#so this was a new experience back a month ago lol

[britneyshakespeare]

without doubt one of the worst things about bratz dolls is that you cannot display them without shoes bc they look weird as fuck. stumpy ass bitches

[clownattack]

Listening to OzMedia talk abt Illuminaughti on stream and its crazy how close to home it hits when he describes blaires behavior. Like 1:1 to how crinkle acted. Something abt a toddler being caught trying to open a cookie jar, turning around and telling you they'll forgive you for the accusation if you let them open the cookie jar. Also good thoughts on being stuck in a fantasy world.

[pomefioredove]

need overblot boys with epel, and floyd with a reader that randomly lore drops as if they're an old dad like "yeah lol my old school had a shooting once....anyways *SNOREE*" and when asked they just agree and walk away and never elaborate whatsoever💀 if you feel uncomfortable feel free to delete or ignore‼️love ya pookie💥

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a reader with a backstory

I got u 🫡🫡

summary: wacky reader lore type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, vil, epel, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

you find new ways to raise Riddle's blood pressure every day

little guy is worried enough as it is

you've already got your school work, taking care of Ramshackle, taking care of Grim, taking care of all the other freshmen, taking care of-

well... you get it

the last thing he needs is to hear another one of your stories

"oh, yeah, that's like the time I got stabbed"

"????? WHAT??"

what's entertaining to you and ADeuce is mortifying to Riddle

if you're not careful you'll end up sleeping on the floor in his room

where he can keep a close eye on you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you're like Leona's little court jester

and he takes you with him everywhere

it's not easy to get a genuine laugh out of him, after all

besides, what's so bad about a little dark humor? it's not like you died or anything

he knows you're a resilient little thing

and you seem to love telling him about "that time you crawled into a drainage pipe", anyway

you make him laugh; he likes you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul indulges you

his white noise machine stopped working last month and you make for excellent background ambience

so, he lets you talk yourself in circles about your school work, your friends, Grim, Grim again

and then you drop the most HEINOUS bombshells in the middle

"blah blah blah Grim, blah blah Crowley, blah blah, that one time I got lost in the woods for a day, blah blah-"

he loses his train of thought every time

now, Floyd is the complete opposite

he will hyperfocus on the most mundane details

and ignore the bombshells

will give you an, "oh, that's cool" to your ghost story but will find you the pair of socks you mentioned liking three months ago

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil is just fascinated by you

you as a person, of course

but also the fact that you're still alive

one night, he's explaining the reason he makes all of Kalim's food and you're like

"oh, yeah, I get it. I got mold poisoning once and hallucinated for a week"

?????

then you go right back to asking him about the recipe

sitting on the counter, as happy as could be

"HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!!!"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is used to this

he knows that look on your face

he will shush you with a finger to your lips before you even start

"don't tell me, I'm stressed enough as it is"

he's going to break out if you keep at it

he finds you quite... macabre

which is entertaining until he sees you going down a flight of stairs without holding onto the railing and remembers all those stories you'd told him

he's just... concerned for you, that's all

and he does NOT appreciate Epel for encouraging it

"tell us more about the time you fell down that hill into that pile of rocks, Prefect!"

:D

like a kid in a candy store

learning new Lore is like the highlight of his week

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"talk about having a high luck stat..."

Idia is more entertained than anything

he thought these kinds of things only happened in anime, but...

...there you are

it sounds like you experience more in a single month than he has in his whole life

and you know what?

GOOD

you can keep your freaky real-world experiences!

he'll just live vicariously through you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he's been putting so much effort into learning and blending with human culture, and now here you are with your terrifying stories

you tell him in such earnest, too

you seem so... unbothered by it

perhaps humans are less fragile than he thought?

of course, he shouldn't have underestimated you in the first place :)!

then you come over for dinner one night

"hahah, yeah, last time I was at someone's house their grandma threw a lamp at my head and I got a concussion"

Silver and Sebek both go >_>

Lilia goes <_<

and then Malleus is there like, "ah, another fascinating tale :)"

[highprettybabyy]

Pregnancy Problems

pregnant!wanda x servicetop g!p r

summary: wanda experiences some issues during the pregnancy, but you’re always happy to help

Warnings: SMUT! also lotta fluff, morning sickness, swearing, self image issues, body dysmorphia, face sitting (r receiving), lots of praising, petnames, cunnilingus (w receiving), (slight) overstimulation, crying during sex (from how good it feels/overstimulation), fingering (w receiving), creampie/breeding kink, reader has a penis

AN: Wanda and R are married + please be mindful, im not experienced in writing, let alone writing smut lol

word count: 5k

—//—

Wanda was about 2 months along by now, the hellish start of the morning sickness phase. It was 4 in the morning when the little ones made a fuss, Wanda immediately being forced out of the warm cocoon you had created with the sheets to run to the bathroom. She nearly missed the bowl when everything that was in her stomach violently came out.

This was becoming a nightly habit, one that was really fucking with her mentally and physically. Since two weeks ago she's been sleeping horribly. Some mornings were fine, she’d only have a slight stomach ache, and some were worse, like this one, where she would probably stay in the bathroom until high noon.

She had given up on waking you at every slight issue. You were always pleased to help, offering reassurance and comfort as she needed it, but she thought that there was no reason for you both to lose sleep over this. However, that didn’t stop your stubborn ass from finding her on the bathroom floor, softly pulling her hair into a ponytail and slowly running comforting circles on her back while you whispered reassurances and praise.

She ended up having a very long morning, the sun having already come up while she was still emptying her stomach contents into the bowl. You had grabbed her water, massaged her shoulders, cleaned her face with a damp cloth, changed her into new clothes, and asked if she wanted to try eating something. She declined but knew that you would ask her hourly at the minimum, stating that she is growing a whole human inside of her and needs enough energy and calories to do so.

The afternoon rolled around when Wanda started feeling a tad better. You were able to move from the bathroom to the couch, huddled next to each other watching sitcoms, Wanda laid sideways in your lap as you ran a comforting hand wherever you could reach, mostly massaging her scalp and neck. There was a large mixing bowl on the table in front of you, just in case something were to happen, but Wanda had not thrown up in a while by now so hopefully the worst had passed.

“Baby?” You asked, fingers still running through gorgeous auburn locks. “Hmmm” The witch answered, shifting her eyes away from the television to look at you. “Can I make you some tea? And do you feel like trying to eat something now or do we need to wait a little longer?”

Wanda saw the look in your eyes, the one where all your anxieties bubbled to the surface, scared that somehow Wanda would collapse from malnutrition and sleep deprivation or other things. She really, really did not feel like eating something, but you've been knawing at the inside of your cheek for the past 15 minutes and she was getting scared you'd chew a hole through.

"I'd actually love some tea, thank you detka." You perked up as Wanda lifted her head from the comfortable position on your lap so you could get up. You gave her a quick peck on the lips before basically sprinting to the kitchen to make her beloved tea with extra honey.

While the kettle was heating up the water, tea bag and honey already in her favourite mug, you were scavenging the kitchen for possible snacks. You grabbed a big plate to hold all the various items of food. You didn't know what she would be in the mood for, so you settled on half the kitchen. A couple of grapes, half of a banana, some chocolate chips, a dollop of peanut butter, a few popcorn kernels, some crackers, pretzels, blueberries, and of course a single dill pickle.

After everything was done you returned to your darling Wanda on the couch. "What's all this Y/N/N?" Wanda's eyes flew open when she saw the plate. "Just a little snack if you wanted something.. Here's your tea love." Wanda grabbed the mug from you with a smile as you put the plate down in front of her. You weren't going to force her (yet) but this way she would have the option if she wanted to.

You sat down next to her again and kissed her temple, arm wrapped snug around your wife as she laid her head on your shoulder. Wanda pretended to not have noticed your internal exclamation of joy when she silently sipped her tea and ate a single cracker.

-

Wanda was crying again as she tried on her sweatpants, which would not fit anymore. She was 5 months pregnant now with your beautiful twin boys and her hormones were going absolutely haywire. One second she was so happy and radiant, the next furious and bawling her eyes out.

"Y/N they won't fit anymore, I've become a giant cow, how could you ever love me like this??" She sobbed in front of the mirror. Upon hearing her words you quickly sprinted to her. "Baby no, don't say that you are beautiful just the way you are. You are carrying our babies Wanda, that's no simple job, your body is just adjusting to the change that's all.." You were really hoping you said the right thing, you didn't want to upset her further, but when she suddenly looked at you with anger in her eyes, you flinched away momentarily.

She pointed her finger at you, poking your chest. "Youuu. You did this to me! With your stupid charming face, and those stupid beautiful fucking eyes, and your stupid caring personality!" You did not know whether to be scared or happy. She was complimenting you but she was also angry. "I'm sorry Wanda"

"God, this is exactly what I mean, you absolute doofus!" Wanda was still angry, having crossed her arms and puffing out whilst she stood there almost half naked in front of you. But those y/e/c eyes just looked at her with guilt and concern.

"You are so fucking frustrating sometimes Y/N" She muttered as she slammed her lips against yours, devouring you. You immediately returned the gesture, grabbing her waist to pull her closer to you, then fully wrapping your arms around the shorter woman, enveloping her completely in your embrace. You were really possessive of her lately, not that you'd ever show it besides small gestures like this, but Wanda was enjoying every second of it.

Wanda moaned into your mouth and every passing second you could feel your pants getting tighter and tighter as she tried grinding against you. "Please, please Y/N." She begged between kisses, overwhelmed with a sudden desperation for you. "Pleaaaseeeehh" She whined out. "What baby love, tell me what you want gorgeous." You breathed out, starting to attack her neck with your lips. "Anything, give me anything and everything, pleaseee Y/N - please"

Your eyes darkened upon hearing her words, "Yeah, you'd let me do anything and everything?" Wanda grabbed your face, nodding while kissing you, "Please"

You walked backwards until you felt the back of your bed, falling down and (carefully) bringing Wanda down with you, your lips never leaving her. Wanda straddled you, bringing her hips down to grind down on the enormous tent in your pants, which caused you to let out a strangled moan. "You wanna ride me baby, how bout you ride my face first?"

Wanda slowed down at that, "No, I'd crush you." You looked at her as sternly as you could (which wasn't all that intimidating tbh) "If you really don't want to, that's ok, but if you're only hesitant because you think I'd suffer? Honey, I could never suffer between your legs, that would probably be the most ideal way to go, I'd already be in heaven -" Wanda rolled her eyes and shoved her tongue in your mouth to shut you up. "Fine." She huffed. "But tell me if you can't handle it anymore."

You smirked, but bit your tongue and simply nodded as an answer, stroking her sides and upper thighs to work her back up again, which worked amazingly as Wanda desperately moaned in your mouth. You laid down and gently pushed her up towards your face until you were looking at her black panties. You decided it would be too tedious to pull them down now, so you pushed them to the side as you bewondered the sight above you.

You softly moaned as you spread her open, seeing the arousal leak out and everywhere, running your thumb every so lightly across her clit. "Oh baby you don't even know how gorgeous you are, just look at this oh my g-" Too impatient to complete your sentence you simultaneously lifted your head while pulling Wanda down harshly, your head falling back on the bed as you forced Wanda all the way down on your face.

"Aaah- ah - ah- oh! oooh" Wanda was a sputtering, moaning mess, your tongue ravaging her completely, running through her folds, inner thighs, everywhere you could reach. Wanda was having a hard time keeping her stability, legs jerking around your head, only still upright by strong arms locking her into position. Even though she was pretty sure you hadn't taken a breath since the start of your assault, Wanda felt like you were suffocating her with how unrelenting you were. She could almost let out a sob, until you finally took a breath. Wanda gasped and moved her hands to her breasts, tugging at the hardened nips.

You took a deep breath "God Wands.. You taste so sweet baby. So good baby, only for me." You groaned out. You held her up a bit as you dragged your thumb through her folds, spreading them lightly. "Look at this perfect pretty pussy, hmm?" Wanda couldn't stop herself from moaning at your words, almost screaming when you slipped your middle finger in her, falling forward on the bed, catching herself on her hands.

You quickly added a second digit after you felt how hard she was clenching around you. Wanda was almost crying at the sensations. You were moving your fingers rapidly now, sloshing sounds resonating through the room, meanwhile softly biting at her thighs, your free hand reaching up to tug at her nipple. Wanda let out a sob. "Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me gorgeous?"

She nodded, high whines leaving her throat. The tight knot in her lower belly ready to snap at any moment. You quickly placed your thumb on her clit and rubbed tight circles. "Then cum for me princess." Wanda white-knuckled the sheets as she let out a silent scream, legs jerking in tandem from the cum pulsing out of her pussy. She was breathing heavily as she rode out her orgasm, your fingers moving lightly to prolong the feeling.

As Wanda began calming down, you pulled your fingers out and sucked them clean of her juices. Before she could even protest, you pulled her back down again to reseat her on your mouth, immediately starting an unrelenting assault on her sensitive clit. She cried, involuntarily trying to get away, but your grip was far too strong, a tear slipping from her eye at the overstimulation. "Sorry baby, you're so messy, I gotta clean you up."

She quickly passed the threshold of her second orgasm of the evening, you moving from between her legs to lay beside her. You put your left arm around her, pulling her close into you as you ran your other hand over her t-shirt-clad back, trying to calm her down further. "Baby you did so good, so so well for me." Wanda shuddered a bit, placing kisses on your shoulder and upper jaw to assure you that she's ok."

After a while her breathing calmed and she tries to shuffle closer, but her bump gets in the way. So she huffs and rolls over whilst holding your arm to pull it around her. You immediately catch onto her antics, fulfilling her wish and squeezing her tightly. She shuffles closer to you, hips wiggling backwards, as they brush against something hard.

You let out a soft groan and she immediately turned her head, seemingly forgotten that you didn't cum. Your eyes met and you grabbed her jaw to kiss her deeply, both eventually losing your breath. "You didn't cum Y/N?" She breathed out. You chuckled and nuzzled her nose slightly with yours, "I didn't need to, the sight of your pretty pussy rubbing on my tongue was plenty of satisfaction", you finished with a peck on her lips. Like magic, Wanda was furiously turned on again. Eyes hazing over while her lips formed into a pout.

"Please fuck me, Y/N? I need it." You let out a low breath, eyes darkening at her words. "God Wands" You pulled her underwear down to her knees, content leaving it there at the moment, basically locking them in place. The tightness in your pants was almost cutting off circulation, pulling your pants and underwear down slightly to finally free yourself from the fabric prison. You grabbed your cock, giving it some attention and prepping yourself with precum.

"You have no idea what you do to me." You dragged your tip through her soaking folds, lubing your cock with her cum, before entering her. She gasped and reached her hand backwards to entangle in your hair. You groaned, breathing heavily as you resisted from pounding into her, slightly concerned for the babies. She scratched at your scalp lightly to signal that you could move.

You pulled your hips back, before thrusting them forward again, repeating the motion and grunting at each movement. Wanda was moaning too, letting out high wines occasionally, pulling at the roots of your hair. Your little gasps of air in her ear were really turning her on and the feeling of your large cock filling her up was heavenly. You wrapped around her further and reached your hands around to grab at her chest, playing with Wanda’s nipples as you started fucking into your wife faster.

"I'm yours." You grunted. "Say it." Wanda was slightly confused but complied nonetheless "You're mine." "That's right, I'm yours." You went faster and faster, the tight knot in Wanda's stomach tightening rapidly. "Mine." Wanda gasped out. "My pretty wife." You raked your nails lightly across her belly, goosebumps appearing all over her body, before tugging at one of her nipples suddenly. "Ah!"

"Say it. You're my pretty wife." She was almost turning incoherent from how good you were fucking her. "Yo-r prtty wife" You kissed her neck. "You're gorgeous." "I'm gorg-us" You bit at the junction of her neck and shoulder "You're kind." "I'm kind." You trailed your hand down, rubbing her lower belly. "You're compassionate." "'m compass-nate" Before finally settling on her clit, rubbing tight circles again. "You're perfect." "I-I- ah 'm perfECT" she screamed out as she came again, cum creaming around your cock, clenching you so tight that you also came - deep inside of her.

You groaned out " - yeah you are." Slowly fucking your cum back inside of her. You breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of her conditioner and perfume. Hands moving back up to massage at her ribs. "One more, you got one more for me. You're doing so good gorgeous, one more." You said, moving her into a doggy style position, legs spread wide as she accompanied her pregnant belly in this position.

You were entranced at the sight, cum slowly dripping out of her puffy cunt, hole still pulsating from her last orgasm. "So so pretty for me." You lined yourself up again and thrusted in straightaway, fucking her at an impossible pace. Wanda couldn't hold herself up anymore, her face lying on the bed with her arms crossed in front of her as you pounded into her.

"My pretty, gorgeous, kind, compassionate wife." You lifted your knee up to fuck into her deeper. "So perfect for me yeah" Wanda was left an incoherent blabbering mess, tears stained her cheeks out of overstimulation as you thrusted into her. Yet again she felt the familiar coil tightening, snapping when you told her that you loved her. "I love you Wanda, - I love you, love you, god"

You came deep inside of her again, basically putting another baby in her. She felt so, so full, your cock still inside of her, your cum filling her to the brim, slowly moving back and forth to prolong her orgasm. Eventually you pulled out of her slowly and flipped her on her back. Wanda was sure that your hunger would have been finished by now, but the way your gaze fixated on the cum slowly leaking out of her pussy told her enough.

You looked into her gorgeous green eyes and kissed her softly. "Can I clean you up, baby?" You both knew it was a question whether Wanda could handle another orgasm without passing out, you 'cleaning her up' always ended like that, your tongue as deep as you could in Wanda, listening to her pretty breaths and moans. You were completely insatiable when it came to her. Wanda pulled your face close to hers kissing you while nodding. "Just be gentle now ok? I don't think I can walk again after how you fucked me."

You smiled and nodded, kissing everywhere you could as you started descending towards her pussy. You especially took time in kissing her stretch marks, thankful for the torture her body went through because of pregnancy.

You wrapped your arms around her thighs again, locking her in place, as you delicately started cleaning her up. You licked all the arousal off of her thighs, around her lips, with a featherlight touch. She gasped when you ran your tongue between her folds, dipping down slightly to lick up all the cum, before moving up again and stopping just before her clit. You skilfully cleaned her up, leaving nothing but your saliva behind. Eventually you ever so lightly started including her clit in the process.

Wanda felt like she was floating. She was on a very tall rollercoaster and the cart was slowly moving up. She was in one of those dreams where you know you're about to fall if you dreamt on for a few more seconds.

It all caught her by surprise. Flattening your tongue and putting down just a tad more pressure. She exploded. The cart dropped off the cliff. She was convulsing beyond her understanding, as she laid there, taking anything and everything you gave her. Her legs were fully shaking, entire body trembling in aftershocks of the holy experience you just gave her. She started seeing spots and then promptly passed out.

-

When she awoke a while later, she was already clad in soft pyjamas, pressed tightly against your chest as you held her close, a water bottle, reeses peanut butter cup, and a sliced pear on the nightstand in front of her. You were nuzzling your nose against her hair, breathing in the coconut and distinct smell of Wanda, arms around her body, one of them holding your babies. She moved her hand to hold yours, signalling that she was awake.

"Hi baby, how are you feeling?" You asked her. "Tired." She let out with a chuckle. "Was I too rough with you? Are the babies ok?" Wanda rolled her eyes lightly, you asked this every time, granted this time was just a tad bit more unhinged, but still. "You were perfect." She muttered out, feeling you smile against the back of her head as you pulled her just a bit tighter to you.

"I love you Wands."

"I love you too Y/N."

-

It was officially the stage where you were a panicked mess and Wanda felt the need to nest, reorganising the entire house 3 times over while you were stressed out in the corner watching her because you weren’t allowed to help. Occasionally you managed to convince the stubborn woman to let you take out the garbage, or lift the heavy stuff, but most of the time you were shut down and told to get out of her way.

She was working in the nursery now, having went through every single room in the house already, when she decided that some new accessories were needed, like a table lamp and another rug. You were in your office with the door open, fingers tapping away at the keyboard as you answered a few mails, when your gorgeous wife appeared in the doorway.

“Hi baby, how’s the nursery coming along?” You asked as you got up to greet Wanda with a hug and kiss. “I’m on track, was thinking about getting a lamp and another rug.” “Hmm, another rug?” You questioned, there were already 2 in the room, one underneath each bassinet. “Yeah, one for underneath the rocking chair, next to the bookcase? It would tie it all together, I’m sure, however I’m still on the fence about the colour..”

“How about a forest green? It would match with the other rugs and tie the theme together?” You and Wanda decided on a forest theme for the nursery, you picked out a lovely wallpaper that resembled trees, the colours in the room ranged from green to brown to a golden orange. Hand-carved wooden animals were presented on the shelves that hung beside the large oak dresser, beautiful gifts from Yelena and Natasha that they gifted you when they found out you were expecting. They carved them from the wood from the tree where you and Wanda often went on dates underneath when you still lived at the compound. You cried when they explained it to you. And later when you and Wanda placed them on the shelves, you were sure that they would be the best godmothers to your sons.

“But we already have so much green? I’m not sure..” Wanda dug herself in the crook of your neck and nuzzled the skin there. You kissed the side of her head and ran your hands over her tense back. “Then how about you get some inspiration from the store? You could walk around and see what you think would fit best? Take some pictures from the nursery so you can really visualise it better?” Wanda sighed and agreed, holding you tighter. “Alright, I’m going to the store then really quickly.”

“Can I join you?” You asked while you pulled back a bit. “Actually I wanted to ask you if you could secure the dresser to the wall more? I don’t think just 2 bolts for such a large dresser is safe, what if one of the little ones pushes it over?”

You smiled “Sure honey, anything else?” Wanda smiled up at you cheekily before playing with the drawstrings of your hoodie “Could you vacuum upstairs? If the dresser doesn’t take too long? Please?”

“Of course baby. I’ll try to get to that as well.” You smiled, running your thumbs over her cheeks. “Anything else?” Wanda nodded. “A kiss.” You laughed and pulled her in, fulfilling her wish.

“Alright, I’ll be back in an hour or two, hopefully the traffic isn’t too bad.” Wanda patted your chest while leaving your warm embrace. “Honey wait-!” You jogged after her, “Here.” giving her your wallet.

Wanda rolled her eyes playfully, having long lost this battle. You always insisted you paid for everything, only occasionally letting her when you forgot your wallet (Wanda would hide it before going out). You wanted her to feel secure and egotistically you wanted to be the financial provider. You wanted Wanda to have everything her heart and mind desired without her having to worry about her savings. Plus, the company you ran was really profitable, which allowed you to spend your earnings on your amazing wife who 100% deserves to be spoiled.

She took your wallet, pulling out your debit card. Wanda already had your credit card, but the debit card was designated for groceries and other smaller things. You keep forgetting to get a second one, but after all these years you hadn’t come across a good enough reason to make the trip to the bank, having gotten used to sharing the one.

Wanda leaned up to kiss you as a thanks, before you told her to drive safe and keep you updated while she was gone.

Securing the dresser took you less than 15 minutes, being handy and having a stud finder came in clutch. Vacuuming also didn’t take that long, Wanda having vacuumed that morning while she decided which room to tackle next. You decided that after such a long day a nice romantic dinner and a hot bubble bath would be excellent for your hard working wife.

You smiled, heading to the kitchen first. You rummaged through the fridge, freezer, cupboards, and pantry, letting the ingredients inspire you. An hour later, the nadivka was in the oven and the oxtail stew was simmering on the stove.

You cleaned up the kitchen, tidied up where else you could, decided to set up a little foot massage area at the couch. You were almost sure every chore in the house had been done before you put on FRIENDS and laid down on the couch. Two and a half hours had quickly gone by, before you heard the gravel crackle on the driveway, signalling you that your wife was home. You sprinted to the door to open it. A teary eyed and sleepy pregnant Wanda stood before you.

“Oh bubs, what’s wrong?” You stepped aside to let her in. “They didn’t have the right carpet, or lamp, and traffic sucks, and my feet hurt.” She put down her purse and reached to hug you, which you immediately reciprocated. “Oh I’m sorry, we could look online to see if you like anything?” “Wanda hummed into your chest before inhaling deeply. “Omg detka what’s that smell?” She pushed against your chest lightly, her nose taking her to the origin of the smell. “Malysh… Is that oxtail?? And nadivka?!” She could almost jump from excitement as you nodded, explaining the process. She interrupted you with a kiss. “You cannot believe how much I needed something like this Y/N/N”

You smiled. “I’m glad it made you happy, however the oxtail still needs half an hour, so how about we relax on the couch a bit?” Wanda grinned and grabbed your hand, looking back at you questioningly as she saw the lotion, towel and face mask. You didn’t say anything and just positioned her down on the couch. You lifted her feet, sat down, put the towel over your lap and then gently laid Wanda’s feet on your towel clad thighs.

You grabbed the lotion, before finally looking at your wife to see her looking back at you with all the love in the world. “I love you so much Y/N, but you know you don’t have to do all this for me, right?” You raised your eyebrow, “I know.. but I want to?” You lathered your hands, warming them up before gently massaging her feet.

“It’s just, you do so much. My friends from book club think I’m lying every time I tell them about you.” She laughed while explaining. “I mean, you still do more Wands. You’re creating 2 tiny humans inside of you, from basically nothing. Two little greedy and tiring babies, who take up space without asking and drain you from energy and nutrients. Literally the least I can do is help you and make you the tiniest bit more comfortable.” You explained softly, proceeding to rub out the knots in her feet and calves.

“How did I get so lucky Malyshka?”

“I ask myself that same question every time I look into your eyes, my love.”

-

The delivery was rough. Contractions started at 1 am, and she wasn’t fully dilated until 10 am the next day. You were by her side the entire time doing whatever you could to help. But eventually, Wanda managed to birth the two beautiful baby boys that have been torturing Wanda for the past 9 months.

The entire hospital stay was exhausting, people coming to visit, check-ups from nurses and doctors, the twins themselves.. Everyone was sweet, but you both could use some rest, so when you got home with two car seats in hand, you both took a deep breath in.

They were both sleeping, so you decided to let them as you carefully carried them upstairs, Wanda following with the monitor in hand. She plugged it in, positioned it, then took the receiver with her to the bedroom.

Wanda was exhausted and instantly fell asleep as her head hit the pillow. You followed her in and sat beside her, gently taking the receiver from her hand, stroking a strand of hair behind her ear and kissing her forehead before whispering “Thank you my love.” You took off her shoes and closed the blinds. You then quietly left the room and shut the door.

You unloaded the car, cleaned where you could, put gifts on the table to sort through when Wanda was awake, and changed the twins when they started fussing, taking them downstairs as they fully woke up. Wanda had pumped a lot in the hospital, so you took one of the evening packs to feed to Tommy and Billy.

The twins were fed, burped, and put back to bed by the time Wanda awoke from her 7 hour nap, looking to find you. She headed downstairs, following the soft glow from the candles you had lit after cleaning. You were on the couch feet propped under you, laptop open on the coffee table with a take-away restaurant list open, reading a parenting book while the baby monitor sat beside you on the couch.

Soft arms wrapped around you as Wanda placed a deep lingering kiss on your cheek, softly pecking a few times for good measure. Your voice was gravelly, exhaustion could clearly be heard, “I was thinking we’d order for dinner? If that’s alright with you? You can choose obviously.” Wanda nodded as she moved to lay beside you, picking up the monitor to place it next to the laptop. You placed a bookmark between the pages and moved it to the table, wrapping your arms around your wife as she laid her head on your chest.

“How about sushi?”

—//—

AN: hi pretty reader! hope you enjoyed it :)

<3

[fairyysoup]

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore. 

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?” 

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with. 

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.” 

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?” 

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.” 

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind. 

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open. 

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it. 

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter. 

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.” 

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look. 

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens. 

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies. 

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again. 

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible. 

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.” 

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?” 

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit. 

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.” 

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head. 

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat. 

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror. 

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it. 

Cocky bastard.  

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?” 

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places. 

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation. 

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.  

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for. 

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time. 

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back. 

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?” 

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?” 

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?” 

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right. 

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander. 

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all. 

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.” 

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.” 

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?” 

“Yeah, not too flashy.” 

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.” 

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up. 

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you. 

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven. 

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room. 

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.” 

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck. 

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh. 

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?” 

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.” 

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you. 

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat. 

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more. 

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather. 

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already. 

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same. 

“Good girl.” 

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume. 

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling. 

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.” 

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours. 

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.” 

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes. 

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs. 

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him. 

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down. 

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.” 

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it. 

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

[motherofdogs1010]

Of Messiahs and Seeds I (Dark!Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: Emperor Paul of House Atreides has set forth with expansion of his empire on the planets that have resisted and has now come across the last stronghold that resists him: Terra Millennium...

Warnings: eventual 18+, dark!fic, eventual forced marriage, eventual NONCON, eventual pregnancy, dark!Paul Atreides, more to come as story progresses

A/N: Reader is inspired by Daenarys Targaryen with dragons and Sailor Moon's Silver Crystal lol, so I hope you all enjoy!! Terra is similar to Earth, I imagined Lord York to be Tyrion Lannister so please picture that

😈 Dividers by @firefly-graphics 😈 Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part II

"Terra Millennium stands as a enomely in the universe for their rejection against the Empire", the hologram records said. "A two-century long battle was waged for the planet through the Great Houses yet the people won through the help of someone they have since called 'The Conqueror'."

Paul had heard of the Terra Millennium, their planet one of lush greenery, vast oceans and an abundance of resources that the previous Emperor had tried countless times to harvest just as House Harkonnen had done with the Spice on Arrakis, but alas, no one had ever been successful in mining Terra Millennium. He had heard that they experience something called 'seasons', he wondered what that was.

Just as he had done with Arrakis, Paul sat in his private room, watching hologram clips of Terra Millennium as his fleet flew to the planet to finally land conquest through the help of the Fremen.

"Anthropologists have never been able to stay long on the planet or among the people, but what has been gathered is the people have rejected the teachings of the Bene Gesserit, labeling it as hertic literature."

Terra Millennium was an odd planet with an odd people who had unusually long live spans, being able to live into their thousands without a single wrinkle or grey, they repented against the Bene Gesserit, the use of the Spice; he had heard of the people of that land believing solely in the ruling Queens because of a crystal, one of immense power that was sought after.

"Characterized by their white hair, the ruling House of L/N have upheld the traditional values of the planet, which has a population of over 1 billion. Only female heirs have been able to inherit the throne and it is rumored that a single crystal that is worn by every ruling Queen is said to hold immense power that has granted its people longevity, peace and prosperity."

A knock interrupted his research, Paul seeing Stilgar walk in followed by Gurney.

"Muad'Dib, we have touched land on Terra Millennium", Stilgar said, "they have responded to our communication message."

"What did they say?" he asked, Gurney chuckled.

"They said if we proceed with our mission, they will see it as an act of war", Gurney said, "they're real hard asses here."

"You've been, Gurney?" Paul asked, curious.

"Once", Gurney replied, "I came with your father on a diplomatic assignment, but that was with their previous Queen Helene. This one is new, just coronated a few months ago."

He thought back to the new dreams he had been having of a woman whose hair was the color of white that hung down near the ground in large curls, whose eyes were hard and the color of lilac with the roar of a great beast that rung in his ears when he would awaken from his dreams.

Unlike his dreams with Chani, these felt different now that he had drunken the Water of Life. His visions of the woman consisted of a gentle breeze sweeping through her hair, it curling around her as she was dressed in a long, white silk dress that clung to her body and trailed in a long train behind her with woven golden in the upper bodice. She stood on a tall pillar of crystal, a tall scepter in her hands that she was raising above her head as the breeze picked up.

Soon, the dreams melted in a great war as crystals encapsulating him, a bright light that blinded him yet filled him with warmth and security.

"Show them the full might of the Empire", Paul said, "after all, they are in the presence of the Muad'Dib."

And it was those eyes that greeted him when he finally set foot on the pavement of Terra Millennium with its tall structures that were made of variously colored crystals.

Neo-Queen Amaris was the regal name Y/N had chosen to go by when she took the throne a mere few months ago. Of course, she went by her name, Y/N in private with those closets to her and only by her regal name with others.

Y/N had heard the rumors of the new Emperor wanting to claim her home, her people; he wanted to bring her planet into the vastly growing empire that he ruled under as a supposed Messiah to the Fremen and Bene Gesserit: Muad'Dib. Everyone had heard of how he supposedly liberated Arrakis and the Fremen people, marrying Princess Irulan as a political move to secure his position as the new Emperor.

Only a few days ago did a message come into their Communication's Hub from the Emperor about finally claiming Terra Millennium for not only himself but for the Fremen as it would be their 'Green Paradise'.

War will come to Terra Millennium if you refuse to submit, the message read.

"My Queen", her advisor, Lord York, said as she sat on her throne. "Reports have come in that the Atreides fleet has made contact on the landing pad near the Capital. Scouts have seen the Atreides Army beginning to get ready."

Lord York was a man of small stature with a head full of bronze curls and dark brown eyes that always looked calculated as if he was already ten steps ahead.

Y/N looked over at Lord York before bringing a hand to the crystal that hung around her neck on a chain that could never be removed from her neck before slowly standing up from her throne that was encrusted in gemstones.

"I believe it is time we greet them", she said, looking over her court. "After all, hospitality is what our people are known for."

And it is not like they have any chance of having their weapons working; outside weaponry not from Terra M had no chance of working and she wondered what their reactions would be once they realized this.

"But before we go", Lord York said, "may I make a suggestion?"

Y/N made a motion to the man, who gave a nod and said, "I believe it is our Queen's best interest to wear your ancestor, The Conqueror's crown and scepter to greet our guests. It would show the great strength you possess, a message to not only the Great Houses but the Emperor as well."

"That sounds like a great idea."

"You are the presence of our Neo-Queen", a man said with a thick facial beard, "first of her name, descendant of our goddess Selene and The Conqueror, wielder of the great Silver Crystal, Mother of all, Neo-Queen Amaris."

Paul watched as the man motioned to the woman he had been dreaming about, he could see that as the breeze came that she wore no shoes; all the Terrians didn't despite their silken clothes as they stood amongst the tall crystal structures. They had landed as close to the Capital, finding that there was a landing pad despite the relatively isolated nature of the planet.

"I welcome you, Paul of House Atreides", she said with a stoic expression. "But now you must leave."

The woman, their Queen Amaris, looked upon them with a hint of annoyance as she held a large scepter in one hand that was as tall as Duncan Idaho had been with gold and gem embellishments, but what was curious was that at the top of the scepter where it looked as if a missing piece was needed. The crown she wore on her head was large, glittering in diamonds and curved up into a point as she stood there, her hair having a few small braids that pulled the framing hair away with kiss curls on her forehead.

"Leave?" Paul said with some amusement.

Irulan stood next to him dressed in a silver mesh outfit, a metal hair net that connected over into her dress that held down her short blonde hair. Paul was glad that he Voiced the woman to stop talking, she would not stop and frankly, he had no desire to try and pursue a romantic relationship with the woman after Chani chose to leave further into Arrakis.

His mother stood amongst them, holding the bundled form of his sister, Alia.

"I did not realize a Emperor could have poor hearing", Amaris said, "you are not welcome on Terra Millennium nor do we plan on allowing for you to colonize us. Terra M remains alone."

Paul took in the way she spoke, her accent one he had never heard before and the formal way of speaking. He noticed the large gem that hung around her neck, it sparkled in the sunlight as she stood there and looked to be the size of a her palm.

"Also, we did not apperciate your Bene Gesserit coming", she continued, "spreading their heretic language, you will find them in the Prisoner's Bay."

"You don't believe in the Muad'Dib, the Kwisatz Haderach?" Paul asked.

"We believe in our Queen, may her reign be as prosperous as Selene", the bearded man said.

The Queen just looked at him with contempt, he saw her lip curl a little in annoyance.

And it was that look that made something stir deep in Paul and made him feel something that he never felt before. She looked at him as if he was a bug ready to be squashed underneath her foot

He wanted to possess the woman in front of him, at all costs and he didn't care who he had to kill... he was going to.

[seakicker]

mother's day hc that you tell the genshin boys you're pregnant on mother's day so they decide to celebrate by getting you double pregnant?

YES MA’AM i had a randomizer pick four names for me out of all the guys i write for… kinda laughing at 3/4 of them being all the Serious, Stoic ones lol

fem reader, pregnancy, breeding, overstimulation (alhaitham) and knotting (gorou) below!

alhaitham

You can never be too sure, he says— a good, valid experiment hinges upon proper reliability. Do you know how many undergraduate experimental reports he’s dismissed on account of their supposed “results” being the chance of mere coincidence or random chance? It never hurts to eliminate the possibility of a false positive and to ensure that your positive pregnancy test result is a true positive by breeding you all over again and having you take another pregnancy test in five weeks or so.

When you tell him you’re pregnant, he responds with a quiet nod before almost analyzing all of the behavior you’ve displayed over the last few weeks. Yes, the news makes perfect sense— last week, Alhaitham overheard you wondering aloud if your period was late or if you had just tracked it wrong, and he’d have to be a fool to not know what a missed period is the universal signifier of. The news comes at a perfect time, so he couldn’t be happier— though your husband certainly has a… uniquely stoic way of expressing happiness.

That night, he replicates every last aspect of the night he imagines he got you pregnant some five weeks ago (it’s a simple calculation, really) down to your spot on the bed and the clothes he was wearing just to make sure that a false positive is out of the question. Perhaps he’ll have to come inside if you twice tonight just to really seal the deal that you’re pregnant— once is chance, twice is a coincidence, and thrice is a true pattern. You’d like to try and convince him that surely there’s no need for all of this, that pregnancy tests rarely, rarely fail or show an incorrect result, but there’s no pushing back against your husband’s logical calculations or sense of reason— not that you’re much in the condition to even try to speak with him anyways.

When your husband has you spread open wide with your knees pressed up against either side of your chest, a light conversation is absolutely out of the picture. You’d consider it a feat to muster up anything other than splintered whines of your husband’s name and delicate pleas for him to slow down— though, truthfully, it’d be an even bigger feat if you managed to successfully convince Alhaitham of doing the latter. He hasn’t stalled or slowed his pace for even a fraction of a second because he, of course, is trying to replicate the night he very likely knocked you up exactly, and he just so happened to be absolutely railing you that night.

“You can certainly take more than this.” That’s all he offers when you beg him to slow down again. “I’ve discovered, met, and exceeded every last one of your limits myself, and this pace, this position, and this fervor hardly come close to any of those. I’m simply validating your claim before I take to preparing the spare room for our child.”

You gasp and let your head fall back against the pillow, defeated and overwhelmed in equal tandem by your husband’s delightful Mother’s Day plans.

Alhaitham only chuckles once, a satisfied smirk so faint on his lips that you almost don’t catch it at all. “You’ll be alright. We’ll have nine entire months to be gentle.”

zhongli

Zhongli has lived a normal human lifetime nearly ninety times over— yet, fascinatingly, he always insists he’s come nowhere close in experiencing everything life, nature, humanity, and civilization have to offer, an assertion you’ve always found downright impossible to fathom. How does somebody not get bored after six thousand years of life? You know people who are bored after just four years of working in the same career before they jump ship and try to find something, anything completely different.

He offers the exact same explanation every single time you once again ask how he still finds things to do, places to go, and activities to enjoy after being alive for so long— he always, always smiles softly and explains that he never gets bored with life because you’re in it, and you show him new things, new foods, and new ways to love and enjoy the world that he never even imagined prior to meeting you.

You’ll admit that you’ve found his reasoning somewhat hard to believe on a few separate occasions— like he’s seriously been alive for over six thousand years, yet he’s never tried red bean ice cream from Inazuma before? It’s not exactly a rare or expensive good. However, there are other times when you think you understand what he means, and his logic has never been more evident than today because you told your darling husband that you’re pregnant this morning.

“I’ve never been a father before,” Zhongli hums as he presses a wide circle of kisses all around the cusp of your tummy. “I’ve tutored and taught many, but I’ve never raised a child as my own from their very birth.”

“Does it make you nervous?” You grip his left hand a little tighter as his right comes to rub a soothing circle over the apex of your soft belly.

He pauses for a moment. “I see no reason to be afraid of new experiences, let alone ones I have you to guide me through. I’ve found that sampling life’s uncertainties and navigating its surprises provide far more enrichment than routine.”

You laugh. “I don’t think I can do much ‘guiding’ here, my love— I’ve never been a mother before either. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Zhongli melts. How do you always know just how to tickle his heart with the most innocuous of statements?

“And that is exactly why I’m not nervous— because we’ll have each other to both learn from and learn alongside. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life being the teacher and not the student, so opportunities to learn with you excite me.”

All you can do is hide your face with your free hand, your cheeks warm and your grin obvious. Your husband chuckles and kisses a line down the bottom half of your tummy, down your hips, and all the way down, down, down until he runs into the fabric of your panties.

“I’ve read that intimacy during pregnancy has an array of positive effects for a mother,” Zhongli notes, gently sliding a hand down to tug your panties to the side. “We’ll have to try every last tip and wives’ tale, won’t we, my love?”

diluc

Completely opposite to that of Zhongli, Diluc’s perspective on celebratory sex on Mother’s Day is that it’s about as tired, cliche, and lazy as celebratory sex on a birthday, New Year’s Eve, or Valentine’s Day. Really, any other holiday where people feel the need to either supplement their actual present with sex because they fear what they really bought their spouse just isn’t good enough on its own or because they forgot to get them a present entirely.

Or so he says.

He’s always been of the opinion that love and intimacy expressed on a random day of the year without any special meaning bears more weight than celebratory holiday sex— why should sex be included as part of the celebratory experience when a married couple is expected to regularly display intimacy towards one another? You’ve teased him about this cynical, grumpy take plenty of times, but you’ve almost come to agree with him regardless— it’s hard to even have the energy for sex at the end of your birthday or on the evening of Valentine’s Day when you’re just so exhausted by everything Diluc planned for you during the day. Perhaps it’s entirely because he doesn’t take special occasions lightly that he sees no need to end the day on a cliche.

Well, there’s a first for everything.

“I thought you don’t do celebratory sex,” you whimper with a sharp inhale. You had meant for the statement to sound more teasing and alluring, but it’s damn near impossible to keep your composure when your husband’s spent the past hour and a half between your legs.

Diluc, for the first time in ninety minutes, actually pulls away from your slick, saliva-coated pubic mound to stare up at you over your tummy. How amusing— this is the smallest he’ll see your tummy for the next nine months, and something tells him he’s not going to miss it whatsoever.

“We’ve never celebrated Mother’s Day before simply because you were never a mother for any of them. Today is different— and of course this news deserves celebration.” That’s right— you did mention to Diluc that you’re pregnant this morning over breakfast, didn’t you?

You take advantage of this impromptu break to make eye contact with your husband, who hasn’t looked this… disheveled in quite some time. Bangs plastered to his forehead, nose and chin dripping with a mix of saliva and your fluids, and pupils blown wide with desire, this is a Diluc you don’t get to see very often— and you know how to revel in the treat.

“Making exceptions to your own rules doesn’t suit you.” There, that one actually sounded teasing.

He offers a sort of shrug in response. “I’d have to be devoid of all emotion entirely to not want to celebrate my wife’s body when she tells me it’s pregnant with our very first child.” He glides his soaked lips down the inside of your thighs elegantly and with purpose, taking care to stop just before where thigh meets labia to really relish in your scent.

“Besides,” Diluc murmurs. “I’d like to map out how your body looks now so I can properly appreciate how much lovelier you’ll look once you begin to actually show how well I’ve bred you.”

gorou

Gorou tentatively asks you to repeat yourself just to make sure that he heard you properly, which carries a good amount of irony given his exceptionally superhuman hearing. He just wants to make sure he heard you properly— telling him you’re pregnant on Mother’s Day? He can’t think of anything more perfect than that, so it’d be a shame if he just imagined you saying it— he’s dreamed of being a father for so long now that if you were to hit him with a “gotcha” now, he might faint from disappointment.

Realistically, he should’ve put two and two together three weeks ago, but leave it to your husband to miss something glaringly obvious without your explicit guidance or direction. It’s almost funny to think that, despite his keen sense of smell, taste, and hearing, his overprotective nature, and his well-developed common sense, it’s so easy for him to miss the elephant in the room and get distracted by something incredibly unrelated to whatever he’s supposed to be looking out for.

He should have known from the second he found himself growing more and more overprotective of you without any visible or tangible piece of evidence as to why— you weren’t sick, you weren’t injured, and you weren’t otherwise vulnerable… or so he thought. It wasn’t obvious to him at the time, but now that you’ve confirmed it for him… it makes perfect sense. His nose already knew you were pregnant then— he picked up in the slightest change in your hormone levels without even realizing it, and now that he knows you’re pregnant?

He won’t leave your side for a single moment these next nine months.

Apparently, his vow to stay by your side 24/7 started the very moment you first broke the news to him— with your husband pressed so close up against you, you wouldn’t be surprised if you two just simply combined. Gorou’s hips slap against your ass so roughly and so quickly the sound of skin making contact with skin bounces off the walls and fills your ears, almost threatening to drown out your husband’s elated rambling.

Almost, but not quite. Nothing will get him to stop talking once he’s already started running his mouth.

“I just— I’ve just wanted this for so long,” he pants, looping his hands around your thighs to press them against the front your belly. “It’s just instinct, I guess? I just— Archons— there’s no better way to spend my life than with a sweet wife and a big, big family of our cute little pups.” He’ll be sure to keep you pregnant now that the precedent has already been established— Gorou knows he’ll miss taking you doggy style when your belly gets too big to safely attempt such a position, but he’s sure he can figure out a nice, comfortable compromise.

“I’ll get lots of time off from work! It’ll be easy. I’ll spend every day taking good, good care of you and our family because that’s— that’s what good husbands do, right? I’ll get Thoma to teach me tons of nutritious meals for you because I only know how to prepare quick rations for troops,” Gorou notes with a sheepish chuckle before he hunches over your back and whimpers brokenly. Will you still be able to take his knot while you’re pregnant, or will it be too much for you? He can’t push you too far now that you’re the most delicate you’ve ever been, heavy with the promise of a big family, right?

“I love you so much,” he gasps, nails digging into your belly softly as he loses control of himself. “And I’ll be the best father possible!”

[celandeline]

I'm thinking about Carl being insecure about his eye. y/n found a way to comfort him. Imagine what comic Lydia did, LOL. But just write whatever you like

i got a little carried away with this one, so it's going to be a two-parter (sorry)

also- comic Lydia sticking her tongue in his eye socket haunts me like the plague because i can't decide if it's disgusting, or i too, would do that given the opportunity

Believe Me

Carl Grimes X Reader [part two]

You always make a point to see Aaron off when he’s about to leave to go recruiting. You know that he can handle himself, that he’s done this a million times before, that Daryl would never leave him behind, even if things got sticky - but you never know. Coming back alive is never guaranteed. 

You hold his bag for him while he fumbles with the car keys until it unlocks. “You’re sure you don’t want to take anything else? Another water bottle? More protein bars?”

He turns around to take his pack from you with a smile. “We’re only going to be gone for two days, I think I’ll be alright with just this.”

The rumble of Daryls bike announces his presence before he rolls up beside the car, stopping. “Y’ready?” He gruffs. 

“Almost.” He tosses his bag into the passenger seat before turning to back to you with open arms. “Give me a hug.”

You squish yourself into his chest, and squeeze him as tight as you can. “Bye Dad. Be safe.” 

You feel him swallow, and hold you a little tighter. Calling him Dad is still a little new, and it makes him tear up a little more often than not. He’s not your biological father - no, your biological parents died years ago at this point - but he has become a father to you, ever since you started living with him and Eric. 

“You too.” He says, pulling back to look you in the eye. “And make sure Eric doesn’t try the stairs alone again please. He’s not as good at maneuvering in that boot as he thinks he is.”

You grin, and jokingly salute. “Yes sir.”

He slips into the driver's seat, and then he and Daryl are pulling away, heading towards the gates. You watch them go until they round the corner, and try to put your nerves to rest. The sound of plastic wheels on the sidewalk is a welcome distraction, and you turn around to see Carl pushing Judith along in the stroller.

He smiles when you turn around, and you return the gesture. “They’re going out again?” He asks, nodding in the direction your dad and Daryl went. 

“Yeah.” You say. “Only for a couple days this time, but you know.” You never really know when you’re coming back. If you’re coming back. 

He nods, and Judith gurgles happily in her stroller, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “You wanna join?” He asks. “M’ just taking her around the cul de sac before I bring her home for her nap.”

“Sure.” You say, welcoming the distraction from worrying about if this is the time that Aaron doesn’t come back. You fall into step beside Carl as he pushes the stroller along, following the sidewalk, passing by the houses of friends and neighbors. It’s quiet, the middle of the day with most of the adults at work - whatever that may be. It almost feels like you, Carl, and Judith are the only people in this whole town. 

“You think you’re gonna do that?” Carl asks. “Go recruiting with Aaron when they decide we’re old enough for real jobs?”

“I don’t know.” You say, honestly. “I mean, I guess I wouldn’t worry so much if I was with him, but then Eric would worry twice as much. And I don’t have a whole lot of experience out there - I was only on my own for a couple of months before Aaron found me and brought me here. You’d be good though,” You glance over at him. “I mean, you’ve got loads of experience out in the real world.”

He shakes his head. “Nah- I mean, yeah I’m experienced, but I don’t think they want the kid with the mangled face being the one to go make first impressions on new people.” He grins, halfheartedly joking, “Don’t want to scare ‘em off.”

“Huh?” You laugh, looking over at him. “What’re you talking about?”

He rolls his eye. “C’mon.” He says. “I know what I look like. Sending the ugly guy out there to try and recruit people probably isn’t the best image for our group.”

“Carl.” You say, brow furrowing. “Do you know what you look like?” You’re so confused - sure, he’s missing an eye, but he’s still the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. The eye that he still has is the kind of blue that makes you think of the sky on a sunny day, and you’d kill for hair like his - long and silky and a dark brown that makes his blue eye stand out even more. He looks like a fairy tale prince. 

He glances at you. “You’re looking at me like I’m stupid.”

You laugh. “I mean how could you not be, when-” 

“Wow, thanks.” He snarks, cutting you off. 

“Shut up.” You say, knocking your shoulder into his. “I was trying to say that you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, before you interrupted me.”

You words hang in the air, and he looks steadfastly ahead. The only sounds are the plastic stroller wheels rolling on the sidewalk, and Judith’s occasional little noises. You can see a blush rising to his cheeks, and bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling, lest he think you’re making fun of him. 

“You’re just saying that ‘cause we’re friends, and you’re trying to be nice.” He says. 

“‘M not.” You insist. “It’s true - you’re really pretty, Carl.”

He still won’t look at you. “Half my face is just a hole.”

“Which just makes you look cool and badass.” You say, trying to peer around his curtain of hair to get him to look at you. He still won’t look at you, and the redness on his face has only gotten worse. “You still don’t believe me.”

He shakes his head, slowing as you reach the steps up to the porch of his house. He walks around to the front of the stroller to unbuckle Judith and lift her out of the seat. She slumps against his shoulder, obviously ready for her nap. “Um.” Carl looks down at the stroller. “Could you-?”

“Gotcha.” You say, folding up the stroller and carrying it up the porch steps after Carl. He opens the door and you follow him inside, gently kicking it shut behind you. “Where-?”

“Uh, we usually just leave it by the door.” He says over his shoulder as he starts up the stairs. “Let me just put her down-” He disappears around the bend in the landing, and you prop the folded stroller against the wall next to the door. You loiter at the bottom of the stairs until Carl appears at the top again, still a little pink. 

He comes down the steps and leads the way into the living room, towards the couch. You plop down onto the sofa, turned to face him next to you. “So-”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“No.” You grin. “Not until you believe me.”

He rolls his eye. “Fine. I believe you.”

“I mean really believe me.” You say. “What’s it going to take?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fine.” You say. “Where’s the nearest mirror?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

He pauses for a moment before responding. “I have one in my room.”

You get up from the couch and creep upstairs, careful to keep quiet so as to not wake Judith, Carl a reluctant half step behind you. He points you in the direction of his room, and you slip inside, holding the door open for him before shutting it quietly. The mirror isn’t anything special, just a rectangle of glass hanging above the dresser, but you grin at the sight of it anyway. 

Grabbing him by the shoulders, you steer him in front of the mirror, watching over his shoulder. “See?”

“Yup.” He says, unenthused. “I see this every day, actually.”

“Apparently not.” You say, moving a hand from his shoulder to gently play with his hair. “I mean, look at this.” You hold the lock up in front of his gaze. “Your hair is gorgeous. And-” You drop his hair in favor of softly holding his jaw, turning his head so that his jawline is more prominent. “This.” You run a finger along the line of his jaw. “This too.” You turn his head again so that you can sweep your touch over the bridge of his nose. “And of course,” You thumb over his cheek, tapping each of his freckles. Your hand still on his cheek, you grin at him in the mirror. “You’re blushing.”

“What are you doing?” He asks, soft. 

“Showing you.” You say. 

“Why?”

“Because you should know.” You say. “And it’s personally offensive when you say you’re ugly, because that means you think the guy I’ve been flirting with is a total dud.”

It takes him a minute to process it, and you can see it in his eye when he puts it together. “You’ve been flirting with me?”

“Maybe you are stupid.” You muse. 

You didn’t think it was possible, but he turns even more red. “I don’t- really? Me? Why?”

“Jesus Christ Carl, how far am I going to have to go before you believe that I like you.” You laugh. 

He makes eye contact with you through the mirror. “As far as you want.”

[racheldrawsthis]

i was kind of wondering how the studio's process is with the current unreleased games, especially since the most recent announcement. Don't get me wing I am stupid excited at the prospect of a new game, the characters and especially the protagonist lol adorable and I'm scared for whatever horrors they will face.

Anyway back to my main query, I admittedly am somewhat new to the fanbase having joined the discord server in February.

I do remember a tweet where you said that the unreleased games will ask be released within the next to years, but with multiple games coming out of game jams like RiP, MiR et cetera will there be any progress with the unreleased games?

Now I know y'all aren't full time game devs and I don't want to sound dissatisfied or anything :sob: I mean this in a purely curious and maybe a little concerned way. Concerned in the sense that the studio is starting another new project to be released by the end of the month even though Married in Red was released not too long ago, but that I'm complaining

Anyway I am only curious and not trying to sound pushy so I deeply apologise if I came off that way

Good luck on all of your future endeavors!!

Hello! The unreleased games are being worked on behind the scenes, the contents just aren't being posted to the public yet (Some have been posted for those who are subscribed to the studio's Ko-fi membership though)! The currently released/announced games are only coming out fast because they are games specifically intended to be made in just a single month for month-long game jams and we thought they'd be nice opportunities for the studio to gain more experience in game development and attention from the public before fully taking on big unreleased projects as they are all definitely longer and more elaborate than what we've worked on so far as well as give those who are looking forward to big project releases something to play as they wait.

Thank you for your concern! But I do want to remind you that we aren't full-time game developers and all the games we've been developing have been shared for free out of passion, so I believe it'd be good for our interest and motivation if we get to decide which projects we want to work on next- But we do plan to release every listed unreleased project in the upcoming years so don't worry! Game development just takes time.

[ticktokrobotsnot]

Recreational

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader 

Summary: Two chefs, one needs a distraction and the other needs anything but. 

Word Count: ~11k

Notes: This one has been stuck in my drafts for almost 6 months, google docs was my editor so if you mention any grammar/spelling mistakes I'm gonna blame Google lol.

--

Y/n always had the idea that life never let her be too happy. And not to be unnecessarily pessimistic or ungrateful for the good things that happened in her life, but it was really only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. To be completely honest, if she was remotely better at anything else or something else paid more, she wouldn’t have been a chef. She thought her career as a chef was the universe having a good laugh at her, making her a part of a culture so deeply rooted in making connections which she couldn't reciprocate.

“They aren’t your friends.” The lesson was so deeply ingrained into y/n’s psyche that it was impossible for her to even spare a simple congratulatory smile after finding out her co-worker had won a James Beard award a few years prior or give that same co-worker a nod of approval when he retained a star. They were at best two instruments in the same tool kit, easily replaceable to the other, and y/n wasn’t going to offer an olive branch. 

The French Laundry’s kitchen had perfected the skill to make even the best chefs throw their thousand dollar knife in a huff and quit on the spot. The head chef was a maestro of pushing buttons, ensuring a constant undercurrent of tension that never reached extreme highs because, in that kitchen, there was never a low.

That was before y/n was hired. There were chefs with better referrals, more experience, were more likable but there was something in her that put her above the rest, she didn’t crack. 

She didn’t flinch when the head chef lowered himself to her level, still towering over her, and told her that she didn’t deserve to be there in the middle of a dinner rush on her first week. 

Carmen kept his head down, anticipating the impending sobs and sniffles. However, as moments of silence stretched on, he resisted the unseen force compelling him to remain bowed. Slowly lifting his gaze, he noticed her studying the head chef as if extracting more from his irises than his words. Her eyes then swept over the rest of the staff before locking onto Carmen's. There, in that shared glance, he sensed her silent inquiry, a question of whether he, the second in command with a James Beard award and a Michelin star, was a coward.

He bowed down, focusing on the plate in front of him and pretending to wipe a nonexistent splatter.

The silence echoed while the rest of the chefs continued to slice, dice, and stir not sparing a glance, this was nothing new. When the head chef figured that she wouldn’t say anything back, he sauntered over to his next victim. Carmen lifted his head one more time, there was nothing he could do to comfort her if she was a mess but he already knew which chef would have to take over for her while she sobbed in the freezer. He was met with her side profile, she was smirking.

For a brief moment it felt like Carmen finally got a good look at her since she had been hired a week ago. It took a few moments for Carmen to decipher her expression. She was unimpressed with him, the head chef, and the kitchen. It wasn’t possible to be unimpressed and here she was looking at everyone like she was a parent listening to the squabbles of an irritable child, it was different.

She was a dangerous person because her small stunt inspired him to do something he had never done in the French Laundry, roll his eyes when the head chef left after his criticism. It was a small taste of delicious, slippery, freedom that was bound to kill him later. The day ended and Carmen didn’t even notice that he was walking up to her until he was right in front of her. 

Y/n was expecting an apology and Carmen was expecting an opening to start talking, something had to give but it was too raw to do that here. After one more glance, Carmen started parting his lips but y/n slipped right past him and walked out. 

They aren’t your friends.

Y/n had many aspirations growing up: pop-star, astronaut, scientist, and ice-cream vendor. As she got older the list matured, and consequently shortened. It didn't take much for her to enroll in culinary school, a decision made almost impulsively. 

In the busy kitchen, amid clattering pots and the aromatic dance of ingredients, she watched chefs passionately invest themselves in each dish. She had heard stories from her colleagues, the heartfelt narratives that bound them to their culinary journey, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of shame that she couldn’t reciprocate. Her presence in the kitchen wasn't driven by sentimental attachments to food; she was here for a paycheck, a stark contrast to the fervor surrounding her. As she navigated the world of flavors and aromas, she grappled with the solitude of her own motivations, wondering if there was space for her in a profession driven by love, memories, and a deep connection to the culinary craft.

Unable to reciprocate the profound connections others sought, a sense of bitterness and unrest festered within her. Her internal conflict wasn't born out of disdain for those more accomplished; instead, it stemmed from a profound inability to fathom the emotional intricacies that seemed to drive others but couldn’t seem to reach her. 

Y/n didn’t allow herself to confront a nuanced flaw—projecting her perception of routine loneliness onto the world, all while unconsciously imposing a self-isolation rooted in a complex interplay of guardedness and yearning for genuine connection. She kept herself busy by watching, judging, others in the hopes that eventually she would see something that clicked. 

Y/n spent the next few years in relative ease even if every single soul in the French Laundry were a bunch of battered devotees, who regularly got verbally and emotionally beaten black and blue, but still came crawling back. It was almost humorous to watch all the chefs line up to leave and look like they just had their soul siphoned out from their puckered assholes. 

Carmen felt like a cautionary tale to her, never getting too involved. He had crafted his own prison cell, a second in command with no real power, no life outside of work, and y/n bet he told himself that this was his peak. His self created pathetic life was so intensely interesting to y/n that she resisted asking about his life so she never made the same mistakes. But the way his focus scattered across the kitchen told her that he didn’t know why he was like this either. 

He didn’t come to work on a Friday, which was a bit of a shock, and it rippled when she walked in on some janitor emptying his locker a few days later, and just like that, Carmen was gone from her life. 

Months went by and by then y/n had completely forgotten about the chef that wasn’t strong enough until she saw browsing a food blog, and she found a name that she thought she would never see again. A post about a restaurant in Chicago that had served yet another "dish to die for". She refreshed the page a few more times, wondering if this was someone with a similar name but after a bit of sleuthing, a slightly blurry google review photo, it was undeniable, Carmen was indeed in Chicago. 

They shared certain similarities—they had comparable resumes, education, and paychecks. Given the exorbitant rents in New York, it was likely that their living expenses were almost identical. They were both engulfed in the demanding world of cooking, leaving little time for anything else. Yet, despite these parallels, a puzzling question lingered: why did Carmen have the financial freedom to make a spontaneous departure, a luxury y/n had yearned for but couldn't grasp for years?

Y/n wished that she felt that pulling force, like seeing a familiar face after a long time bloomed an ache in her heart. She spent a few moments trying to will her heart string to pull but she was unsuccessful. She was looking for a reason to leave the French Laundry and she was hoping that Carmen’s scribble tattoos, wavy hair, nauseatingly blue eyes would make a path for her to escape, or at least reveal what gave him that final push. 

She liked the restaurant that she used to work at, a local hotspot that was known for its penne alla vodka and other vaguely Italian dishes. Over there she was the hotshot young chef freshly graduating from the CIA and was leagues above anyone else. No one towered over her asking if she knew what she was doing, no one ever asked her if she remembered to stir the roux, or if she was an assistant. The only reason she left was because her student debt was closing in and she was exhausted from constantly debating if she should buy a replacement for her shitty knife or groceries for the month. Being poor was so tiring that y/n caved when someone came in with a job offer. As much as she hated the French Laundry it graced her with a different type of freedom, the freedom to not worry about if she could afford to survive. 

She waited till The Beef closed to give them a call, and unsurprisingly someone picked up with a heavy sigh, “ We are closed.” and then hung up. Y/n dialed again, “I need to speak to Berzatto.”

“Yo Cousin, some chick is looking for you.” A muffled, we’re closed, was heard but y/n insisted.

“We worked together in the French L-.”

“She says she’s French or something.” And before y/n could correct, Carmen was handed the phone. 

“The fuck do you mean French?” Still arguing with the guy with a gruff voice.

“Maybe it's a "pro" you sobbed in front of in France, you virgin. I don’t know your fucking life.” 

“French Laundry.” Y/n interrupted and just like that Carmen was glued to the phone. 

“Y/n?” Y/n ignored that he was able to recognize her voice even after all this time and how that made her almost soften her voice. 

“I’m in Chicago for a few days, when can I stop by.” 

“You want to come?" Carmen hastily recovered, "You can come when you can but we are doing some renovations and it's a mess-'' 

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.” And with that y/n  hung up and emailed HR that she would be out for the week because she was sick. 

The Chicago air was unbearably similar to New York's and y/n was glad she didn’t have to spend too many miles on the same shitty city. And Carmen understated the “renovations”, it was a gut. The door scraped open dragging the paint cans that were leaning it. The door isn’t the working issue, it's the fact that the whole restaurant looked like it was on the verge of being classified as a collection of bare load bearing pillars and plastic tarp. Y/n was glad that she settled for sneakers because heels were begging for her to eat shit. 

“Ms. New York!” The man with a gruff voice yells with laced hostility, alerting everyone.

The echoing music was promptly shot off as curious onlookers tried to decipher why an unknown woman was waddling through a battlefield of loose nails and scattered sawdust.

Y/n didn’t have to look long before Carmen came tumbling out the kitchen door, looking at her like she was glowing. Y/n wordlessly walked over to him and extended her hand and much to her shock the shake was firm, eager even, the last time they shook hands was when y/n had to take a photo with him 3 years ago for Gastronomica. Y/n was the first to slip her hand away, not remarking on his softened calluses, it seems like he hadn’t done much cooking lately. 

Carmen ushered them towards the kitchen and held the door open for her, the room was empty and oddly quiet. They were holding the work outside so they could hear what they assumed would be confessions and passionate love making. 

Carmen probably sensed it too because he took them to what looked like the skeletons of an office. 

They both stood against the wall on completely opposite ends, their words would have to fill the gap. Carmen parted his lips a few times trying to formulate what he practiced last night but all the words seemed to die in his throat. His staggered inhale was followed by a soft, “What brings you here? I mean I’m glad you're here-”

“I wanted to know what you were up to.” Y/n twirled a strand of hair, looking into his eyes trying to relearn him again. 

Carmen’s breath stalled as he fiddled with his apron to avoid eye contact. “I’m running this place now so-” Carmen’s eyebrows furrowed, “How did you know where I was?”

“I saw the restaurant in a blog and thought I would….” Y/n noticed him deflate, trying to figure out from disappointment or finally relaxing. 

“I thought I would get something to eat but it seems like…” Y/n waved her hands at the bare walls, “That's not gonna happen.” She let out a soft chuckle but was a bit peeved that Carmen wasn’t doing anything but staring at her. 

Y/n crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, Carmen sighed and thumped his head softly on the wall behind him. Being across from him, gave y/n a familiar view of Carmen at the end of shift, pitiful and enervated. Y/n didn’t fail to notice that his arms had gotten bigger.

“Manual labor suits you.” Carmen let out an embarrassed but bemused “ha” as he failed to stop his lips from curling up. 

“Yeah, I have to do a lot by myself. Don’t exactly have the funds to be hiring a million contractors to do shit.”

“How do you afford all this?” Y/n lifted her gaze and tried to not look too eager. 

"A ton of loans. We're barely holding it together," he admitted with a soft chuckle, passing some papers to y/n. As he continued, Carmen listed the financial burdens on his shoulders, payroll for the chefs, government permits, contractors, vendors, appliance suppliers,each itemized until it culminated in a big, fat, red zero that highlighted the crushing reality of y/n's shattered dreams. There was no money left; they couldn't afford to keep her. The devastating truth settled in, she couldn't afford to work here, and Carmen couldn't afford to save her. 

Carmen walked over to the desk between them before plopping on his chair and balanced his head on his right fist as he looked up to y/n.

“What are you doing right now?” Carmen asked, the new view let him see more of y/n, which she didn’t know if she liked.

“I'm still at the French Laundry, it pays the bills, Carmen.” The air stilled and all the oxygen in his lungs contracted in his lungs as his name echoed in the otherwise silent room. He wasn’t Berzatto anymore. Y/n’s small smirk was enough of a reaction for Carmen to solidify that he had no clue about the women in front of him. 

As she basked in the lull, she extended her leg to stretch them out to, noticing that it wouldn’t take much effort for her to put her foot on one of the legs of his chair and roll him closer. Y/n wasn’t without decency so she resisted messing with Carmen anymore. She was being stupid and immature, it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t help her, but a part of her still yearned to inflict some measure of discomfort on him.

“Enough about me…what have you been up to?” He was finally worth talking to, y/n thought. He would finally have something of value that she couldn’t get out of any other seasoned chef, a spark behind his eyes. Maybe there was something else that gave him the power to come here, something that could move her too. 

“I'm taking over the restaurant from my brother and we are remodeling and shit to make it…a spot.” He realized how stupid he sounded when he said it outloud. 

Y/n’s lips quivered downward, he was taking over a family obligation. He didn’t unlock any of the universe’s secrets that he could share with her, that would make the road ahead clear. He really couldn’t help her. The crushing feeling in her chest was worsened when he carelessly tossed out, “You could work here, ya know?”

A pile of bills at home dared her to throw caution to the wind and fail spectacularly. Y/n shut down any part of her that could have been swayed and diverted instead.

“What are you serving?” 

“You would be head chef, y/n.” Carmen's intense gaze made her look at him in bewilderment.

“It’s not a good fit.” Y/n pressed with a self-assured chuckle.

“Syd would be number 2 and I can focus on the business shit-” 

Y/n wasn’t going to justify his ridiculous proposition with a response, so she gave him a pointed look before asking a final time, “What are you serving?”

“Whatever I want.” His eyes focused on y/n’s, almost daring her to be enticed by the freedom.

Y/n's stomach somersaulted. The room around them seemed to close in as the weight of the unknown pressed against her. Y/n grappled with the question of what she had truly come for. The initial curiosity about his past now collided with the reality that the person standing before her was somehow a deity that had broken free from the shackles of depriving the self from freedom but also a mortal with dangerous arrogance that she couldn’t replicate. 

“You finished the menu?” 

Carmen nodded as his eyes wrinkled.

“Show me the menu.” 

“You’ll see it on opening night.” Carmen leaned back in self-assurance.

“I won’t be back.” Y/n briskly asserted as she went back to twirling her hair and crossing her arms.

Y/n heard a chuckle and a soft, “Doubtful”. Just as she lifted her head to argue, the words were gone and so was Carmen, who was at the door now, holding it open for her.

“You're the worst, you know that?” She presented him with a vicious side eye. “I came all the way to the menu, you know.” That wasn’t remotely true.

“You can see the kitchen.” His hand hovered over the small of her back before catching himself and slipping his hand back down. 

Carmen gave a run down on where the stove would go in relation with the expo, being mindful of speed but also spatial restriction. Y/n walked with him wondering if she would care enough about the minutia to organize a restaurant from the ground up like this. Her fingertips grazed the silver gas stove, teh cool metal brought back memories of working in LA. His expo covered in plastic wrap was the exact one she saw in her first internship. And most damning of all, Carmen specially picked out everything; so just like y/n, he had a story to tell with each piece. 

His eyes shimmered as he talked about not beating his time around the kitchen yet, and y/n felt her stomach roll over as a wave of… something rolled over her. 

Eventually, Carmen led her out to the front where she talked about table choices and the lighting to match, her eye’s glazed in wonderment wondering if the version of Carmen that cared about interior design was always a part of him or if it was a new development. Just as she was about to ask, Richie interrupted her.

“We’ve held it long enough, I think we would ALL love to know who you are.” He spread out his arms and nodded like a politician who was, “asking the real questions”. Y/n went from floating around the kitchen to being slammed shut in a bird cage. 

“Ms. New York didn’t give it away?” Y/n replied, doing her best to ignore the nagging whispers in her head telling her she wasn't wanted here. 

“Then why are you here?” He challenged right back, pointing an accusatory finger at her before migrating it to Carmen, “Why is she here?” The urge to run away tugged at her, to a place where it didn't matter if people liked her.

Carmen squinted his eyes before letting out an exasperated sigh, y/n could tell he was used to Richie’s machinations. Looks like the three of them didn’t know why y/n was here.

“Just ignore him, that's Tina..” pointing at an older woman who looked like she was just about to leave. 

“..Nat” was buried in a binder but her head still shot up and smiled which y/n politely reciprocated.

“.. and Syd '', who looked pissed that y/n was here, y/n looked at her hands clasping a notebook. Recipes…a menu…y/n tucked her lips to hide her laugh, they didn’t have a menu to show and she had interrupted their brainstorming session. Y/n made a mental note that Carmen wrinkled his eyes when he lied.

“I was just in the neighborhood, and I'm just about to leave.” She walked towards the exit, not failing to notice that Carmen was in hot pursuit.

It didn’t take a genius to know he was going to offer her a ride so she beat him to it, “I’ve taken enough of your time.” 

And just as Carmen was about to say something, Y/n hid her disappointment with a  smirk, “I’ll let you get back to making that menu.” Y/n caught a quick glimpse of shock before the door swung open and she walked the Chicago streets wondering if she got what she was looking for. 

This place wasn’t for her at all, and no amount of small town romance novels could convince her to leave her cushy job with a bunch of pompous clowns for a DIY restaurant. Her heart quickened as she allowed herself to be momentarily seduced by the idea, only to shatter any hopeful illusions with the harsh reality that Carmen couldn't rescue her from her financial nightmare. She needed a paycheck, a big one, and Carmen couldn't give it to her; he could barely afford the stove he wanted. It was almost cruel to give her a taste, let her acquire it, and then realize that she couldn’t have it. 

Y/n went back to her hotel and had the difficult choice between watching Pawnshop or Diners, Drivers and Dives when she got a text message from an unknown number. 

I’m off tomorrow, let me take you somewhere other than a construction site. 

Y/n let herself have one last taste of freedom and dialed the number, “Who’s this?” she asked to tease Carmen.

She could hear Carmen’s grin loud and clear as he gave her a soft, “The worst person ever.”

Y/n laid flat on her bed and made herself forget that he didn’t have a backbone, that he ran away without a word like a coward, and (most damning to her) he couldn’t save her. She pushed the part of her that screamed that she should run away before they realized they didn’t fit because right now, she wasn’t talking to Berzatto. He was Carmen. He had dreams and aspirations that were bigger than him or maybe just as big as him. He was working hard and confident; everything else he wasn't in New York.  

As she confirmed a good time for tomorrow, she sat up on her bed as she said her goodbye.

“Have a good night, Carmen.”

Y/n had trouble falling asleep that night. 

**

The week had reached its end a lot quicker than y/n thought it would. Before she knew it she had repacked her life back into her suitcase and was sitting at her gate waiting for boarding to start. 

Y/n had her legs propped up on her carry-on, balancing an egregiously priced coffee in one hand and a book in the other. It’s not like the book was any good, it was an autobiography about a famous chef who had died of cancer. She recalled her outing with Carmen a few days prior.

The pans that y/n had to use in her shitty old apartment were non-stick because she couldn’t afford the non-cancer kind till after she graduated from the CIA. She remembered joking with her classmates about it while they were learning how to take apart a chicken, and everyone gasped in disgust. Y/n gave a careless grin while hiding her warming cheeks and mentally punching herself for even saying that out loud. 

Her birthday came around and all of her classmates pitched in for a set of pans, non-stick pans. She laughed with her friends, went home and invited them for dinner made entirely from the pans and watched as they ate their dishes, nodding in pretentious considerment, not knowing it was made on Teflon and wondered if this is how that guy who served his customers human meat felt. 

Y/n told the story to Carmen during their lunch at a Korean restaurant and felt a surge run through her as he met her eyes and instead of laughing at what was meant to be a humorous story and mumbled, “That was shitty.”

Y/n’s lips parted as her eyebrows furrowed in anger and, more embarrassingly, shame. 

Before she could defend herself, Carmen added, “I wouldn’t call those friends.” 

He played with the condensation on his glass, y/n knew better to look down at him playing with the wetness with his pointer and thumb. 

“That’s how it is there. How was your first week here?” Y/n sipped her soup.

“I lost my knife, found it beat up on the floor. I would have quit if I could.” Carmen gave a soft chuckle and y/n hated that she wanted to know more about him. 

“Which knife?”

“It was the Yoshimi.” 

Y/n quirked her lips up, “I remember when you first got it.” Carmen looked up quizzically.

“It was a shit show.” The head chef was not in a good mood and Carmen pulled up, with a pep in his step and a new knife, begging to be shot down. Honestly, y/n was surprised that Carmen didn’t kill anyone that day. 

Y/n’s flight had started boarding so she threw all of her stuff in her bag while fishing for her passport. In her hustle she missed her phone vibrating till she was in her seat trying to catch her breath from shoving her overloaded carry-on in the ever shrinking compartment. 

You got on yet?

Just sat down, TSA sucks ass, might have to start working out bc im winded rn.

Have a safe flight. 

Y/n finally made it home and just as she was about to pass out, she quickly texted a picture of her exhausted face with a cringy thumbs up, she would regret that in the morning. 

Y/n fell right back into her regular rhythm, with two new additions. She had started running in the morning. The other thing was a new pen pal, of sorts. 

They tried texting more regularly for the first few weeks but their schedules were too different so they had simplified it to a photo every few days. 

The Bear  

Y/n got the photo on her train ride home after months of “talking”, a picture of a decal on the restaurant window, y/n didn’t miss Carmen’s furrowed eyebrows and grimace from having to be out in the sun to take the picture. His reflection exposed his paint stained t-shirt and y/n rubbed her eyes to check that his arms had in fact gotten bigger. 

Y/n sent out the first actual text message in months, Why The Bear?

She saw the bubbles disappear and reappear a few time before settling on,

Come and find out

Y/n snickered and the women sitting next to her gave her a side eye as she got up to leave. 

I don’t want to install appliances or check the plumbing for free. 

Carmen texted back uncharacteristically fast, maybe they had shot down texting too soon. 

“Don't want to” or “don’t know how to”?

Y/n squinted her eyes, he should believe her even if she was lying. She texted a middle finger back. You should be so lucky to see my trade skills in action, I could have been your contractor and it's sexist that you think otherwise.  

I’ll settle with you coming by as a guest.

Y/n called him, it was a split second decision that she didn’t have time to regret. He picked up just as quickly as she called. 

“I’m not coming back if you guys are still building shit.” Y/n asserted as she unlocked her front door. 

“We finished that a while ago, now it's real shit this time.” There was faint rustling in the background and what y/n could decipher as yelling. 

“Yeah?”

“We're missing some stuff, repair guys to call, and we still have some vendors to deal with but doors open in a few weeks.”

Y/n giggled, “Sounds like you're cutting it close, Carmen.” There was rustling heard on the other end, “You can probably get all that shit done with time to spare if you don’t get distracted.”

A laugh erupted from the other end, Richie’s. 

“He’s plenty distracted, got himself a girlfriend.” Y/n stomach fell to her ass as she stood in her kitchen with her work bag still slung on her shoulders.

“Really?” she croaked out. Richie must have slapped Carmen on the back because she heard him slap Richie back. 

“Ignore him. Doors open on the 1st.” The line stayed quiet for a second. 

“I’ll see if I can make it, but you know it gets.” Y/n wasn’t going to make it, she was taking it out of the calendar right now.

A door closed on his end and the line was disconnected. 

Before y/n could chuck her phone at her couch and sleep off her day, it rang again. Facetime. 

Y/n picked up and was met with a new setting. Carmen noticed her slight confusion. 

“New office, what do you think?” He propped his phone up and angled his body so she would see his fully stocked bookshelf. If y/n didn’t know any better she would have assumed that he was trying to impress her. 

“Dewey Decimal?”

“Alphabetical.” He pulled out a book and showed her the self-made label on the bottom that proved that it was in fact in alphabetical order. 

Y/n let herself be a bit difficult, “Your handwriting leaves something to be desired.”

Carmen covered his smirk with his tattooed hand before locking into her eyes,”Why don’t you come over and help me out?”

Y/n almost let herself fold before recollecting herself, “Unless you plan on working part time for our HR department, I don’t see that PTO being approved.”

“Sick days?” 

“Why don’t you come back to New York. Wanna slice oranges for our tarte á l’orange? Maggie misses you.” Y/n was referring to the kitchen’s pastry chef who didn’t miss Carmen in the slightest. 

“Are you opening a restaurant?” Y/n was a bit floored that she was getting sass from a man who put his jeans in an oven and shirts in kitchen cupboards. 

“Are you? Looks like your team thinks you're distracted? If I didn’t know any better I would say you're calling me to distract yourself from calling the repair guy.” 

“He can wait… tell me what I have to do to make this happen.”

“I took a week off, and we live in a capitalist hellscape so I already used up my PTO for the year. Don’t worry, I’ll make it to the next one.”

“You think I'm good enough to franchise.” Carmen ran his hands through his hair as he laughed and y/n cheeks warmed as his shirt slightly lifted as he leaned back.  

“No, when this one fails and you have to make it another Mcdonalds.” Carmen gave her an adoring smile that made her wonder if he heard something else. 

He put his right leg on his knee and spun in his chair, thinking. 

“It’s better if I don’t come, what if your team hates me or worse they love me, force me to be their leader, and kick you to the sidelines.”

“I can be on the sidelines for you.” Y/n ignored the fluttering in her stomach. 

“I’ll see…”She offered.

Carmen let out a sigh and y/n almost felt bad but the distance was good. They didn’t work together anymore, they texted irregularly, they barely were face to face, and it was working for them. 

She was forgetting the man who froze like a battered dog when she was being shredded in the kitchen, and she could forgive him for being selfish because now he was too far away for it to affect her. Closing the gap risked her relearning why she didn’t get close to him in the first place.  

His lips parted like he was constructing the words.

“What?” Y/n was just about ready to hang up and get ready for bed. 

“I just…I don’t know. I thought that I could…you would see something different.”

“It’s a restaurant, I've seen plenty of those.” 

“It’s different, I swear. I worked hard on shit and it's new and different. It's …better.” A chef analogizing his restaurant to represent himself was so unoriginal y/n would have laughed in their faces if it wasn’t Carmen.

“I’ll save you a table.” He offered.

“Looks like you’ve got a lot of tables to save.” Carmen quirked up his eyebrows.

“Your sister s, Sydney’s dad, Richie’s friends, me. Are there going to be any tables left for customers?”

“I need them all there, y/n.” He didn’t need to say her name but it still reverberated inside of her sending a shiver down her spine. In response, y/n felt a warm wave of relief wash over her, knowing that she couldn’t quite explain why that felt good to hear.

“I'm nobody.” Y/n squinted her eyebrows in doubt. 

There's a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he's been searching for something that y/n couldn’t figure out, “You saw me in New York and here so you're the only person who can compare the two. I don’t have anyone like that left.” Carmen rounded his eyes in closeted adoration and y/n’s throat closed up.

“I’ll see what I can do but no promises. I have to go… don’t forget to call the fridge guy.”

Y/n was a strong independent woman who built her own furniture, threw out her own trash, and even back out by putting an arm around the passage seat headrest so when she got an email the next day with tickets to Chicago, her head began to swim.

Her phone buzzed, Meet me halfway.

Y/n left him on read and gave herself the freedom that Carmen had unknowingly denied her. 

–

Birthdays were never y/n’s favorite holiday, she didn’t bother taking the day off and she stopped telling people since her CIA days, so she felt a little disgusted when grown adults would make a whole situation about this day. Celebrating birthdays in a restaurant was annoying for the kitchen but celebrating management’s family birthdays made y/n nearly quit every year. 

It came around like clock work, just as she forgot about it, her boss's friend's (or whoever) birthday would roll around and she had to remind herself that the only reason she still had a job here was because she didn’t break down in hysterics and the only reason she stayed was because the bill wouldn’t stop just because she disliked her job. 

It had already been a month since she and Carmen last spoke, they went back to curt messages. Y/n couldn’t help herself from texting back even though she knew better. The last message was a picture of Carmen in front of a finished kitchen, he puckered his lips to hide the full grin and seeing such joy, even if it was from a photo, was infecting every corner of her mind. 

The week was just as difficult as it always was, and the last thing y/n wanted to do was a large dinner like this but it was like the universe wanted to beat her numb. 

Y/n forgot to mention that the HVAC system had gone down for the afternoon and it was still over 100 degrees in the kitchen. As she chopped some chives, she ignored the expo coughing, and she walked over her collapsed body when expo inevitably passed out, to grab some more butter from the walk-in.

Y/n stole a glance from the corner of her eyes, they had no expo and a full house. Y/n puckered her lips in hidden contentment when the head chef practically roared and the unconscious women to get up and y/n swallowed a laugh when he had enough and started to manage the expo. 

Y/n’s eyes darted to her left and finally felt that Carmen wasn’t working there. He had long been replaced, twice over, and y/n went back to her foie gras terrines trying to figure out why it even mattered now. 

As orders were being barked and a rehearsed chorus of, “Chef” played back, y/n stalled her knife noticing that the pitch was off. It was missing the bass of a chef that had left just about everything to run away and was trying to convince her to do the same.

“WHERE THE HELL IS THE CONSOMME FOR 14?” 

For the first time in years, y/n flinched. It wasn’t noticeable barring the fact that her little jump made her slice her finger. Her breath picked up as the blood pooled over the chives, she grabbed her cutting board and dumped the herbs in the trash and grabbed another board. She pressed the kitchen towel deeper into her finger, trying to remember where the first aid kit was from her orientation week. 

Just as y/n was about to run to the stove to cauterize the wound herself so she could keep working, someone grabbed her arm and handed her a bandaid. She looked up to give them a silent thank you but they were gone. She hastily wrapped herself up and tried to lean inconspicuously on the counter because heat was getting to her too. 

A few minutes later when by and y/n had fallen back to her usual rhythm even as a waiter walked in, she had learned to ignore waitstaff when they entered the kitchen because they never brought good news. Y/n could feel a piercing glare on her back.

“You sent out a Coq au Vin, chef?” Y/n didn’t have to look up to know he was talking to her but she still met his searing glare.

“15 minutes ago, chef.” Y/n resisted wiping the bead of sweat that was torturously grazing down her face.

He stared her down like he was waiting for her to admit that she had actually eaten it, she kept her nose high and bit her tongue to stifle the grimace that was forming. 

“It's missing.” An ugly pause passed throughout the kitchen, she had almost convinced herself that she hadn’t actually finished it but the shift in his gaze brought her back to reality, he remembered her bringing it to him. 

In the smelting kitchen, in her cramped corner, with her chef whites sticking to her, she almost let this pathetic man think he knew more than her.

The command echoed out of her before she could contain herself, “Refiring the coq au vin.”

A familiar chorus of, “Chef” was missing its usual thoughtlessness, y/n wasn’t supposed to do anything till the head chef told her, she had given herself a command, it was sacrilege. 

Y/n was never a target, she watched as others were shot down time and time again, and moved on when she saw them break down crying in the middle of a dinner rush. The most she could give them was aloofness but as she stood in her corner, drowning in orders, and having every single one sent back from expo to redo, or having to wait longer for plates then everyone else and getting reamed for her dishes coming in late, she felt the weight of the kitchen’s gaze on her shoulders and wished someone one was there for her.

She kept her face composed as she finished up the last of her orders, her vision swaying from dehydration. Just as she was about to give into the weightlessness, the clock struck midnight and the kitchen was officially closed. 

She did her best to walk to her locker, and sat on a chair with her head in her hands wondering how she was getting out the door, let alone go home. Her phone buzzed in her lap and knew that it was Carmen. His restaurant was opening tomorrow and she didn’t want to hear about it right now. 

 The rest of the chefs filed out, each giving her a glance that told her that she had finally been properly assimilated, just five years too late. 

Carmen was giving her a taste of freedom in Chicago and that fleeting freedom was too seductive to ignore. The job offer echoed in y/n head, she wasn’t a good fit with them, she didn’t want a “work family”, but the temptation was poisoning her. 

She opened the text, it was a simple picture of Carmen in his chef whites, he was practicing the “look” the day before the restaurant opened. He had even slicked his hair back with pomade like he used to in New York, and for the first time in months she laughed.

The sips of warm gatorade had sobered her up enough to walk out, just barely missing the head chef on her way out the door. She performed a blasphemous act in the back of the uber, she opened the email that Carmen had sent a month ago and checked the tickets date and time. Tomorrow morning, and like the universe was giving back after being shitty today, the French Laundry was closed for the next few days.

Y/n got home, ate two day old Thai food, sat on her couch astounded by her sheer audacity as she checked in for her flight. She was sure that Carmen would have gotten the confirmation email by now but he did her the service of not mentioning it.

Y/n packed a carry-on early in the morning and got to the airport, each checkpoint moving much faster than usual. The TSA didn’t make her take off her shoes, her gate was super close, and they had upgraded her to first class because a couple wanted to sit together. All the stars were pointing to Chicago…to Carmen and she tried not to think about how she was running away from her problems just like he did. 

As she reached her hotel room, she hesitated to text Carmen. Nothing felt right to say, so she gave him the best thing right now, some space. She busied herself with getting ready and watching the shopping network.

As y/n approached the restaurant, she was a bit taken aback that the line was still so long. She stood next to an elderly couple who were talking about mortgage rates going down which meant that another housing bubble was bound to burst and the economy would be in shambles. Y/n tried not to think about how she couldn’t afford to lose her job right now because she had nowhere else to go.

No special treatment tonight, Carmen wouldn’t know when she got here so he could focus on his own work. She entered the restaurant and was relieved that the host and the waitstaff were new. She was led to her table and hesitated to pick up the menu. This was a long time coming and opening it felt so empty. It was like when she submitted her last assignment for highschool, alone on a Thursday night wondering why something so big wasn’t registering. 

As she digested the menu, she let her fingers trace over the faux leather and the brown stitching. She wanted to know why he chose brown stitching, or why he stuck with Seven Fishes despite the fact that he must have made it a million times in the French Laundry? Why did he choose certain wines, or why was there a donut on the menu? 

It's not like she hated the menu but a horrible thought dawned on her that all she wanted right now was for Carmen to sit across from her and talk about everything that she had missed. Every detail of this restaurant that reflected a better him, and how she had so much more to learn.

Her phone burned on her lap but she didn’t text him. Instead, she watched the people murmur about work and the food and y/n couldn’t help but hate herself for her self imposed loneliness. 

Y/n did herself a disservice by coming towards the end of the shift so the crowd was thinning and her cover was close to being blown. Her dish arrived and she didn’t need to walk into the kitchen to know that Carmen made this, after years of taste testing his food, his flavor was ingrained in her DNA. Y/n finished her bucatini and felt compelled to order another despite being stuffed, just to swirl the flavor around her tongue for a bit longer. She ordered the aforementioned donut, paid and left. 

She stood in the crisp Chicago air, a few steps from the restaurant, grappling with the audacity that led Carmen to abruptly leave the French Laundry. Immaturely, she couldn't help but wonder why he got to leave and she couldn’t. She knew why, but she let herself fester in the pain, it kept her alive. 

She was used to being alone but for the first time in her life she yearned for someone to be there for her. She had isolated herself to such an extent that she knew that right now no one knew where she was or what she was doing, even Carmen couldn’t be sure that she actually went on the flight.

She could hear the last of the customers file out and the bussers clearing tables. She felt her phone vibrate and took a few breaths before she picked it up.

How was the bucatini?

Y/n lips waivered and a pit dug itself in her chest as she tried to compose herself, but she felt her eyes watering. This wasn’t fair, he wasn’t playing fair. 

She hid her face in her hands, and tried to regain some of her dignity.

 She stood there for what felt like a few seconds and felt someone stand next to her followed by the familiar sound of a lighter. 

Y/n bit her lips shut and stared ahead, knowing that she was stronger than this.

“I didn’t take you for the donut type.” Carmen said in between puffs, he had changed into more casual clothes.

Y/n inhaled deeply through her nose and put her arms down, the night has hidden any trace of her vulnerability. “I wanted to try something different.” Y/n tried to put more power behind her voice but it came out too soft for her liking.

Carmen studied her profile and y/n knew better than to turn away, so she faced him. Her moist eyes turned his eyes into a kaleidoscope of silvers, blues and gold. 

“How did you know I was in the restaurant?” Y/n was relieved that she was able to get it all out before her voice cracked.

A silence passed through them and y/n wished they were doing this somewhere more private. 

He gave her a look, I know you.

The air hung heavy with tension as Y/n responded to Carmen's humored dismissive look. "You don't know shit,", a sardonic smile playing on her lips. She nonchalantly extended her hands toward Carmen's cigarette, a move that seemed almost too casual for the charged atmosphere. She was reaching out for the small remnants of warmth that she knew she would lose in a few hours, because right now and right here, he was there for her.

Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a subtle yet palpable connection that lingered in the air. It was a moment that could have easily been avoided, but neither of them seemed willing to retreat. 

As the smoke curled around Y/n, she maintained a facade of cool composure, seemingly unfazed by the intimacy of the shared smoke. It was as if the brief touch and the exchange of breath and saliva meant nothing more to her than the inhale and exhale of the smoke itself. The proding sense of sadness thumping in the back of her head telling her that this couldn’t last, they couldn’t last. 

“I liked the food.” Y/n returned the cigarette. “It's different…better.”

Carmen looked at her like he had a million questions that he wanted to ask and y/n wondered if she was giving him the same look. 

She leaned back, “Don’t you have an alley or something? Smoking out front is so highschool.”

“Syd threw up in the alley.” 

Y/n raised an eyebrow and wondered if this is how far they would go, she would have savored him for a moment longer if she knew it was going to end so soon.

Carmen stood straight and tilted his head so she would follow him. 

“They cleaned up fast.” Y/n marveled at the vacant restaurant, the lights were dimmed and Carmen led her to the office. 

“I think they wanted to get out of here before the last train left.” Carmen held the door open for her and the familiar heat of his hand hovering over the small of her back was a welcomed surprise.

Despite the practicality of the situation, the impending departure and the need for a clean, cold goodbye, there was a lingering question of whether she could maintain that distance. Carmen's proximity, the heat of his touch, and the shared space was going to make it challenging to stick with a clinical farewell.

The door clicked shut and y/n let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

“Do your worst. I can take it, y/n.” Carmen sighed, y/n’s stomach fluttered and she dug her nails into her palms to compose herself. 

“Service was good, the waiter filled up my cup when it was halfway. The silverware was clean and rolled tight. Points off because my fork was from a different manufacturer from the rest of the dinnerware.” Y/n saw Carmen clench up for a second before nodding in concentration. It felt as if each syllable was being burned into his memory and the intensity of his gaze was making her sweat.

She gave herself the satisfaction of sitting because her feet were killing her and Carmen sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. 

“The saltiness of the guanciale harmonizes with the richness of the eggs and the sharpness of the Pecorino Romano. The dish was velvety but delicate. The guanciale provides a necessary contrast in texture. Simple but precise. I think…I know that it was the best thing I’ve had in a while, chef.” 

Yn was met with a humming silence. 

“We can do this tomorrow, I know you had a long day.” Y/n offered.

“No…” He shook his head and his eyes were distant before landing on her’s, the severity behind them had made her sit back, “I want to hear what you have to say.”

She extended her legs towards Carmen, “You see these, chef?” Carmen hesitated to look forward like he was in the middle century and ankles were scandalous before gazing at her soft legs.

“They hurt like a motherfucker.” She flexed the back of her heel to show the blisters that had formed. “I gotta take care of this back in the hotel.” 

Carmen slowly shifted his gaze from her legs to her face before wordlessly getting up and walking out. Y/n rubbed her temple and allowed herself to be selfish once more by downing Carmen’s abandoned sugar free Redbull left on the desk.

As she collected her stuff to get back to the hotel, Carmen returned with ice and first aid. 

He placed everything on the floor so slowly that y/n could only assume that he was stalling. 

Carmen looked up at her with his bright, almost silver, eyes and his eyes asked, Can I help you? Can I be there for you like you were here for me today?

It was like time had stopped as y/n struggled to bring oxygen to her lungs. She mindlessly nodded yes and the first touch made her heart thump against her chest. His hands were scorching against her skin and every lingering touch imprinted its memory on to her. As he iced the swelling and followed it by placing his warm hand to ease the shock in temperature, it became hard for y/n to focus.

Carmen did her the courtesy of abandoning the ice pack. She took a hollow and staggered breath, “Ask me anything.” 

Carmen looked up from her, she hadn’t noticed that he had removed her heels, and asked her about every minor detail about her experience. He wasn’t aware that he was softly rubbing his thumb across her ankle, and y/n couldn't seem to move on from it. 

When y/n finished her summary, Carmen’s fingers seized dancing across her skin and she regretted not talking for longer. 

He didn’t let his hand leave her even as he asked, “How is work?”

Y/n grunted out in dismay and she leaned back and would have fallen backwards if Carmen hadn’t grabbed the seat between her legs. They both stared at his hand before Carmen quickly pulled back, y/n mumbled a quick thanks. 

“It’s great.” Y/n sarcastically pushed. 

Carmen quirked up his eyebrows in a sarcastic manner and y/n ignored him. 

“It was Henry’s birthday.” Carmen hummed in understanding, birthdays were always a mess.

“You wouldn’t guess who was doing the expo yesterday.” 

“I have an idea.” Y/n couldn’t deny that his smirk sent her spinning. He understood the fiber of that world so well even though he was hundreds of miles away, and she was barely hanging on to a tread. 

Carmen continued, “Feel bad for the poor bastard who was his punching bag for the night.”

Y/n swallowed the burning lump in the back of her throat and kept her gaze relaxed and gave him a soft, “Yeah.”

The silence was making y/n uncomfortable so she mustered her remaining energy to give him a relaxed smile. 

Carmen’s face didn’t give anything away, “How bad was he?”

“I'm here, aren’t I?” Y/n chuckled humorlessly. 

“I know you're strong but I was being serious, y'know…about the job.” Carmen asserted.

Y/n softened her eyes, he was making this so much harder for her. “Noted, chef. Why Chicago?” Y/n diverted.

“Inherited the restaurant from my brother and I had to deal with it. He killed himself.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“It’s fine, I was going to have to tell you anyway.” Y/n didn’t have to know anything, she was no one and she didn’t deserve his trust. “It was a sandwich place before we renovated it.”

Y/n laughed in disbelief, “You made sandwiches? They sell truffles in Chicago?”

Carmen smirked as he went back to mindlessly rubbing her ankle again. “Regular sandwiches.”

Y/n widened her eyes and couldn’t hold her laughter in, “Pictures or it didn’t happen.” 

Carmen fished out his phone and showed her pictures of a messier restaurant.

“I get why you had to gut the place.”

“It's not that bad.” He asked humorously. 

“What you have right now is more your style, I like this version better.” Y/n heart skipped a beat when his hand shifted a bit higher up her leg. 

“I love the look though,” Y/n squinted at a picture of Carmen standing behind a counter at what looked like a bachelor party. 

“What look?”

“You know, the rugged, tired look.” Carmen rolled his eyes. “No seriously, I didn’t even know you had so much ink.” Y/n zoomed in on a tattoo of some numbers on his biceps. 

“I'll show you all of them later.” Y/n let out a laugh as she handed back the phone. She wondered if she was hiding her nerves well. 

"You spend all your time at work, when do you find the time to sit in a tattoo shop?"

"Prioritizing important shit, I guess."

"If you can prioritize getting tattoos and running a restaurant, when do you have time for your girlfriend?" Subtle, passive, non-probing was what y/n was going for. She forced herself to watch his reaction.

Carmen gave a puzzled look, his scrunched up eyebrows and distant look was accompanied with a quiet, "Don't have one."

Y/n gave a casual "Hmm…you sure? Seems like you got time to kill, always so relaxed." Carmen curled his lips up and bit his lips to stifle his smile. His lips turned pale pink before returning to rose red and y/n wanted to reach down and run her pointer finger along his lips to feel his heat.

"When I have the time. The restaurant is new and I need-"

"I thought you said you knew how to prioritize?" Y/n leaned back and rested her cheek on her fist. 

"Maybe if she's really special."

"And not distracting." Y/n added.

"Then I can prioritize." Carmen adjusted his posture before asking y/n.

"What about you?"

"I am a realistic romantic, so love is real but just not for me. I don't have it in me to text everyday or go to family dinners. But who knows, Mr. Right might make me less shitty and more sunshine and rainbows. "

"Your personality is fine right now." Carmen offered. 

Y/n jokingly scoffed before adding, "Then maybe I just need someone to distract from my own problems."

They sat in comfortable silence, but y/n’s eyes widened as she checked the clock, “It’s late.”

“It’s only one.” Y/n gave him a look of disapproval before nudging her foot against his stomach, where it had been resting for the past hour. 

“Go home, Carmen.” Carmen wordlessly picked up her heels and slipped them back on to her feet. He stood up and offered his hand. 

They walked out the restaurant and y/n pulled out her phone to call a taxi.

“I can drive you.”

Y/n looked over her shoulder at Carmen checking the locks. 

“If you drive me, you won't be getting any sleep.” A pause passed through them.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Y/n rushed out. 

Carmen cleared his throat, preserved her dignity by not saying anything else and led her to the car. 

“You know these things will kill you.” Y/n lifted a Red Bull from the cup holder and cracked it open and took a few healthy sips. 

Carmen wordlessly slipped the can out of her hands at a red light, “I need it more than you.” He looked down at the lipstick mark and took a few savored sips. At the next light, y/n could see the remnants of red lipstick on his bottom lip. 

They reached y/n’s hotel too fast for each other's liking. Y/n swiveled her head, Carmen was already looking at her. She was fighting heavy lids a few minutes ago but now she was sprung with energy. 

Y/n looked up in feinted innocence before casually offering, “You want to come up for some tea?” The kettle in her room didn’t work, she checked this morning.

Carmen blinked a few times, wondering if he heard her right, before slowly nodding his head like he wasn’t sure it was a joke. 

She unlocked her room door for the both of them and Carmen shut it behind him. With a cautious gesture, y/n extended her hand, placing it close to Carmen's body. The darkness clung to Carmen's form as y/n's fingers grazed his side, a brief but intimate contact that went unnoticed in the dimly lit corridor, to check if the door was locked.

Carmen walked over to the office chair in the corner. Y/n room was so cramped that she was still within arms distance of him as she sat on the foot of her bed. 

“The Bear?” Y/n’s inquisitive gaze and playful smile made Carmen’s heart stutter as he nearly forgot what The Bear was, or what his name was. 

He cleared his throat, “Berzatto…Bear. It was a nick-name my brother gave me.” 

Y/n leaned in a bit closer as she scoffed, “Even the name is good. I kinda hate you a bit more.” She bit her bottom lip to stifle the laugh but was pleasantly surprised that he was bouncing from her eyes to her lips.

He parted his lips to formulate a coherent sentence but y/n extended her heels to the legs of Carmen’s chair and pulled him closer. The look of his thoughts scrambling right in front of her was making it difficult for her to be restrained and poised. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

His grip on the arms of the chair was telling her that she was headed in the right direction. She kept her hold on Carmen’s chair, as she softly assured, “I have to go back soon, so I’m trying to soak it all in right now.”

“You're leaving?” Carmen mumbled, sharing his attention between her eyes, lips, and her leg. He let his legs relax, which made them meet with y/n’s legs. 

“I hate Chicago.” Y/n leaned back. “And I don’t really belong here. My whole life is in New York, and I don’t want to change everything just for-.” 

“Come work for me-” 

A swift pang of anger rippled through her, he didn’t need her. “You’ve got your plate full, you don't need a distraction.”

“But you do.” Carmen placed a warm hand on her thigh and the heat made her breath heavy, y/n knew where this was going but she wanted it to last as long as it could because she knew that once the sun rose, they were done. 

“It’s going to be messy.” 

“It won't be.”

The room held its breath as they teetered on the edge of something undefined. The impending dawn loomed, casting a shadow on the delicate illusion they had woven. “I don’t want something serious.” Y/n argued. 

“And I dont have the time for something serious.” As Carmen leaned forward, pushing his hands high up her thigh. 

As y/n searched for any other reason no to do this, Carmen’s cerulean eye’s hazed with lust seemed to have the opposite effect. Any reservations, logic, or inhibitions that could have prompted her to stop were forcefully pushed away amidst the intoxicating allure of Carmen.

Y/n didn’t know who leaned in first but it didn’t take much time for both of them to topple in the bed. In between huffs and shirts flying off each other Carmen whispered into her lips, “Just pretend it’s real tonight.”

Y/n reeled her head back a second, but Carmen's intense gaze and his trailing hand convinced her otherwise. She leaned back in, hooking her legs around his waist pulling him closer.

Carmen stalled his kisses down the column of her throat, “I thought you wouldn’t come.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Y/n twisted her hips and in a flash she was straddling him.

She sensed the subtle shiver that ran through him, his unsteady hands finding a resting place on her hips, torn between the desire to reciprocate from below and allowing her to continue her torture. Taking charge, she decided for both of them, lowering herself down to grind against his jeans.

Carmen’s mind went blank and the last thing he saw before he lost all sense of restraint and reason, was y/n’s eyes sparkling. 

--

You can read more of my stuff here

End Notes:

I love reading your comments, and that's what motivated me to finish, so share your thoughts bc I want to hear them.

I currently have like 10 half baked drafts and they all suck so this was the sole survivor. This one is kinda self indulgent because I hate my job so much but sometimes no matter how much something makes you miserable, there isn’t a way out, so you have to find something to distract yourself from the dull pain. 

I tried to keep it as realistically healthy as a relationship with Carmen can be because that man just needs some space to grow. Honestly, I'm not sure if they'll ever meet again, or maybe they might meet up more now. Im really not sure.

[miviaceleste]

A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

[spncrscasey]

Mine (m.c.)

Fandom/Characters: Chicago Fire - Matt Casey x Fem!Reader, Sylvie Brett, Stella Kidd, Kelly Severide, Blake Gallo, Wallace Boden, Christopher Herrmann, Joe Cruz, Darren Ritter

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You and Matt Casey had been secretly dating for a while, and it had gone smoothly since you worked at different firehouses. However, you were offered a job at 51 which despite seeming like a great idea, only made everything complicated.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, a bunch of fluff, pet names, mention of anxiety, protective matt, kissing, happy ending

a/n: my first fic!!!!! (on tumblr that is lol) i used to write a lot on another platforms but haven't written for fun in forever (other than for school, ew lol.) so i might be a bit rusty so just yk excuse that until i get back into my flow :) anyways i hope you guys like it <3

For the last three years, you've been working as a paramedic at Firehouse 20 alongside Violet Mikami. During that time, you've come to know Blake Gallo as a result of his on-and-off relationship with her. Although he's a great guy, what made him even greater is the person he introduced you to about a year ago— your boyfriend, Captain Matthew Casey of Firehouse 51.

Where could you possibly start? His mesmerizing, smile and his charming personality drew you in in an instant. You never realized how the occasional encounters, transformed into intimate late-night conversations. And before you knew it, those late-night talks grew into romantic dinners and memorable dates.

After months of both of you dancing around one another, he finally masked up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. Without a moment's hesitation, you instantly said yes.

Six months have passed since then. Both of you had mutually decided to keep it private for some time in order to prevent any interference with your jobs. The only individuals who had known were your respective Chiefs, just in case something happened.

Your Chief also knew you could handle a busier station such as 51. So, he had just offered you the vacant paramedic position that was left after Foster left for Med School.

Initially, you were excited about the offer because it meant working with your boyfriend. However, now you're uncertain about accepting it as you're not sure how he’d react. While you believe he'd be as thrilled as you are, there's this nagging feeling that it would complicate things.

So you decided to call him.

"Hey Matt," You said once he picked up.

"Hi babe, everything okay? You rarely call me during shift." He replied, voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." You assure him before nervously adding, "It's just... I have something to run by you...”

"Go ahead sweetheart, what's up?"

"You know how Foster left and ever since then there's been an open paramedic spot at 51 for a while now?"

He hums encouraging you to continue.

"Well, my Chief spoke to Boden and they both agreed that I could fill that spot if I wanted to."

"That's fantastic news!" He said excitedly. "Do you want to?"

You sighed. "I do want to. I think it would be nice to work with you and the experience of working at a busier station? That would benefit me, by a lot. I’d be able to learn so much."

"Then what's there to run by me? This is your decision Y/N." Matt questioned.

"It's your house! I don't want to interfere with the little family you all have built and make things complicated considering we'd be working together while dating and what if they take it the wrong way thinking I only got the spot because I'm with you-"

"Hey! Y/N, sweetheart, breathe." He says cutting off your rambling, trying to calm you down.

"What?" you ask, voice exasperated.

"Baby, no one's going to think anything like that. You're an amazing paramedic and you earned your spot because you're good at your job. Also, no one knows that we're together so they won't suspect a thing. We don't even have to tell them yet if you don't want to.” He said reassuringly before continuing, “And you wouldn't be interfering with anything, I can assure you that we'd all love to have you at 51. This is completely your choice though, so whether you want to transfer over here or not, you have my full support, regardless of what you decide."

You smile at Matt's words. "Thank you." You pause for a moment before resuming happily, "Okay I'm going to go tell Chief that I'm accepting the position! I'll talk to you later Matt."

"That's my girl." He says smiling before hanging up.

You swiftly head to your Chief's office and let him know that you completed the transfer paperwork and are ready to begin at 51 as soon as possible. He nods, smiling, and assures you that he will push the request forward.

It was now Monday. Which also happened to be the same day you started your first shift as the new paramedic of Firehouse 51.

God were you nervous.

You had spoken to Matt multiple times and he continuously reassured you that you had no reason to feel anxious because everyone would adore you. So why were you still panicking?

Matt liked you, Gallo liked you, and so did Boden after the short interview you two had.

You had also heard a lot about each of them through Matt, and they all sounded like wonderful people. So the odds of your new coworkers welcoming you with open arms were pretty high.

Yet despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety that was coursing through your veins, leaving you a nervous wreck.

You let out a sigh, trying to calm your nerves as you approached the Firehouse. You bumped into Gallo on the way which instantly relieved your worries. Seeing a familiar face put your mind at ease, melting your fears away, even if it’s only for a moment.

The two of you engaged in an easy conversation as you walked into the building together.

Upon entering, you spotted a table near the rigs with several individuals seated around it. Gallo eagerly ushered you towards them, quickly introducing everyone.

"Squad, this is Y/N Y/L/N, our new paramedic!" He said as you smiled, waving at them.

Gallo then pointed at a tan, blue-eyed man who was sitting at the head of the table. "That's Lieutenant Kelly Severide. Head of Squad and those are his Squad members."

He quickly got up and shook your hand. "Nice to meet you Y/L/N."

You recognized him now. He was Matt's best friend, they'd been through thick and thin together. It was sweet actually, finally getting to put a face to the name you've been hearing so much about.

Gallo took his time introducing you to the other members of Squad, all of whom greeted you with kindness and respect.

As he slipped into conversation with them, you took the opportunity to excuse yourself and find your partner, Sylvie Brett, who you’d be spending most of your time with.

She stood out easily, being one of only two women in the house. You spotted her in the kitchen, chatting with another girl who you figured must be Stella, Severide's girlfriend. Matt had spoken to you about how amazing they were as a couple, and it always made you happy to hear about them. With a deep breath, you made your way over to them.

"Hi!" You smiled. "I'm the new paramedic here working with... Sylvie Brett?" You ask unsurly, turning your head to glance at the blonde hoping you're right.

"Yes, that's me! Hi!" She answered enthusiastically, hugging you. Matt had mentioned how sweet she was but the embrace still caught you by surprise. Regardless, you hugged her back, accepting the kind gesture. Once you pulled away you waved at the other woman who smiled back at you, introducing herself as Stella Kidd.

After conversing with them for some time and getting to know one another, you headed off to the officer quarters with the hope of seeing your boyfriend.

Once you approached the office that was referred to Matt Casey, you knocked.

"Come in." You heard so you stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

"Hi baby," You said, smiling at him. He looked up from his desk, features softening as he noticed you.

"How's my favorite girl doing?" He asked standing up to give you a brief kiss on the cheek.

"I'm great! Everyone here is so nice and fun to talk to. They've all been so welcoming." You answered excitedly.

"See, I told you everyone would love you. What's there not to?" He asked rhetorically, making you smile as he placed his hands on your waist pulling you in closer. Matt's inability to keep his hands to himself never fails to make you laugh. It was all quickly forgotten though when he drew you in for a more passionate kiss when he noticed that there weren't any prying eyes on you.

As time passed, days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, you had seamlessly become a part of them. Each member of the group welcomed you with open arms, and it felt like you had found your place within the close-knit family they had formed at 51. It seemed like you had found a lasting bond and a sense of belonging with everyone there, envisioning a permanent future among them.

You became good friends with Sylvie and Stella, established a nice mentorship with Hermann, and created a sibling-like bond with Severide.

Most importantly though, to your knowledge, no one had suspected your relationship with Matt.

You wanted to say something, you really did. You didn't want him to think you were ashamed of being with him. But you didn't want the people you had grown so close to to think that you were only offered the position because of your relationship with him; even if you were confident that they weren't the type of people to believe that.

It was an ordinary day. You and Sylvie had just returned from responding to a call— nothing too serious, just tending to a man who had been cut by a broken mirror. Together with Sylvie, you bandaged him up and sent him to Med for stitches, wishing him a speedy recovery.

You were restocking the ambulance when Sylvie spoke up, "So, did you see the way that guy looked at you?"

You almost choked on your spit at her statement, not expecting it. "How did he look at me?"

"Oh c'mon- there were literally hearts in his eyes every time you spoke up while bandaging him!" She exclaimed a bit too loudly making you shush her.

"Who had hearts in his eyes?" Matt chimed in as he walked up to you and Brett, joining your conversation.

"No one," You say brushing him off but Sylvie interjects. "This guy we were helping earlier, he totally had the hots for our new paramedic over here." She said, nudging you with her arm in a teasing manner.

"Oh, did he?" Matt asked in a tone that sounded like he was joking but you could see the way his body tensed.

"It's whatever, nothing serious. It's not like I'm going to go on a date with him." You roll your eyes trying to dismiss the situation.

"You should!" Sylvie replies happily, "You're pretty and single. He wasn't bad on the eyes either, if you know what I mean. Go have some fun girl! Who knows, he could be the love of your life." She adds, winking.

Matt gave a half-hearted smile and walked away without acknowledging Brett, leaving her looking up in confusion. "What was that about?" She asked.

"No idea," You say shortly, despite knowing exactly what was going on.

Matthew Casey was jealous.

It was quite surprising because he had never shown signs of being the jealous type. In the past, if another man approached you in his presence, he would politely ask them to leave you alone, making it clear that you were already taken. Or he’d simply put his arm around you in a protective, not-so-friendly manner, letting everyone know that you were his. It never bothered you. You found it cute, actually.

But this? This was different. He had never acted this way, which concerned you.

After you were done restocking the ambo you made your way to his office, hoping to ease the tension.

You sighed as you knocked, hearing a quick come-in before stepping inside. You noticed he had his head buried in paperwork, not even acknowledging you as you came in.

"Matt, honey, what's wrong?" You asked, worried when he still didn't look up at you. You waited for a moment before continuing once he didn't reply, "Baby talk to me."

He sighs before finally looking into your eyes. His ocean blues never failed to make you weak in the knees. So intimidating but beautiful nevertheless.

"I don't want to keep this a secret any longer." He eventually replied, motioning between the two of you.

"I don't want to either but you know we can't."

"Why can't we?" He said, tone a bit sharp, causing you to flinch for a second.

"Because-" you were cut off by a knock on Matt's door making you straighten up.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's someone here to see you Y/N." Said Severide as he poked his head into Casey's office letting you know before heading out.

You quickly glance at Matt sighing before leaving his office, silently apologizing. You hated leaving mid conversation but this could be important. You noticed him trailing behind you as you walked out but chose not to comment on it.

Once you were outside, you recognized him as the man you had sent to Med earlier. The same man who had 'the hots' for you apparently, according to Brett.

This was going to be a long conversation.

"Hello!" He said, way too ecstatic for someone who had just been discharged from a hospital.

"Hi there, how are you feeling?" You asked, keeping the conversation polite.

"Better thanks to you, you saved my life."

"Oh, you know, no big deal! Just doing my job."

"Well, I was hoping to take you out on a date as a way of saying thank you." He said with confidence, catching you off guard.

"I'm very flattered sir but you don't need to thank me, let alone take me out on a date. I'm happy to help, love what I do." You say, hoping that gets rid of him.

By now, you were fully aware that most of the members of the firehouse were watching the interaction occur from behind you. Hence why you were aiming to wrap it up as soon as possible.

"No, no, I insist. We'll have a great time together!" He pushes.

"Like I said, thanks for the offer but I'm going to have to decline. Feel better." You say, turning around.

Before you had a chance to walk away, he grabbed your wrist harshly. Pulling you backward, making you lose your balance, and almost causing you to fall.

"Woah woah woah-" "Back off!" You hear the men hurriedly interject pushing him away from you before Matt yells, in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. "Get your hands off of my paramedic before I call the authorities. You have no right to touch her, especially after she said no."

Boden hears the commotion and steps out of his office. "What's going on over here?"

"This man put his hands on Y/N after she rejected him Chief. He was just leaving though weren't, you?" Matt replies, glaring at the man making him quickly walk away.

The second that he was out of sight, everyone turned to you. Stella speaks up, "Are you okay?"

"Don't worry guys, I'm fine." You say looking around at all of them, reassuring them that you're okay. "Thanks for the help. I'm sure he won't be coming back any time soon, especially after the way Casey glared at him." You add chuckling, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere around you.

"You'd almost think you guys were dating with the way he attacked him to defend you," Severide commented casually, using a tone that sounded like he knew something. Which you decided to ignore for the time being.

At the mention of your boyfriend though, you looked up hoping to catch a glimpse of him but noticed he was nowhere to be found which alarmed you.

As the crowd dispersed and engaged in their own conversations, you discreetly slipped away and made your way to visit Matt in his quarters, marking this as your second visit there in the last half hour.

This time though, you didn't even bother knocking and simply walked in.

When he noticed it was you, he quickly stood up concerned, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Oh, I'm alright. Don't worry, it was nothing I hadn't dealt with before in this line of duty, you know how men can be sometimes.” You answered, nonchalantly.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say. Finally, you decided to break the silence, “I'm sorry, Matt. I don't want to argue with you, so if it'll make you happy, we can go tell them right now.”

He sighed, turning around in his chair to look at you, “Y/N, this isn't just up to me, we’re in this relationship together. We have to make decisions like these as a team. I love you and I want everyone to know that but if you're not taking this seriously and want to go on that date instead then-”

“No! This is serious to me Matt, I love you and you know that.” You cut him off before he's able to finish the sentence. “I have eyes for you and only you, no one else matters to me but you, Matthew Casey.” You add firmly, making sure he understands that.

“Then what’s the issue here?” He asks, tired of the constant back and forth you've been having today.

You sigh and sit down on the edge of his bed before replying, “I just- I've become so close to everyone here in the last few weeks and I don't want their opinion of me to change after they find out that you and I are together. I don't want them to think that I'm only here because of you.”

“Baby…” He says in a softer tone, getting out of his seat to come sit next to you.

You don't look at him once he's sat beside you, opting to look at the floor instead.

“Hey, look at me.” He gently says taking your hands in his, grabbing your attention.

You hum as you bring your eyes up to meet his.

When he's sure you're not going to look away, he starts speaking, “Listen to me, everyone here? They're the most amazing and supportive group of people you'll ever meet. They won't dare say anything of the sort because they'd be beyond happy for us. And if they slightly even think about it, I won't hesitate to go all ‘Captain’ on them.” He says, making you chuckle.

“Besides, I don't want idiots like that guy who can't take no for an answer, hurting you again for a nonexistent chance of taking you out.” He adds.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, and after a moment passes, you mutter a simple, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Matt questions.

“Yeah, okay, let’s tell them.” You reply, nodding enthusiastically.

“I want everyone to know that this handsome man right here,” You say pointing at his chest with a teasing tone, “Is of the market and mine only.”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Mhm,” You say with an even bigger smile, before leaning in to press your lips against his.

As your lips finally touch, a wave of stillness washes over you. It feels as though the entire world has come to a halt and all that exists is the shared connection between the two of you. At that moment, nothing else matters except for the feeling of his lips against yours.

His delicate hand caresses your face, making you smile into the kiss as you pull him in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. There's no need to hide your love for each other anymore, allowing your affection for one another to be expressed freely without the fear of secrecy. The rush of emotion flowing through you is intoxicating and God, it is an exhilarating feeling, one that you had never felt before.

Before the kiss could progress any further, you heard cheering outside making you pull away. You glance out the window to understand what the fuss is about when you notice that the blinds were left open, meaning that all of 51 just saw you kissing Matt.

Your cheeks flush with warmth, causing you to bury your face in Matt's shoulder as he laughs at your reaction. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer in a tight embrace.

You look up at him, mouthing an ‘I love you,’

He whispers back, “I love you too.”

He quickly leans in for one more peck against your lips, before bracing himself for all the questions you're about to receive once you head outside.

“You guys were betting on us?” You asked amused, raising your eyebrows at the exchange of money happening right in front of your eyes.

“Well, what were we supposed to do!?” Cruz exclaimed defensively, earning a giggle from you.

“I mean, we all knew you guys were head over heels for each other, that was obvious. We just didn't realize you had been together prior to all of this.” Added Ritter, shrugging.

“I can speak for everyone though when I say that we are all very happy for you two.” Said Herrmann, making everyone nod in agreement.

As soon as the initial stage of shock died down, Stella and Sylvie rushed over to you, enveloping you in a group hug, requesting all the juicy details. While Kelly simply gave Matt a supportive pat on the back, smiling at his best friend.

Soon, the questions regarding your relationship began pouring in. Matt drew you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he answered each of them one by one. You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes briefly, basking in the serenity.

And at last, you found yourself finally feeling at ease. Your family knew, and they were happy for you. Which is all you could ask for.

[petriwriting]

Jealous. - Theodore Nott X Reader

A/N: I haven't written here yet I don't think, but yeah. Didn't proofread and it's aggressively unedited, but in honor of Halloween and just October in general I've been rewatching Harry Potter.... so. kinda of based on a personal experience but not really lol.

Summary: Theo and Y/N are best friends, dating other people to make each other jealous. -*cheating, angst, fluff, hurt and comfort. partying, Slytherins being devious as usual. I'd like to imagine Y/N and Theo dated and broke up prior but use your imagination. Italian!Theo, obvi Lorenzo Zurzolo.

Theo was sat at the Slytherin table, with his new girlfriend. Y/N was seated in direct sight of him, at the Gryffindor table. Seated next to Cormac McLaggen, a tall handsome Gryffindor with his arm slung around y/n's shoulder. He watched as y/n would smile, fake a laugh, and flirt with the blonde boy. Theo wouldn't dare admit to his jealousy though, he wondered if y/n was even still his best friend, they'd grown so distant in the past few months, and they barely spoke aside from their classes together. It wasn't until his girlfriend, Astoria Greengrass asked him a question that he was pulled out of his jealous haze. "T, can we talk later?" she turned her eyes towards Theodore, who was a bit surprised. "of course. Is everything alright?" he asked, he felt as though he was operating on autopilot, He wanted to be a good boyfriend because the poor girl deserved someone who treated her right, but it didn't feel right, his heart wasn't in it and his attention was elsewhere making him feel a bit guilty. Astoria was a sweet girl, younger than Theo, but she already had an excellent reputation around school. she was smart, kind, and thoughtful. all the things that would make a great girlfriend, but Theodore knew deep down he was being facetious. there was a short pause, and Astoria's smile faded quickly, "I'd just like to talk with you about something." she said softly, somewhat disappointed. Theo nodded. The couple continued their meal, Theo being a bit more quiet than usual.

Y/n sat with the Gryffindors almost every day because of Cormac, a sometimes arrogant and always rowdy bunch. Cormac had asked y/n out a few months ago, and things had been steady. But Cormac was becoming very distant and wasn't as talkative and open. Y/n was onto him, hoping to catch him in a lie or a secret somehow although they both spoke about how happy they were. It wasn't until later in the evening, when Cormac said he'd walk y/n to the dorms from an evening meeting. But he wasn't there, this had been happening recently. Cormac would say he's in one place while being in another. Y/n heard it from friends and gossip around the school. So on this particular evening, it was incredibly frustrating. Y/n had to catch one of Cormac's quidditch teammates in the hall to ask where he could be. "He said he was with you, actually." his teammate said. "sorry." Y/n just smiled. disappointing. "it's not your fault. but thanks."

With a huge sigh, y/n decided to just head back to their cozy room to relax for the evening but to clear their head, y/n took the long way home, wandering around the winding corridors around campus. It was a peaceful walk, quiet and unbothered until y/n heard some voices in a small hallway nearing the Slytherin dungeon. hushed, secretive, quiet. Y/n heard the distinct sound of a muffled giggle, and someone whispering sweet nothings through a smile. Not wanting to be nosy, y/n considered turning back so as to not disturb them, immediately hiding in an adjacent corridor. but then, it was even more distinct. Cormac fucking McLaggen. "you know I really like you." he said, "We shouldn't be doing this... what about your girlfriend?" the girl smiled again, you could hear it in her voice. Y/N's heart sank. "Don't worry about her, I only care about you right now." Y/n, with tears in her eyes revealed themself. Cormac immediately pulled his arms away from the girl. It was a petite brunette girl in Cormac's Gryffindor sweater, y/n could tell because it was huge on the girl. The girl gasped, embarrassed. Cormac turned to y/n, "What are you doing here!" he stammered. Y/n had tears streaming down their face. "you were supposed to walk me home. you were supposed to be with me!" Y/n raised their voice in an emotional moment like this, all y/n wanted to do was lie down and cry. "Listen, it's not what it looks like... I- just," Cormac sighed running his hands through his hair. "we were just talking about an assignment, and-" He was cut off by y/n "Don't lie to me. You are so superficial. I can't stand you," The girl awkwardly started to walk away, not wanting to be involved in the situation at all, y/n didn't even know who she was, and couldn't exactly place her name. She was scarily familiar. Cormac was speechless, caught in the act. "Just leave me alone!" Y/n shouted, running off in tears, barely able to breathe. Cormac didn't bother to go after her. She was pacing forward quickly to get back to their room before anyone saw her like that, a total mess with tears streaming down her face, too upset to even think straight.

Thud! . . .

Y/N had run right into none other than Theodore Nott. Y/n looked up, their face was red, flushed and the tears stained their cheeks. without a word Theo embraced y/n tightly in comfort. "hey, Caro, it's okay." it was sentimental, comforting, and it felt safe. Y/n pulled back after a moment, catching their breath. "What happened?" Theo asked, there was a genuine worry in his tone. "I just caught Cormac in the hall with some girl." y/n sighed, breath shaking. "Y/n, I'm so sorry," Theo turned his head, he was sympathetic. but with how distant he had been y/n wasn't in the mood for romance like that anymore. "what are you doing here anyway," Y/n said, rubbing the tears from their tired eyes. "Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?". Theo shrugged. "she broke up with me." Y/N's expression hardened. "I'm sorry," y/n uttered quietly. "She said she was falling in love with someone else," Theo explained, attempting to turn the focus on his own issues for y/n's benefit to make them feel better about their own awful situation. "Astoria was right though, we just weren't right for each other." Y/n folded their arms in the chilly hall. It made sense Theo was wandering these halls, he was a Slytherin after all and he would often sneak around those halls to smoke cigarettes. "I'm not too upset over it, honestly. I'd been thinking about breaking up with her." Theo admitted. "why?" y/n asked, talking to Theo always made y/n feel better after a rough day. "I just don't love her the way I should, and honestly I've been thinking about someone else. She used a suffocating amount of hair products anyway," Theo chuckled, delighted to see y/n crack a small chuckle. "I'm not too down," he said. "I'm really sorry to hear that, teddy." y/n said. teddy was a nickname y/n had for him since they were first years, and no one else would dare call him that. "It's alright." y/n looked down. "So who is this someone else you're into these days?" Y/n offered, trying to continue the conversation. "well, it doesn't matter." Theo said quickly. "Shall I walk you back to your room?" he offered.

Theo walked y/n home that night, rather than their now ex-boyfriend. y/n was heartbroken, but their feelings for Theo weren't well hidden. y/n was a bit hurt hearing that Theo was supposedly in love with someone else, but it would take some time to heal, and it would certainly be one day at a time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------*I usually don't write part 2 for my writing but maybe if this is well received I'll pick up and start writing again, I've really enjoyed it. Let me know! :) hope you guys liked it.

[chlorinecake]

If it's possible, could you make a yandere enhypen story, where the reader usually goes out late at night to a convenience store for some late night snacks, but some pervert tries her, but one of the members had been following her and help her, I'm sorry if it doesnt make any sense but yeah...😀 (recently my delusions have been getting to me)

“convenient chances” 🎱 

pairing: stalker!yandere!enhypen x afab!reader

cw: harassment, violence, mentions of smoking, paranoia/anxiety, language, kidnapping, bad-ish ending lol

wc: 3.1k — read part ll and lll here

LIKE A DUNGEON with fear cementing every corner, you struggle to savor the silence in your waking life.

Doubting all and believing none, your close friend Sunoo convinced you that your nervous aches and night sweats were a mere result of paranoia. He always judged the way you’d peek over your shoulder in public as if waiting to be attacked.

Clicking sounds from your window startled your rest during the night, with nightmares of seven tall hooded strangers blinding your judgement.

You're sure everyone's experienced the phenomenon of “gaze perception” at least once in their lives, in which a person might sense or assume that a pair of predatory eyes are stalking them from afar.

You didn’t like to use the word trauma to define your past experiences, but this wasn’t your first time feeling like a cloud of trouble waited to pour down on you. At this point, all you could do was hope that your intuition wasn’t right this time.

It was only a few months ago when you broke up with your abusive ex-boyfriend, Jay. The memories still linger as if they occurred yesterday, freshly cryptic in your mind. From your point of view, he started off as a charming casual acquaintance, which soon developed into a crush and then a toxic relationship. He outlined a list of rules for you to follow when he was away, ordering you around like a child. Anytime you even came close to breaking one of his orders, he’d beat the shit out of you, saying that his rage was out of love.

From Jay’s point of view, you weren’t just an obsession, but a belonging—his favorite humanoid toy to play with. He threatened that if you ever left him, he’d come back for you one day, saying that he’d never stop watching you.

And so, you moved. Not far, but a good distance away. You didn’t feel protected anymore in your usual environment. Though, there was one place in which you felt completely safe—free from watchful eyes and hostile hands. It was the tatty old convenience store a few blocks from where you live. The place hadn’t developed much since what appeared to be a decade or two ago, but they always supplied the most tasty, high quality snacks you could get your hands on.

As silly as it may sound, the fallout shop was your haven, and you grew particularly fond of shopping there late at night when it was less crowded.

You walked passed the familiar electronic doors, the fluorescent ceiling lights sparkling off of the bleach-mopped tiles. The usually uplifting radio station was replaced with the chilling whoosh of air circulating through the vents.

“Hello! Welcome to Goldman’s 24-hour convenience,” a friendly accented voice chimed. “Hello,” you returned with a nod, a bit confused by the new face. The usual cashier was an elder women by the name of Mandy. Her laughter alone could make some of your darkest nights glimmer again.

The young man wore a name tag on his dark blue collared shirt: Jake. You couldn’t help but wonder why Mandy wasn’t working her usual night shift, but you didn’t care enough to interrogate the seemingly content boy.

Picking up a hand basket, you explored the aisle's shelves in search for something savory or sweet to snack on. Your gaze swiveled ahead of you before landing on the sight of two hooded strangers blocking your path. This time, a bit of their faces showed, revealing the devious smirks that spoke so many silent words through their sealed lips:

You can run, but you can’t hide from us, ____. For as long as we live, you’re not allowed to feel safe anywhere.

Goosebumps sprouted on the surface of your skin, nerves dancing around in your fingers until they became wobbling rods. It’s almost like you forgot to breathe due to the overwhelming terror, feeling frozen from within as the plastic basket slipped from your grasp, a loud clatter echoing throughout the store.

You remembered all of the horrible things Jay said he would do to you once he found you again. The bruises you concealed with makeup that Jay referred to as his "strawberry kisses” would have nothing on what you felt was coming your way.

“Are you okay, miss?” A kind male voice asked, snatching you from your trance and back to reality. You turned to meet the man behind you, revealing his concerned yet warm features. He picked up the basket you dropped, still processing that your mind successfully tricked you into seeing something that wasn’t actually there.

“Yes, I’m alright, t-thank you,” you smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes, looking more awkward than reassuring.

He pressed three finger's against your forehead, “I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” he frowned, your hot and damp forehead telling him that something was wrong. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself yet,” he stuck out one hand for you to shake and the other to pass you back your basket. “My name is Heeseung,” he smiled, “I’m new in town with an affinity for convenience stores.”

“____, with an affinity to drop flimsy baskets in public,” you replied, suddenly feeling at ease from the humor. You started trailing to the ramen section and Heeseung was walking behind you. If it wasn’t for his kindness earlier, you’d probably be freaking out about how close he was. You reached for a spicy udon noodle pack that came with dehydrated tofu and seaweed sheets. Meanwhile, Heeseung grabbed a can of Spam and chicken flavored ramen.

“Speaking of your liking for convenience stores, I come here almost every night and I’ve never seen you before.“

“Well, yeah, I’m usually here earlier in the day. I just happened to need some gas and got hungry while waiting, so I decided to stop by for my favorites,” he peered into your basket, "You might wanna get some milk with those, too. It's ungodly how spicy they are!"

"I know, right? They're just so delicious, I can't resist them..."

"Still, Sapporo Ichiban instant noodles are the best! They always cook perfectly. Never too soft or too firm. It's my comfort food, honestly. I wanna hug the person who created them," he replied passionately.

"Eh, you're just gonna ruin 'em anyways."

He gave you a double look, "Are you passively judging my cooking skills or fat shaming me?"

"Neither. I'm shaming that pink block of salt you're gonna punish your organs with."

He scoffed, "This anti-Spam movement is outrageous! I'm starting an online protest where you'll be the number one convert."

"As if I'd ever try that...stuff," you rejected.

"Welp. More for me, I guess," he mumbled, digging into his jacket pocket.

“Dammit, I forgot my wallet in my car,” he said, placing his basket high up on the shelf. “If you see anyone try to take my stuff, kick ‘em in the shin for me,” he said before running out of the shop.

Analyzing your surroundings, you noticed that a few groups of shoppers and some solo snackers began raiding the bread aisle. You distracted yourself by heading to the refrigerator section, considering Heeseung’s recommendation of getting a smooth beverage to accompany your spicy noodles, tossing in a pack of strawberry flavored Pocky's on your way.

That’s when you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in before giving your head a sniff, his nose was wet and cold like a dog as he inhaled your scent. “What the hell are you doing?” You barked, pushing the creepy stranger away.

He was a middle aged man with a receding hairline and a few scars decorating his thin chapped lips. You wondered how many of those scares came from women he tried that “arm around the waist” shit on.

“Sorry, doll. I’m a hugger and figured you might've needed one,” he grinned, revealing the gnarly set of teeth that lined his grey gums. You couldn't tell if it was his foul breath or filthy clothes that smelled more like smoke. Either way, you were thoroughly disgusted by him.

“Well, you should learn to ask before throwing yourself on people,” you retorted, reaching for a container of banana milk.

“You like swallowing bananas, cutie? I bet I could force four of 'em down that pretty mouth of yours,” he slithered while adjusting himself in his pants.

What the hell is wrong with this guy, you thought to yourself.

You tried to ignore his lunacy, only for him to grip your ass like a stress ball, landing a harsh slap across the curve of your jeans. You yelped at the sting, your own words being caught in your throat from the shocking act. You couldn’t believe that this freak actually just did that to you.

He met your eyes with a wink, smelling his hand as if you just provided him with an expensive perfume sample, "You got a lover at home, sweetheart?"

Tears dared to pour from your rage-ridden eyes as you balled your fists so tight, your bones might break. That's when a protective figure filled your blurry peripheral vision, stepping in front of you to block the man off as he tried grabbing you again, pushing him with such a force that he lost his balance.

“The hell do you think you’re doing, y'scrawny mother fucker,” he growled, pulling up is pants.

“You can’t do that kind of sick shit to people, pervert! Now get the hell outta here or I'll call the police,” the younger boy fought back.

“I was just trying to have some fun, kiddo. Ain’t nothin' wrong with that. I bet honey doll misses me already,” the older man went on, licking at his lower lip.

“I’ll knock every last rotting tooth from your mouth if you don’t leave in the next five seconds-"

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Jake asked in the middle of the commotion, the older man already fleeing the scene. Jake looked at the younger boy first before eventually meeting your eyes. You wish you could hide how shaken up you felt. The container of milk was bleeding out its strong banana scent on the once spotless floor, tears finally streaming down your cheeks.

“Oh my God, Jungwon, what happened,” Heeseung came running over, asking the boy who defended you. “It was nothing,” you interrupted before Jungwon could answer, the three boys standing dumbfounded around you in a puddle of banana milk. “Do you need a ride-" “Don’t worry about me,” your voice cracked in embarrassment.

Is there any way to explain how the world made you ashamed of your own tears?

You left your basket behind, apologizing to Jake who had to clean up the sticky mess. You didn’t wanna leave just yet, afraid that the older guy might be waiting for you outside, so you went to the ladies restroom instead to call your friend Sunoo.

“____?”

You cleared the lump in your throat before answering, “Sunoo,” you began shakily, “I need you to come and pick me up from Goldman's.”

“You sound terrible, is everything okay? You’re worrying me, what happened?”

“I’m sorry, Sun. Everything’s okay, I just really need you right now.”

“____,” he sighed. You suddenly felt guilty for even calling him.

“Sunoo, if you can’t make it, I won’t be mad at you,” you said in between the silence, trying to encourage him to make a choice.

“I-I can’t, well, I can, but, not soon, at least. I’m only an hour away, if you’re willing to wait that long.” The pity in his voice made you wanna cry all over again. Looking at the time on your phone, it was six minutes til midnight, and you refused to haul your best friend out on the road this late. “No, that’s alright, Sunoo. I’ll just call an Uber.”

His side of the phone fell quiet for a moment. “____, I know how much you hate Uber's. Don't do that to yourself because of me."

"I'll be okay, Sun, just get yourself some rest."

He paused before asking, "Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Of course! Call me when you get home!”

You finished up in the bathroom, mentally preparing yourself to face the strangers beyond the not-so-comforting walls of the restroom. To your surprise, Heeseung and Jungwon were still in the store. Huddled around Jake at the checkout counter, the three of them took loud sips from steaming cups of ramen. “Hey, ____,” Heeseung began, resting his snack on the counter. “We could help you file a report against that guy, if you want.”

Jungwon met your eyes with his own sincere ones, “He should pay for the way he treated you.” Jake put your basket from earlier on the counter, dry items taking the place of the previously wet ones.

“Do you still want these," he asked shyly. After everything that happened, you felt empty in more than one way. Some warm broth and noodles is exactly what your body needed at the moment. You nodded, handing Jake a $20 bill. Beeping sounds immediately met your ears as he scanned your items with a strange haste. You looked back to Heeseung and Jungwon.

“Getting the police involved will only make it harder for me to forget this ever even happened. Thank you for your concern, though,” you smile at the humble pair before they took the final gulps from their ramen cups before discarding them.

“Here’s your change,” Jake chirped, handing you the plastic bag of goodies. “Thank you,” you bowed, heading to the exit.

“Y'sure you don't need a ride?” Jungwon asked. You flashed him your phone screen. “Uber,” was all you said before walking into the black of the night, the sliding doors closing behind you.

According to your smartphone, you should expect your chauffeur, Sunghoon, to arrive shortly in a black truck with tinted windows. The vehicle came speeding through the parking lot, a chill wind hitting your features. The truck was so dark, that it almost blended into the night. He rolled down the window, looking you up and down.

"Name?"

"Uh, ____," you said, his blunt question catching you off guard.

"Get in," he replied, directing a thumb to the back seat, unlocking the door as you slid in, bumping into another passenger. Immediately caught by his dark eyes, the boy waved slightly, muttering a deep “Welcome aboard,” before fixing his gaze out the window again. The truck sat idly as Sunghoon delayed taking off, exchanging a few hushed words to the guy sitting in the front passenger's seat.

Click.

The backseat doors opened from both ends, Heeseung, Jungwon, and Jake joining you in the black vehicle. "Scoot over, Niki," Jungwon complained, trying to get comfortable in the crammed space. That's when you saw one last person join you all in the truck, his face capturing the moonlight like a thief.

"Sunoo?! W-what are you doing here? I thought you were an hour away!" All he did was frown in response. He always made that face whenever he was hiding something from you. "Sunoo," you pressed, nudging his shoulder.

"Oh please, would you just shut the hell up already," the hostile driver growled at you.

You screwed your eyes brows in confusion, "What's going on here," you inquired, now feeling anxiety start to creep up on you.

"The very thing I warned you about before you abandoned me," the front passenger bit back.

That voice. You knew exactly who it belonged to.

It was Jay, your looney ex-lover, sitting right in front of you. An angry yet pitiful scowl contaminated his handsome features.

You pushed through Heeseung, reaching for the door handle, only for Niki, the quietest yet scariest one, to snatch your wrist, pulling you into his tantalizing grip. "Let me go," you yelped, only for Jungwon to harshly cover your mouth.

Screech.

Sunghoon pulled off at a dangerous speed, causing your bodies to shake in the truck. Heeseung crossed his legs cooly as if he wasn't just casually talking with you in the store, “So when do we get to have fun with her, again? It’s not like she did any good entertaining me through conversation.”

Jake rolled his eyes at Heeseung, “I could’ve used your enthusiasm when I had to stuff that fat old chick in the freezer. Alone. On top of that, I had to mop the floor quintillion times before the blood stains got out.”

“At least you’d make a good house husband,” Sunghoon joked.

You felt your heart sink to the pit of your stomach at Jake’s confession: He killed Mandy.

"I'm sorry, ____," Sunoo whispered, fighting back tears as he hid his face from you.

Everything was starting to make sense now.

The visions of seven hooded boys.

The clicking sounds you'd hear from outside your window at night.

The way you could never shake the feeling that you were being watched.

Jay’s past words echoed in the back of your mind:

"If you ever decide to leave me, don't ever think that you'll get very far before I catch up. I'll always be watching you."

You bit Jungwon's hand, causing him to retreat his palm from your flushed face. "Sunoo, you betrayed me! You told me that I was paranoid when you knew exactly what was going on behind my back! I felt safe with you...I trusted you! And you fucking lied to me!"

"God, I've had just about enough of her nagging," Niki said, landing a fisted blow across your face. As you faded out of consciousness, Jay tried to soothe your daze.

“Even though I betrayed you and beat you, it was only my funny way of expressing how much I love you. Can’t you see that I did all of that out of love?”

You could still hear Sunoo pleading for your forgiveness in the background as you held onto the last strand of your consciousness.

"I've been watching you for a long time, love. You always try to escape me and I never understood why you just wouldn't listen to me. All I've ever done is love you and try to protect you. This time, I’ll make sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

And that was the last thing you heard before retreating to the vacancy of your mind, floating around in the silence of your oblivion. Left in the hands of seven reckless boys who’d successfully lured you into their cat trap, you didn’t know what to expect once you’d open your eyes, but you knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

In that time, you came to the unsettling conclusion that broken toys were Jay’s favorite, and if you weren’t already broken upon being found, you would be by time he’s done playing with you.

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

☆ ᴘ.ꜱ: special thanks to the fabulous anon who requested this piece! i played around with the plot a bit, but I hope you all enjoyed reading it! if you guys would like a version of this story with a happier ending, let me know in the comments!

☆ taglist (based off of users that personally requested to be on my taglist, my faves, and people that I've noticed interacting with my yandere content) ~

@fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @yngwife @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @maryismad @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @haechansheart @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong

[cptindanvers]

can't seem to run you out of my mind [you part 3]

summary: distancing yourself from Steve and Nancy was quite possibly the best decision of your life. but, doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder?

pairing: steve harrington x reader (set end of s2 + s3)

word count: 8.7k!

a/n: it's finally here!! after like . two years of this rotting, untouched from its first very rough draft. well. hope u enjoy! (also, can u tell how much i hate writing the show scenes LOL)

part one / part one [remastered] / part two / masterlist

November came and went in a flash. Attempts at forgetting the month's events and living normally was starting to feel like a dream; always just out of reach.

This time, Steve had gotten wrapped up in everything because of your advice; flowers are the key to a girl's heart, you'd insisted. They also happened to be the key to near-death experiences, apparently.

It was a series of unfortunate events, really.

Jonathan had been spending an awful lot of time with Nancy; you'd be happy for him if it hadn't left Steve with no one but you to call.

Steve had made sure to keep you updated on everything that happened between him and Nancy. You knew he had no bad intentions, but listening to him talk about how much he loved Nancy was agonizing for your poor heart. Steve felt like he owed it to you, considering he'd shown up at your door without warning that Halloween night. You felt like it was the worst form of torture.

And so, he'd innocently walked up to Nancy's house with flowers at the same time Dustin Henderson walked up; his one-way ticket to danger.

The kids had recounted everything you missed out on afterwards, stars in their eyes. A majority of the good comments about Steve came from Dustin, which caught you by surprise. Dustin's defensive tone made you wonder about any information he hadn't relayed.

Hearing about Steve protect the kids you adored made all those nasty, wonderful feelings bubble in your chest. But the same heroic tales led you to the awful realization that underneath it all, you've led Steve down to danger from the very beginning; if Jonathan had answered the door two years ago, Steve would've been blissfully unaware of the Upside Down.

But it was too late to think about how things could've been different; maybe Steve would've gotten involved regardless of you. At the end of the day, both of you had gotten tangled up in another inter-dimensional predicament, pulling the two of you together in ways you'd hoped to avoid.

This new Steve, heroic and selfless, risking his life for teenagers he just met, definitely didn't align with the Steve you once knew.

And you so desperately wanted to learn everything about this new Steve.

The hopefulness made that familiar ache in your chest painfully present and the logical side of you knew you'd have to snap yourself back into reality at some point.

Or rather, Jonathan did.

⁂

Apologies and explanations were exchanged, though the both of you knew you couldn't stay mad at each other for long. A much-needed late night talk revealed the relationship that'd started between Nancy and Jonathan, a bright blush creeping up Jonathan's neck as he summarized what happened.

You'd confided in Jonathan about your very complicated feelings towards Steve, knowing Jonathan was quite possibly the only person in Hawkins who'd understand. He nodded as you spoke, letting you get everything off your chest; and what a relief it was.

"I just don't know what to do," you sighed dejectedly, Jonathan's silence worrying you as you wondered how he'd weigh in.

"He hurt you." Jonathan said factually, as if you had no idea.

"I know."

"I just want you to be careful."

You sighed. "I know," you mumbled quietly as Jonathan pulled you in for a hug.

He was right, as annoying as it was. There was no way you could ever go back to Steve with the way he treated you. Even if he changed, it didn't change what he did.

So, you went back to how you were before; distancing yourself from Steve. It was different this time; you were no longer fighting lingering feelings. You'd acknowledged them, now you'd have to let them pass over you.

⁂

It'd been around 7 months since El closed the gate and saved all your asses, and a week or two since you'd last seen Steve at Hawkins High.

You weren't exactly avoiding Steve - though you did duck your head anytime you saw him in the halls, pretending you were too deep in conversation with a friend to hear him call your name. Maybe you could be friends with him one day, but you needed time without him for a while.

Over half a year had gone by faster than you'd anticipated. Winter became spring which turned into summer, the chilly months fighting a losing battle to the warmer temperatures. The heat became unbearable in June, forcing most Hawkins residents to take shelter in their homes. Those who were brave enough to venture outside frequented the town’s only pool or the new Starcourt Mall with dozens of indoor shops or, perhaps most importantly, air conditioning.

The few weeks out of school had been vital to your journey of protecting your peace; getting to pick and choose who you spent your time with gave you a greater sense of control. You could finally, confidently say you were doing well; great, even. The gaping hole in your chest, kept open by unwanted interactions, had healed.

Steve wasn't on your mind on your third date with someone you'd met at the library a few weeks ago. Steve wasn't on your mind when the two of you entered the brand new Starcourt Mall. Steve wasn't on your mind when your date offered to buy ice cream, until Steve was right in front of you. A few awkward glances were passed as your date paid and took your ice creams, but Steve was no longer on your mind as the two of you walked out, hand in hand.

Things were good; bearable now.

"So..." your date began. "Who was that?"

A part of you pondered why your date wondered who Steve was. You'd made it clear that once summer was over, the two of you would be too.

You shrugged nonchalantly, swiping at your ice cream before answering. "Just an ex."

"Anyone I should be worried about?"

A small - albeit a little annoyed - smile crept onto your face.

"Not at all."

⁂

Jonathan had been a little distant this summer, busy balancing a new relationship and internship at the Hawkins Post. You didn't mind much; you recognized the opportunity he was given, and how lucky he was to share it with Nancy. And, the two of you always made time to catch each other up on the most important details.

Other than occupying yourself with summer flings, you spent time with your annoying kids that you loved dearly.

The kids were dying to visit the mall; and while they had their bikes, they also had a perfectly available chaperone who they knew they could plead into doing essentially anything for them.

It was partially your fault for always giving into the kids, but as mischievous as they were, you loved seeing them happy. Plus, it was summer; they were well deserving of a break after all they 'd been through.

However, they were a lot more resourceful than you'd anticipated.  Somehow, the teens had roped Steve Harrington into their antics. The surprise on your face was evident when the kids led you into Scoops Ahoy, coercing Steve into letting them into the movies for free. You knew what Steve did for them, of course; how could you forget? But you hadn't anticipated the relationship to continue after the monsters were banished.

"Tiny assholes, all of them." Steve had his hands on his hips, looking a lot like an exasperated babysitter.

You laughed in agreement.

You planned on spending the next approximately 2 hours shopping for Dustin; he was coming home in a few weeks, you had yet to find a suitable welcome back gift for him. Those plans were trashed as the kids had circled back around, complaining about how they had to walk all over the mall searching for you. Surprise overcame you once again that day; conversation with Steve had come too easily, too natural. So much that two hours had passed in the blink of an eye.

You rolled your eyes at the kids, threatening to let them walk home before waving a goodbye to Steve, leading the teens out of the mall and into your car like ducklings.

It was adorable.

"What the hell was that about?" A voice from behind Steve demanded.

"Jesus, Robin! I thought you went home."

"No way. I just didn't want to interrupt whatever that was." Robin propped herself up to sit on the ledge connecting the break room and ice cream parlor, suddenly very intrigued in studying Steve's body language.

Steve huffed, crossing his arms. "I don't know what you're talking about." He turned his head, hoping Robin wouldn't spot the red hue creeping up his face.

"Seriously? That was the longest you've talked to a girl all summer. I'd give you a point if you'd at least gotten her number or something!"

Steve ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Do you seriously not - ? I can't just -"

"What, did you break her heart in high school or something?" Robin laughed a little, only half joking until she saw how Steve's face dropped, suddenly very interested in wiping down the spotless counter.

Robin bit her bottom lip, hating how big her stupid mouth was. Whoever you were, you clearly meant a lot to Steve. Robin hadn't even thought that was possible, though she was realizing that maybe, there was a lot more to Steve than he let people see.

"Well, it seems like she forgave you? I mean, I wouldn't talk to someone I hated for two hours." Robin's voice softened, suddenly feeling the need to reassure Steve. Who would've thought?

"Yeah, I just... it's complicated, okay?"

That would've been the end of it; until you walked back into Scoops Ahoy, completely alone, a few days later.

Maybe it was out of boredom, maybe loneliness. Maybe you realized how embarrassing it was that the majority of your friend group consisted of kids that hadn't officially reached high school yet.

Whatever led you to Scoops didn't matter as you walked in, watching the surprise on Steve's face as you came up to the counter.

"Hey, you" Steve said automatically, wanting to punch himself in the face. "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, not even glancing down at the array of ice cream. "Guess I missed you."

The boldness of your words caught Steve off guard, a minute to recollect himself necessary.

"Sorry?" His voice came out at a higher pitch than usual, lips parted in confusion and eyes big.

"I want to be friends, Steve. I mean, if that's okay -"

"No, yeah! That's - that's more than okay," Steve quickly reassured you, glancing up at the few customers entering the store.

"Tell you what, if you want to sit in the back - I'll just take care of them and take my break?" Steve glanced at you nervously, as if he was asking for your permission; as if the slightest inconvenience would make you change your mind and walk away from him. Steve realized that he really didn't want you to leave.

You entered the back of Scoops Ahoy as instructed, glancing warily at the big, red  EMPLOYEES ONLY. Perhaps the sign was warning you of things you couldn't see just yet; but how could you have known what such a simple action would lead to?

Always too stubborn to heed any warnings, you entered the break room of the parlor, eyes landing on a girl in a Scoops Ahoy uniform; she was sitting at the small metal table in the center of the room, well-loved sneakers propped up in front of her. Her name tag read Robin, and Robin had stopped eating her yogurt mid-bite to stare at you, a knowing smile growing on her face.

"Sorry, I didn't realize anyone was -" Your words faltered as your face warmed; you hadn't even realized Steve had a coworker.

"Oh, it's okay! You're waiting for Steve, right? He talks about you a ton." Robin smiled warmly, getting up from her spot to meet you, face-to-face.

"Really? I -"

"I'm Robin. I don't think we've properly met." Robin stuck her hand out, yogurt long forgotten.

You took Robin's hand gently, introducing yourself with a bright smile. You had a feeling the two of you would get along well.

Just as Robin finished talking about a super annoying customer that complained about her serving too much ice cream - who complains about that, anyway? Steve burst open into the break room, as if you ran away in the few minutes that'd passed from the last time he saw you.

"Hey," Steve breathed out, snatching the stupid sailor hat off his head, eyes glancing from you to Robin back to you.

"I see you've met Robin." Steve motioned to the girl standing next to you, her arm reaching up and over your abdomen.

"Yup," Robin said, squeezing your side as she headed for the door back into the parlor. "You're way out of his league, by the way!" Robin called as she shut the break room door behind her.

The sweet sound of your laughter dissolved the scowl right off Steve's face.

"She's - ignore her." Steve ran a hand through his hair, motioning towards the table.

"She's sweet." You took a seat as Steve slid into a chair across from you. "Seems like a good influence." You teased.

"What? I'm totally the good influence here. She's younger too, so I'm, like, basically her mentor or whatever." Steve smiled, voice tapering off as he glanced at you, unspoken questions lingering in his eyes.

"You know, I didn't realize you were... friends with the kids." You said the word carefully, as if the statement would offend Steve.

"Honestly, I didn't either. Gave Dustin some advice and I guess we bonded." Steve shrugged, smile a little sad as he remembered that day.

"Advice? Really?" You let out a small laugh. There was no bite to your words, yet you brought heat to Steve's face, an embarrassed hand coming up to his neck.

"Yeah, I mean..." Steve was a little apprehensive, but your eager gaze led the next words out of his mouth, almost unconsciously. Steve lowered his voice, as if Dustin could hear him from however many miles away. "Dustin had a crush."

Your reaction was priceless; the way your eyes widened in surprise, hand clapping over your mouth as if Steve had just revealed the most groundbreaking piece of news of your life.

"You know, I always suspected -" You began, recalling the way Dustin had described the new girl in Hawkins.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. You say that now." Steve interrupted, eyes crinkling with that award-winning smile.

"No, I did!" You insisted between bursts of laughter. "I swear!"

"Yeah, I guess you always had that kind of intuition," Steve smiled fondly at the memories he kept of you, stored neatly in a special part of his mind. "Remember when you swore John and... Christ, what was her name?"

"Melissa!" The excitement at such a simple recollection made Steve's heart flutter.

"Melissa," Steve snapped his fingers, pointing back at you. "John and Melissa. They looked at each other once in that class we all had."

"You know they're still together?" You reported, eyes gleaming with memories of your old classmates. A lot of them weren't terrible, for the most part.

"What? I swear they've broken up like, twenty times." Steve's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, smile reappearing as he watched you laugh softly.

"Guess there's someone for everyone, right?"

Steve took a second too long to reply, watching the way the florescent lights of Scoops Ahoy illuminated the warm glow on your face, cheeks surely sore from all the smiling. Thoughts betrayed him as he glanced down to your lips; he'd kissed them plenty of times before, but he took all good things for granted back then. The corners of Steve's lips turned up at your suggestion of true love and soulmates; ideas that always entertained him, though he never was quite sure how much of it he bought into.

"Yeah," Steve was suddenly very interested in his hands, tracing figures on his palms. "I guess there is."

He prayed to any higher being out there you couldn't see the way his skin turned pink under your gaze.

⁂

Your trips to Scoops Ahoy quickly became routine, easier to settle into than you'd expected, or even planned.

You'd begun being the one who suggested the kids hang out at Starcourt, eventually drawing suspicion with each additional leap at the mention of the mall; it was strange how they no longer had to beg you to drive them there.

Visits to Scoops Ahoy were made during the week, at hours Steve assured you would be slow, anyway. The last thing you wanted was to get in the way of anyone's work. Though Steve was right for the most part, he couldn't fully control the stream of customers at any given time.

Robin always commented on how you might as well get a job at Scoops with how much time you spent there, but you always laughed the comment off.

"Really, I don't know why you choose to be here, especially when Steve Harrington works here." Robin half-joked as the two of you wiped down tables.

"He's not so bad."  You said softly, playing along.

"Sure." Robin teased lightly, smiling growing on her face.

Maybe it would be too much, too serious if you got a job at the same place as Steve. Perhaps you worried of lines you'd cross if that step was taken.

So, you stuck to your little routine of visiting Scoops Ahoy - sometimes with the kids, but mostly alone.

⁂

The bell rings, and Steve turns quickly, throwing the rag he was using to shine the counter over his shoulder. His customer-appropriate smile falters when he sees the guy  - the one you had come in with only a few weeks prior - with another girl.

Steve definitely didn't earn himself a tip with his service, but his annoyance (and perhaps jealousy) had sprung onto him out of nowhere. I mean, how did you even stand going out with the guy? Steve recognized him; he had been on the basketball team with him but had never even made it off the bench.

And although high school shouldn't be consuming so much of Steve's mind post-graduation, he can't help but reminisce as he wipes down the counters for the fourth time; no customers to serve - no distractions to keep him from thinking of you.

His thoughts hadn't initially started with you, but it seemed like you were seeping into every crevice of his brain. When you weren't around, he talked Robin's ear off about you, funny stories you had shared, or pointing out something he remembered you enjoyed. And, really, he wasn't sure he ever stopped being able to think about you.

But all those thoughts, all his memories of you, eventually led him back to the part were he ruined it all.

Maybe something about all the shit he's seen these past two years, the life-threatening situations he found himself in over and over again finally made Steve grow up. There were much more important things than whether the people he associated with were cool enough to be around; no value in things like his reputation. He was sure you'd been the only person, at least back then, to really care about him.

Even then, he was too afraid to let his persona down around you. He was always a gentleman, always suave; but never vulnerable. Not enough, anyway.

The way he acted back then makes Steve want to go back and help Jonathan get a few more punches in, really. And Steve, even after your tenth time visiting Scoops Ahoy, can't wrap his head around the idea that you're here, willing to even talk to him.

So, if friendship is all you have to offer Steve, that's what he'll take.

But it's beginning to eat away at him.

Steve turns his engine off once he pulls into your driveway, but it's as if you can sense he doesn't want you to go quite yet.

There's no tension, not like last time, but Steve's turned toward you and he has that habit of biting his lips when he's nervous and it's making you nervous.

"We never did, um... talk about-"

"Steve, we really don't have to-"

"Why? I mean, I can admit to all of it and I just want to-"

"Well, I don't want to, Steve!" You say exasperatedly. Perhaps it's because the strange form of friendship you have with him now is riding on the fact that you've managed to swallow all your pain and put it far behind you, to associate it with a version of Steve that didn't exist anymore. Maybe it was easier to believe that you had both had been playing pretend with each other, never really together. And, god, was Steve making it difficult for you.

"I care about you," Steve starts once the silence has become unbearable. "I mean, I did before, too, and I was really bad at showing it, but I did love you-" Shit. That's not what Steve had meant to say.

"Steve-"

"I didn't mean..." Steve sighs, tapping his fingers on his steering wheel.

"I don't think you do. Love me." Your voice is so soft, careful. "Maybe you thought you did. Maybe you think you do now. But I think... maybe you're just a little lonely, Steve."

You can't bring yourself to look at him. Not as you open the passenger car door, not as you make a quiet exit, not as you enter your home; leaving him as just as you did two years ago.

Once again, Steve's made all this so complicated.

⁂

You have the decency not to show up to Scoops Ahoy anymore, much to Steve's dismay. He wasn't trying to change anything. He had been more than content with just seeing you semi-regularly; maybe that's why he still searched for your face in the crowd.

But you didn't want Steve to stay in love with you, or stay confused, or whatever it was you thought Steve was feeling. He knew that. He also knew that your actions, however kind, were pointless. A piece of Steve would always be reserved for you.

Isn't that what being in love feels like?

⁂

Your shift in demeanor when the kids bring up Starcourt gives you away quickly.

It's subtle; a furrow of your brow, an avoidance of eye contact, an excuse, and a suggestion of a different place to visit.

Max catches on first, testing her theory with questions, eventually leading the topic back up to Steve.

"You like him, don't you?" Max smiles, thinking she's figured it out. "He obviously likes you, too, so there's nothing to worry about!"

You bite back a tart laugh. That was exactly the problem. "I promise you, I do not like Steve."

"Didn't you guys date before?" Mike pipes up, faintly recalling some type of history between the two of you.

"We did."

"So why'd you break up? Did he do something? I know with Nancy-"

"Mike!" Max scoffs. "Obviously she doesn't want to talk about it!"

"Guys, it's fine," you insist. "But I promise, there's nothing going on between Steve and I."

"Oh-kay," Mike raises his hand in surrender. "But do you really think we'd ever willingly just hang out with Steve Harrington?" Max frowns and smacks Mike's arm. "Ow! What? I'm just saying!"

⁂

"And then I told her I still loved her. But it was an accident!"

"Still love her? As in, did before?"

"We were together for a while junior year. It... didn't end very well."

Robin sits with this information, faintly recalling ignoring hushed whispers about a situation her sophomore year, Steve's name thrown around more than usual.

"Okay, so what'd she say?"

Steve goes quiet, suddenly very intrigued by his half-eaten banana. "That I didn't and I was just lonely."

Robin can at least acknowledge the pain in Steve's voice, no matter how he tries to hide it. "I really don't mean to be a downer, but... you've only been talking regularly for, what, a few weeks? And you just realized you've been in love for who knows how long after a few weeks?"

It doesn't sound rational. Not in Steve's head, or anyone else's. And maybe Steve didn't really know what love was. It wasn't like he'd ever been around a good example of it. Perhaps he was still too young, too deprived of love to recognize it.

But Steve's heart was trying so desperately to convince him otherwise, recalling all the moments you'd made him feel too much too quickly, dating back to sophomore year.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Steve mutters, throwing the rest of his banana into the trash, his appetite suddenly lost.

⁂

It's been days since Steve last saw you.

It would've been unbearable if Dustin hadn't come home a few days after your last talk with Steve - and really, Steve couldn't be more grateful.

It was strange how much he missed Dustin. It was strange how their friendship continued past demonic dogs together, and even stranger how much normalcy Dustin was able to bring Steve - though there was no way it could've lasted long.

Dustin came in with a secret Russian code begging to be cracked. Of course, after Steve, the second person he wanted to loop in was you. And of course, you came running.

⁂

Your little mission has led you to an elevator - trapped, if you wanted to be completely accurate.

You knew this was a bad idea - but it was better to tag along and try to keep them as safe as possible than to leave them on their own. Right?

There's not much of a bright side, though. No way to push yourself into danger as long as it meant getting everyone else to safety - wherever you were going, you'd all be going together.

The idea didn't comfort you.

"I think you were right." Steve interrupts your useless brainstorming of ways to get out - something the rest of them had given up on a while ago.

"Hmm? About the door?"

"What? No," Steve laughs, arms crossed as he stands in a corner of the elevator, hoping for as much privacy as he could get with three other people. "No, I mean... me. Us. About what you said that day."

"Oh. That." Your chest tightens, and you're unable to distinguish if it's discomfort or hurt. It was confirmation. You were right. Steve had never really loved you.

"That," Steve repeats. "I didn't... I never wanted anything to change. You want to be friends, that's all we'll be. I'm happy with that. Just... I want you to stick around, alright? I mean, it's bad enough I dragged you into this-"

You scoff. "Steve, I'm the one who dragged you into this."

Steve's brows furrow as he gives you a look.

"Two years ago. If I hadn't opened that door..."

"Oh, you mean if you'd shot me?"

Both of you laugh. "I should've shot you! I think you would've been better off." Cause, god did it feel like you were a magnet, dragging Steve towards everything terrible that popped up in Hawkins.

"Nah," Steve shakes his head. "It's all taught me a lot. Made me think about things differently."

You'd almost be grateful for the whirring noise that picked up your attention - if it didn't hammer in the last nail in the we're so screwed coffin.

The sense of dread that sticks in the pit of your stomach doesn't go away, even as you all finally make it out of the elevator; it seems to intensify with each step taken down the abnormally long hallway.

Something wasn't right.

At least you weren't alone. Steve and Dustin slow their paces alongside you as the three of you begin to exchange looks and whispers.

"Look, it's just a theory, right?" Steve chirps. "We don't know for sure."

"Yeah, but if we are right..." Dustin trails off, eyes falling on you as you bite the inside of your cheek.

"Better start praying we're wrong," you mumble, quickening your pace before the three of you lag too far behind.

⁂

Your situation somehow worsens when you stumble upon the main hub, or whatever this place was, dozens of very heavily armed guards standing perfectly in between you and the room you wanted to break in to.

Somehow, slowly and sneakily, the five of you make it; and you would've been home free if it weren't for the soldier in the coms room, hand reaching for his gun before you can even react.

Luckily, Steve's faster. He has the soldier down in a surprising amount of time, considering his odds when it came to fights.

"You can shoot, right?" Dustin says, motioning to the knocked-out solider. "Take his gun!"

You consider it, but only for a few seconds. "No," you shake your head. "There's too many of them out there. If they see us with a gun, they'll shoot. At all of us."

There was no way you were putting everyone in that type of danger. The mood goes solemn with the thought, only snapping out of it when Robin's voice interrupts.

"Guys," she says breathlessly, motioning to the stairs behind her. "There's something up there."

Quietly, everyone makes their way up the stairs to a small room with windows that confirm your suspicions.

Whoever these people are, they're trying to reopen The Gate.

⁂

It's not long after you notice the missing guard that the alarms go off and god, you never should've let the kids get involved.

Your body moves quicker than your brain, breaking into a run while you try to navigate the facility and, simultaneously, lead everyone to somewhere safe.

There's an empty room and you shut the door as soon as the last person enters, immediately leaning yourself against the door to try and keep it shut. Steve's right beside you, bracing himself with his back against the door.

"Go!" Steve shouts and you think he's urging Dustin and Erica down the vent they've uncovered - but you turn your head and realize he's talking to you.

"What? No-"

"Please," Steve pleads, desperately. "Please go."

Robin acts quickly, urging you towards the kids as she places herself against the door. "I've got it," she assures.

Because, even if she hasn't known Steve for long, she knows he'll never forgive her if something Robin could've prevented happened to you.

There's not a lot of time; not as Dustin stands halfway in the vent, not as the soldiers group around the door, trying to force their way in.

So you go.

⁂

Your throat tightens as the space around you constricts drastically, but having to crawl through vents isn't your main concern.

The regret was instant, the urge to turn back strong. But where would that get you? No, where would that get the kids?

Steve had sent you to protect them. Yes, that was it. That was what you had to do now. Focus and get them out.

"Come on," you say, wiping the sweat off your brow as you all come to a fan blocking your passage. "Pass me the screwdriver."

⁂

"Oh, god."

Dustin works on Steve and Robin's restraints hastily as you stare down at the man you'd... electrocuted? killed?

You don't feel bad, not after seeing the damage on Steve's face. His uniform is stained with fresh blood still streaming from the gash near his mouth. His eye is almost swollen shut. Robin, at least, looks physically unscathed, but who knows what they did or said?

"Get ready to run," Dustin warns, finally pulling the restraints loose.

Though, it was a lot less running and a lot more dragging.

⁂

"Are they drunk?"

"No, no," you crouch next to Steve, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. "I think they got drugged."

"What? I'm fine," Steve laughs, hands reaching for your face.

"Steve, let me see your eyes." You try to hold him still, pulling his eyelid up to check his pupils; his extremely dilated pupils.

"No, I wanna see your- ow- eyes," Steve mumbles.

You turn back to Dustin and Erica. "Definitely drugged."

The elevator comes to a stop and you're dragging Steve up. He almost knocks you over with the way he clings onto you, laughing about something you can't understand. You pull Robin up with your free hand, grip on them strong as you tug them out of the room.

"Shit!" Dustin cries as guards begin to run at you.

"Go, go," You motion towards the room to your left, dragging Steve and Robin along as quickly as you possibly can.

"Why are we running?" Robin groans, trying to worm herself out of your grasp.

Dustin takes the lead, navigating the hallways you're sure Steve has taught him how to sneak through. Thank god for their bribery.

Dustin finds the right door and sticks his head out. "All clear," he announces before opening it fully.

"Okay," you stop for a breath, letting Steve and Robin loose and turning towards Dustin and Erica. "My car's parked out front, we can get out through the side entrance and..." you reach into your back pocket for your keys but come up empty-handed.

Your heart drops.

"What?" Dustin asks, staring at your expression.

"My keys are gone," you say solemnly.

"What do you mean they're gone?"

You check your back pocket again. And your other one, and your front ones. "They're gone. They must've fallen out somewhere, shit!"

"Hey, guys?" Erica calls. "Where'd they go?"

Your head snaps; Erica's right. Robin and Steve are gone.

"We're gonna need backup," Dustin sighs.

⁂

"Okay, my turn," Robin giggles. "What really happened between you and... you know. I mean, I heard rumors but..."

Steve sighs from his stall, leaning his head against the wall.

"I cheated on her. With her best friend."

"Oh, wow. Yeah, it's definitely still in your system."

"Biggest mistake of my entire life. I don't even know why I did it. I guess I was so used to... pretending. I thought... that maybe she didn't actually think our relationship was real. I mean, looking back, I don't think I had any genuine relationships... with anyone, except her. I just... got caught up in all the lies and thought we were one, too."

Robin sits quietly, unsure of how to respond.

"You OD over there?"

She laughs. "No, no, I am still alive."

Steve slides under the stall, leaning back opposite of Robin. "I guess... I never expected her to forgive me, right? She said she did, but... I don't know. I guess I never forgave myself."

"She still cares about you, y'know?" Robin offers. "I mean, it's obvious."

That at least pulls out a laugh from Steve. "Yeah, I don't know. I mean, maybe you're right. Maybe it's time to move on. Meet new people."

Maybe the shit Robin got injected with is still messing with her head - or maybe the sad look in Steve's eyes is killing her. She doesn't know him as well as she thought she did, couldn't chalk up his character to rich, popular, white boy with no problems of his own.

But to do this, to be actual friends with Steve Harrington, there was something he needed to know.

"Do you... remember what I said about Click's class?"

⁂

The walkie-talkie only gets you so far without an extra eight double-a batteries. Seriously, did it really need that many?

You're getting exasperated in your search as you exit the theater and look at the unusually empty Starcourt walkways. That's right. It's the Fourth of July.

"Uh, okay, think," Dustin says. "If I were a drugged-up Steve, where would I be?"

"Maybe they went back to Scoops?" Erica suggests.

"No," you shake your head. "I think I know where they went."

Dustin bursts into the bathroom and you breathe an audible sigh of relief as you spot Steve and Robin in one of the stalls.

"Seriously, what the hell?" Dustin demands.

You stick out your hands immediately, helping Steve and Robin up once again. "Are you guys feeling better?"

"Yup, think we got must of it out of our systems," Steve confirms, suddenly incredibly self-conscious of the blood and vomit staining his uniform. God, he doesn't even want to see what he looks like right now.

But there's nothing but worry in your eyes as you check for any new damage since the last time you saw them. Now, though, in the florescent lights of the Starcourt bathroom, you can really see how Steve's face has been healing.

And by that, you mean it looks even worse.

"It probably looks worse than it is," Steve tries to assure, hands bringing yours that hold his face as you try to inspect it, down.

"Yeah, well, you look like shit," you mutter.

"I really hate to interrupt, but do we have a way out of here?" Robin pipes up.

You sigh. "Dustin tried to call the rest of the kids, but we don't know how much they heard. We have no idea where they are and... my keys are gone! So..."

"We're gonna have to go out there," Dustin says, cracking open the bathroom door.

The rest of you peer over his head, watching as crowds emerge out of the theater.

"And... blend."

⁂

"Abort, abort!"

"Go, go!" For the millionth time, you're rushing everyone along - this time, sliding down the space between the up and down escalators.

"Get behind that counter," you say. "Go!"

You and Steve help Dustin and Erica jump over the counter as each of you press your backs against the nooks made for the employees.

Someone's sneaker squeaks against the linoleum and you hold your breath as you hear a voice, not so far off, saying something you can't understand.

Your eyes fall to your lap, where you realize Steve's hand is clasped around yours. You're not sure who reached for who, but it doesn't matter; you squeeze.

The sound of a car alarm brings surprise to your face as you turn to look at an equally confused Steve. A loud crash has you spinning, hands on the counter as the five of you slowly peer over.

The guards are down, red pools of blood slowly forming under them. The shiny red car once sitting in the middle of the food court sits, smoking, in the side of one of the food stalls.

You all turn slowly, but you only know one person capable of this.

El stands, peering over from the second floor, with the rest of the party, along with Nancy and Jonathan, coming up behind her.

Dustin breaks into a jog to hug Mike and El and you can't deny your pace quickens once you spot Jonathan.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying your house for days," Jonathan says, pulling you into a hug.

"Sorry, I was stuck underneath Starcourt."

He doesn't even have time to ask what the hell you were talking about before you're pulling Nancy into an equally tight embrace.

The game of catch-up commences as you five try to explain how the Russians and the Gate are, in fact, connected until El collapses.

"El? El!"

"My... leg..." El manages out through painful breaths.

"Okay, okay, her leg..."

Nancy moves the gauze on her leg off as Mike carefully rolls up her pant leg, revealing a wound that most certainly does not look right. Something moves inside of it, earning sick groans from the group.

"Keep her talking," Jonathan starts, getting up. "Keep her awake!" He calls sprints off in the direction of the food court, and you help Mike sit El up, carefully.

"You know, it's, uh, not that bad. You know, the goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and, like, the whole bone came out of her knee, six inches or something, it was insane-"

"Robin, please," you say lightly.

"You're not helping," Steve adds.

"I'm sorry." She runs a hand through her hair, clearly overwhelmed. You can't blame her, really. Not after all the informaton about monsters and superpowers you all just dumped on her.

"Okay," Jonathan says, returning with a few new tools. "All right, El? This is gonna hurt like hell, okay? Need you to stay real still."

You grab El's hand and squeeze, lightly.

"Here, you're gonna want to bite down on this, okay?"

Jonathan slices the wound with the knife and El screams through the wooden spoon in her mouth, squeezing your hand hard.

Her screams only intensify and a collective gasp is drawn as Jonathan sticks his gloved fingers into the wound.

The pain becomes unbearable for El, your fingers close to breaking, when she spits out the spoon.

"Stop! I can do it... I can do it."

All of you watch in terror as El screams, forcing whatever was in her leg out.

The shop window behind you shatters and you cover her head from the spray of glass, watching as the slimey, fleshy, thing makes it out of her leg and goes flying, crawling, smashed under a shoe.

There stands Hopper, Joyce, and a man you've never seen before.

Now the real game of catch-up commences.

⁂

"Hey," a voice comes up behind you.

"Hey." You turn to see Steve, face a few different shades now. It's too quiet between the two of you now, the world pushing you together harder in the last twenty-four hours than it ever had before. It might've been awkward if the threat of death wasn't looming over your head so consistently.

But there's no objective right now; no enemy to defeat, no facility to escape. No life-saving topics to discuss to distract from all the feelings you were trying to avoid.

"Why don't you let me clean that up?" You motion to his face; namely, his eye. "I'm sure there's a first aid kit somewhere." At the very least, there had to be ice.

Steve nods, unable to think of something cool and nonchalant to say. Robin catches his eye from a few feet away and shoots him a thumbs up - to which he makes a face at her.

There's a kit by the stove of whatever restaurant's counter Steve sits on, bouncing his knee nervously.

It's not the proximity that bothers him, he swears. But your touch has always been one he leans into, instinctively. Even when the alcohol you use to swipe at the dried blood stings when it touches his cuts, Steve doesn't do anything to break the contact between your fingers and his skin.

You're gentle, guiding Steve's head around carefully, even in places where he's uninjured. You apologize when he flinches, and he would shake his head at you if you hadn't insisted he stay still.

There's a look in your eyes, and for what feels like the first time ever, Steve doesn't know what you're feeling.

The corners of your lips pull down into a small frown as you press ice against Steve's swollen eye, apologies escaping you.

"'S fine," Steve insists, taking the responsibility of holding up the bag full of ice cubes from you.

"What... happened in there?" You ask, though you're not sure you really want to hear the answer.

"Oh, pfft. Got punched a few times, injected with a mystery drug. No biggie, really." There was no sarcasm in Steve's voice as he tried to downplay the situation, but his efforts to make you feel better were in vain.

"I should've stayed," you start.

"No-"

"No, I should've stayed, Steve! I had no idea what was happening to you down there and if... if something happened, if something worse had happened-!"

Your hands are in Steve's. Somehow, they've managed to work themselves in there again.

"I was going crazy imagining what they were doing to you. I think I would've preferred getting punched in the face as long as I knew... as long as I was with you."

It's all coming out now, all clicking in your head. You couldn't deny how worried you were about Steve, how panic had filled every crevice of your body when he wasn't in your line of sight; when he was in danger.

And what if he had gotten killed down there? What if one of you were to die fighting whatever fleshy monster you were bound to run into?

"This is a terrible time to say this, but I... I love you, Steve. I mean, as much as I don't want to, I do. It's fine if you're done with me, but you need to know, I mean, I have no idea what's going to happen after this, but almost losing you was the worst feeling of my entire life and we... we've been through some pretty bad shit!" You laugh because that's all you can do, nerves pooling in the pit of your stomach at Steve's silence.

But he's looking up at you with a glint in his good eye and lips parted - shock, maybe.

"Can, I uh... can I kiss you?" Steve asks, hoping you've wiped all the blood off the side of his mouth.

"Might just be your last chance," you smile, leaning in oh-so-carefully.

Steve's lips feel so familiar, but the way he kisses you is not. He's restrained, maybe because of the pain, maybe because of the disbelief. He holds you like he's always held you, carefully swiping a thumb across your cheek as you kiss.

You're careful as you pull away and Steve is starstruck.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No," Steve insists. "No, you didn't." Quite the opposite, really.

The worry won't wipe off your face so Steve takes your hands in his, thumbs tracing over your knuckles like he used to always do.

"Don't fuck up again, Harrington." Your voice comes out too soft, too vulnerable.

"I won't," Steve swears. "If I do, I fully give you permission to like... I don't know, chop off my dick or something."

"Hey," Robin calls, though she's unable to keep the grin off her face. "We just got put back on babysitting duty."

She doesn't miss how Steve doesn't let go of your hand all the way outside and she doesn't even mind squishing into the backseat with Dustin and Erica.

⁂

"Griswold Family, do you copy?!"

It's no use. They won't, or can't, pick up.

Your heart thuds in your chest at the thought of all the kids being so close to the danger. This wasn't the plan.

You catch Steve's eye and he nods, the two of you are up and off.

"Where are you going?" Erica demands.

"To get them the hell out of there! Stay here, contact the others!" Steve calls.

"Wait!" Dustin cries, throwing you a walkie. "Stay in touch."

You nod, carefully following Steve downhill as quickly as you can without tripping over yourself.

"Think we're gonna make it?" Steve asks as he manages to get back onto the road, slightly out of breath from the run.

"We're gonna make it," you assure, but you still let Steve's hand squeeze yours for just a second before returning to the wheel.

⁂

"Steve, he's not stopping!"

"Yeah, wouldn't expect that asshole to," Steve mutters. "Okay, hold on!"

You try not to scream as Steve presses the gas, aiming right for Billy. Steve puts his arm out in front of you upon impact, eyebrows drawn in worry.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, though you're not sure how honest you're being. "Come on," you hop out of the car, cramming into Nancy's backseat and shutting the door behind Steve, watching the giant spider flesh thing climb atop of Starcourt.

⁂

It would be comical, really. Dustin and the girlfriend you all thought was fake singing Never Ending Story while a monster chased you around. You'd be laughing if your lives weren't at stake.

"It's turning around," Steve warns and you press yourself closer to the window. Shit. He was right. "It's turning around!"

"Maybe we wore it out?"

"I don't think so!"

Jonathan makes a tight u-turn and, rather than driving the monster away, you're now following it.

Back to Starcourt, it is.

⁂

Your very own light show was right here in the middle of Starcourt, fireworks flung at the Mind Flayer evidently doing some damage. But you couldn't keep this up; the supply was running low and El was still down there with Billy.

All you could do was watch, horror-stricken, as the Mind Flayer got one final kill before the body was disconnected from the brain.

⁂

They put you in shock blankets as you sat in the ambulances. You weren't sure why, but maybe they were doing something. But it felt too constricting, too heavy on you. You had to stand, do something, check up on someone.

Someone beats you to it, bumping your knee with his as he takes a seat next to you.

There's no need for either of you to speak. There's not much to say, anyway.

Instead, you lean into Steve and he wraps his arms around you instantly, his own blanket slipping off as he slides his hands into yours.

There's a ghost of a kiss pressed against your forehead as you bury yourself further into Steve, away from everything horrible you'd seen today.

"Why don't you stay with me tonight?" Steve whispers carefully.

You nod, almost immediately. You don't want to be alone. Not tonight.

⁂

Goodbyes were tough.

Steve had come with you to say goodbye to Jonathan and Will. Despite his rocky relationship with the former and practically non-existant one with the latter, he'd show up anywhere you asked him to.

There were so many memories in the Byers home, some of them completely haunting - but so many of them wonderful.

"Remember when we burnt breakfast so bad it filled the whole house with smoke?" Jonathan reminisces from beside you, leaning against the door frame.

"We? You were supposed to keep an eye on it," you laugh. "Remember Christmas?"

"Yeah, when I had to beg you to stay over?"

"You just didn't want to drive me home."

"Untrue."

The two of you go silent, each of your minds replaying all the memories you had together here. In different orders, you were sure, but all the same memories.

Jonathan pulls you into a hug; tighter than any he's give you before.

"Don't start crying on me now," you joke, but your own throat is beginning to tighten.

"Yeah, you wish."

It's Will and El that almost break you, each of them receiving bone-crushing hugs that they don't complain about - how could they through their sobs?

You hold them until you've got to let go, watching with a heavy heart as all the kids say their final goodbyes.

Not final ones. Just goodbyes, for now.

None of you leave until the U-Haul is long gone, a piece of your little family driving off with them.

⁂

"Steve," you laugh, barely able to get a word in between all the kisses. "I am a forty minute drive away."

"It's almost an hour with traffic," Steve whines, trying to hold you still as he kisses your face.

"Then I'll meet you halfway," you compromise, taking advantage of your cheeks occupying his lips.

"No, no, I'll be here," Steve promises, attacking your lips again.

"Steve!" You laugh, pushing him away. "I'll be home on weekends. And on days I don't have class."

"What if I miss you before that?" Steve mutters, forehead pressed against yours, hands on your hips.

"Then you come visit me. I'm sure my roommate wouldn't mind an extra guest."

Steve groans as you laugh. His hands slide up to frame your face, your own hands resting atop of his.

"I'll see you in five days," you whisper with a smile.

"I'll be counting down the seconds."

Steve kisses you, as lovingly as he always does, until both your lips are puffy.

Maybe this summer wasn't so bad.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello dear witch! Thank you for all the amazing things you do <3 I have a question about vaginal health (if other people could share their experiences that would also be very appreciated) Sorry if this is too long

So from reading your replies to people on T I learned about vaginal atrophy bc of low estrogen. I am a woman(?) in her early 20s with a vagina. I went into menopause about 2 years ago bc of chemotherapy and currently have low levels of both E and T. My new "no period, ovaries empty" life hasn't really been bothering me so i've kind of procrastinated on going to the gyno about hrt (the menopause kind, i'm not planning a gender-affirming one), and now i will only get the opportunity to do so in a couple of months. So back to the atrophy - should i like, start jorking it regularly for vaginal health's sake? My libido is gone so i don't really feel like doing it most of the time, i straight up forget that it's a thing sometimes lol. Also, everywhere i see it says that penetration specifically is good for preventing atrophy - but why? Doesn't arousal from clit stimulation supply enough bloodflow? I've never done any kind of penetration - should i consider it?

Wishing you a lovely day! 🌱

hi anon,

what a great question! and not one that seems to have an easily-available answer online, I'm afraid. most of the sources I can find that acknowledge "sexual activity" as a good way to combat vaginal atrophy note that either partnered sex or masturbation are sufficient, but none of them specify whether penetration is a must. that's not very helpful, is it?

you're definitely right that any kind of sexual arousal will get blood flowing into the genitals, which is preventing atrophy. the best explanation I can think of for why penetration might be preferable to clitoral stimulation on that front would be that the vaginal muscles will get more of a workout accommodating something being inserted into the vagina, but if that's not something that's appealing to you I wouldn't force it. difficult sex after menopause can become an unfortunately self-perpetuating cycle of pain and frustration, so don't push yourself into anything that doesn't feel worth the effort.