. That is a date night dress.” 

“That’s true.” Sydney added. 

Carmen couldn’t help the way his heart flipped with excitement, looking out the window at you, sitting at the table, nursing your wine slowly- alone. 

“Cousin, c’mere,” Richie motioned him, leading him towards the office. “Look, I get you got this whole ‘I deserve nothing good’ doom and gloom attitude, but that right there. That’s good.” Richie jabbed his finger towards the door. “I see you, ok? You guys got that cute little texting thing goin’ on, alright?” 

Carmen stilled. He felt like a teenager again, being teased and tormented by Mikey and Richie about a crush he had. How the fuck did he know about your texting? “Look, if you let her go tonight without even trying, you’re gonna regret it. You only got one chance, cousin, do not miss your chance to blow.” Richie said seriously. 

“Don’t fuckin’ quote Eminem to me right now-” 

“-Alright, alright, but seriously?” Richie nodded into the office, the tiny frame that held Mikey’s note ‘Let it rip!’. Carmen felt his stomach turn, guilt trilling in it. He knew Richie was right and that fact alone made him queasy. “Listen to Mikey, alright? You can have good shit in your life.” 

Carmen looked at the photo, taking a grounding breath, Mikey’s voice ringing loud in his ears. “Let it rip.” Carmen muttered, pushing past the double doors back to you. 

“Oh, no way!” You laughed. “You don’t have TikTok?” 

“No, no. Don’t have time for it.” Carmen shrugged, sipping his water. 

“Then how do you watch our videos?” You asked, brow raising in question. 

“I click the link you send me and it opens up just on my Google or whatever.” Carmen grinned, shrugging lightly, popping another truffle fry in his mouth. He’d nearly fallen over when you asked for ranch, teasing you lightly. You’d only shrugged, sticking one in your mouth, declaring it would taste better with ranch. You were kidding, of course, it was perfect. 

“Wow.” You smirked, finger tracing around the rim. “You’re missing out. It’s addictive.” 

“Yeah? It’s weird too.” Carmen snorted lightly. 

“Says you! You’re Mr. TikTok Famous and you don’t even know it.” You pushed his arm lightly, trying not to gawk at how firm his biceps were. Sure, you’d definitely seen them while he was working, but… they felt better than they looked. “Should see how you’ve got everyone in a tizzy. Chopping onions and marinating wagyu.” 

Carmen laughed, cheeks reddening at the compliment. “Yeah, those comments were…shocking.” 

“You think?” You cocked your head to the side. “I thought they were pretty normal.” 

“Half of them were asking me to violently punch them.” Carmen laughed, eyes widening at you. 

“Well, can you blame them?” You grinned, leaning in closer. “You got nice hands. Of course, they’re going feral. I knew what I was doing with that shot. Giving the people what they want.” 

Carmen blushed furiously, hoping you couldn’t see under the low light of the restaurant. “Nah, c’mon.” He looked down at his fingers, etched with tattoos. 

“You c’mon.” You grinned, reaching out a little daringly to trace a finger over his veins. You’d blame the wine for your boldness, but Carmen shivered under your touch. “You’ve got hot hands. No wonder they all go so crazy. You’re a pretty chef with good hands.” 

Carmen knew you had to see his blush now, sure his body temperature went up ten degrees, heart beating so bad in his chest he was sure he wasn’t going to make it another course. “Uh,” Carmen laughed, running his free hand over his mouth, hoping to hide some of his grin. He didn’t dare move his hand from his. “Well, thanks, I guess. I, um, I wanna say I think the same.” 

You lifted a brow, biting back a laugh when he stuttered, his eyes widening. Your giggles were infectious to him, a stream of his own nervous laugh spilling out of his throat. “No, I-I meant- fuck, I meant… I, uh, I think you’re pretty.” 

There was a pause, your own teeth pulling in your lip, grinning shyly at him. “Really?” You asked. You felt like you were in junior high again, finding out the boy on the JV team like liked you. It was giddy, the feeling in your chest. Warm, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Yeah.” Carmen nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Beautiful, really.” 

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, hoping to hide your smile behind your own glass of wine. Fak came by, dropping your next course off, a temporary relief for the moment, letting the two of you get yourselves together. 

“You think he’ll do it?” Sugar asked, pretending to roll silverware while Richie handed them to her. A meaningless job that just so happened to be by the window, so they could see the two of you. 

“I dunno. Could go either way.” Richie sucked in a breath. “He seems to be close, ya know? Think he has it in him to do it, just… fuck, I hope he does.” 

“Me too.” Sugar sighed. “Can you hear what they’re saying? It looks… nice? So that’s gotta be good, right?” 

“Yeah, hopefully…” Richie hummed, squinting to try and make out the words you were whispering to each other. The two of you were pressed together, migrated together as the meal went on until you were huddled, like it was the two of you. 

“I really don’t want you to leave.” Carmen admitted, body pressed to yours, hand in yours in the dim light of the booth. Everyone had left, all the patrons shuffled out and escorted to their cars. Some of the kitchen staff went home, but some stayed, pretending to be extra tedious with their cleanup so they could see the two of you. 

“I know. I’m having such a good time with you.” You agreed, tilting your chin up to look at him, lashes batting, eyes a little glossy from the wine. 

“No- I mean, yeah I-I’m having a good time with you, too. But I meant… leave forever.” Carmen admitted, the lump in his throat growing more and more with each word. “I really liked having you here.” 

“I liked being here.” You hummed, tongue running over your bottom lip lightly. “It was a lot of fun. I liked spending time with you.” 

“Yeah? I liked spending time with you too. A lot.” Carmen admitted. “And I… I want to keep spending time with you?” It came out more as a question, all hopeful eyes and a rounded gaze. “If-If you want to-” 

“-Yeah.” You grinned. “I wanna keep spending time with you. I like being with you, Carmen.” 

“Yeah? Really?” Camren was half convinced he was hallucinating. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “If you wanna spend some more time with me too. I’d like to get to know you more, and not to just write a staff spotlight on.” You giggled, his lips curling at the sound. “To, like, really get to know you.” 

“I would… yeah, I’d like that. Like to get to know you too.” Carmen nodded. 

There was a pause, the tension between the two of you was thick. Your eyes darted from his lips back to his eyes, already leaning closer. Carmen could feel his stomach lurch with nerves, Mikey’s voice ringing over and over and over. 

Let it fuckin’ rip, Carmen thought before he moved in, lips on yours. His hands were clammy cradling your jaw but you didn’t seem to mind, your own arms snaking their way around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss. 

“Holy shit!” Richie gasped, dropping the fork. “Look! Fuckin’ look!” 

The staff clambered around to huddle by the window, watching the two of you kiss, pulling apart with small smiles, before going back in. Carmen’s hands sliding down your back, your arms, your waist- fuck, he just loved feeling you like this, and he hadn’t even felt all of you. Yet. 

“He fuckin’ did it.” Richie grinned, awing at Carmen. “Hey, Sug, might be a bad time, but I believe I’m owed fifty dollars.” 

You pulled apart, grinning at Carmen, still huddled close together, his hands rubbing the silk fabric of your dress, your sliding through the curls on the nape of his neck. Your mind was dizzy, the rush of adrenaline, emotion, and buzzing from the wine. 

“What’re you doin’ tomorrow?” Carmen asked. 

“Nothing.” You hummed. “Why? You’ve got something in mind?” 

“Not-Not right now, actually.” Carmen admitted with a small laugh. “But I’d love to do something with you.” 

“Me too.” You smiled. 

Carmen looked around, catching his staff standing in the window, rolling his eyes when they darted after he caught them, scampering in different directions. “Um, it’s gettin’ kinda late.” Carmen looked at you, fingers drumming on his thigh- that was still touching yours. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at your phone. “I guess I should go, and I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth then offering his hand to help you. “Did you walk here?” 

“No, I took the L.” You walked towards the door beside him. It was quiet, the soft hum from the kitchen, the muffled clatters of pots and pans being put away. 

“Me too. I’ll ride back with you?” Carmen offered. 

“I thought you lived like three blocks away?” You giggled, tilting your head to the side. “And I’m in the opposite direction.” 

“Yeah, I-I do.” Carmen nodded. “I just… You shouldn’t ride alone at night, ya know? Shit could happen and… I don’t want it to. To happen to you.” 

You could feel the heat flushing through your cheeks, through your chest. You laughed lightly. “Is this your way of trying to come home with me?” You lifted a brow playfully. 

“No! No.” Carmen shook his head, flustered, which made you laugh harder. 

“I’m kidding, Carm.” You giggle, reassuring him. “But… if you wanted to come stay the night. Since it’s late… and you’re insisting on coming with me on the L.” 

“I don’t wanna make-make it weird, or come off like that. I-I really am… I like you.” Carmen stuttered. Fuck, there was nothing more tempting than that invite, but Carmen didn’t want to fuck this up. He really didn’t want to fuck this up. 

“I mean, stay over so we can talk more.” You gave him a pointed look. “We were having a good conversation. Weren’t we?” 

“Yeah, no, yeah. Yeah, we were.” Carmen stuttered, hand on the door, twisting the lock though his eyes never left yours. 

“So… You want to come over then? Finish telling me about Copenhagen? Please?” And how could Carmen say no, his head spinning with excitement when he walked out behind you, letting the door fall shut, your arm looping around his while you walked towards the L. 

Richie ran to the front, pushing the door open with Sugar and Tina, watching the two of you walk towards the station. “Good job, Cousin.” Richie muttered. 

[thatlittlered]

time warp | aaron hotchner

warning(s): none, just hotch being delicious

GIF by @katebeckets

part one

author's note: I have never updated a story this fast in my life. Another part is coming tomorrow.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

The door to his office is open, chatter from the bullpen reaching him when you all get too loud. He can tell Morgan is pestering you about something and the others have gathered around to listen.

“You only have one watch?”

“How many watches do other people have? You act like it’s insane.”

Spencer, like always, feels the need to interject, “I have three.”

You sigh, abandoning your pen and notes.

“I have another one but that’s my grandmother’s, I can’t wear it to work.”

Derek is not satisfied with your answer.

“You have a thousand pieces of jewelry.”

“I know!”

“You are wearing most of them right now.”

“I know, Morgan, you can stop bullying me now.” You pout at him and he pouts back, but his grin is indicator enough that he’s not even close to finished with you.

“Where do you even spend your paychecks, sweetheart?”

“Important stuff. Like shoes.”

“I only have one pair of shoes aside of my trainers.”

Emily laughs, “Yeah, we know that, Spence. Their time is coming to an end, by the way.”

Morgan zeroes in on you again, poking a finger into your knee to get a reaction.

“How many pairs of shoes do you have exactly? Fifteen? Twenty?”

“They were twenty… at some point.”

Triumph.

You almost can’t stand his shit-eating grin.

“There you go. Too bad you don’t get to wear them here.”

“Where do you spend yours? A lifetime’s supply of V-necks at GAP?”

You stand up from your chair, eager to get away from this conversation.

“You’re only mean to me because you know I’ll love you anyway.”  

“Maybe.”

He puts his hand over his heart in feign hurt. Garcia mutters something about a woman’s right to shoes in your defense and you kiss her cheek to thank her on your way to the kitchenette. Aaron still watches from his seat and squirms uncomfortably when he sees Morgan follow you.

You take his mug and pour you both some coffee while he takes a seat, thanking you. You don’t even see Hotch come in.

“Did your watch get lost?”

You almost spill your coffee at the baritone of his voice. Everything he says comes out so official, so professional, as if speaking orders, but not at that beach under the sunrise. Who was he then?

“Yes, it did. Totally on its own and not because I keep leaving my stuff in random places and not looking after them properly.”

“Maybe that’s why you spend so much on stuff, if you keep losing them.”

You quirk a brow at Derek, leaning over him menacingly from your position.

“I swear to God, Morgan, this might be the day you officially lose my affection.”

He takes the cup you’ve poured for him from your hand and slowly walks backwards in resignation.

“No, please, I didn’t mean it.”

You smile at each other and you point a finger at him. Hotch watches with a frown.

“Tread lightly.”

When Morgan’s gone, he can finally step closer to you. Getting to the coffee machine is only the excuse.

“You know, you’re really good at keeping him in check. Maybe you should be in charge here.”

You smile into your cup, “That’s alright, we already have a boss and he’s okay.”

“Oh, is he? Good to know, I can’t wait to have that all over my evaluation files next year.”

You nod. The fabric of his suit jacket brushes against your arm while he pours.

“Some might even use the words ‘pretty good’.”

He hums, “So eloquent.”

Your smile deepens, nose wrinkling upwards in a way that now really can’t be hidden in your cup.

-.-.-

It’s almost time for everyone to head home and for once, he’s trying really hard to make it out of the office before sundown; maybe spend some quality time with Jack.

There’s a knock on his door before it opens and he’s about to send whoever it is away but-

“Hi, sorry, am I interrupting?”

He looks up, uncharacteristically disoriented.

“Uh, no-no, come in.”

“Are you coming to Rossi’s tonight?”

He’s dumbfounded.

“I’m not really sure yet, I have some errands to run when I’m done here.”

“Oh, okay… I just found some old Marvel comics and I thought Jack might like to have them, but I didn’t bring them with me. Maybe I could give them to you tonight? That is, if you make it.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do you mind?”

“No, of course not, I just-”, he exhales, “I’ll be there.”

You smile and nod, ready to leave.

“Maybe I could give you a ride and you can give them to me then. I mean,” his thumb scratches his bottom lip uncomfortably, “your place is practically on the way.”

“Have you ever been to my place?”

Aaron laughs awkwardly, “No.”

“But you seem to know what you’re talking about, so I’m going to put my faith in you. Pick me up at seven?”

“That works.”

-.-.-

It’s not even half past six when he rings your doorbell and you open the door still clad in pjs.

“You are so early.”

Hotch suddenly looks so small for such a usually imposing man. He stands in your doorway with nervous hands in his pockets and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him act like this before.

“I’m sorry, I can wait in the car if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay, come in. I think I knew deep down that you would be; just not by this much.”

 He clears his throat and moves inside to now stand awkwardly at the apartment’s entrance, “I’m sorry, I started way too early from my house. Overestimated how long it would take to get here.”

Your interactions do something to warp his sense of time.

“That’s okay, Aaron, really. You’re just going to have to give me a few minutes because I haven’t had the time to get ready yet.”

He watches, frozen in his place, while you walk towards the kitchen.

“Do you need anything? Coffee, orange juice?”

He almost smiles to himself. He just knew you’d be the type of person to always keep the fridge fully stocked even if you’re barely ever home. He likes the confirmation that he knows you, despite his inability to really make conversation and establish familiarity. He grasps at straws; little pieces of you that he sometimes finds and keeps them close to his heart.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

You still bring him a glass of water, freezing cold, just like he likes it, and rest it on the coffee table.

“You can sit, if you want.”

“Right.”

He smiles and sits almost robotically. When he picks up the glass, he softly wipes the ring of water that’s formed underneath with his hand but you don’t see it.

“Let me just grab the box.”

“It’s a whole box?”

“Yeah, I got it at a yard sale.”

“You bought it? You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, now that him and I are officially friends I have to do something to maintain the relationship, seeing how I never actually get to see him.” You sit beside him while he looks through the various issues. There have to be at least fifteen in here.

“Yeah, neither do I,” he really appreciates the comforting hand on his shoulder, “This was very nice of you to do, thank you.”

You smile and nod at him.

“Actually, I also have something I wanted to give you; I just need to get it from the car.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, give me a moment, will you?”

He’s out and back in a second. Practically runs back into your apartment when you open the door; a small gift bag in hand.

“I would have brought in with me, but I chickened out at the last minute.”

His fingers linger when he hands it to you. It’s almost a caress in passing.

“You got me something?”

It’s a digital watch, neatly sat on soft velvet.

Was that the errand he had to run?

“Oh, Hotch, thank you so much, but you really shouldn’t have. I know I joked around today, but I would have actually gotten around to getting one. I am not that financially irresponsible.”

“It’s nothing really, it’s not an expensive watch.”

“Oh, okay, as long as it’s the cheap, trashy stuff. Phew.”

He laughs and you realize you’re both standing in your doorway again.

“I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You’re nice to me all the time.”

His brows furrow, “It doesn’t feel like I am.”

“It must come easy then.”

“It does with you.”

He meets your gaze and you stay there for a while.

“Can you help me try it on?”

“Of course.”

He clasps it high on your wrist, just like he’s seen you wear the previous one. The color matches your jewelry and it’s excruciatingly sweet just how much attention he pays to details.

“I just wanted to thank you, I suppose, for the other day. It meant a lot to me.”

Aaron’s hand doesn’t leave your arm, instead wraps gently around it instead, as if one of your bracelets.

“It meant a lot to me too.”

His breathing is heavy, his voice barely a whisper. What you are doing feels like a secret; like it’s meant to be hidden from the rest of the world.

“I’m not sure you mean that in the same way that I do.”

Your other hand comes to rest on top of his, thumb passing softly over protruding veins and scars. He thinks, for a moment, it might wipe them away.

“Then you’re not the people expert that you think you are.”

His laugh is heartbreaking.

“Guess I’m not very good at that either.”

You hum, “You’re okay.”

Neither of you is moving but it feels like you’re getting closer.

“So eloquent again.”

You can’t help but beam with pride at how comfortable he’s getting with your banter. A whole world unlocked and open for you to see. His body is drawn to you, almost folds over and around you to be closer. As close as he can possibly get without touching you more.

“It’s the worst moment possible now, when you’ve just given me a gift and picked me up from my place, but I think it deserves to be said that I would very much like to be kissed by you.”

His eyes flutter close.

“It really is the worst moment possible,” his hand slides slowly from your wrist to elbow, taking in the feeling of bare skin, “but I would very much like to kiss you.”

“But you won’t.”

His hand stops traveling up your arm, drops back onto your wrist and without really meaning to, pulls you closer.

“No.”

You stay like this for a while. Nothing but soft breathing to be heard in the room.

“I should probably go.”

You look up in surprise, “Are you not coming with me?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” he touches the inside of your palm and traces the lines as if to remember them, “I wouldn't know what to say or do after this.”

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“It’s alright, I understand… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The loss of his touch is like a sudden drop in the temperature around you. You both feel it.

He doesn’t meet your gaze again, simply gathers the box and clears his throat as if that will magically return him to what he’s used to being.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

You see him press his lips together before he turns to leave.

When you get to Rossi’s, the team is disappointed to know he’s not coming after all, but they’re not surprised. JJ asks you about the new watch and you lie. You can tell Emily is not convinced but she doesn’t say anything about it, merely smiles at you and inches closer with her chair.

Aaron spends another night alone. Jack is at a sleepover with a friend that he didn’t have the heart to pick him up from all of the sudden.

That’s the cost of being a stone, he supposes.

part three

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

HI i wanna ask u if u could do a fic where u have to shave ur private parts but u r pregnant and ur belly is way too big to see anything so u ask for a help from kylian even though u were so shy

Third Trimester Problems

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Kylian helps you shave

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Husband!Kylian Mbappé x Wife!you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2.3k

Warnings! FLUFF, sweet husband Kylina, NSFW! SMUT (18+), oral sex (f receiving), shower sex?, reader is feral, you're hornyyy

Third trimester.

The worst part of your pregnancy so far.

You are so big and bloated, you can't see your own feet anymore. You can barely walk. Even simple things like bending down to tie your shoes—an act you once performed with ease—have become impossible.

You hate this.

Don't get you wrong. You love carrying your little angel inside of you. You really do. But your body has become a stranger to you. Swollen ankles, aching back, the constant pressure on your pelvis – it all feels like too much. Clothes don't fit right, shoes are a challenge, and even breathing feels like an effort.

Nights are the hardest. You toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing. You sleep too late and wake up too early. Kylian tries to help, buying you all the pillows in the world but nothing helps.

You just want your normal body back.

And today, yet another problem appears.

You look down at the razor in your hand and sigh. You've been meaning to shave for the past week, but your belly is way too big to see anything. It's been weeks since you last shaved your vagina and now the hair has grown back so much you're afraid you'll get a razor burn.

But you need to shave. You hate your pubic hair on yourself and can't stand it if it gets too long.

You know you need help. You know it. But the thought of Kylian seeing you in such a vulnerable state, exposed and struggling, is almost as uncomfortable as the itchiness from the hair itself.

It shouldn't be this hard. After all, he's seen you naked before. Seen you in the most vulnerable positions. You've had sex for crying out loud. He's literally been inside you. He's the father of your child, for Christ's sake!

But there's something different about this.

It's humiliating.

You feel so exposed, so vulnerable. You are literally asking your husband to help you with your personal hygiene, an area of your body only he should ever see. It's almost too intimate. Almost as if he was helping you pee or something.

You bite your lip, considering your options.

You could try to shave on your own. It's possible, you could do that. But the thought of accidentally cutting yourself is scary enough to make you decide against it.

So, there's no other option really. You'll just have to ask Kylian for help.

You swallow the lump in your throat and slowly walk back to the bedroom where Kylian is lounging on the bed, his phone in hand, absorbed in whatever he's doing on it. He looks up as you enter, his brow furrowing in confusion at you wrapped in a towel. Not that he wasn't enjoying the view.

"Hey," he says, sitting up on the bed. "Are you okay?" He notices your face is red and sweaty, and the razor in your hand. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

You hesitate, your cheeks flushing as you consider how to word this.

"Umm… I was trying to shave…" You say, gesturing towards the razor in your hand.

Kylian looks confused.

"…and?" He encourages when you fail to finish your sentence.

You take a deep breath.

"I can't see anything because of my belly so I need your help…"

Kylian stares at you for a second, his eyebrows shooting up in shock.

"Oh."

You feel your cheeks heat up even more as you see realization dawn on him. He looks so shocked and confused and you feel so embarrassed.

"I-I mean if you don't want to help, I understand… It's really embarrassing. I don't expect you to… I just… I couldn't think of anyone else…" You start rambling, your words getting faster and more jumbled the more you speak.

Kylian blinks.

"Wait, wait, wait. I didn't say that at all," he says, frowning. "I'll help, of course. I just wasn't expecting that."

He smiles sheepishly as he takes in your panicked expression.

"Oh, baby… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel so bad." He walks over to you, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands and kissing your forehead. His hands drift down to your belly gently caressing. "I'll do it. Of course, I will."

He looks up at you.

"What do you need me to do?"

You exhale in relief.

"Thank you," you breathe leaning your body on him a little, feet aching from your earlier efforts.

"It's not a problem. What do you need me to do?" He asks again.

"I-I think we should go into the bathroom…" You gesture to the bathroom. "I need to sit down… And you'll have to use the razor…"

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

"And you'll have to… Look at me…"

Kylian blinks, his mouth curling up in amusement. "Bébé, you do realize I've seen your pussy before right? I did put a baby in there after all."

You nod, blushing.

"I know… But… This feels different… I-I just can't explain it."

Kylian chuckles, shaking his head. You're so cute when you're shy. His beautiful wife. He kisses your forehead gently. "Come on then."

You lead the way into the bathroom, Kylian following you. He closes the door behind him, locking it out of habit. Still a little traumatized from Ethan walking in on you guys last time he stayed over.

You walk over to the shower, and sit down on the stool Kylian had placed there for you two weeks ago. The metal is cold against your ass, but you're grateful for the soothing feeling against your hot skin. You look up at Kylian.

"What now?"

Kylian shrugs.

"Well… You need to open your legs, right? I can't see anything like this." He gestures to the towel between your legs.

You nod, your face heating up as you part your legs for him, lifting one leg and placing it on the side of the bath. You can't help but feel a little self-conscious as you spread your legs for your husband. You know he's seen you naked before. Seen you in even more vulnerable positions. But this still feels weird.

Kylian smiles as he looks at you. He can't help but appreciate the view. Your thighs are smooth and creamy, soft and inviting. Your pussy is bare and wet, your juices dripping out and down your thigh, leaving a sticky trail on your leg. It's so pretty. He wants to lick it. He wants to eat you out.

He swallows, trying not to let his thoughts get away with him.

"So, you want me to shave it?" He asks, trying to distract himself.

You nod.

"Yes please."

Kylian takes a seat on his knees between your legs, looking at you.

"What do you want me to shave off?" He asks. "All of it?"

You nod your head.

"Yes, please." You whisper breathless. The way he's looking so intensely at your pussy is doing something to you. Another downside of your third trimester. The constant horniness.

He nods.

"Okay. I can do that."

He takes the razor out of your hand and leans forward, placing a kiss on the inside of your thigh. Your legs shake slightly, but you leave them open for him, giving him full access.

Kylian takes your other leg and lifts it up on the edge of the bath too. Now both your legs are spread, giving him the perfect view. He looks at you, taking in the sight of you spread before him.

You're so pretty.

Your legs spread, pussy exposed for him. You are so pretty. You are so soft and pretty and pink and all his. His pretty baby girl. His wife. God, he wants you.

Kylian leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your pussy lips, and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips. You feel so sensitive. It's all so intense.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. He wants you so badly. Wants to eat you out and lick you and finger you. Wants to feel you come on his tongue. But he'll be good. You need this.

He licks your pussy lips gently and you gasp.

"K-Kylian," you gasp. "you're supposed to shave, not… Not…"

He smiles as he places one last soft kiss on your pussy lips. Using all his willpower to stop himself from devouring you on this bathroom floor.

"I know, I know… I just needed a little taste." He leans back slightly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he says, his voice thick with desire. "I'm going to start now," he says, his voice low and soothing. "Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable."

With that, he gets to work. His fingers are tender as he applies the shaving cream, the coolness of it making you shiver. He’s focused, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration.

He works with a practiced ease, carefully maneuvering around the contours of your belly, the razor gliding smoothly over the skin. You close your eyes, trying to block out the awareness of his closeness.

The sound of the razor and the slight tug of the hair being shaved away are oddly arousing. You feel your pussy throb as he gets closer and closer to your clit.

You're so horny. So turned on by this whole situation.

You shouldn't be. But you're so exposed, so vulnerable. Your pussy spread out on display for him. You feel so embarrassed but so turned on at the same time.

When you stare at his face, you can see that he's concentrating on shaving you, but you can tell he's enjoying this too. The way his tongue is sticking out of his mouth slightly, the way his eyes are fixed on your pussy. He likes this.

And it makes you so horny. Why did you ever deny him this?

You want him to touch you. You want him to eat you out, to kiss you, to finger you. You want him to fuck you.

"Kylian," you say, your voice a whisper. "I'm so horny." You flush as the words leave your mouth. This is really not the time.

You feel his hand pause for a second before he continues shaving. "Let me finish first," he murmurs. "And then I'll take care of you."

You nod, your face flushing.

He finishes up quickly, cleaning up any last hairs. You feel your pussy clench in anticipation of what's to come. You can't wait.

When he’s finished, he gently washes away the excess cream making sure to be very thorough for what was coming next. He couldn't wait to taste you.

He tosses the used razor in the trash and washes his hands before he looks at you, taking in your flushed face and your spread legs. "Do you want me to eat you out?" He asks, his voice low and husky. "Or do you want me to fuck you?" He asks. "You have to decide."

You look up at him, swallowing.

"Eat me out," you whisper. "I want you to eat me out."

Kylian grins, leaning forward, the scent of the aftershave and your arousal exciting him.

"I'll make sure you come for me," he whispers his hot breath hitting your inner thigh. "gonna make you scream my name." He rasps, spreading your legs further apart. He places a kiss on your mound and you sigh as he makes his way down towards your pussy. He licks up your slit, making you moan.

"Mmm," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your pussy. "My horny girl."

You feel him flick his tongue against your clit and you gasp, your hips bucking upwards.

"Oh, fuck Kylian."

And with that, he dives forward disappearing behind your belly. You let out a gasp as you feel his lips wrap around your bundle of never. You can't see him the way he's moving is amazing. The pleasure shoots through you, your legs trembling.

He eats you out with vigor, like a man starved. Someone who hasn't eaten in weeks. Even though he had you this morning. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pulls you closer to him, eating you out greedily. His tongue laps at your folds before he flicks your clit with his tongue. You moan, your back arching and your head falling back.

This feels so good. Too good.

You're already close.

You moan his name, your thighs shaking.

"Kylian," you cry out. "Please!"

You feel his smile against your pussy as he continues licking, his tongue circling your clit. He can taste how close you are, your juices running down his chin. You're dripping wet for him. He wants to lap it all up.

He moans into your pussy, his tongue working overtime against your clit, and you feel your orgasm approach.

"Oh, fuck," you moan. "Oh, fuck, oh fuck."

And with that, your orgasm hits you. Like a freight train.

You cry out, your hips bucking upwards, your pussy throbbing against his lips. He laps up your juices as you cum for him, your orgasm hitting you like a wave. You moan, your body shuddering and your thighs quaking.

Kylian laps up your cum as he continues licking you, drawing out your orgasm, hand softly rubbing at your swollen belly. Your baby is kicking now, disturbed by the movements of your body. It makes his heart melt despite the eroticness of the situation. He still can't believe that you're pregnant with his child.

He continues until you can't take it anymore. Your legs shaking and your body shuddering.

He pulls back, his face glistening with your juices. You look down at him, your face flushed and your chest heaving. Kylian smiles, leaning over your belly carefully not to put his weight to place a soft kiss on your lips. You taste yourself on his mouth. He smiles.

"Better?" He asks, his voice husky. His lips swollen from eating you out.

You nod, smiling.

"Yeah. Better." You whisper.

Kylian nods, "Good," he says, standing up and pulling you into his arms carefully of your belly in the way. "Time to shower."

-Bianca🌻

[classypauli]

She’s the Man

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem Reader Summary: With the new university Y/N meets new opportunities, plays on the football team, meets new people, makes new friendships, and maybe finds something she didn’t think would find.... But being dressed as her brother can create little problems in the future. She’s the Man AU A/N: So this fic will be based on the movie She´s the Man, it won´t follow every step of the story, I had it in mind some time now and have been thinking about if it is a good idea or not but well, here goes nothing… Not forcing anyone to read this, idk just wanted to try something new. Warning: first time writing, bad grammar and punctuation in complex sentences, spelling errors, boring and awkward Word count: 5k I DON’T OWN THE MOVIE THIS STORY IS BASED ON OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS THAT ARE IN THERE. IT’S ONLY FICTION AND NONE OF THIS IS REAL.

Chapter 1

Y/N is sitting in her brother´s room, eyes wide open  „You can´t be serious! How am I supposed to do that?!“ she shouted at him. „I´ll be thankful to you till the end of my life.“ well, that won´t be for long if she decides to kill him right now. „Charlie-“

„Please Y/N you are my only hope, you know I´ve been wanting to go to this festival for so long, you know what it means to me, please.“ he puts his hands in a praying position, and now his puppy eyes are the only thing his sister can see. „Ew get away from me.“ she pushed him into the chest as he stumbled back.

Charlie, Y/N´s twin brother, wants her to impersonate him. Yeah, you heard it right, he wants his sister to go to his school and act like him this whole time that he will be on tour. He is in the band, their parents aren´t really happy about it, they say that music won´t get him anywhere and he should concentrate on the more important stuff. Y/N´s sad because she was always like if something makes you happy, that´s all that matters, right? But he isn´t giving up, he still hopes that he can convince them about being serious with music.

And don´t get her wrong, she´d do anything and everything for him, he is her brother, her twin, but this... She´s not so sure, it´s just too much, what if they find out? What if she isn´t good enough and mess up? What would their parents say? Oh God too much pressure on her shoulders and she didn´t even say yes.

But his sad and disappointed eyes are her last straw. „Gosh.... m'kay.“ Y/N whispered under her breath almost unnoticed. Charlie´s eyes lit up like Christmas lights and started running to his sister yelling „Thank you thank you thank you! I promise I´ll do anything for you!“ He almost suffocated her when they hugged. „Careful with your words and now get off I can´t breathe!“ he immediately pushed himself off and started his little winning dance.

She rolled her eyes at him „So how we are going to do that? I mean, I need to look exactly like you, act like you, talk like you, and EVEN SMELL like you? Well now I´m not so sure if I can do this I mean-“ she looked at him and scrunched up her nose. „Oh, you didn´t you f-“ he hit Y/N with the pillow in the head. She started laughing at her brother's offended face. „Just kidding stop being a baby.“

He stood up and started thinking „Well we look alike, like a lot, so there won´t be much work in the face-“ „What?!“ „-but you need to learn how to walk like me and dress like me. Stand up we are having our first lesson.“

They were practicing her walk, or more like his walk, and she got it pretty right. Clothes won´t be a big problem cause they wear uniforms and wearing baggy clothes is one of the most comfortable things for her. She doesn´t know how she will do it but for her brother, she needs to at least try.

A couple of days passed and now Y/N is sitting in the passenger seat, Charlie is behind the wheel. Sun is shining through the windows of their parent's car. She is wearing her school uniform and her leg is bouncing up and down in black uncomfortable shoes.

„Stop Y/N it will be okay-„ she turned to him „Well it´s easy for you to say! You aren´t the one dressed as me!“. Okay maybe she´s a little dramatic but she´s shitting her uniform pants right now, oh God please let this be over already.

Y/N didn´t even notice and they were already in front of the school. Students were walking back and forth, laughing and greeting each other after the holidays. The girl wasn´t a social kid growing up. I mean she doesn´t have a problem with talking to others, the problem is in the start of conversations. She can try as hard as she can but she never knows how to begin. Her mind suddenly stops working and becomes quiet. She´s not shy, at least she doesn´t think she is. For the longest time of her life, she thought that she was an introvert but as she was getting older she realized maybe she´s just a quiet extrovert. Y/N likes to listen to people more than talk to them. She likes to be by herself but also enjoys the company of the right people.

„Okay we are here, “ Charlie said „Just try to enjoy it, it will be fun“. Yeah, his twin is boiling with excitement.

They got out of the car, her brother went to get her bags from the back and she just stood there. Just like a kid for the first time going to school, doesn´t know what's waiting for them. She just realized that this is real and that what is she going to do is a crazy idea.

„Ch-Charlie I think I changed my mind I can´t do this-“

„Y/N STOP-“

Walking to her dorm room is the next thing, bags in hands trying to find her room. Finally, she sees the right numbers and she can´t wait to put these heavy bags in there. She unlocked the door and walked straight to the room.

„Oh hi!“ Y/N heard from the other side, looked up and her eyes met with the unknown boy.

„I´m Percy.“ he walked up to her and offered his hand „I´m guessing you are my roommate?“ He was a little taller than her and had long brown hair.

„Yeah, nice to meet you my name´s Y-Ch-Charlie, my name´s Charlie.“ she said as she shook his hand. Damn! She needs to concentrate more.

„Well Charlie pleasure to meet you“ he smiled „I´d like to sit and talk with you but I have to go now, you can put your clothes right there, and on the left side of the door is the bathroom, thankfully every room has one so not all students have to share the same one.“  Well, at least it would be easier for her to shower. Y/N thanked him as he walked away. With a sigh, she fell right into her new bed. She started unpacking and soon walked out of the dorm. She doesn´t know where is she going but she will find out. Silently cursed at her new roommate for rushing away even though he knew she was new. Y/N was in her world passing around the corner of the hallway until someone smashed into her.

“Oh shit I’m so sorry!”

The girl moved her gaze to the voice and there was a guy, he was taller than her and looked like he was in a rush, he was holding some clothes which were probably PE uniform.

“I didn’t mean to do it I swear I didn’t see y-“

“Hey it’s okay nothing happened but damn you are in quite a rush”. she laughed and he started to rub his neck.

“Yeah, I’m heading into football practice and I’m late again, oh God my coach is going to kill me, last time he said if this happens one more time he will kick me out of the team.” he kept rumbling but the only word Y/N could catch in his sentence was “football”.

“But hey at least you are okay, I’m glad nothing serious happened-“ she cut him off.

“Wait you play football?”

“Uhm yeah, doesn’t it look like it?”. He asked in a small voice as if he was sad about it. What? He definitely looks like someone who does some sport, he is big and tall with his big arms wide shoulders, and athletic legs.

“No I didn’t mean it like that-” he kept watching her with curious eyes “-I just used to play football too and yeah, I don’t even know why I react-“ his face lit up.

“You can go with me! We have enough space in our team!”

“Thank you but am not sure if-“

“No! Please! I’m not going to force you but you can at least come and look, please-“ he was giving her puppy eyes now “-if you come with me then the coach would forgive me maybe if I said I was bringing you-“

“So that’s what it is about!”

“No! Well- maybe- but it would be cool to have someone new on our team! And we are missing a midfielder because of his injury, so you could fill up his place”. Well maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea, she can at least try. Y/N looked up at him and nodded.

“YES! Come with me- wait my name’s Mason”

“Charlie” she introduced herself with her brother's name.

They shook hands and started to walk into a field.

„You are new here, right? I don´t think I saw you before.“-

Y/N was now standing inside the cafeteria, she was looking around for a spot when suddenly she saw Percy, he was sitting in one of the middle tables with some of his friends. Before she could do anything he looked up and saw her.

„Charlie!“ he waved his hand for her to come over to the table, his friends already looking at her. Well, there´s no way to go back now.

„Hey, I wanted you to introduce me to my friends.“ he said smiling „This is Hunter and Georgie.“ Y/N shook their hands and took a seat.

„Nice to meet you, Charlie, “ Hunter said, „so how´s the first day goin´?“

„Well I´m just warming myself in here but so far I don´t have any negative words.“

Georgie took a sip of something he had in his cup and looked at her „That´s good, if you have a problem with something just ask.“

Hunter laughed at Georgie „Yeah but I don´t recommend asking Georgie for help with a class, he is the one who should seek help with that.“

„I´m not!“ he said offended. Y/N could only laugh at their bickering. „Don´t mind them-“ Percy wanted to continue with his sentence but his eyes caught something more interesting. She followed his gaze until she was met with three girls who walked into the cafeteria. They sat opposite their table and were discussing something that Y/N´s ears couldn´t hear because of the loud noise of other students in the room. She knew that Percy knew them or at least one of them, she would be an idiot to not catch that stare he was giving them but she was fighting with inner thoughts if she should ask or not. Before she could even decide Hunter saw that and turned around to look.

„Oh, “ he said, and soon Georgie followed Hunter's action and started laughing. „you may wonder why is Percy stuck. “ he said to Y/N. „Well Charlie, the one girl in the middle is Jenna, and Percy here has been trying to get with her forever but with no answer “. Oh, so he was looking at her. Yeah no wonder, she caught Y/N´s attention pretty quickly. She was really attractive even from this far. „He tried everything.“ Georgie continued „from writing her letter and getting it into her locker, drawing her portrait and leaving it on the seat she used to sit at to ask her in person but nothing!“ he laughed and Percy punched him into his shoulder. „This is not funny! I don´t know what to do anymore!“.

„Have you thought about that maybe she didn´t see you in that way?“ Hunter asked as he turned back to him.

„Of course you idiot but at least she could give me a chance“ 

„Well, I don´t know I mean... it´s a little strange I can´t even remember if I have ever seen her with someone. There are lots of guys who wanted to get with her but she turned them down, maybe she doesn´t want a relationship now-“ Hunter still kept looking at him with a serious face „-Or maybe she just thinks you are a creep.“ Georgie said and started laughing again. Percy groaned and put his head in his hands. Y/N could only smile at this boy, he was hilarious.

They were sitting there and talking mostly about classes and professors in school. She learned that Percy is in an art club and loves to paint. That would answer the question of why he has so many paintings on the walls of his side of the room, Y/N must admit he is talented and has a unique style. Hunter and Georgie, the two boys she just met, were friendly, they always tried to keep her in a conversation and asked her questions about her last school, hobbies, and family. The girl may don´t know them for too long but she can already say that she feels comfortable with them.

Y/N was speed walking out of her last class, she had a long day and couldn´t wait for it to end. Tomorrow she´s going to have her first training and she wanted to get herself some sleep. She was thinking about things to do when suddenly her body crushed into someone. Yeah, again.  She heard a small ugh and the sound of books falling on the floor. Well only her luck. She picked herself up and looked at who was the other person. She didn’t know if her eyes were making some magic on her or not. She realized what happened and started picking up her books from the ground.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to!“

“No no, it was my fault.” Y/N looked at her and was met with big doe eyes. Her brain couldn’t process what was happening. In front of her was Jenna, the girl from the cafeteria, she was wearing a school uniform and stood shorter than Y/N, her dark brown eyes, which she couldn´t see a couple of minutes ago clearly, matched her long hair.

Suddenly the door from a principal’s office opened and he walked out. „What is-?“ he started but as he looked at the scene in front of him he smirked. „Getting to know the opposite sex, are we? Male-female dynamics. All that sexual tension. It's all part of the high school experience. So continue. Please. But keep it clean, though. OK. Abstinence is key. Abstinence is... the best way to not is to not... yes.“ he slowly took back steps and closed his door.

„Well“ Y/N sighed and looked and the other girl „That was awkward... is he always like this? Friendly?“ she asked her. Jenna softly laughed „Are you kidding? That´s him being rude“.

„Okey... ehm... I´ll continue with my way.“ She didn´t know why she was acting like this. „Here are your books.“ She handed her them and shot her apology for eyes „Sorry again I didn´t mean to.“

Jenna only looked up at her with wide eyes „It´s okay, nothing happened “ she smiled „Hope to see you again“.  Y/N quickly walked away leaving the other girl behind her. Damn, she needs to put herself together.

The next day Y/N felt a lot more relaxed, she spent almost all afternoon with Mason and she decided that he just become her favourite person. He was so kind. Keeping an eye on her and always asking if she needed anything. He was outgoing and even though her new friend was the polar opposite of her social life, Y/N couldn´t help but feel comfortable with Mason.

The whistle was heard from the football field and Y/N was trying to find her way of getting the ball into the net. God, she missed it so much. Her legs were running like there was no tomorrow, others got in her way to stop her but they never succeded, Y/N was too good. She knew that. In the past, when she used to play, she was one of the best, if not the best, in her team. She truly enjoyed it and now that she finally had the football ball on her foot there was no way to stop her. Y/N shot the ball into a net and it flew straight to the right top corner of the goal.

„What? Charlie! How are you this good man?“ Mason ran to her and grabbed her shoulders smiling. „And here you wanted to decline my offer!“

„Well I got a little lost.“ They started walking slowly to get their water as they got a quick pause from the coach.

Some people were sitting on the tribune but she didn´t mind. This wasn´t only a football field, there were a lot of sports grounds and right now there were a lot of athletes too. She scanned the chairs when suddenly she caught the girl. The same girl she saw for the first time in the cafeteria and the second time ran into. She had books on her knees and a bag beside her, her hair was waiving in soft wind. But there is no way that she came to look at the football training, right? She was waiting for someone, maybe her friend. But as she kept looking, their eyes met and Y/N quickly looked the other way. This was embarrassing. Luckily she was saved by the whistle and that made her jog her way to the coach.

At the end of her training coach called the girl on the side „Good job today Y/L/N, I would be glad if you come next practice.“ he said as he waited for her answer.

„Yes, you will see me, thank you for having me.“ He only nodded his head and walked away. Mason came to her side and was smiling widely „You impressed him today, I wouldn´t be surprised if he let you play in our next game.“ his eyebrows went up and down.

She was glad that she let herself be talked into this, Y/N hadn´t felt this alive since she could remember. It was for sure a good idea and couldn´t wait for the next practice. As she was walking back she shot one last glance at the tribune only to find the spot Jenna sat in empty.

Y/N was leaning on a table, they were waiting for their professor to start a class. She´s standing beside Percy, Hunter, and Georgie. They are talking about plans for the weekend. Y/N doesn´t really listen she just looks like she is listening.

She was thinking about her brother and how she would call him when her class was over. He already texted her, asking how it was going and if she had any troubles. She misses him, but she won´t tell him that of course, and how could she not, he is her twin, her other half.

The teacher walked to their group with a bucket in her hand. „Everyone, please take a slip and read off the name of your lab partner.“ Percy was the first one who grab the folded paper, he got Emma Myers. Emma was one of the group of girls they saw in the cafeteria. „Oh you are lucky, she´s cool.“ Georgie says and Hunter nods at his words.

Y/N unfolded her paper “Jenna Ortega” she says out loud and Jenna immediately looks at her with a smile. “You know each other?” Percy hissed at her. “No, not really” quickly turned away with a slight hint of red cheeks. “Switch up with me please” he went to grab the paper with the girl´s name on it. “I can’t! She already heard me, what would she think?” the girl grabbed her things and went to her new lab partner.

“Hi.. so you are my lab partner?” “Yeah,” she said smiling.

„I don´t think we introduced each other the other day.“ she was hitting on the day they both ran to each other. „No we didn´t, I´m Jenna.“ she grinned. „I´m Charlie.“ She almost forgot about her brother. Y/N felt Percy´s gaze but didn´t mind him. It´s not her fault that she got lucky to get her as a lab partner, right? It happened because of something she can´t control.

“You know ehm... the whole dissecting thing kind of freaks me out. So, think you may have to take the reins on this one.” she said slowly.

Jenna leaned into the table with her eyes still on the other girl.“Wow, no guy would ever admire that” Oh f- Y/N quickly realized her mistake. What is she even saying? “Shit, you are right” Her hands started to sweat but before the inner thoughts and anxiety could grow even more the brown-haired girl grabbed her hands. “No! It’s okay you don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s cute”

Y/N moved her eyes from their hands and looked at her. God her doe eyes, they were beautiful, so innocent and pure. She lowered her gaze at her smiling lips and then her dimples, at that action Jenna smiled even wider. “So today we are going to-“ she quickly pushed her own hands away and looked at the professor acting like she wasn’t just drooling over her classmate. This will be long.

“So how it went?” Percy asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The talk with Jenna, how it went? What were you talking about?” Y/N turned to him placing books on her table. They were in their dorm right now since their classes were over. “Nothing, just school work” Well she wasn’t lying. They were just talking. He was silent for a minute, looking out of the window.  “What are you thinking about?” the girl questioned him but his eyes were telling that his thoughts were elsewhere.

“Charlie I need you to do something for me” Well this doesn’t start well. “ Can you convince her to go out with me?” “Who?” He turned to her. 

“Jenna of course! It’s just I’ve been into her-“ yeah she had noticed “-for so long and this is like a perfect opportunity for me that she will finally say yes to me.” he sat on her bed and looked up at her. In this position, it seemed like he was giving her an ultimatum like there was no other answer than the one he wanted. And like dude, there may be a reason if she didn’t say yes to you yet. He keeps looking at her waiting for the girl's answer and to be honest, for some reason, she doesn’t really like the idea of him with Jenna together but on the other hand, she can’t just say no to him. Why is she always the one who needs to please someone's needs?

“Well, I’ll see what I can do”. Y/N nodded her head and Percy instantly got up.

“Thank you Char you are a lifesaver!” he smiled wide at her and went to his bed as she just stood there looking at the ground.

At night Y/N couldn´t sleep, she was thinking about what Percy said and she didn´t feel good about it. Because of something, it felt a little disrespectful towards Jenna, almost unfair. But she already agreed. She will just say something nice about him and see where it will go, she can´t influence Jenna´s decision after that and Percy can´t be mad at her if this doesn´t work.

She picked herself up and went to the bathroom, silently thanking God above that this wasn´t a public bathroom, and could shower without being scared that someone could see her. She doesn´t even know what she would say if someone finds out the twin´s secret. But she doesn´t want to think about that option.

A couple of days passed. The classes were good but the football practices were her favourite. Coach wants her to play in the upcoming game and she just can´t wait. Mason is her right hand and he is always supporting her, now when she doesn´t have her brother near, the boy is playing the role of her twin. Today she and Jenna have class again. They are talking a lot more. Y/N liked her, she was sweet and always smiling, she also found out that Jenna likes to listen to music and loves acting. She even recommended some of her favorite movies which Y/N didn´t see yet. They spend a lot of time together, besides being together in class, they also sometimes hang out in the cafeteria and walk together to classes, and sometimes she even sees Jenna watching her practice. Y/N doesn´t know how she found out about her being in the team but she isn´t even sure if the brown-eyed girl is sitting there every practice for her.

„What?“ Jenna was shocked „How come you have never seen that?“ they were talking about films, the movie Scream to be exact. They were sitting under the tree on some bench. Students were walking around chatting, birds were singing in the trees and the sun was shining through the holes of the leaves. Y/N was walking out of class when suddenly she saw the other girl. Jenna asked her if she wanted to grab coffee since they had some free time. So now they were sitting next to each other, talking about everything.

„I have heard about it but didn´t see that, don´t know why.“ Y/N shrugs her shoulders. Jenna only shook her head at the girl.

„That´s a mistake, it´s so cool, the actors, plot, cinematography, blood-“ she started to mumble about the movie when suddenly an amazing idea crossed her mind „we can watch it together sometime!“ she let out and looked at Y/N for an answer. She only kept her gaze on her if she heard it right. She wanted to say yes but there was something in her telling her that it would be unfair for Percy.

„Yeah sure, that would be awesome“ Y/N said smiling. Jenna shot her smile back.

„Okay, so this friday?“ she asked the other girl. Y/N looked at Jenna, she didn´t know this girl would be so fast, she thought they were just talking about the possibility, not that they were already making plans.

„Yes, I should be free.“

„Great, can you give me your phone?“ Y/N gave her phone to Jenna „Here, you better text me football player.“ she said smiling as she stood up from the bench and started to walk away. Y/N laughed softly.

„Of course.“ she whispered under her breath and kept staring at her back until she couldn´t see her anymore. She picked up her phone and looked at the new contact. Jenna xx.

It was already the end of the week Y/N was getting ready to hang out with Jenna, and she texted her about the details. They are going to watch the film in the other girl´s room since her roommate is going to a party. She walked out of the bathroom and saw Percy, she didn´t tell him about her going out. It´s not like she has to say it to him, right?

„Hey you planning to go somewhere?“ he asked.

„Uhm... yeah, some boys from the football team asked me about hanging out with them.“ she said. Y/N hated lying but what would he say if she told him she was hanging out with the girl he had a crush on? It´s not her fault that Jenna invited her, or is it?

„Oh okay, we are going to the party some students are throwing, wanted to ask you if you want to come but it´s good.“ he only smiled at her. She thanked him and he soon left the room. It was already time to go so she picked up some snacks she bought and left the dorm.

“So? Your rating?” Jenna turned to face the other girl. They just finished watching Scream and all Y/N can say, it got her. They were sitting on the small couch, snacks around them, she faced Jenna and only the light from the TV made her see her. The girl´s hair was loose on both sides of her face, she was not wearing any makeup and her bare face only made the girl’s heart skip a beat. It was refreshing seeing her like this and also Y/N felt proud because this meant that Jenna felt comfortable around her.

“It was pretty good, not bad not good.” Y/N acted unbothered.

“Oh yeah? That’s why you didn’t blink the whole movie?” she smirked at Y/N, she squinted her eyes at her “Be honest.”

“Okay! I enjoyed it so much and actually liked the plot, that’s what you wanted to hear?”

Jenna tilted her head “That’s what I thought. What can I say… I have a good taste.”

They kept silence between them, it wasn’t embarrassing or tense silence. It was comforting. They were looking at each other.

“Tell me about your family.” the brown-eyed girl said softly, holding gaze with the other girl.

“Well, I live with my parents and my twin sister” Jenna raised her eyebrows.

“You have a twin?” Y/N nodded at her question.

“What is she like?”

“Well…“ she didn’t know what to say, it felt weird talking about herself as if she was talking about someone else “She is cool, likes to keep things to herself most of the time, likes reading and writing poems…”

“She sounds interesting, you could introduce us to each other sometime.” she smirked at her.

“Yeah, I think she would like you”

“You think?” Jenna straightened her back “I’m amazing! Of course, she will!”

Y/N throws her head back with a laugh.

“How can you be so sure that you will meet her?”

“Oh believe me” Jenna smiled at Y/N “I know.”

Y/N felt the vibe of the room change. When she was with Jenna she almost forgot about everything and everybody, her brother, her parents, school, her and Percy´s deal, her impersonating her twin…

But only almost.

next chapter

[xaharadesert]

Petite MC - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Main 6) x MC

A/N: Can you believe that I wrote like 150 Arcana headcanon sets before someone asked for a petite mc? I feel like this is a classic that I missed out on in my early days. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes :) requests are open!

❤️Julian❤️

He was already constantly filled with anxiety and an ever looming sense of dread, but meeting you has somehow increased it

Logically he knows that your size doesn’t diminish your many talents and capabilities, but he worries all the same

He likes to keep you in his line of sight, and in crowded spaces he’ll hold your hand or place one of his hands on your back or shoulder so you don’t disappear into the fray

Often he can be seen looking behind you, a bit hunched over so he can hear what you’re saying

He likes to think he looks like a scary guard dog, but depending on the circumstances there’s a good chance he looks even more scared than you

🧡Portia🧡

You can be short legends together

She hopes you’re okay with short jokes, because now that she has a partner who’s just as short as her, she’ll be making them all the time

Says you can tag team taking out people’s ankles if they piss you off

She really likes that she doesn’t have to worry about getting on her tiptoes to kiss you since you’re about the same height

Once joked about having you sit on her shoulders with a cloak to pretend to be Muriel while committing crimes

💛Lucio💛

Loves being the taller one in the relationship, it makes him feel strong and important

He’s always been a fan of heels (the higher the better), but he does appreciate that he can give his feet a break when he’s out with you

Does try to talk you into wearing heels for special events though; he says it’s more fun to look down at people

Makes short jokes when he’s feeling petty, but they’re not very well thought out, and mostly come down to “well, you’re short, and that’s bad because I say so”

Still feels really bad about this later, and insists that you should feel insulted even if you were totally unaffected

💚Muriel💚

He may actually cry from the stress

He’s always been uncomfortable aware of his own size, and that sensation is heightened whenever you’re around

If he bumps into you, you will be going down, and he is terrified of that

He tries to make himself smaller by hunching over whenever he’s standing or sitting next to you to draw less attention to the size difference (obviously it doesn’t work, and most people just pity him since he looks so awkward)

Hates that people are perceiving him as a sort of guard dog for you; he feels like the juxtaposition is leading to stereotyping, and you’ll need to reassure him that you don’t see him that way

💙Asra💙

You know, he’s never really noticed it all that much

Of course, on a physical level he knows you’re pretty small, but as someone who has always been right in the middle of short and tall, he doesn’t really see it as a very big deal

He does like that you’re just short enough to fit under his chin when he hugs you, but that’s about it

You don’t have to reach too far to give him a kiss, which is also a plus

And he’s already got plenty of step-stools around for reaching the top shelves, so there’s no need to ask (not that anything but decorations ever goes on those shelves anyway; if neither of you can reach them on your own, why bother giving them a practical use?)

💜Nadia💜

Adjusting to your height takes a bit of getting used to for her

She’s the type to wear heels and keep perfect posture, so she stands tall even among people of a similar height

She accidentally looks over your head until you call her attention down to you pretty often

Expect to be gifted plenty of heels or platform shoes early on in the relationship

She’s not particularly fond of the idea of abandoning her own heels, but if you struggle with yours then she’ll switch to something a bit more practical so she can kiss you more easily

She complained about neck pain exactly one (1) time, and silently prays that you never bring it up again to tease her

[dellalyra]

Family Formation Part Two

Summary: the first years take a shopping trip, and Megumi calls you mom. Satoru is a little shit, but the best dad.

CW: Motherhood, pregnancy, swearing, talks of menstruation, dad gojo, intense sweetness

A/N: I absolutely did not expect part one to blow up like that but I’m so happy it did!!! I’m gonna turn this into a mini series but pls beware it’s not gonna be in any kinda order, just snippets of you and Gojo’s little puzzle piece family. Comment if u wanna be tagged in future parts!

Part One

You sit in your office on campus, about to finish up to go meet your husband for dinner with the kids (they’re your students, but really, they’re all your kids). Just as you stand up from your desk, the door opens and in walks Megumi, hands in his pockets and radiating teenage angst and uncertainty.

“Hey honey.” You say, slipping your purse over your shoulder, “did Satoru send you to walk me across campus again, because if he did, next time you have full permission to smack him across the head and remind him his wife is a special grade sorcerer too - just because his spawn is currently living inside me doesn’t mean I can’t walk.” You knew your husband meant well, but since your pregnancy was discovered he had all his students on Guard-My-Wife duty when he himself wasn’t available.

“He did, but actually I was going to come to talk to you about something… I have a favour to ask you.” He says as he takes your purse off your shoulder to carry it himself (you know there’s no point in arguing with him, he’s as stubborn as they come and almost as protective of you as Satoru). He’s kicking his shoes against the floor and suddenly he must think the strap of your bag is the most interesting thing in the world. You knew these signs, after 10 years of raising this boy you knew this was him feeling uncomfortable to talk about something.

“Of course, sweetheart - what do you need” A quick squeeze of his shoulder and a small smile reassuring him is spread on your face as you coax him into telling you.

“So eh, do you remember when we came to you and Satoru and you took us shopping and we got stuff and then you showed us both how to make our beds and showed Tsumiki how to braid her hair and all that stuff?” He could barely meet your eyes, this boy was so emotionally constipated you were never sure how he got any words out.

“Of course I do! I remember setting up your room, and we got that sweet nightlight that had the moon and stars for your room and a cloud one for Tsumiki - do you need them? I think they’re in the garage somewhere I can get Satoru to -” you were cut off mid sentence by him.

“No it’s just that, today I saw Itadori in his room and he had no sheets because the only ones he had were being washed and then Nobara is, eh, dealing with some - on her, eh, it’s her time” (you could see him floundering and flushing at trying to tell you Nobara is on her period, so you thought you’d save the rest of his face from becoming the same colour as Itadori’s hair).

“Okay so Yuuji needs bedsheets and Nobara is on her period - is that the issue, honey?” You ask, trying to figure out why you needed to be involved, apart from maybe a quick store run.

“It’s that and like, Nobara keeps getting cuts on her legs after she showers and Yuuji didn’t know what conditioner was so I thought maybe, since you were able to, yaknow, sort things out for me and Tsumiki you might be able to help them? It’s dumb, nevermind, they’re fine. They can figure it out. I’ll walk you to Satoru.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning to walk out the door. But it had all clicked in your mind, what he was hoping you would do.

“It’s not dumb, sweetheart. It’s really sweet, I think I know what you mean and how I can help. So, let’s get to the common area, I’ll text Satoru to pick us all up some food and we can all eat in the dorms together tonight, okay. But first let’s get the other two and we’ll drive to the store, yeah, we can get some things there and also - this little one is telling me very sternly I need to eat some Smokey bacon chips.” You grabbed his elbow, knowing he’s probably FAR too old to let you grab his hand like you did when he was 6 but still wanting to give him the smallest hint of physical affection and guidance since you knew what he asked if you took every ounce of not-fainting-from-embarrassment he had in his body. He was, in his roundabout, beat around the bush way, asking if you’d play mom to his friends who are either completely without family or miles and miles from home at only 15.

After rounding up Yuuji and Nobara and settling them into the back seat of your car, with Megumi up front with you, you drive off. As you get there, you see Nobara clutch her stomach a tiny bit, noticing the symptoms of period pains from a mile away - even with it being 6 months since your last one (thank you Satoru and baby).

“Boys, go find me Smokey bacon chips please, Nobara, will you help me find some baby clothes?” You shoo the boys away, giving you and Nobara some space for girl time, or what you hoped she would come to think of as mom and daughter time.

“Okay so, while we look at these, I noticed you’ve some cramps, have you got pads or tampons and stuff? Some painkillers, a heating pad?” She flushed as you ask, but you knew with a girl like Nobara who eerily reminded you of a mixture of you and 15 year old Shoko, would much prefer a straightforward and direct approach.

“Um, I have some pads sensei but to be honest, they’re kinda annoying for training and missions but, I don’t understand how tampons work like I mean I’ve tried so much but I can’t get it right. I didn’t know what painkillers to use so I snuck one of Gojo-Sensei’s migraine meds, which helped but also made me sleep for 12 hours.” She rambled on, in typical Kugisaki fashion as if these period related things were personally attacking her and she wanted nothing more than to smack them down. You guided her to the period products and told her to get what she needed, get some new razors with aloe strips and all other things she could need that her mom would usually shop with her for, and you’d give her some tips on tampons when you all got back to the dorm, you also told her that if she ever wanted to go shopping with you that you’d love that, to which she hastily agreed with and pointed out that desperately needed some new bras and you arranged for next weekend, adding in that you’d pop into some baby stores and let her go wild on some clothes so your kid could be ‘as fashionable as Aunty Nobara’ which made her jump with glee and talk about how she’s definitely going to be the coolest aunty because you’re gonna be the only other positive influence on the kids life because ‘Megumi has a stick up his ass, Itadori is a moron and Gojo-Sensei is a cringey dumbass, no offence I know he’s your husband, but you and I gotta make sure this kid doesn’t end up like them.’

You soon found the boys and shoved Megumi and Nobara off to find an assortment of candy your husband had text he wanted when you informed him of the store trip and your conversation with Megumi,

“Yuuji, honey, while we’re here - do you need anything? Some new clothes, towels, bedsheets? Satoru is paying.” You didn’t want to just drop Megumi in for telling you the things he did, so you tried to be inconspicuous with your guidance.

Yuuji sheepishly listed off some items he needed, as you picked up some new sheets for him, asking if he was too old for Spider-Man sheets to which he vehemently disagreed because he thought they were the sickest sheets and got the matching comic strip lamp to go with it. Yuuji never failed to bring a smile to your face, being the ray of sunshine he is, his thoughtfulness evident as he took the cart from you and even offered to carry you around the store because he ‘didn’t want you to get tired because sensei you’re GROWING A PERSON LIKE WHAT’.

In the car on the way back, as the kids poked fun at how much had been spent on their teachers card (it was a black Amex, it wasn’t even going to make a dent on the finances), you insisted the kids stop calling you sensei and call you Y/N instead, you never liked being ‘Sensei’ anyway.

Pulling up to the dorms, you open the trunk and everyone starts taking their bags from the back. Satoru swans out the door and dips you into a kiss which Megumi cringes at, Nobara and Yuuji squeal saying how sweet it is, and you return with enthusiasm.

“Well there’s the world’s sexiest momma to be!” He says spinning you as you giggle and he pecks a small kiss onto your belly. “It’s okay baby, daddy’s here now, no more boring Megumi to deal with okay, he’s going to turn out exactly like your Uncle Nanamin if he doesn’t lighten up! Maybe he just needs a kiss too!” Your husband tries to kiss the raven haired teens forehead but quickly gets smacked away and grumbled at with some choice words you’d usually scold him for using.

“Did you guys buy out the store? Which bag has the mochi?” He starts rummaging through the bags, pulling things out until you grab his hands and place two boxes in them which he immediately opens while

You move to take a bag in each hand until Megumi and Gojo grabs them from you.

“Ah! No lifting sweet pea! That’s why we’re here, you’re carrying precious Gojo cargo in there.” Satoru says as he pokes your belly.

“You shouldn’t lift heavy stuff like that, Mom, you’ll hurt yourself, plus Itadori can probably carry all this stuff in himself.” Megumi adds, in a rare occurrence of him agreeing with your husband.

You fully expected Yuuji to run to grab as many bags as he can handle from the trunk after this comment and carry them and probably you inside with a smile and a gentle but loud ‘I got this Sens-Y/N’ and Nobara to chuck the rest of her bags at your eldest son.

But it never came.

You just saw two jaws hanging on the floor, staring between you, Megumi and Satoru.

Megumi just made a judgemental face at his classmates and Satoru just stared at them as if they grew two heads.

“You two okay there?” You ask, jokingly checking their temperature with the inside of your wrist.

“Fushigoru - Fushigoru you said - you, what?!” Was all that came from Itadori before Nobara burst out with,

“You just called her Mom!”

A look of realisation flashed across Megumi and your face, they had never heard him call you mom before, something he’d been doing since you patched up a swollen fist after a fight at 11 years old with dog print bandaids and a soft kiss to the bruise.

Megumi fought the flush on his cheeks and rubbed the nape of his neck.

“So? That’s what you call a woman who raises you, dipshits.” This only seemed to confuse them more.

Gojo just stood back watching the scene through raised eyebrows and a little smirk.

“RAISED YOU? What?” The two other teenagers burst out with questions and sheer confusion, as Megumi silently pleaded to the gods that they would shut up, but instead got help in the form of you and Satoru.

“Satoru and I have been raising Megumi and his sister since he was 6, and that’s why he calls me mom, and why we never said this is our firstborn, because Megumi and Tsumiki were our kids first.” you said pointing between the three people you mentioned.

“How could you not know? Can you not see how much my darling eldest son adores his dearest beloved Papa?” Satoru says scooping Megumi into his arms who proceeds to flail about like he’s being kidnapped by a curse and say how he has never called him that ever and never will.

While your boys were busy teasing and arguing, you turn to the other two who were watching everything unfold in disbelief.

“One of the other reason I fucking hate being ‘Sensei’, because I’m also your best friends mom, not just your teacher - and I’m here for you kids too. For anything, okay? Satoru too, even if he acts like an ass sometimes. ”

You lead them both inside, knowing the scuffle between your son and husband will take some time judging by the swearing from Megumi and the cackling laughter for Satoru.

“Megumi, take it easy on dad, he’s growing old and feeble.” You shout over your shoulder.

“But if he calls you mom, why doesn’t he call Gojo dad?” Itadori asks.

“Oh he does, just not around you guys. He doesn’t want you both thinking he’s the favourite because we raised him. He gives him a Father’s Day card every year and Satoru texts him ‘goodnight kiddo,’ every night and used to sit in his room in our house for hours after we moved him into the dorms. But don’t tell him I told you that - and don’t tell Satoru. He’ll just milk it for months, and they’re both bloody useless with emotions. Nobara, pass me the smokey bacon chips will you, please honey? Let’s all watch a film and eat before I make your sensei drive us home to our house. Do you guys wanna have dinner at our house on Saturday? You could stay over?”

Taglist: @sassy-cat-in-town

[thepenultimateword]

Monster Compendium

CW: Murder scene, some gore

Petra sat as still as stone. Half out of habit, half to avoid unnecessary attention. She’d helped put at least half of the villains present away; the last thing she needed was to cause an uproar before she even completed what she came here for.

"Cillian Morse, aka 'Monstrosity'," the judge said. "Please come to the stand."

The villain rose from the bench of handcuffed, grey-clad criminals, packed side by side like sardines in a can.

The Superpowered Penitentiary and Rehabilitation Center (SPARC) was overstuffed. Because of this, their semiannual parole hearing usually involved slotting as many prisoners as possible into one big day-long hearing. Maybe not the smartest idea when half the criminals present had some of the most dangerous, volatile powers on record, while the other half were too clever to be kept in a regular prison, but that was the city government for you. Impatient. Lazy.

Sure they had a line of guards on every wall, but who would that stop if any of these criminals had skipped suppressor meds?

As Monstrosity settled into his new seat at the head of the room, he swiveled his head around at the crowd. He met Petra's eyes at the back and blinked, tilting his head a little before grinning widely.

Petra didn't even blink.

"Mr. Morse," the judge said, scanning the file in front of him. "It seems you've been a resident at SPARC for three years now."

"You seem correct, sir," Monstrosity said. He tucked his hands under his chin, fixing that wide grin on the judge now.

"Your last 3 hearings deemed you unfit for parole." His finger trailed down the page. "Lack of empathy, uncooperative in therapy, riling other inmates, cheeking the super suppressors you've been prescribed, a downright refusal to make outside goals. I could go on."

Monstrosity waved his hand nonchalantly. "I was immature then. Angry. Lost. In denial. Over the last year, I've made vast improvements, as you'll see in my chart."

He mimed a page-turn.

The judge raised his brows but flipped to the next page in the file. His eyes scanned it from top to bottom.

"You have been successfully medicated for 8 months. Ah, and you passed your sanity test… and reintegration tests.” He narrowed his eyes at the page. “Your goal is to work at an animal shelter?"

"What can I say, I'm an animal guy."

"You've been expressly forbidden from interacting with any biological entities."

Monstrosity tilted his head with all the innocence of a puppy caught chewing shoes again. "Little hard to enforce that. Biological entities are all around us. Birds, grass spiders...heck, your honor, you are a biological entity."

The judge frowned severely. "Do you really want to make a threat right now, Mr. Morse?"

"What? We can't state facts anymore?" Monstrosity raised his locked hands in front of him. "All I'm saying is shelter or not, I will have access, so why bar me from a supervised space? Besides, I assume I'll be on meds still?"

The judge scoffed quietly as he scanned the file again. "It's indefinite how long you'll stay on suppressor meds." He looked up from the page and folded his hands together on the bench. "Tell me, Mr. Morse, do you know why you were sent to SPARC? Have you ever felt any remorse?"

For just an instant Monstrosity looked uncomfortable, but then he swallowed and it was gone, replaced by another smile. "The name sort of says it all. I was a monstrosity. I needed to be taken off the street." He smiled a little wider. Petra thought he might've meant it to look grateful, but to her, he looked like a hyena baring fangs. "But SPARC cured me."

The judge waited for more, perhaps something on that remorse question, but when Monstrosity didn't offer it he continued with the final question.

"Do you believe that you are reformed?"

"1000%," Monstrosity said, raising his right hand oathlike.

The judge gathered the file pages up in his hands, tapping them against the bench until they were even. "Unfortunately, I don't find you genuine."

Monstroisty opened his mouth but the judge continued.

"Eight months of good behavior is not a guarantor of rehabilitation. Make it last a whole year and we'll see at the next hearing. Cillian Morse will remain at SPARC for the next 6 months." He banged his gavel like a seal on the end of his sentence.

Monstrosity's entire expression morphed. Gone was the playful puppy, something toothy and terrible taking its place. "You--"

"Excuse me," Petra interrupted.

The entire room swiveled. A few criminals flinched back, but most started cursing furiously, the bitterness soon rising from loud voices to full out shouts.

The judge banged his gavel repeatedly until the criminals quieted enough that he could at least be heard over them. "Sentencer."

Petra didn't miss the way he looked at her, with little more respect than he looked at these criminals, but with more wariness. After all, she wasn't taking suppressors.

"You were not expected. I hope you have something relevant to add for you to interrupt."

Petra strode up the aisle, past the guards, past the shouting and lunging criminals, right up to the bench. She folded her hands neatly behind her back.

"I have an order from the top to take Cillian Morse into temporary custody."

The judge narrowed his eyes. ''Orders from who?"

“Accolade." Then, in case the director of SIRA (Superhuman Investigation and Response Agency) wasn't enough, "Chief Sanders and the warden also signed off on it." She reached into her pocket for the signed document. "I have proof of the order here if you need it."

The judge read over the page scrutinizingly, taking in all the unpleasantness that Petra had hesitated to voice somewhere so public.

"What makes you think that a villain could be any help in a criminal investigation?" he said finally.

"Body modification is his specialty."

"It seems risky."

"He will be under my supervision throughout the day and he will be returned to SPARC every night," Petra said coolly. "Any exceptions will be signed off directly with the prison."

Petra played along, but they both knew it wasn't in the judge's authority to say no. Yes, he could sentence the prisoners to more or less time in SPARC, but the warden and the prison's directors were the ones who decided if prisoners could be taken off the premises. It was only because today was hearing day that Petra was here instead of standing in front of a cell.

"If he's so important go ahead and take him." The judge extended the order back to her. As she went to take it, he suddenly leaned in close, voice lowered but commanding. "Keep him on his medication."

Petra pulled back without reaction. That wasn't her job. The orderlies at SPARC gave dosages once a day. Her responsibility was just to keep a good eye on the criminal so he would try to slip away.

She nodded curtly in Monstrosity's direction, and the man quickly rose to his feet, trotting after her with a smug smile.

"Bye," he sang to other criminals. "I'll see you all for dinner!"

"Screw you, Monstrosity!" one of the criminals shouted after him.

"Sorrrry, I don’t date criminals!”

That only made the group of villains rowdier, but Petra closed the door on the noise, and soon enough they were descending the steps of the courthouse.

Monstrosity trotted faster to catch up with her stride, cozying up against her shoulder. “Together at last.”

Petra shrugged him off, but the resistance only made Monstrosity bounce back more aggravating. He didn't touch this time, but he lingered close. The tiny sliver of space he left between them like a tease, an insistence he wasn't doing anything, while obviously putting in effort for something.

"Really, I never knew the Sentence had such a crush on me. A hero breaking a villain out of jail? It's so Romeo and Juliet!"

"Not a jailbreak," Petra clarified, pulling out her keys and clicking the bottom button until she heard the locks click on the little tightly parked sedan. "A temporary consultation."

"Riiight," Monstrosity winked. "Oh is this your car? Not exactly what I picture when I hear 'Sentencer'. I kinda thought you would drive around in some sort of Batmobile type vehicle. But nice parking. I love a person who knows how to parallel park."

Petra opened the passenger side door

Monstrosity pouted a little at her non-reaction but slid obediently into the passenger seat.

Petra took a breath before walking around the other side of the car. This was just how Monstrosity was. He’d probably flirt with a brick wall if he thought he could get something out of it. Not that he was one to actually keep up with any of the people he succeeded in wooing. A few of the informants she'd worked with to track him down had called him objectively charming--well, when he didn't have a rat tail or an extra set of arms or any of his other quote-unquote "freakish modifications"--but Petra didn't really see the appeal.

Petra spared the criminal a glance out of the corner of her eye.

Hypothetically, this time when he was on his suppression meds was the chance to see him as wholly human as possible, but he didn’t seem much different from any of the other villains at SPARC. Close clipped hair. Dark circles under the eyes. Baggy gray prison jumpsuit with the prison’s acronym across the back in bright orange and three matching stripes wrapping up each ankle and wrist. He was tall, probably about as tall as her, but he walked with a slump. At the very least, his eyes were something. A sharp pale gray, like frosted steel, piercing into everything he turned them upon.

"So where to?" Monstrosity said.

"Crime scene."

"Yay!"

"Don't be so happy about it; it's not exactly pretty."

"I expect crime scenes rarely are," Monstrosity said, grinning.

Petra started the engine.

“Excuse me, you’re not going to put me in danger by depriving me of a seatbelt, are you?” Monstrosity waved his cuffed hands in the air.

"Your arms work."

"The cuffs dig into my wrists whenever I bend them."

Petra flicked on her turn signal to enter traffic. "Sounds like a personal problem."

"So mean," he said. He twisted halfway around, holding his arms rigid and straight as he grasped for the belt. It took him a few tries, but he did manage to buckle himself. No sooner had the buckle clicked, than he tossed himself melodramatically against the door, the backs of his hands raised to his forehead. "And you call yourself a hero."

"We'll arrive in 10 minutes."

He side-eyed her. "You're not much of a conversationalist."

"Why should I be?"

"Fun? Entertainment? To pass the time?"

"I'm driving to a brutal crime scene with a handcuffed criminal. Does that sound fun to you?"

"It doesn't sound not fun." He slumped in his seat. "Just saying, for someone whose powers are in their voice, I thought you'd use it more."

Petra clenched the steering wheel. "No more talking."

"Seeee, that's what I'm saaaying," Monstrosity mumbled.

Petra ignored the partial taunt in his tone.

To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure why she was doing this. Yes, the scene was...interesting. And Monstrosity had experience both in criminal activity and biological manipulation, but she'd worked hard to get each one of these criminals off the street in the first place. She didn't love taking them back out. Monstrosity had been particularly tough to corner. She'd only set eyes on him a couple of times before her team had managed to pinpoint his location and make a collective attack. The element of surprise had been critical for that success even with all five of them.

Monstrosity had certainly lived up to his name that night.

No, out of all of the criminals Petra had put away, she couldn't take credit for Monstrosity. She never managed to get a proper read of him either. Usually when she investigated a criminal, she--in a way--got to know them. She learned their motives, their background, their character. All she knew about Monstrosity was that he was inhuman. Not only in the grotesque presentation of his powers but in his soul. He might have come off as charming to some, but he held no regard for anyone but himself.

The Welcome to Noville sign blurred as they passed it, and Monstrosity straightened in his seat.

"I thought you said the sight was ten minutes away."

"It is."

"But we're leaving the city."

"Not far."

She abruptly turned off on a dirt road so narrow it could barely count as a proper exit.

Monstrosity braced himself against the door.

"Be gentle with me Tency, I haven't been in a car chase in a while."

"Tency?" she growled.

"Not a lot of good nicknames for The Sentencer." He said "The Sentencer" like an old cartoon narrator announcing the hero.

"I don't do nicknames."

"Wow. You really are no fun, Tency."

Petra was not going to grace that obvious provocation with a response.

The grass grew tall and obscuring the further they traveled down the road, casting shade over the car. The blades reached over and through the rotting split-rail fences of abandoned private property.

She slowed a bit to maneuver around the roots of an enormous tree growing out of the left side of the road. Why anyone would build a road without fully clearing it she didn't know; maybe the tree was property too, preventing its removal as much as the fields prevented the road's expansion.

Monstrosity cricked his neck upward to look up through the windshield.

"Ugh."

"What?"

"Why are a zillion creepy tissue paper ghosts tied up there?"

Petra quickly glanced up into the depth of the trees, catching glimpses of swinging white.

"I only noticed the ribbons." She paused. "Probably just a tradition from one of the landowners."

They curved around the bend in the road and the stone ruins of a building came into view.

"Someone actually owns this place?"

"Trevon Bass and Theo O'Hannon. They're joint owners. Bought the land over two decades ago to use as farmland. And they did, a couple miles out."

Two cars--a police cruiser and a black Volkswagen--were already parked in front of the stone wall, so Petra pulled up beside them.

"But apparently this house here is historical. Meaning the direct area may also have historical value. They didn't want to mess with it, and now only come out occasionally to ensure no one is vandalizing or squatting in it. Bass found the body yesterday."

"Body? Oh, this is interesting."

Petra jerked the gear stick into park. He really was too excited about this.

She got out of the car and walked around to open the passenger side door, eying the neighboring Volkswagen all the way. It was one of the shared agency vehicles. What was another Hero doing here?

"Such a gentleman," Monstrosity said, stretching a little as he slipped out. He closed his eyes against the breeze for a moment and sucked in a deep breath.

"Mm. It's rained recently."

"Unfortunately, yes," Petra said. "Come on, let's see what you make of it."

She slipped sideways through a gap between the crumbling walls, avoiding looking to her left as she came into the "inside" of the building. As she entered, the two men at the center of the ruins looked at her--one short, mustached, and in a suit and the other in sweats and muscle shirt with the caption "Athletics Check" over a 20-sided dice, piles of long blond hair cascading out of his half ponytail and down his back.

"Detective Valero. Prophet." She acknowledged the blond with a short nod.

“Heeey, Sentencer!” Prophet beamed, clapping an arm around her shoulders and shaking her playfully. "Accolade told me you'd be slinking around the scene at some point today, but I thought by this point we'd missed you!"

Petra grimaced but before she could speak, Monstrosity bumped against her back.

Prophet leaned around her. "Is that--"

"Oh, it's future boy!" Monstrosity pointed.

"Er...it's Prophet."

"Right, right, right, visions and predicting stuff and all that. Isn't your deal predicting bad things before they happen? How is that going to work for you when you're here post-crime?

Prophet turned his gaze back to Petra. "What's he doing here?"

"Orders from Accolade. He's consulting."

"Why?"

"Because this wasn't a regular murder."

"Well, yeah that's why they call us. That doesn't mean--"

"Prophet," she interrupted, voice cold. "You follow your orders and I'll follow mine. Is that clear?"

He flinched. For a moment, she could see the thoughts running through his eyes, deciding whether her words held power or were merely convincing.

"Right," he finally said and stepped back a couple paces. “Um…I've been trying to read the scene, for an hour now. But, uh, the future keeps looping in on itself. I just keep seeing…”

He motioned to the Petra’s left and she finally allowed herself to turn fully toward it. It had been worse last night before all the pieces had been collected, but once again she was taken aback by the sheer breadth of the gore.

Nearly the entire wall was stained with a rusty splatter that extended onto the edge of the adjacent wall and the undersides of the dewy grass blades growing at the base.

Monstrosity stepped forward, cocking his head a little. “This blood spray is massive. What? Did your victim explode?”

Petra shot him a look. “Yes.”

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝐒𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | There comes a period where most relationships fall stale, yet Eddie never thought it'd happen to him and you, in fact, maybe even worse. With an intimate date planned in the comfort of your home, Eddie hopes to coax whatever thoughts are troubling your mind.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, crying, yelling, brief mention of drugs, mentions of financial insecurities, pregnancy, and discussions about abortions; open ended decision about the pregnancy, don't be alarmed, baby wanters/deniers :)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This is, of course, my participation to @carolmunson's The Boy is Mine writing exercise! Rules can be found here, and you can check out everyone else's interpretation of my boyfriend here! I wasn't aware of any deadlines, so I sincerely apologize if this is coming too late, I just really wanted to be included, lol! <3

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.9K

Like clockwork, the small pebbles of the man-made driveway had clung to the soles of your shoes. 

There had been nothing innately special about the four concrete steps it took to reach home, but today—much like the last few—had you yearning for the time in which the four concrete steps it took to reach home actually filled you with contentment. 

Happiness. 

Though now, nothing but dread resides within you, as your steps stomp out the once embedded pebbles to clack against the concrete stairs. Because now, a simple look to his face would tighten your chest with the burdens of guilt, as your newfound routine of rejecting his loving advances had suddenly taken over the once usual intimate greeting of a kiss hello. But as complicated as the situation had been, the explanation was actually the most simple: you’d just ruined Eddie Munson’s life.

But that’s quite the funny thing about communication. It breeds an eternal misery far worse than hope ever could, when chosen to be ignored for the sake of a peaceful calm. Because that’s all you were grasping for. Clammy fingers aching to hold onto the last snapping threads of tranquility if it meant keeping the peaceful life you both worked so hard to achieve. But the battle of the tumultuous anxiety you were fighting off to hold onto those threads was ultimately transpiring for the worst.

Because in return, Eddie Munson was beginning to fear the worst: he’d finally become nothing to you. 

Which is why, in a desperate attempt to rekindle the spark he still very much felt on his end, you would walk into the cozy trailer to find your eyes lit with the warmth of technicolor shadows, all casted from the benignity of yellow lamps illuminating soft duvets and sheets of creamy pastels and fuzzy neutrals. A childhood’s finest: a blanket fort. Strung along the comfy fortification had been dozens of twinkling Christmas lights that cascaded warm glowing hues against the cramped four walls of your home. 

A wonderland of innocence. 

With the loose hinges of the door announcing your arrival, Eddie has scampered out of the delicate fort of blankets, and peaked through his frizzy bangs, until his round eyes landed against yours. With a stool there, that one chair there, a tight tuck into the couch cushion, and a broomstick that played into the laws of physics to surprisingly stand on its own, the mastery of the ultimate blanket fort consumed your living room. All curated from the hands of Eddie Munson. Just for you. 

“H-Hey,” his stiff bones popped with the movement of his body, as he stood before you. “I, uh, can I just-”

Eddie’s hands worked to pry off the purse that slung itself over your shoulder, with your jacket to follow, before he crouched to the height of your feet to free you of the confinements of uncomfortable shoes. 

“What’s all this?” Tired from a slaving eight hour shift, your voice had only but a couple of octaves to work with. 

You watched his throat bob with a nervousness he never had with you before. Until you scared him. “I wanted to do something for you.” See, I still love you. “Y’know, f-for us. Just for us.” Don’t you? Your heart sank at the underlying worry that was tainting his sweet face. Because of you. Because you were ruining him right before your eyes. “H-Henderson came over and helped me out a bit, stopped by the Byers, too. Stole these off of ‘em,” his hands wavered to the strings of Christmas lights that glowed the dark walls into a fairytale setting, “can you believe they got, like, a shit load of ‘em?” He huffed out a laugh, in hopes of being some source of amusement for you, like he once was.

But with your guilt silently afflicting you, you found little reason to smile, which misinterpreted itself to the cementation that you were, in fact, sick of Eddie Munson. Long gone was the look of love that once beautifully invaded your eyes when you stared at him. 

“You didn’t-” Your voice got caught in your throat, not wanting to ask the question that would proffer the conversation you most dreaded. But it was Eddie. Your Eddie. With a soul like his, he deserved the honesty of your burdens. “Why did you do this?” You quietly asked. 

Humorlessly, the softest chuckle of disbelief scoffed from his nose, as his brows raised at you. Yeah, you, too, knew it was a stupid question. “I- you- something’s wrong.” His eyes pleaded for you to understand. 

Your eyes shamefully peered down at his bare feet, as your head shuffled in the smallest nod you could give. “I- um, yeah. C-Can you invite me in?” You gestured to the blanket flap that acted as a doorway to the fort. 

“Of course.”

Despite being a moment of financial insecurity, where Eddie couldn’t lavish you with dinner at Enzo’s to hash out the sudden shift in your relationship, perhaps the sentimental idea of a blanket fort was found to be quite perfect under the guise of appeasing the apprehensive worry from both parties. Because as two adults crawled on their hands and knees to enter the constructed tent of blankets and sheets, Eddie swore he heard the soft jubilance of giggles gently escape from your mouth; a sound he tortuously hadn’t heard in days. 

Your face glowed under the vibrant hues of string lights, as your hands and knees sunk into the soft cushion of blankets that displayed themselves against the carpeted floor of the living room, where the second-hand thrifted couch pillows propped themselves for your comfort to lean against. Unplugged from its usual habitat of the living room television stand—thoroughly just a small end table, secured from a flea market—Eddie had placed the small box TV within your newfound fort; a tranquil excuse of a buffer, in case the necessary conversation turned sour, and something was needed as a break to mitigate the tense discussion. 

Eddie would always allow you your Golden Girls. It always was quite the destresser for you. So, he’d risk the higher-than-usual light bill and the potential fire hazard it was to run an extension cord to, not only plug in the TV, but provide you the serenity of colorful lights, if it eased you to just finally talk to him. 

“It worked.” You turned your head to his lilted voice, as you awkwardly stationed yourself criss-crossed on the floor. “You’re smiling.”

It felt quite awful how relieved he’d become with the barely-there smile you’d succumb to. You wished he hadn’t found such joy in something so small, because it only led you to believe you’d given him so little lately, that he was only forced to lavish in the bare minimum. 

If only your mind hadn’t manipulated his happiness to be rooted in such cynicism. Because, yes, Eddie Munson did find such joy in the simpleness of your small smile. But Eddie had profoundly loved you enough to find appreciation in the most miniscule details of your beauty. 

Because what you hadn’t seen was that your barely-there smile had bloomed the suppleness of your cheeks to glow with the joy your mind so badly suppressed from you, as your eyes twinkled with the liveliness of your soul.

To you, it really may have just been a barely-there smile.

But your barely-there smile had been utter perfection in the eyes of Eddie Munson. 

“T-This is really nice, Eddie.” You sincerely spoke, as he found himself a cramped spot in front of you, lanky legs struggling to mimic yours. “Thank you.”

“You don’t gotta thank me.” He softly smiled back. “It’s been a while since I’ve done something nice for you.” Eddie Munson always did nice things for you. You don’t know where his admission came from. Yes, bills took over fancy outings, but wildflowers were picked in a bouquet of appreciation for you, home cooked dinners were attentively attempted to be served for you (he was slowly getting better by the days), and sentimental songs were delicately strung on his guitar to the lyrics dedicated for you. Yeah, Eddie Munson always did nice things for you. “I’m really sorry about that.” But his cynicism couldn’t help but match yours, where his mind believed that his love had to be showcased where it hurt his wallet the most. 

“Don’t say that. Don’t be sorry, please.” Your hands interlaced with his, as guilt ate at you. “Please, don’t- I- you’ve done nothing wrong.” Your mouth spewed in damage control. “Really, Eddie-”

“No?” His brows cinched in desperation for answers.

“N-No,” You stuttered under his scrutiny, as your hands brushed away from his to shield your eyes from the frustration that fermented in you. “It really isn’t- you didn’t do anyth-”

“Then what the hell is going on?” He pleaded. Eddie didn’t want to yell, never to face like yours, but the agony of being left in the dark was driving him to the precipice of exasperated resentment that he adamantly never wanted to feel towards you. Your mind raced about how you’d explain the turmoil you were in. His urgency had been lackluster in terms of support to your heaving chest, but you couldn’t blame him. He, too, was beginning to feel the crashing end of your relationship. He was frightened. “B-Because you’re never like this- never mean! And you-you’re not talking to me, n-not touching me, not even wanting me near you! I-I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you when you say it’s not me, because it clearly is!” 

You could see the stinging tears torment his sweet eyes. It choked your throat, nearly having you projectile your breakfast in disgust with yourself. “N-No, it’s not-”

Rude, perhaps, but Eddie's endeavor to cut you off had been quite useful in derailing your rambles that typically ran in circles for the sake of avoidance. He knew you. “Then just tell me! O-Or, give me, I don’t know, some idea of what’s going on, b-because this isn’t okay-”

“I know-”

A single tear seared his cheek. “So, if you don’t want to be with me, just say that! I’ll change!” You broke. Sobs wailed from your mouth, as your head sunk into the comfort of your hands. Eddie’s jaw had fallen slack in panic, as he never once saw you cry—let alone was the reason—with such anguish that it stabbed him with such profoundness. His hands worked without hesitation to bring your shuddering body close to his. “No, no! I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Secured in his lap, Eddie’s neck became dampened with the hot stream of tears that were coaxing out of your. “Sh, sh. Don’t cry, please, don’t, I’m so, so sor-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Where he once caressed your back in soothing rubs, he now stopped at the sudden revelation, as your eyes screwed shut with fear. He felt you tense, in fact, you both did. Stood still, you held your breath, feeling the bob of his throat, as you anticipated the next words that would come out of his mouth. 

You severely underestimated the duration of fifteen seconds. 

Because every second of silence felt like torture to your heart, and Eddie was agonizing you with his quietness. Your heartbeat was bleeding into your ears, body flamming hot with intense feelings, as you tried to find comfort in his hard body, but his arms weren’t holding you in the manner you needed most. 

You pulled back. “God, Eddie, just say something!” Your wails had managed to snap something within him. 

His eyes blinked straight, mouth moving to speak the words he had difficulty finding. Eddie’s hands instinctively found your back once more, loving on you properly, as your body was finally able to melt into his. He cradled your head, attempting the slight movements of rocking back-and-forth to soothe your sobs. “I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything that’s happening!”

“No, no, no, no. I-It’s gonna be okay, alright? It’s not your fault- holy shit…” Eddie whispered into your hair. 

“A-And I-I don't know how it h-happened,” your anguished face pulled from his chest, as you sniffed the snot that congested your nose, while Eddie made quick work to smear off your hot tears. “I-I didn’t know how t-to tell you, I got so scared, I am scared!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

You coughed out the weeps that burrowed in your throat. “I didn’t want this to happen!” You choked. “I- we were safe, I-I don’t know what happened! I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t want to stress you out-”

“No, baby, no.” His face fell in torment of seeing you in such despair. 

“I just- I didn’t know how to tell you, Eddie.” You cried. “I know you don’t want t-this, and I panicked, because I don’t want you m-mad or-”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m not mad at you.” His hand firmly cupped your burning cheeks, as his head confirmed his words with a fervent shake against your thoughts. “I- how could I be? I did this, too. I’m right here with you.”

“We-we just have a lot going on, I don't know what we’re going to do! A-And I just don’t even want to think about it!” Your body wracked with your spilling tears. 

“We- no, baby, we have options, y’know? If we’re not ready, we don’t have to do this. There’s, um, there’s adoption, right? Someone- we could help someone.” You shook your head adversely to his advice, as your words were true: you didn’t want to think about it. “O-Or, they- we can, y’know, get rid of it.” For lack of a better term. Your eyes sealed shut, head gnawing with pain. “You can totally do that, it’s okay, we don’t have to tell anybody if you don’t want to, just between us, and-”

Despite his best efforts, his words were doing little to soothe you over, as—though it was the necessary discussion—you weren’t looking for next-step solutions to your problem. “Eddie.” You quietly pleaded. 

“No, I’m serious. Don’t feel bad if you don’t want it. Or, maybe you do, a-and that’s okay, too. I’ll help, I’ll do everything. We can… c’mon, sweetheart, you know I wouldn’t leave you alone with this baby if you really wanted it-”

“Stop, Eddie! Please, stop!” You cried. “I don’t want to hear that, don’t want to think about it!” Your vision blurred away his pretty face. “I-I can’t right now! It’s all I-I’ve been thinking about for the past days, I’m t-tired, and just wanna-”

“Okay, so just cry.” His arms had tightened around you before you could process his movements. “Just let it all out.” Eddie had laid you down against the cushioned floor, letting your head fall back against the crocheted throw pillow threaded by his late grandmother, with its couple of loose strands of yarn soaking up your tears. 

Eddie Munson, as always, had laid with you, yet he never felt how utterly desperate you were in needing him than he did right now. You endured the humid heat of your cries in the crook of his neck, if it meant embedding yourself into his body. 

Just to feel him. 

With how much you deprived yourself from his touch, it felt dire to suffocate in the familiarity of his smell to drown in contentment. 

You grappled onto any piece of skin he had to offer through his faded t-shirt, as you frightfully clung to him. Your tears bled through the fabric of his clothes, as he gave you nothing but the safe embrace of his being that managed to make you break down in his arms. 

It was everything you needed. 

-

It was 7:03 P.M. Your sobs had knocked you into a deep sleep, where your mind was finally at ease from the troubles that tormented you. 

And Eddie Munson hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for exactly seventy-two minutes. 

You looked so peaceful, despite the rawness that rimmed your eye sockets. For once, the fresh air was able to seep into your nose, and fan out through the small opening of your mouth. Your face had cemented itself into Eddie’s chest, and from every chance he took to make slight movements for his comfort, it seemed your subconscious wasn’t ever planning on letting you leave his touch. So, despite the unfortunate circumstance, his mind was able to come to the realization that you did, in fact, still love him. 

Because you desperately were in love with Eddie Munson. Things had just gotten scary.

It was getting late. Dinner should have been happening now, and given how long Eddie took to dice an onion, he knew dinner would take nearly an hour and a half to make—it was blanket fort date night, for crying out loud, he couldn’t do the usual spaghetti. It had to be gourmet. Like, lasagna. 

Yeah, spaghetti’s older cousin, that’s totally gourmet! But now, wait a minute, how does one exactly make la-

You suddenly shifted, and Eddie quieted his thoughts, despite them never even being spoken aloud. If he knew anything about you, it was your ardent stance on never eating dinner without television. And with episode twenty-three of season four of your four favorite ladies airing at 9:00 P.M, it seemed your subconscious knew, too, to wake you up for the occasion. 

You freak. 

Through the soft murmurs of your waking, Eddie could hear the rumble of your tummy. You had been in a rush this morning, but even then, you promised him to never again consider a vending machine’s pack of peanut M&Ms lunch. Clearly, you did today. Liar. 

Because of his quick movements to get up, his aimed forehead kiss misdirected to your eyeball, forcing it to flutter open much earlier than you wanted. You groaned at his departure, watching him quickly crawl away through your bleary vision.

Despite your head feeling like thirty pounds of cement, and the suffocating heat the blanket fort was harboring, the commotion that occurred just outside within the kitchen interested you enough to slowly sit up against your sore back’s protest. 

After a minute of his bare feet pattering against the linoleum, Eddie’s head emerged into the blanket fort. “Here, grab this.” His arm extended out the overly large latched-lid mason jar—once occupied by honey, before it inevitably ran out a year ago—filled to the brim with iced water, and garnished with the two recycled straws from a once Benny’s Burgers milkshake. Your little face scrunched with tired confusion. “I ran out of, like, nice cups. This okay?” 

Ran out? Eddie just didn’t want to do the dishes. You huffed out a chuckle, “Yeah.” Your hands grappled to hold onto the cold jar, its condensation drenching your fingers. 

“And I- ugh.” He grunted, as his large body entered the tiny space. “Got some, uh, other things.” His prized notebook flew in with intentions of being used later. Perhaps for the excuse of giving him something to do, while you watched The Golden Girls. He wasn’t fooling anyone, though, he always eventually succumbed to the TV show, despite how cool he wanted to look.

“Why do you have that?” You tiredly giggled, as he settled in with a tub of vanilla frosting—Wayne’s fifty-second occurred three weeks ago, of course, you both had to make a cake… even if the older man grimaced with a faux mm to, at least, satisfy your efforts—and two spoons. The small ones, Eddie was quite aware of your love for tiny utensils. 

“Well, I, uh, I know it’s no better than those M&Ms you ate for lunch.” Caught. Your lips flattened into a straight line. “Yeah, caught your ass,” he laughed, “but I’ll give you a pass, since I put a baby in you.” And he laughed even harder at your unamused face. “Actually, no, I take that back, I need you to actually feed my kid, because what baby ever looked cute while looking like they’re on a keto diet?”

You didn’t want to laugh, damn it. “Eddie!” You whined. But his humor was surely putting a suppressed smile on your face, which totally would have shown if it wasn’t for your stubbornness. 

“Alright, alright, but I do know pregnant ladies like random shit, hell, I like random shit, so until dinner’s ready… bon appétit!” The French heritage he didn’t have came out with a horrible accent. “It’ll make you happy, right?”

Sugar in a tube, how could it not?

“I don’t know… kinda makes me teeth hurt-”

“Oh, my god, woman, you’re killing me!” His dramatic flair sent him falling back. 

There was your sweet laughter. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” You giggled with liveliness. “Thank you, thank you for the food… ish.”

You pried open the container lid, as Eddie handed you a spoon to down mouthfuls of whipped sweetness. There was a quietness to the moment that you didn’t want to disturb. 

The creaminess of frosting, as it scooped; the clink of silver from the spoon clashing with your teeth; the melodic swirl of ice cubes floating in the water; the soft squeak of your lips sucking through the straw to retrieve the refreshment. 

It was all too perfect.

Eddie’s hand had brandished your ankle, twiddling with your sock, as his eyes never left your figure. You could feel his eyes burning into you, waiting for the moment you’d speak about the situation. But it wasn’t coming like he hoped. You quite hated how those who never knew him could brand him with that trait of immaturity, when really it was you picking at a container of frosting to avoid communication. 

“So-”

“Do we have any Doritos left?” You interjected. 

Eddie blinked. “Uh… no, don’t think so. Think I took the last bag to practice.”

You dramatically frowned at him, as he softly chuckled at your exaggerated disdain. “Want some with the frosting.” You muttered, clearly unbothered by his grimace, as you scooped another spoonful into your mouth. 

“Christ, you really are pregnant.” Eddie Munson had you heartily laughing. 

“No, I used to do that way before I was pregnant, when I was a kid.” You defended. 

Eddie playful scoffed. “And I’m the one who got bullied when I was a kid.” His hand splayed over his chest.

“The sweetness goes really well with the savoriness!” You proclaimed. “Plus, you know Doritos have, like, a little tang, especially if they’re seasoned well, so it balances it out perfectly!” Quite the defense you had there. 

“And you like that?” What a big bully. You giggled at his face of disbelief.

“I don’t want to hear any of this, it’s your child inside me, God knows they’ll probably make me eat even weirder things!”

Humor. Eddie Munson clocked it. You were only going to get through this with humor. “No, no, I’m making this kid normal, it’s your Doritos-dipped-in-frosting genes that are gonna wonk ‘em up!”  

“No, I’m not!” Laughter flooded your mouth that dropped in disbelief, and suddenly you were flinging your spoon to traject whatever bit of frosting that was left to hit him. “You’re just as weird as me, if not, even more!” Eddie’s stomach was cramping at your utter offense, as he scraped off the white cream from his face, only to eat it. 

“Okay, well, listen if that’s the case, then can I show you something weird?” He proffered a shy smile. “But I’m already telling you now it’s weird, so you can’t be weird about being weirded out just because you find what I’m about to show you to be too weird. Alright? No weird comments.”

You snickered. “That was a lot of ‘weirds.’” Eddie raised a pointed brow at you. “Okay, I promise I won’t be weird, show me.”

With your promise, Eddie had reached to grab his small notebook, and maneuvered his way to sit himself right beside you; knees knocking and all with how close he wanted to be.

The pages had bulked up between the binding with just how much his pens and pencils engraved into the paper. You watched him flip through sketches and lyrics, a plethora of campaign ideas, even an old math equation here and there from when he attended school, and decided to actually pay attention, only to realize calculus could be fun if he just understood it. 

When it came to a particular page, dated on the fifteenth of seven months ago, Eddie had come to a halt, and your eyes inevitably landed on the detailed sketch of a sleeping figure that looked oddly like you (not oddly, two years in his presence was like being the muse for Johannes Vermeer).

“Um, I, uh- I mean, of course, my number one choice for a name is Ozzy.” He awkwardly laughed, as his finger fidgeted with the page, where your eyes were finally able to analyze the random scribble of names that blended aside the doodles of dark wizards. 

“Ozzy? You thought of names?” You incredulously peered up at him. 

Eddie laughed. “Before, b-before this whole thing happened, if that even makes it any less, uh, weird.” It was quite evident his sudden shyness was forcing him to stumble over his words. “Y-Y’know, just like one of those mindless things you think about when you’re, um, like, bored. And, w-well, really this is actually your fault, because you fell asleep on me,” his finger reverted back to the sketch of yourself, “so, really it was like you were forcing me to come up with these names, since I had nothing to do.” 

“And, of course, you landed on Ozzy.” You giggled, as your head dropped to his shoulder. 

“Well, duh, what Ozzy isn’t cool? Like Ozzy Osbourne, and… y’know… that other famous Ozzy from… history- but don’t worry about that! Just think about how perfect it’ll be when this kid becomes a rockstar like his old man,” Eddie proudly pointed to himself, “and they already got a metal name like Ozzy!”

Eddie Munson never failed to make you laugh. “Okay, but, like, what if this kid doesn’t want to be a rockstar? And y’know, now we’re the ones responsible for putting an Ozzy into the, I don’t know, medical field. Would you really trust a Dr. Ozzy to do your colonoscopy?” 

He pondered for a second. “Boom!” His fingers snapped. “Okay, we’ll do Oswald! If I can make Edward work, this kid can make Oswald work!” He protested. 

“Oh, great, just like Oswald Mosley.” Your eyes playfully rolled. 

“Yeah, see! A cool Ozzy!”

You laughed. “Eddie, I’m, like, a hundred percent certain that dude was some British fascist.”

“Shit, okay, well, scratch Oswald; Oswald sucks. We’re going back to Ozzy; Ozzy’s cool.” Christ, he was too perfect to handle. 

Your cheek squished against his shoulder, as you looked up to smile at him. “And if she’s a little girl?” 

Eddie beamed, coming down to plant his lips to yours. “I got that basis covered, too, babe.” You looked to where his finger was repeatedly tapping, and squinted your eyes to ready his barely eligible chicken scratch. 

“Ar… Arwen Munson.” You eyed him suspiciously. “What Arwen have you met that’s got you wanting to name our future child that?”

He chuckled. “From Lord of the Rings.” And he chuckled even more witnessing your dramatic eye roll, because how predictable! “But not just Munson, I got your last name down with it, too, if you’re more into that. Totally with that feminist shit, if you want me and the gremlins taking your last name.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You preened. 

“Mhm!” He smiled. “Could definitely hyphenate, but imagine the curveball the county clerk would get when they realize I’m changing my last name to yours. Think your folks would be okay with me becoming one of them?” 

Despite the fervent shake of your head, your smile never disappeared. “They’ll probably hate you for getting me pregnant before marriage.” 

Eddie snorted. “Ha! Our kid’s a bastard. Even I wasn’t. Jesus H. Christ, we’re really screwing him up.” 

“Him?”

“Ah, shit, just kinda came out as the default, maybe I’m not with that feminist shit as much as I thought.”

Eddie Munson was always one to make your cheeks hurt with how much he made you smile. “You’re so stupid.” You giggled, as he winked at you. 

You fell back against the pillows, as Eddie followed suit. Looking up was quite pretty. No matter how cramped or hot it was becoming in the blanket fort, the bleeding of twinkling colors made it all bearable. 

Like a little world just for him and you. 

You breathed heavily for a second, your hand linking with his. “Do you really want babies?” 

You heard his prolonged sigh. “I don’t know.” His eyes absentmindedly counted the individual bulbs of Christmas lights. “Don’t really like that white-picket-fence bullshit-”

“Prefer the trailer park chain fence?”

“Shut up.” He quietly laughed. “But, uh, I don’t know, I kinda like the idea of some little thing looking like you.” His hand squeezed yours. 

Heat flooded your cheeks, as your heart pattered with anticipation. “Even if it cries and poops all the time?”

“Hell, you and I already do that all the time now, think we can manage a third.” Then he paused. “But… I also kinda like just having you to myself, too. Just you and me holding down the fort.” He felt quite proud of irony.

Giggles were bubbling in your chest, before you took a minute to rationally think. “Eddie.”

“Yeah?” He whispered. 

“We were barely able to pay our light bill this month.”

“And we’re shit cooks.” He added.

“And our home smells like weed.”

“And you like to eat Doritos dipped in frosting.”

You both finally turned to one another, as his eyes met yours, where you laughed through the glassy tears that were flooding your eyes. “Having a baby sounds really scary-” Your voice broke like the little girl you suddenly felt like you were. Your soft cries were wiped by Eddie’s chest, as his arms protected you. “B-But getting rid of it a-also seems scary.”

His lips brushed against your cheeks in gentle shushes, as his whispers of, “I know, I know, I know,” bled into your ear. 

Twenty and twenty-two with ambitions that ran higher than the sky. And yes, perhaps grueling shifts at Joe’s Auto Repair or long hours at B. Dalton Bookseller weren’t exactly the desired dream, but they were stepping stones to the fruition of your aspirations. 

A little mini Munson wasn’t exactly going to fit in as easily as the housewives of Hawkins, Indiana made it out to be. Not in a trailer. Not in your life. 

“I just- I just don’t want to regret my decision. I don’t want to be selfish.” Your body shuddered into his body. 

His hand caressed your hair, as you felt his head shake to reject your thoughts. “Aw, no, baby, c’mon don’t be like that.” His lips soaked in your salty tears with his delicate kisses. “That’s not even true. Nothing you decide to do will be selfish.”

“No, but it is! W-What if I do what them, b-but money becomes an issue, it a-already is! They won’t have g-good clothes, a nice crib, not even their own room-”

“So, I’ll pick up more shifts at the shop, baby-”

You bore into his eyes. “But I want you to be happy, Eddie.”

Two years ago, when you both were still roaming the halls of Hawkins High, Eddie Munson had vowed to stick by your side through it all. High off of weed or not, the promise was real, cemented into his heart, and devoted to keep up with. 

Eddie whispered against your lips. “Being with you is what makes me happy.”

“But you deserve a life outside of this trailer.” Your hand crept to his cheek. “And anything I decide seems to not make me a good person. I just want to be a good person.” You sniffled. “If I have the baby now, it’ll be for my own selfish reasons of just wanting them. If I don’t, I’ll be for my own selfish reasons of not wanting to give up my life.” 

Eddie didn’t even mind you coughing in his face. “Y-You were right before, we could, y’know, help a couple out, but the pregnancy- I-I want my body, I don’t want to change, not if I don’t get to keep them. And even if I do, w-what if I take my baby home only to not feel anything for them like a mother should? Then what?”

Eddie sighed, as his thumb swept under your eye. “I don’t know why you’re making those things out to be a bad thing.” Your brows furrowed. “This is between us, and only us. Not a goddamn person in this world deserves to know what we know, and they sure as hell don’t get a say in it.” His eyes blinked down the soft tears that invaded his face. And he graced it with a smile on his face. “You wanna baby, I’ll get Claudia to give us all of Henderson’s baby shit, lord knows that poor woman still hoards it.” You giggled through your congestion. “And if you don’t wanna baby, I’ll hold your hand for as long as the doctors will let me, and hell, I’ll take you to Vegas the next day to party your heart out.”

Laughing as the tears poured down both your faces, you crept in closer to smush your nose against his to glue your lips together. 

Despite the salty taste invading your tongue, you devoured his mouth with the fervency of your love. 

A sorry for the lack of communication; a thank you for being the greatest person ever. 

With your teeth sinking into his lips, Eddie begrudgingly had to be an adult. “Fuck, if you don’t stop, we’re gonna cotinue having the same problem of you getting pregnant.” Even in the scariest of times, your Eddie was able to dissipate the fear in your heart, only to consume it with utter awe at the man before you. Your foreheads stuck together, as his hand circled your back, before whispering close. “Do you, and only you, have any idea as to what you wanna do?” He kissed his support to your lips. 

You sighed. 

You found out you were pregnant one week and three days ago. In fact, the four sticks—excessive, yes—continued to remain in your purse for Eddie’s own peace to never discover. As much as you could go back-and-forth in logistics and dreams, there was always the truth of what you wanted for you and Eddie that seemed to circle back whenever you decided to give your mind a rest. 

It was always there, just hidden in the tangle of overthinking burdens. Eddie Munson would never let that be a bad thing, he quite liked your mind very much. 

So, you wouldn’t let it be a bad thing. 

You could hear his voice already, “It just means you’re thorough. I, sure as hell, am not.” 

You delicately smiled, as you peered into his eyes. “Yeah.”

And Eddie was there to smile right back at you. “And how do you want me to help?”

“I don’t want your help. I just want you there with me through it all.” 

[ataliagold]

He Loves My Heart Shaped Sunglasses

For @astrangersummer week 11 prompt 'sunglasses.' Title from Every Man Has His Wish by Lana Del Ray.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: G

W/C: 939

Tags: Established Steddie, Steve has migraines, comfort, fluff, Eddie takes care of Steve, summer, Steve and Robin are soulmates

Summary: Steve's at a barbeque with his friends when he's hit with the painful consequences of too much sun.

___

Steve dreads summer, sometimes.

While there are parts of it he loves – long days by the pool with Robin and Eddie, the light hanging around for longer in the evenings but softer than the harsh light of midday, the kids biking everywhere so he didn’t have to chauffeur them around every damn day – he also hates other aspects of it.

The heat, for example, when it rises above pleasant into just uncomfortable and makes his head start to throb.

The noise of kids shrieking, of dogs barking at the park, of grills sizzling and music blasting from somewhere in the neighbourhood as everyone seemed to take advantage of the warmer weather all at once – it all added to the pain building behind his eyes.

But it was the bright sunlight that caused him the most grief sometimes, that made him squint and wince until pain lanced in his skull. Sunglasses helped a bit but he’d left them behind today - had only realized when he’d been most of the way here and he hadn’t wanted to turn around, hadn’t wanted to be late and worry Eddie because he could get through one damn day without them, right?

Now, he’s leant over the bench in the Munsons’ new and improved trailer, trying to let the coolness of the surface leach into his skin. He’s tempted to press his face to it too, try to stop the migraine building behind his eyes in its tracks.

He knows it won’t work.

Gripping the edge of the bench tight enough to make his fingers ache, he grinds his teeth, frustrated. Up until this point he’d been ok, had really thought he was going to get through this day without a migraine, but the temperature had climbed steadily after noon and that had been it.

Wayne’s grilling outside. Hopper is out there, the Byers and Max too, Eddie and Robin sipping drinks, the latter fanning herself with a book. Steve wishes he were out there too, wishes he could just sit outside and enjoy the summer without being crippled by the agony in his head again.

Footsteps behind him.

A warm hand on his waist, thumb slipping up under his t shirt and brushing over his hip.

“Sweetheart, you ok?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve huffs softly in response.

“Head hurts,” he manages, squeezing his eyes shut.

Eddie kisses the back of his neck gently. “You wanna lie down for a bit?” he whispers.

“No,” Steve grumbles, because he wants to be with his friends, wants to enjoy the day like everyone else.

Eddie waits, hums softly.

Steve caves. “Yes,” he mutters.

“Come on.” Eddie takes his hand, leads him down the narrow hallway into the bedroom that smelt vaguely of cigarette smoke and weed and Eddie.

Steve flops onto the bed, burrows immediately into familiar pillows, lets Eddie slip his shoes off and maneuver the t shirt from his back.

“I’ll be back,” he says, brushing gentle fingertips down Steve’s back before padding out of the room.

When he returns, it’s with water and the meds Steve always kept at the trailer, helping Steve swallow them down before tugging the curtain closed.

Steve sleeps for a short time, head throbbing dully when the painkillers blissfully kick in. He awakes feeling a little better, the migraine having been nipped in the bud before it could reach its peak.

He pads back down the hallway, rubbing at bleary eyes, heading towards the sound of soft laughter outside. The voices fall a little quieter when he steps sheepishly out the door, Eddie standing to guide him carefully to a chair.

“Sorry guys,” Steve croaks as he takes a seat.

Wayne waves his tongs in the air. “No problem, son. There’s plenty of food left over, you want somethin’? I can heat it back up for ya.”

Steve considers for a moment, judges the state of his still slightly-nauseous gut, and shakes his head. “Maybe in a little bit?” he settles on.

Robin’s sprawled out on the porch next to Max’s chair, and she smiles dopily at Steve.

“Dingus!” she slurs, and Steve shoots Eddie a side-eyed look. His boyfriend grins back at him.

Yeah, Robin’s a little drunk.

“Hey Robs,” Steve replies, giving her a tiny wave.

“Where’s your sunglasses?” Robin sits up, blinking slowly at him.

“Left them at home.”

She scuttles to her feet. “Borrow mine!” she announces, taking them off her head.

“Oh, that’s ok,” Steve says quickly, taking in the sight of the sunglasses now in her hand, the bold cherry-red heart-shaped frames surrounding large lenses. “You might need them.”

Robin scoffs. “Not as much as you. Take them.”

She holds them out, wiggling her hand at him.

“It’s fine, Robs.”

Robin slaps them into his hand firmly. “Take them.”

Steve swallows. Not one to argue with his tipsy and determined soulmate, Steve sighs and puts the sunglasses on.

Max erupts into laughter; even with her reduced eyesight she can’t miss the brightly-coloured accessory. Robin rounds on her, hissing something, but the seriousness is taken out of her words by the way she stumbles back to her seat again.

At least they were helping to reduce the light, Steve figures, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes slip shut again. The warmth on his shoulders was nice, the conversation starting back up around him but at a low level, everyone present keeping their voices down for his sake.

Eddie scooches closer to him. Steve cracks an eye open, glancing at him.

___

“Like what you see?” he murmurs.

Eddie cackles, leans in close, and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Always, Stevie.”

[you-call-it-a-dude]

Hideous Shoes

Request: Leighton x Fem reader, a part two vibe to the first Leighton x reader story, but instead the reader is talking to Tatum at a party. From afar it looks like they are flirting, but essentially reader only gets along with Tatum because she reminds her of Leighton. Requested by 🫀 (I summarized the ask, but will share the full length one)

Summary: Leighton makes you go to a party straight from work. Apparently, everyone hates your shoes.

Pairings: Leighton Murray x Fem Reader

A/N: 🫀, I really hope this lives up to your request and you like it okay. I def went for something more fun and lighthearted than angsty. If you wanted a different vibe, please let me know and I'll do it all over again for you.

Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Also, will work on getting that master list post up shortly lol

---

"Look behind you, but don't make it obvious." Whitney says, walking up to Leighton while she chatted with Kimberly

"What are you talking about? Look where?" She said kinda loudly and Whitney shushed her, knowing that Leighton's voice had the ability to cut through the noise of any party if she really wanted it to.

"Shush! I said don't make it obvious." She said quietly. "Look at the bar and check out who's talking to Y/N right now."

She whipped her head around, doing the exact opposite of not making it obvious. Kimberly giggled and Whitney didn't even try to hide her annoyance.

"Oh my gosh, Tatum!" Kimberly said innocently. "She's been killing it on the tennis team." She informs the group and Leighton looks at her weird.

Like the type of look that says 'don't tell me useless information.'

"Why is she talking to Y/N?" She stood on her tippy toes, watching the interaction with furrowed eyebrows.

"Tatum is gonna, like, eat her alive." Whitney points out, taking a sip of her drink.

"Should I say something? What do I do?" She stands flat on her feet again and looks to her friends.

"Did y'all see Y/N and Tatum at the bar?" Bela joins the group after returning from the bathroom, looking just as confused as the rest of them.

"Yes, we saw." Leighton practically hissed. "I'm figuring out a plan."

"Well, while you're doing that, Tatum is making your girl laugh." Bela points out, raising her eyebrows and taking a sip of her drink.

Leighton narrows her eyes, turning around again to see for herself.

"Tatum is not that fucking funny so I don't know why she would be laughing like that."

---

You've been dragged to another party by Leighton. You don't even know how she knows this many people or this many social events happening.

What you do know? You didn't even get a chance to fully walk through the door when you came home from work tonight before she ran up to you all dressed up begging you to go to this party with her and her friends. Telling you that she really wanted to go, that she hates going to parties without you and just rambling on about how much she wanted you there.

You know it was most likely so you could play babysitter to her and her friends, but you honestly didn't mind it too much. Once she had about three drinks in her she would be clinging on to you the rest of the night and telling you how much she couldn't wait to be back home with you. You would be silly for ever wanting to miss out on that.

You did tell her that you weren't going to change out of your work outfit and she made a face immediately and said 'at least your shoes?'

Which, okay, it was a fair comment. They were just comfy gym shoes that you paid next to nothing for, but you had a long day at work and your feet were tired and the last thing you wanted to do was be uncomfortable for a party you didn't even want to go to.

You made the argument that the shoes stay on or you don't go and she folded easily, kissing your cheek in excitement.

So she dragged you to a frat house that you're almost certain you've never even heard of before actually. All the normal frat party goers were present, so clearly it was only you that wasn't well informed.

You had been going back and forth to the make shift bar all night, your poor tired feet begging to go the hell to bed already. You ignored them easily though, too eager and too happy to do anything that would please Leighton.

You were on your fourth trip to the bar tonight, getting drinks for Kimberly and Leighton this round. Fuck it, maybe even yourself.

The poor frat boy at the bar was swamped and doing his best. Clearly a freshman or a new pledge assigned to do the stressful task of managing the overwhelming job that is a bar at a college party.

But you had been there three times already tonight and he already knew you were going to be patient with him. He said he knew what you wanted and to just give him a second. He would apologize to you profusely every time you made eye contact while while he handling some other demanding frat boy that was yelling in his face. You would just wave him off politely and tell him you weren't in a rush.

Honestly, leaning against the bar wasn't feeling too bad for your feet either.

"Those shoes are atrocious." Came a voice from behind you.

You roll your eyes and turn around, making eye contact with some blonde you've never seen before.

"Trust me, I'm well aware." You say with a slight bite in your tone.

"Oh! So you do have some sort of taste then." She says with a condescending smile.

"I have enough taste to know that whatever the fuck tweed jacket you're wearing is better suited for the winter months. It's September and like eighty degrees. Aren't you a little warm?" You say, returning that condescending vibe.

She raises her eyebrow and nods, looking almost impressed.

"Okay, I'll admit, you've got me there. That still doesn't take away from the fact that your shoes? Hideous." She doubles down on offending your shoes and you throw your head back in laughter.

"They're totally designer, though." You nod and she looks at you curiously. "Oh yeah. Wál-Mart." You say, trying to make it sound French and clench your jaw to hold back a laugh. "Ever heard of her?" She looks at you still confused and you can tell she's going through a list of designers in her head. "Walmart. They're from Walmart."

"You're an ass." She laughs and gives you a playful shove. You laugh loudly at her reaction, throwing your head back. "You think you're so funny."

"I think I'm hilarious, actually." You chuckle again, dabbing under your eyes with the back of your index finger. She rolls her eyes at you, but you can tell she's holding back a smile.

"You're slightly comical at best."

"At best? I'm slightly comical at my worst. Get outta here. At best, psh."

"Well aren't you cocky?" She crossed her arms, looking you up and down.

"Says the person who insulted a random stranger for no reason."

"I did have a reason. I hate your shoes." You laugh and shake your head.

"You and everyone else in my life apparently. I am so sorry for offending you. Let me go chop my feet off right now." You say sarcastically and she laughs.

"No need to be dramatic. Buying new shoes would suffice. Those are shoes my grandfather would wear. Very...geriatric."

"Geriatric?!" You say in disbelief. "Honestly, that feels more offensive than anything. Jesus Christ." You chuckle, still a little in shock about that insult she threw your way.

"I mean...if she shoe fits." She sucked in her top lip to hold back a laugh. You busted out laughing and she followed suit, laughing with you.

"That was a good one, I'll give it to you."

"Good enough to get you to help me secure a drink from this monstrosity of a bar situation." She says sweetly with a smile.

"No," you shake your head. "Absolutely not." You chuckle. "It was nice to meet you though...?"

"Tatum."

"It was nice meeting you, Tatum." You feel a tap on your shoulder and the kid at the bar is handing you four drinks, which you only needed three but in his defense you had been getting four like all night. You technically had an extra drink to spare that you could've given her, but why would you do that when you could feel Leighton's eyes burning into you from across the room. You also just did not want to. You turn and grab the cups carefully, holding two in each hand.

"Got a lot friends?" She asks curiously when she sees your full hands.

"And a girlfriend that likes to fight." You say as an attempt to warn her. "Have good rest of your night." You give her a friendly smile before pushing past her, careful to not spill the drinks and leaving her to fend her herself at the bar.

You slowly dance your way back to the group. You stop immediately, looking confused when the four of them just stare at you silently. Your eyes bounce between all of them, waiting for someone to say something. You were just about to open your mouth when Leighton opens hers.

"What the fuck was that?" She asks harshly and it kinda catches you off guard.

"What do you mean? I got drinks?" You hold up the four drinks confused. The four of them each take a drink from your hand and even though one of those drinks were intended to be for you, you've now been left drink-less and slightly disappointed.

"With Tatum!" She blurts out and you cock your head to the side.

"You know Tatum?" You ask, and you can see Bela, Whitney, and Kimberly all have a visceral reaction to your question.

"We may have possibly kinda dated, but this isn't about me right now." She rushed out. "You just seemed awfully giggly with her."

"She was kind of an ass honestly. She called my shoes atrocious." You could see Leighton raise her eyebrows and tilt her head in a silent agreement.

"It just seemed like a lot of talking for someone that called your shoes repulsive."

"Atrocious, jeez." You correct.

"Same thing." She waves off your correction. "What did you say back to her."

"Well, I told her I knew they were ugly and she said something about how I do have some taste. So I made a comment about her jacket being out of season just to prove it." She looked over your shoulder, taking a glance at Tatum who was still waiting at the bar.

"Damn, you're actually right. I've trained you well."

"I told you I listen to you when you talk." You shake your head at her. "She then asked me to help get her a drink from the bar. Obviously, I did not." You say, gesturing over to her still waiting. "She reminded me of you a little bit, honestly. I think that's why I was having fun bickering with her."

"Ew, don't say that. I am not like her." She looked offended, her top lip twitching.

"Right, sure." You say sarcastically, just agreeing to appease her. "Remind me again what you think of my shoes tonight?" She glared at you, her right eye twitching slightly.

"I...love them." She said, her tone of voiced sounding everything but truthful.

"See, I'm so glad you said that! I was thinking of getting another pair." You tease.

"Okay, let's not get out of hand here. You look like you went shopping in my dad's closet."

"Funny you say that also, actually. Tatum said my shoes gave off a similar vibe. She called them 'geriatric'."

"Well..."

"I'm so sick of both of you!" You tease, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer to you.

Very obviously not sick of her at all.

She leaned into you, sipping her drink.

"Babe?" You ask softly.

"Hmm?"

"What did you mean when you said you 'kinda' dated Tatum?"

"I can't hear you! The music is like really loud all of a sudden." She shouts slightly and you chuckle, rolling your eyes at her.

You pull her against you tightly and press a string of loud and obnoxious kisses against her cheek, making her laugh and scrunch her shoulders up.

"You're a pain in my ass. You hear that over the music?" You tease and she smiles at you, her hand resting against your stomach.

"Now that I heard loud and fucking clear."

[isak-dot-gov]

Awkward Beginnings

Pairing: Inês Bettencourt x Media Team!Reader

Word count: 1311

My Masterlist :)

The gym was alive with the usual chatter and buzz of sneakers squeaking against polished floors. You moved through it, your camera gear slung over your shoulder, getting used to your new role with the UConn women’s basketball media team. It was a busy but rewarding job, and it kept your mind focused—until a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hold up—no way! Is that who I think it is?” KK Arnold’s voice rang out, filled with surprise and joy. You turned, a smile forming as soon as you spotted her jogging over, her eyes sparkling with recognition.

“KK!” you laughed, feeling a warmth of nostalgia wash over you as she pulled you into a tight hug. It was strange but comforting to see someone from your high school days after so long.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re here!” KK said, pulling back with a wide grin. “How did we not know we were going to the same school?”

You shrugged, still trying to process it. “I guess life just got busy. But yeah, I just started with the media team.”

“Perfect! You have to meet everyone,” she said, already grabbing your arm and guiding you through the gym.

She introduced you to the team, pointing out each player with a little anecdote or joke. When you reached the last of the group, KK motioned toward a girl standing near the back. “And this is Inês.”

Inês looked up, and your breath caught for a second. She was striking, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, eyes deep and expressive. She nodded slightly, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw her jaw tense.

“Hi, Inês,” you said, giving her a warm smile. 

“Hello,” she replied, her voice soft and almost unsure, like she wasn’t quite prepared to speak. Her eyes met yours for a second before skittering away, and she shifted on her feet. The silence felt longer than it should have, and when she didn’t say anything more, KK gave you a playful nudge to move on. But the moment lingered in your mind, making you wonder if you’d done something wrong.

Over the next few weeks, the team became a routine part of your life. You captured candid moments during practices, joked with the players, and even shared post-game pizza nights. Most of the team opened up to you quickly, treating you like you’d been part of their world for years. Except Inês.

The first time you tried to approach her alone, she was tying her shoes on the bench, and you’d wanted to ask her about the latest highlight reel. “Hey, Inês, quick question about—”

“Oh!” She nearly dropped her water bottle and fumbled to catch it, her face going red. “Um, sorry. What did you need?” 

“Just wondering if you could tell me what plays you wanted to feature for the reel,” you said, keeping your tone light.

She nodded so fast it was almost comical. “Yeah, sure. I’ll, uh, write it down for you later, okay?” And before you could say anything else, she was halfway across the gym, joining a group of her teammates.

Another time, you were packing up your camera after a game when you noticed her walking by. You decided to wave, offering her a smile. She hesitated for a second, then gave a small wave back but misjudged her step and almost bumped into a cart of basketballs. You could see her cheeks turning red even from a distance as she mumbled an apology to no one in particular and sped off before you could even say hi.

The moment that stuck with you the most, though, was during a team lunch. The cafeteria buzzed with laughter and conversation, and you found yourself seated across from Inês for the first time. You tried to start a casual conversation, but every question seemed to make her more uncomfortable.

“So, how did you end up choosing UConn?” you asked, genuinely interested.

Inês took a sip of her drink too quickly and coughed, her face going red as she struggled to answer. “Um, I—” She cleared her throat. “I just really liked the program.” The last word came out as more of a squeak, and she immediately looked down at her plate, avoiding your eyes.

The silence that followed was heavy, and before you could say anything to ease it, Azzi leaned over and rescued the conversation with a joke about her own first awkward day at UConn. But the whole time, you couldn’t help but notice Inês sneaking glances at you when she thought you weren’t looking, her expression torn between embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Despite these moments, your initial excitement about the job was starting to be tinged with confusion. Why was she like this around you? Everyone else had been so easygoing, so friendly. But Inês’s cold silence—and the awkward moments that seemed to define every interaction—was beginning to make you feel like she simply didn’t want you around.

You started keeping your distance, exchanging polite nods when necessary but otherwise trying to spare both of you the awkward encounters.

One evening, the team gathered at Jana’s dorm for a casual night in. The room was filled with laughter, the smell of pizza, and the background noise of a movie that no one was really watching. Inês sat in a corner, fidgeting with her phone, while KK, Azzi, and Paige bantered loudly.

Azzi raised an eyebrow and leaned over to Jana. “Hey, anyone else notice how Inês goes mute whenever Y/n’s around?”

Jana smirked, nodding. “It’s like she forgets how to talk,” she joked, earning a few chuckles.

Inês’s face flushed, and she put her phone down, unable to ignore the conversation anymore. “It’s not… I just… she makes me nervous, okay?” The words tumbled out, and the room fell silent for a beat.

KK’s eyes softened as understanding dawned on her. “Oh. Oh.”

Inês sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I keep thinking I’ll say something stupid. She’s just… she’s amazing, and I don’t know how to be normal around her.”

Azzi smiled, leaning over to nudge her friend. “Well, you’re definitely not doing yourself any favours by being awkward.”

“Just talk to her, Inês,” Jana added. “Trust me, you’re making this way harder than it has to be.”

Inês nodded slowly, a mix of hope and anxiety flickering in her eyes. Tomorrow, she decided.  Tomorrow, she would find the courage.

The next day, you were setting up equipment by the sidelines when you heard familiar, tentative footsteps behind you. You turned and saw Inês standing there, looking as if she was summoning all her courage just to stay put.

“Hey, Y/n. Do you have a second?” she asked, her voice soft but more determined than before.

You set down your equipment, surprise mixing with curiosity. “Yeah, of course.”

She shifted nervously, but she didn’t break eye contact. “I know I’ve been… off around you, and I’m sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable. It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s… actually the opposite.” She took a shaky breath. “You make me nervous because I think you’re amazing, and I never know what to say.”

A wave of relief washed over you as her words sank in. “Really? I thought you didn’t like me.”

She let out a short, nervous laugh, her shoulders relaxing for the first time. “Not at all. I was wondering… would you maybe want to get coffee sometime? Just us.”

Your smile grew, the tension that had been building for weeks melting away. “I’d love that, Inês.”

Her face brightened, the nervous energy giving way to something softer, more hopeful. And as she walked away, you couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new, something that had been worth every awkward moment.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 58: Edgar's Pocket Watch

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tw: kidnapping, mind control, hypnosis, assault, stabbing, eye whump, rat-based horror, possessive behavior adult referred to as boy

September 1905

It had always been hard for Fitz to wake up, but usually not this hard. His eyelids felt as if they were made of concrete, and he had an uncomfortable headache to boot. As he forcibly dragged himself back to consciousness, he realized he was being moved at an alarmingly rapid pace.

He had just managed to return to reality a second before he was tossed onto a hard wooden floor, thankfully landing mostly on his backside and not hitting his head. His head was pounding quite enough already.

"Is there any need to be so rough? You'll damage the thrall," said a smooth voice.

"That little pig spit in my face, he deserves it." Shit, that was most certainly Jameson, by no means a voice that Fitz wanted to hear under the circumstances.

Fitz cracked his eyes open just enough to see a pair of expensive dress shoes. There was a cloth gag in his mouth, and ropes binding his ankles together and his hands behind him.

"If a dog bites you, do you blame the dog, for acting on its instincts?" said the first one, who Fitz now recognized as Edgar. "Or do you blame the master who trained the dog poorly and fails to control him?"

"I think they both should get what they deserve. You're going to erase him, aren't you?"

"No, I don't think I will."

"But you said --"

"Now that I have him here, I can clearly see how he's built for obedience. He'll look and smell so fine in a mindless daze, standing by my chair or kneeling at my feet, serving my every whim. A thrall like this deserves that obedience, not to be chained in some filthy pen."

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to tremble. He should have let Lex bring hime home, instead of trying to prove… whatever it is he was trying to prove. Now, he was caught between two vampires with the worst of intentions for him. He had no doubt that Lex would rescue him, but would it be too late for his mind?

Jameson huffed. "Do what you like, then, as long as I get to see the look on Alexander's face."

"I thought you'd see reason. I won't be able to enthrall him permanently by the time his keeper arrives, of course, but I can give him a taste of how much improved his thrall would be. And then, of course, I'll have to run the poor little vampire back home. I can't have him getting ideas about taking his treasure back, not when he's treated his thrall so poorly."

Fitz heard footsteps getting closer, and then he was lifted up and sat upright on a soft chair.

"Open your eyes now, boy," said Edgar. "I know you aren't still sleeping."

He stubbornly kept his eyes closed, not foolish enough to get caught in Edgar's hypnotic gaze so easily. Ears straining for some clue as to what was happening, he heard a soft noise he couldn't place.

"Ah, so you think you're being defiant, do you?" The commanding voice whispered in his ear. "Don't worry, I'm not going to harm you. Deep down inside, you know that you want to submit to your betters. It's in your nature."

Fitz felt the gag being untied. "Alexander's going to make short work of you when he finds you, sir," he said as soon as he was free.

Edgar laughed. "Boy, do you really think I would have taken you if I feared your so-called master? I have a healthy respect for his sire, of course, but that hardly extends to Alexander. I'm not impressed by his party trick of enchanting a room of weak-minded thralls."

As much as Fitz truly did believe in Alexander, he couldn't help starting to be worried. What if he wasn't found in time? What if Edgar's confidence was warranted? Feeling that Edgar was behind him, he opened his eyes just enough to see where he was. Through blurry vision he could see an opulent drawing room. It looked like many of the parlors he had spent his youth around -- ostentatious, full of wealthy objects with no particular meaning other than bragging rights, resisting any personal touch that would make it look as if people lived there.

"I'm sure your master will like you better once I've tamed you," said Edgar. "Ah, you've opened your eyes. Are you ready to accept your place?"

Fitz screwed his eyes shut again. "My place is with Alexander, sir."

"Oh, then I suppose you'd prefer if I enthralled you like he does, with a little song." Edgar sang a lullaby into Fitz's other ear. "Go to sleep, don't resist, you will obey, sweet little thrall…"

His voice was nowhere near as enchanting as Lex's, but it held enough hypnotic power that Fitz felt his mind begin to fuzz against his will.

"Ugh, how long is this going to take? It'd be faster if you just erased him," Jameson complained.

"I'll take as long as I please mesmerizing this thrall to my standards. It's truly a shame you can't appreciate the unparalleled joy of breaking in a willful thing like this. But if you're that bored, feel free to help yourself to one of the cigars on the side table."

"Don't mind if I do."

"And as for you, boy, you're going to open your eyes while I talk to you."

"The hell I will, sir," Fitz scoffed.

"That was a command, not a request." Fingers snapped next to Fitz's ear. "Open your eyes. Focus."

His eyelids flew open, and to his momentary relief, he wasn't looking into Edgar's eyes. Instead, he was staring straight into a golden pocketwatch with ornate carvings of flowers and birds, perfectly polished glass, smooth mechanisms, and a quiet, rhythmic tick-tock.

"Focus," Edgar said again as the watch began to sway before his eyes. The movement was slow. Heavy. Fitz couldn't stop himself from following it, couldn't tear himself away. A weak protest died in his throat.

"Yes, that's it, watch the pocket watch as it swings back and forth… back and forth…" Edgar's voice seemed more mesmeric now, dangerously so. "You long for a taste of power. You crave obedience. I can see it written on your face. You'll be a good boy and focus now."

He needed to look anywhere but this, needed to ignore Edgar's words dripping into his ear like honey.

"Every slow swing of the watch draws you deeper into my control. Every slow swing of the watch draws you deeper into obedience." The watch swung to the left. "Deep." Right. "Mindless." Left. "Obedience." Right.

"No… stop…" He could feel the trance taking hold as his eyes helplessly swept back and forth.

"Deep, mindless obedience. The obedience you need, the obedience you crave. A perfect, submissive thrall, eager to serve my every whim. Everything is slipping further and further away. Your mind will sleep deeply in my will, and you will obey without question."

Fitz struggled again, trying to keep the words from sinking in. He imagined himself, blank and empty-eyed, kneeling at this vampire's feet. He imagined Lex coming to rescue him, finding him in this embarrassing, compromised state. And for a fleeting moment he imagined Lex approving of it, bringing him back home to be a handsome ornament in his library, Fitz fawning helplessly over his master --

"That's it, boy, keep watching and listening. You know very well that you're just a silly little thing who craves the guidance of a strong and dominant hand. You often make poor decisions, don't you?"

"No, sir," Fitz objected, even though he felt Edgar was more than a little correct. The watch looked so heavy as it swayed in front of his face. His eyelids felt heavy, too, and it was becoming so hard to think.

"Oh, I think you do. I think your impulsiveness and foolishness was on full display for everyone when you shamed yourself in front of Lord Jameson here," said Edgar, still swinging the watch in perfect rhythm. "Wouldn't it be so much easier to let a superior mind make those decisions for you? You can let go, and let your mind sleep, and obey without question. Don't you want to serve?"

"I… want…"

"Yes, that's it."

"I… only want… to serve… Lex," Fitz managed. Something stirred in him, a spark of defiance lighting his way before he was swallowed by the dark. He didn't want to provide for or obey anyone but Lex, he knew that for certain. That was where he truly belonged, and no mere pocket watch could change that. The realization washed over him like waves crashing against the shore, and he opened his eyes fully, forcing his gaze away from the fatal watch.

"Ha! You see, you can't even control him properly," Jameson crowed.

Edgar wasn't remotely fazed. "He's a bit stubborn. It's a good sign. Stubborn ones always fall so much harder once they're brought to heel." He stroked Fitz's cheek with his hand even as Fitz flinched away. "Tired of fighting, exhausted from making decisions. The stubborn ones only resist because they're frightened of how badly they crave the obedience. This boy is no exception."

The gentle hand suddenly grabbed Fitz's chin and wrenched his face upwards. "Focus," he hissed, and Fitz was staring into his eyes again, twin pools of darkness. "Deep into my eyes. Deep into obedience. No more resistance now, no more fighting. Your thoughts are too slow, heavy, and docile. You've already sunk too deep into trance."

Fitz tried to shake his head, to look elsewhere or close his eyes, but he was trapped in Edgar's gaze, his powers slowly but surely draining Fitz of his willpower, returning him right back to entrancement.

"Yes, that's right, no need to fight. Only obedience and submission now. You will submit to me. Say it."

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I will submit to you, sir."

"You will obey me."

"…I will obey you, sir."

"You're completely under my control."

"I…"

"Say it, boy." Edgar's eyes sparkled with malicious glee.

"I'm completely under your control, sir," said Fitz, eyelids drooping and voice growing dull.

"Good, very good boy. Now repeat that as you become drowsy and docile."

"I will submit to you, sir. I will obey you, sir. I'm completely under your control, sir," said Fitz, helpless to stop himself, the words becoming more true as he spoke them. "I will submit to you, sir. I will obey you, sir. I'm completely under your control, sir…" His eyelids were closing down, down, down, as he reinforced his own hypnotized state.

"Sleep, now," said Edgar. "Sleep and submit to my will. Sleep and receive the precious gift of my command. Sleep and fall into a dream of docility. Sleep."

"I will… sleep… sir…" Fitz muttered as his eyes closed and his head pitched forward. He struggled for one more fruitless moment before his consciousness fell into an abyss.

"Very good, thrall. And now you don't need to think any more. All you need to do is listen."

Fitz felt Edgar sit down next to him and whisper into his ear, but he was too deeply hypnotized to do anything but absorb his suggestions and commands.

"…two, you will open your eyes but remain deeply entranced. And on three, open your eyes and obey."

Fitz's heavy eyes blinked open easily. He felt strange, his head foggy. It was hard to think. The room he was in looked familiar, but he couldn't remember what it was or why he was here. He stretched his wrists, which felt oddly stiff, as did his legs.

"Ahem."

Fitz looked up to see a vampire in a sharp suit, lounging imperiously on an overstuffed armchair, and he was consumed with the deep need to serve, to do anything he commanded. The small tug of wrongness in his thoughts was snuffed out as Lord Edgar beckoned him forward, and Fitz felt himself falling to his knees in front of this strong, powerful vampire. His superior.

Lord Edgar reached forward and pet his head with a condescending smile. "There you go. Don't you feel so much better?"

"Yes, sir." It would be easy and effortless to serve. There was nothing he wanted more. And those vague, nagging thoughts he had were difficult to focus on and hurt his head. This vampire would do the thinking for him, as was his right.

"Such a good little thrall. So calm and obedient. Not a scrap of fight left in you. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir," said Fitz, swallowing hard as he looked into Lord Edgar's captivating eyes.

"Do you see now, Jameson? He's so much more agreeable like this. With a little time and conditioning, he'll be a masterpiece."

Jameson scoffed. "If you say so. Of course this is an improvement, but I still think he'd be better erased."

"And that's why quality thralls are wasted on you." Lord Edgar pet Fitz with a gesture that might have seemed affectionate if not for the malice in his eyes and smile. "Hm, how shall I have you serve me? Why don't you polish my shoes?"

Lord Edgar tossed a little black bag at Fitz, who fumbled it in his dazed state. He picked it up and opening it, revealing shoe polish, a horsehair brush, and several cloths. Pleased to have been given a task by a vampire, he got straight to work brushing the dust and dirt off from every crevice of Lord Edgar's exquisite dress shoes.

"Don't you dare miss a spot," said Lord Edgar with amusement as Fitz began to rub the polish in, treating the vampire's shoes with more care than he had ever treated his own.

"I'm finished, sir," he said meekly, once the shoes were shining bright enough to show Fitz his reflection.

"Passable work," said Lord Edgar. "Now you can be my footstool. I expect your former master will be here any minute. Don't you want him to see what a good, obedient thrall you are?"

Fitz's face burned with both shame and pleasure as he got on all fours in front of Lord Edgar's chair, allowing the vampire to prop his feet on his back. The thought of Lex -- a powerful vampire, his superior, his true master -- seeing him reduced to this state…

He hoped that Lex would approve of how well he could serve.

As it turned out, Fitz didn't have to wait long. Just as his hands were becoming sore from pressing into the floor, the door to the drawing room was flung open, and a familiar feeling swept over him like a rush of water. Fitz craned his neck to see Lex standing there, ringed in fury.

"Finally, there you are. Come to collect your trash?" said Jameson.

"Now, now, this thrall certainly isn't trash. He just needed some fixing." Lord Edgar bent down and pet Fitz's head as he would a dog. "Do you like what I've done to him, Alexander?"

"Get your hands off of my thrall immediately. This is your only warning." Lex's voice was a low rumble of thunder, a storm brewing over the ocean.

"Oh, dear, I don't think I can do that. I've already become quite fond of him. I don't think I could in good conscience release this thrall to someone who doesn't take proper care of him."

Lord Edgar lifted his feet off of Fitz and beckoned him upwards. As if floating, Fitz found himself rising back into a kneel. "In my lap, thrall." Fitz helplessly rested his head on Lord Edgar's lap, allowing the vampire to caress him gently.

"What have you done to him?" Lex demanded. "Fitz, are you all right? What has he done to you?"

"I --" Fitz started.

"I molded him into a better thrall, as you can very well see," said Edgar. "Of course, this is just the beginning of his necessary conditioning, but you can see how well he's already taken to it. All of this time, you've been depriving this poor thrall of the control he truly needs. I'm doing both of you a favor."

"I did warn you." Lex pulled out a silver knife that gleamed in the flickering gaslight.

"Come now, even you're smarter than that. I have your precious thrall entirely in my grasp. If you even consider attacking me -- well, you wouldn't want something to happen to Fitz here, would you?" Lord Edgar tilted Fitz's chin up to look at him. "You don't want Alexander to do something he'll regret, do you?"

"No, sir."

"So I thought. Now why don't you put the knife down and --"

There was a flash of light and a horrible wet sound, and cold, inky blood was gushing down Edgar's front and soaking his shirt, dripping onto Fitz. Fitz looked up to see the silver knife sticking out of Edgar's right eye, as the vampire gasped and choked. Lex was still on the other side of the room, and Fitz realized that he must have thrown the knife with pinpoint precision.

"Hell!" Jameson cried, leaping from his seat, a second silver knife narrowly missing him.

Edgar slumped over almost on top of Fitz, and Fitz felt his mind begin to clear a bit. As he tried to shake himself free, he felt something tickle his ankles, and let out an undignified scream as he saw a swarm of rats swirling around him. Rats were filling the room, almost thick enough on the ground that he couldn't see the carpet, climbing his pant legs. They were everywhere, squirming and chittering, climbing Edgar's legs and up the chair. The gaslight was reflected in their beady eyes as they crawled closer to Fitz's face.

"Fitz!" Lex cried out. "You --"

"Come any closer to me," said Jameson, "and my rats are going to eat your thrall's eyes."

Any bravery Fitz had mustered was out the window as he tried to scramble away from the rats to no avail. They were clinging to his shirt, clawing steadily upward.

Lex hesitated, and that was enough for Jameson to kick him square in the chest, sending him reeling backwards into a curio. Ceramic ornaments shattered against Lex's body, covering him in shards. Before he could get back to his feet, Jameson had grabbed him by the front of his shirt, delivering blow upon blow to his face.

Fitz tried to get up and help, but he was still dizzy from enthrallment and adrenaline and the rats were all over him. He couldn't see what was happening. He could only hear awful noises, catch a flash of movement out of the side of his eye. The rats were everywhere, and he couldn't help but shut his eyes in a futile attempt to protect himself. There was a shout, and then an eerie silence, and Fitz thought his heart would burst from anticipation.

"Shoo! Get away!" It was Lex, drawing closer. The sound and smell of rats began to recede, and Fitz cautiously opened his eyes again. He was hauled upright into strong arms, and there was Lex, his handsome face a bruised and bloody mess. "Fitz, are you hurt?"

Fitz couldn't help but laugh to keep himself from crying. "How can you even ask me that, when you're…"

"I've had worse. It will heal."

Fitz could see Jameson on the ground, bleeding from multiple wounds including a nasty gash across his stomach. He grew lightheaded, and thought he might faint or vomit or both.

"Easy, I've got you," said Lex, gathering Fitz up into his arms and letting him rest his head on his shoulder. His grip was too tight. "They took you, I can't believe they took you and touched you and --"

"Did you kill them?"

"No. I'd have to put the silver knife in their hearts for that," he said. "A certain amount of violence is accepted in vampire society. This incident will blow over, particularly since neither Edgar nor Jameson will want the story to circulate. But killing other vampires, particularly powerful ones… Edgar's friends and allies would never rest until I'd been taken out."

"I see," Fitz said shakily, ashamed that he was so weak, that Lex had seen him happily serving as the footrest of a different vampire. "Lex, I…"

"He got in your head," said Lex, furiously. "What did he do to you?"

"Lord -- I mean Edgar mesmerized me. He made me obey him, and… well, you saw the results. I should have fought it harder, I should have --"

"No, it isn't your fault. As conditioned as you are, I wouldn't expect you to be able to hold out against Edgar's power. You did the best you could. I have no doubt." Lex's eyes were terrifying. "Stabbing him in the eye is too good for him. I should teach him a lesson he'll never forget. I should…"

The tension in Fitz's chest was rising. "…We should have left the ball when I got myself into trouble the first time. I thought I could handle it, and now you're…"

"I'm not upset with you, Fitz. I'm upset with myself. I should have kept closer watch on you. I didn't expect them to steal you in the middle of the crowd, during the dance… the sheer audacity of it."

"I should have been able to take care of myself!"

"You can't fully protect yourself against vampires, no matter how clever you are. No human can. That's why I'm the one who is meant to protect you, and I failed," said Lex, drawing Fitz even closer, so that he could hardly even breathe. Fitz could smell Lex's blood, but also his familiar scent of woodsmoke and book bindings, and he was suddenly so exhausted. He couldn't keep himself from collapsing into Lex's embrace, kissing him softly on his neck.

"Fitz. My Fitz," Lex murmured into his ear. "I should've never allowed anyone but me to lay hands on you."

Fitz felt so utterly vulnerable. He'd been so easily subdued by Edgar's spell, his mind so willing to go along with the idea of a strong vampire taking over his difficult decisions. Was that truly all mesmerism, or something deep within him?

If it had been Lex coaxing him into his lap and caressing him like a pampered dog…

"Ugh, my sire is surely going to hear about this," Lex was muttering to himself. "Edgar won't want it spread around, but my sire find out anyway, with so many partygoers. I'm going to need to speed up my acquisition of hunters, possibly take a risk…"

Fitz no longer felt comfortable with himself. He'd been fooling himself to think that he and Lex were equals, that Fitz could easily handle whatever the supernatural world had to throw at him. Now he knew that he'd been nothing more but a naive lamb among the wolves, only allowed to frolic at their mercy. Edgar could have taken his entire mind so easily, had Lex not intervened; Lex could take his mind whenever he wanted, and Fitz might not even realize it.

The words of the first strange vampire he danced with bubbled up in his mind. It's just the cutest thing when vampires let their thralls think they're so independent.

He hadn't tried to escape since arriving at the manor. He spent his evenings fawning over Lex, trying to get his master's attention, and anticipating feedings. He slept soundly in his master's bed each day. He rarely even thought of the stage.

He was losing himself among the vampires.

"Are you still under his spell? You have a strange look on your face," said Lex. "Even if you weren't enthralled long, it still may take some time to wear off. I'll make sure it's all washed out of your head when we get home."

More enthrallment, more control, and Fitz did crave it, just as Edgar had said. Exhausted as he was, he craved the peace and bliss of Lex's song more than anything. He knew as soon as Lex opened his mouth to sing, he'd fall completely for its spell, floating in a deep trance where Lex's words were the only thing that mattered, and he wanted it.

"Fitz? Let's go home, okay?"

Fitz nodded. "Yes, sir."

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Next week: the vampire hunter who defies all vampires.

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