#and technically it might not BE the date if they find out he’s flipped day of

[cheapcheapfaker]

my c section is scheduled for 5/17 at 10:30 am

[pucksandpower]

Family Feud

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader

Summary: Max thinks it’s bad enough that his sister is dating his emotional support rival … but did they really have to rub salt in the wound by making him want to puke on national tv?

Warnings: 18+ content mildly implied

You take a deep breath as you walk onto the Family Feud stage, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. You never expected to be here, about to face off against your brother and his Red Bull Racing teammates in a battle of wits. But when Fred Vasseur talked to you about potentially doing an episode of the show for charity, you jumped at the chance.

Especially since it meant spending time with your boyfriend.

You glance over at Charles and he winks at you, his smile making your heart flutter.

You could stare into each other’s eyes all day so you force yourself to look away and turn to face the host Steve Harvey as he introduces the teams.

“Welcome to Celebrity Family Feud!” Steve announces. “Today we’ve got two Formula 1 teams ready to compete. Let’s meet the teams!”

Steve starts with the Red Bull Racing team. “We’ve got Team Principal Christian Horner, Red Bull drivers Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, and AlphaTauri drivers Daniel Ricciardo and Yuki Tsunoda!”

The crowd cheers as the guys wave. Max shifts awkwardly, clearly not comfortable being on stage. You stifle a laugh, knowing he would rather be anywhere than here right now.

“And the Scuderia Ferrari team,” Steve continues, “led by Team Principal Fred Vasseur, with drivers Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, Chief Technical Officer Y/N Verstappen, and reserve driver Antonio Giovinazzi!”

You and your teammates greet the audience. As you pass Max, you ruffle his hair teasingly. “Ready to lose?”

He swats your hand away, rolling his eyes. “You wish.”

Steve explains the rules and then it’s time for the face-off. You and Charles step up to represent Ferrari while Daniel and Max come forward for Red Bull.

“Alright, we surveyed 100 people, top five answers are on the board,” Steve says. “Name something you do to get pumped up before a race.”

You ring the buzzer just before Max. “Listen to hype music!” You shout.

“Listen to hype music!” Steve repeats. “Let’s see if it’s up there!”

You hold your breath as the board flips, revealing your answer in the #2 spot. You and Charles high-five triumphantly.

“Alright, Red Bull, you can steal if you have a better answer,” Steve prompts.

Max thinks for a moment. “Visualize winning,” he tries.

“Good answer, good answer,” Steve nods. But it’s not there. You grin at Charles, knowing Ferrari has taken round one.

The game continues, both teams battling it out trying to guess the survey answers.

You and Charles can’t resist teasing your brother every chance you get.

“What might a Formula 1 driver do to unwind after a long race?” Steve asks next.

You buzz in with a sly smile. “Make love to their partner!”

Charles doubles over laughing as Max makes gagging noises, his face turning bright red.

“Wooowee, let’s see if our survey takers agree! Is making sweet sweet love to their partner on the board?” Steve chuckles. Unbelievably, it shows up as the #4 answer.

“Yes!” You shout, kissing Charles on the cheek. Max is shaking his head, looking like he wants to disappear. You blow him a taunting kiss, which just makes him cringe more.

“Red Bull, you gotta come back from this,” Steve says.

“Uhhh ... play video games,” Daniel guesses but the large red X that appears on the screen shows that Ferrari maintains the lead as you head into the final round.

“Alright, this is for the win. Ferrari just needs 9 points to end this right here,” Steve announces dramatically. “Name something you might find in an F1 driver’s motorhome.”

Charles rings in first. “Condoms!” He calls out, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You laugh as Max lets out an anguished yell. “Stoooooop!”

“Survey says ... number three answer!” Steve announces. “Ferrari wins!”

Charles grabs you in a celebratory hug, spinning you around happily. You kiss him deeply, not caring that Max is fake vomiting behind you.

You break apart from your boyfriend, glancing back at Max still pretending to gag.

“Ugh get a room,” Max complains.

“Don’t worry, we plan to as soon as we get done with this,” you wink.

Max looks utterly disgusted as always.

“Alright folks, time for the Fast Money round!” Steve announces. “First up for Ferrari is Charles Leclerc!”

You blow Charles a flirty kiss as he takes the stage.

“Name something an F1 driver might eat before a race,” Steve begins.

Charles shoots you a shit-eating grin before winking at the camera. “Their beautiful girlfriend.”

You giggle as Max turns an unnatural shade of red alarmingly similar to your Ferrari branded shirt.

“Let’s see if the survey agrees!” Steve turns to the board.

No match but you don’t care.

Charles fires through the next few questions.

“Name something you’d pack for a race weekend.”

“Handcuffs,” he laughs at Steve’s scandalized expression.

You pretend to fan yourself while Max bangs his head against the podium in agony.

The buzzer sounds and Charles finishes strong. You give him a hug as you take the stage instead.

“Name something associated with F1,” Steve says.

“Fast cars and sexy drivers,” you reply with a wink towards Charles.

Charles blows you a kiss. Max looks ready to walk off stage or stab a mechanic with a fork.

You hope it’s the first option. One mechanic stabber in the family is more than enough, thank you very much.

You match Charles’ style, giving mostly normal answers until …

“Name something you pack for a weekend trip.”

You tap your chin playfully. “Lots and lots of lingerie.”

Charles whistles and cheers as you curtsy. Max is nearly crimson with embarrassment.

“And that’s the game!” Steve concludes. “Congratulations to Ferrari for their big win today on Celebrity Family Feud! $46,000 will be donated to Racing For Kids on your behalf.”

You leap into Charles arms, kissing him deeply. “That’s how it’s done, schatje!”

“We make an unstoppable team,” Charles smiles, dimples on full display, and you swear that some of the women in the audience swoon.

Max just shakes his head as he stomps to the exit. “You two need Jesus.”

But you’re too busy gazing adoringly at Charles to notice. Winning the show was fun but the real prize is having the love of your life by your side.

[typicalopposite]

Tommy stumbles upon Buck's journal. They read it together 🙂

Omg! OMG!! I love this so much! So much I wrote it three different times before I figured out the way I actually wanted it to go! LOL! Hope you like the final cut! (she got a little long!)

<3<3<3<3<3

Buck is busy making dinner. He has his brand new apron on; a housewarming gift from Bobby. Although it’s not technically a housewarming gift, since Tommy has already lived in the house for almost a decade… Either way, he loves it, and he is officially breaking it in. 

“Baby,” Tommy calls from their room. Their room… Buck can’t help the smile that creeps across his face at that. “What’s this?”

He looks up from seasoning some veggies as Tommy walks in, a notebook in his hand. His notebook. Buck nearly yelps: “Oh— uh— uhm— wha— wh- where… did you find that?” 

“It was sticking out from under the mattress,” Tommy says. “I didn’t know you kept a journal.” 

“Oh, well… it’s not— it’s just—” Tommy finally lifts his eyes from the cover (that may or may not be covered in little doodles and a couple dozen fancily penned versions of their names together) to look at Buck. Buck feels his face getting hot; he sighs. “Uh yeah—I used to write a lot… Back when I first started seeing my therapist, she suggested it. Said it might help to get all the thoughts I tend to keep bottled up… out.” He lets out a nervous laugh, switching the spice shaker he’s holding from one hand to the other, and back. 

Tommy finally hands the notebook to him. “Is this one recent?” 

“It is,” Buck admits. “I— uh— I actually picked it up again when—” His voice falters, his nerves kick in. He knows he shouldn’t be nervous; Tommy would never judge him for anything, especially not something he uses as a coping mechanism. “When I met you…” he finally says. He can feel the blush all the way in his ears. Tommy smiles that soft understanding smile. “You— uh— you wanna read some of it?” 

“Only if you don’t mind,” Tommy says, but his eyes light up excitedly. 

Buck’s heart is racing as he quickly finishes the meal prep, shoves it into the oven, and sets a timer. “Okay…” He wipes off his hands and picks up the notebook. Buck’s Journal 2024-2025 is written on the front cover in the bottom corner. Tommy pulls him down onto the couch beside him, situating himself around Buck’s body, resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder so he can read along.  

Buck flips to the first page. 

March 19 2024 

Secretly followed Hen on a hunch she had. Flew through a hurricane, and saved Cap and Athena from their capsized cruise ship. Came up with the team's new motto, “Who Cares!?!” 

Oh and I finally got to meet Tommy. He’s pretty cool!

Next to the entry is Tommy’s number, he got it from Chimney so he could call about the tour… and it’s circled. 

March 29 2024

Got a tour of Harbor Station today. Seeing all the helicopters and learning what all air ops does was pretty cool, not as cool as the guy who gets to man the helicopters and do all the stuff air ops does… but still. I kind of didn’t want the tour to end. I’d have loved to get to know Tommy a little more, BUT unfortunately he had other plans… weirdly they were with Eddie… he flew him to Vegas to see a fight. 

He did offer to give me flying lessons though… that will be fun. I wonder if he offered to give Eddie flying lessons too.

Buck can feel Tommy smiling. “So jealous,” he hears him whisper, and he nudges at his jaw with his shoulder. 

April 4 2024 

I have a date. 

Which is definitely not how I expected my day to end… giving it kind of started with me hurting Eddie.  

Ok so to explain that… I kind of convinced Chimney to bring me along to the basketball game because I was maybe just a little jealous of Eddie getting to spend so much time with Tommy when something always came up when I tried to… and I guess it just got the better of me. I feel really bad about it, probably will feel bad for a while…

BUT THEN Tommy came over! And he… kissed me!? And I liked it?!? And now we have a date. On Saturday. 

Yes… the date of their date was circled with a heart around it. “Awww,” Tommy says, pressing a kiss to Buck’s cheek. Buck laughs and turns the page, then quickly tries to turn it again, but Tommy stops him. “Can I see?” He asks. 

April 6 2024

I BLEW IT.

That was all that was written on that page. In big letters and underlined. Tear stains were scattered across the page. He feels Tommy’s arms tighten around him. “I’m so sorry baby,” he says quietly. 

Buck shrugs; smiles. “It’s all good because…” he skips a page to—

April 12 2024

I FIXED IT!

And now I have a date for the wedding! :)

Tommy barks out a laugh. 

May 6 2024  Buck writes about the bachelor party, and losing Chimney, and coming out to everyone at the hospital wedding

May 19 2024 Buck writes about helping save the kidnapped baby, and spending the night at Tommy’s for the first time. 

May 25 2024 Buck writes about the medal ceremony, and meeting Gerrard, and hating Gerrard, and wanting to fight Gerrard for being mean to Tommy, and wanting to make out with Tommy in front of Gerrard so he can go into homophobic shock and wither away like the old wrinkly ass he is…

May 30 2024 Buck writes about Bobby, and the fear he had about almost losing him. He writes about Christopher going to Texas, and missing him. He writes about Tommy, and how he thinks he can picture forever with him. 

June 23 2024 Buck writes about Gerrard being the new captain. 

September 1 2024 Buck writes about Gerrard finally getting fired permanently. The time under him was miserable; he didn't feel like writing during that time. He writes about Tommy being his rock through it all. He writes about thinking he’s in love. 

The timer goes off in the kitchen. “Well,” Tommy says, pulling Buck into his arms for a kiss. “That was nice, getting to see some of the stuff you keep bottled up. Thank you for sharing it with me.”  

Buck smiles; he feels that damned blush creeping up again. He holds the notebook close to his chest, carrying it with him back into the kitchen. That was close… he thinks. He really needs to find a better hiding place, at least until after their anniversary… 

.

.

.

March 29 2025

I bought a ring. I’m going to ask him to marry me on our anniversary. I want to spend the rest of my life feeling this happy and safe and satisfied. 

.

.

.

April 4 2025

He said yes!

<3<3<3<3<3

might put this one on ao3 later too!

[southern-fried-simpin]

Doctor-Patient Confidentiality | BTAA!Scarecrow x fem!reader

A/N: Hey y’all look I’m writing again lol

Warning(s): Implied doctor-patient relationship kinda thing, floof with some suggestive stuff, mentions of implied abusive relationship, therapy stuff, unethical practices technically, this might be a little cheesy 😅

Should you really be wearing a new dress and heels that you bought for “no reason” just to see your doctor? No, probably not. However, he probably shouldn’t be recommending you other doctors “in case you feel like you need a second opinion on…anything” either.

To anyone else, it would sound like he found that you were in need of some sort of specialized treatment he couldn’t provide, however that couldn’t be any farther from the truth. The truth was that Jonathan had slowly taken a liking to you, and unfortunately, you had taken a liking to him too.

When you first started seeing him, you had the run-of-the-mill doctor-patient relationship: he was there to provide counseling and you were his patient. Jonathan was…looser though. More relaxed than other therapists you’d had before. He made you feel comfortable, even when talking about the hard stuff. He made you laugh. He made you smile. He even made you blush sometimes. That isn’t to say he ever said anything lewd, he just gave you a compliment here and there in the beginning.

“Well, don’t you look nice! Doing something fun later?”

Then the compliments became more frequent and more…audacious.

“Ooh, cute little number ya got on! Did you wear that just for little old me?”

You hadn’t that day, but you had started getting dressed up for him after that.

And now here you were: sitting in the lobby reading your book and eagerly waiting for Jonathan to come out and usher you in.

“Good morning, Miss y/n,” you looked up at the sound of his voice as he stood in the doorway grinning, “ready for our session?”

You nodded before standing, at which point his eyes widened for just a split second before they returned back to normal.

Once inside the office, you sat down on the couch while he sat in the matching chair opposite you, pen and clipboard in hand.

“Now I believe last session…” he flipped through some of his notes,”…we ended with your fear of romantic relationships…” Jonathan looked up at you with a warm yet sly smile on his face. “Would you like to pick up from there?”

“Sounds good to me.” You smiled back, watching as he clicked his pen. As happy as you were to see him, you remembered that you were also here to deal with any obstacles that held you back.

Oddly enough, one such obstacle was the subject of romantic relationships with others.

And you were discussing it with your therapist that you had a crush on. God really does have a sick sense of humor, doesn’t he?

“Now you said something last time about not wanting to…’share’ yourself with someone?”

“Share pieces of myself…”, you said quietly.

“Because in your last relationship, you were with someone who wasn’t treating you as an equal, is that right?”

“No he- well it’s not that I wasn’t his equal, it’s that he um…” you struggled to find the words. Meanwhile, Jonathan sat patiently waiting for you to figure out what you were trying to say.

“May I say something here?” His voice broke the silence between you two.

“Sure.”

“You said this person treated you as an equal…” he raised a brow at you, “…yet they didn’t allow you to have the same right they had to things like privacy, free time, ability to make choices…right?” He looked at you knowingly. It was a question you knew the answer to already.

“Right…” you sighed.

Jonathan set aside his clipboard and readjusted himself in his chair before speaking. He leaned in closer towards you.

“So let’s say for example’s sake…” He looked up in thought for a moment then snapped his fingers. “Let’s say you and I are dating…” A toothy smile.

“So let’s say we’re a happy little couple and we’ve been a happy little couple for awhile because we looove each other and we wanna be together forever…” The sentence is punctuated with a sugary sweet tone made to make you laugh, and it did. “So we have a healthy relationship,” he continued, “where, yes, you do share pieces of yourself with me, but I also share pieces of myself with you. We don’t share ourselves just hoping the other will reciprocate, we share because we’re comfortable, because we want to. Are you following?”

“Yes.” You said with an unwittingly dreamy tone to your voice.

Jonathan smiled softly. An oddly warm gesture that differed from his usual calculated yet charismatic demeanor.

“Okay, so in sharing ourselves, we share respect for each other; we communicate, we set boundaries, we build trust. If there’s a problem, we talk about it. I don’t hack into your phone to look at your private messages, I ask you if I have done anything to make you feel like I’m mad at you or neglecting your needs. The same goes for you.” His eyes traveled down to your lap, where your hands were neatly folded, as he carefully took hold of them before looking at you again.

“That’s what a healthy relationship, where two people are equals, is. Does that make sense?”

You nodded and smiled, again dreamily.

“Okay and does that sound anything like your past relationship?”

With a smile still on your face, you shook your head and began to slowly lean in towards him. At this point he had turned slightly to gather some things, you weren’t sure what and didn’t care, honestly. Nonetheless, he kept talking.

“Exactly, and you deserve to have th-“

He fell silent when he turned back to you and noticed your face, now only inches from his. Jonathan looked a bit nervous all of the sudden, his ears and cheeks flushed slightly as he stared at you quietly. He was stuck there, eyes flitting from your eyes then to your lips and back again. The air of haughtiness and charisma he usually had about himself had disappeared.

Or maybe it had just moved in your direction.

As you leaned in closer to Jonathan, he shifted backwards slightly in his chair, a movement so minuscule that you didn’t notice despite your eyes being on him.

Then finally, your lips met his. His heart raced and was beating so loud that you could hear it.

Yet somehow it felt like you were both floating. Time and space didn’t exist

He broke the kiss rather abruptly, and cleared his throat.

“Ah…hm…um…” he blinked rapidly and tapped his fingers on the arm rest.

Oh no. Oh nononononono. You made him uncomfortable.

You watched him expectantly, prepared for the worst and cringing at your impulsivity.

“I think you’ve made a great deal of progress here, however I’m not sure if I can treat you any further…”

There it is, and here it comes to hit you head on.

“The issues you’re facing are…outside of my field of expertise I’m afraid, but uh…” Jonathan quickly took a business card and scribbled something on it. “Why don’t you make an appointment with a colleague of mine, hm?” You nodded with a solemn smile.

He stood up, and smiled somewhat awkwardly at you. You carefully followed suit, the pit in your stomach almost felt so heavy that you would fall right back into the chair if you stood up too fast.

After walking you to the door, he cleared his throat again.

“Oh and uh…,” he swallowed. “If you’d like, I can tell you about more options available over dinner on Saturday?” He gave you a smug grin.

Now there was the Jon you knew.

You grinned back at him before speaking.

“I’d love that, actually…do you maybe want to see that new slasher film afterwards?”

“Holy f- I mean, yes absolutely!”

With that you said your goodbyes to each other and left, giggling on your way out.

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 20 - Under the Covers

Summary: Eddie enlists the guys for help to surprise you and quickly learns that there might be something a little more sinister in all of their pasts.

Word Count: 937

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OC (The Knight from As Above, So Below, written in 2nd person POV you/your for immersion) You do not need to read AASB to read this but if you're interested in more of Eddie's fluffy adventures into the world of monsters and cryptids, Heaven and the Hymns of Heaven miniseries are for you.

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Unofficial official Hymn of Heaven, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Eddie is simping hard, Fluff, allusion to monsters and nightmares, DnD references

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

October 1984

You had a great relationship with Eddie's friends.

Enough that sometimes Eddie questioned whether they preferred your company over his. You brought them snacks, showed Gareth how to parallel park, and even helped Dave with his research paper for English. He couldn't fault them. Despite your flaws, you were pretty much the gold standard of Dungeon Master's Girlfriend if there ever was one.

What was it they said? When god made you they broke the mold?

So when he went to his friends to ask for their help to surprise you, he was confident that they would say yes.

And they did.

You'd been busy picking up shift after shift at Bradleys. Almost too busy for dates and outings, but you always carved out free time for Eddie and the guys.

But you deserved the world, so Eddie had a plan.

He, of course, had a key to your little apartment, and decided to smuggle the guys over one afternoon to set up a night in for the two of you. Snacks and subs from the deli and the most epic blanket fort anyone had ever seen. He'd pretty much brought every single sheet, blanket, pillow, and couch cushion from the trailer over to your place and asked the guys to do the same.

"Star Wars bedsheets Gare?" he scoffed when the younger boy revealed his contribution.

"You're one to talk, what the hell is this? Butterflies?" Gareth slapped Eddie's otherwise-neat pile, sending everything tumbling to the ground.

"Alright! Focus!" Jeff intervened before the fight would inevitably break out. "What time is her shift over? We've gotta work fast."

Soon enough there were load-bearing pillow columns and vaulted ceilings made of a set of old starry bedsheets from someone’s childhood bedroom. The coffee table was shoved to the side and was stocked with all the food the two of you could ever want for your date, and in its place in the middle of the floor was a soft little nest of cushions and blankets. It was situated in front of your shitty, secondhand television set so you and Eddie could watch reruns of Love Boat together.

Of course the boys all had to make smoochie noises to mock their fearless leader.

At some point, while Eddie was inspecting everyone's handiwork to make sure it was perfect, the guys got restless, so they started to snoop.

"Hey what's this?"

Eddie looked up from his scrutinizing to find all three of them huddled together, flipping through the copy of A Modern Bestiary for the 20th Century.

"Put that down, it's nothing!”

"Uh," Jeff snorted. "It only looks like the coolest book ever. Look at this...harpies and selkies and...what is this? Anatomical nervous system of a dryad? Where did she get a book like this?"

Eddie quickly crossed the distance and snatched the prized tome out of Jeff's hands.

"Technically it's my book," he explained dismissively. "And it's not for adventuring parties. Only Dungeon Masters. Which, if I wasn’t mistaken, only includes me. Now help me fix this one blanket, you guys almost ruined this whole thing."

As they made their way back to fix the fort, Eddie dropped the book onto the cushy blanket nest and it fell open to a random page. A page featuring a creature that looked very similar to a fitted sheet, with claws at the elastic corners, and a face made up of the creases in the fabric.

Dave was the one to take note of it, rather nervously in fact.

"Hey, uh, I don't know about you guys," he tried to laugh it off. "But I think I've heard about something like that before. When I was a kid."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie hummed in disinterest.

"When I was younger my mom always told me not to sleep with the sheets over my head. Said they would suffocate me. Or the bed might swallow me whole."

"Funny," Gareth snorted. "I used to hide under the covers after bedtime and read comics with a flashlight. My mom said a creature would come and steal me away if I did that...that it would be drawn in by the light."

Then it was a domino effect. Jeff jumped in with his own story, and finally Eddie, who suddenly took the situation a little more seriously as he realized they all had warnings about a monster that lived at the foot of the bed.

They tip-toed closer to the book and cautiously read about the creature; it had some latin name they couldn't pronounce, but the pages about it were laden with warnings of portals and mimicry and devourer of sleeping people, and then they realized...that they might very well be surrounded by the creatures right now.

They suddenly closed ranks, huddled together, back to back, and stared at the fort they created in fear.

"What if the whole thing collapses and eats us?" Jeff asked.

"It can't eat all of us Jeff," Eddie scoffed. "We're gonna have to choose who to sacrifice so that the rest of us can make it."

The four of them glanced at each other, and then their hands jumped to their faces to stick a finger on their nose. Dave was the unfortunate loser of the Nose Goes.

"God damn it, why me?" he shouted, and then they all started to bicker.

Before long, pillows were wielded against one another and it was a flurry of arms and limbs and feathers and fluff. A pillow fight of epic proportions that practically destroyed the fort that they had just put together.

That was how you found them when you got home, wrestling under a pile of blankets from the collapsed pillow fort.

The movement stopped as you slammed the door shut, and Eddie's head popped out from some opening in the pile

"Hey sweetheart," he smiled sheepishly. "Uh...surprise!"

[anonymous-tals]

We don’t know much about Marta Estrella. She’s only in seven episodes of Arrested Development, and it’s purely centered around her relationship with Gob and Michael. She’s Gob’s girlfriend, that’s pretty much it, and after her episodes, she poofs out of existence like most of Gob’s other girlfriends. And yet she still sticks out of the deck, not just as Gob’s girlfriend, but as a character on her own.

(further elaborated upon under the cut)

Marta and Gob’s relationship was on again-off again, which is pretty unique given most of Gob’s flings don’t even get to the ‘on’ stage, let alone ‘again’. But even with this constant dissonance and flip-flopping, every time he came running back to her, lamenting that he’d made a huge mistake, she believed him. She truly, wholeheartedly did. And that’s far from the only instances of this. Gob constantly cheats and lies. She even worries he might be cheating at one point, and yet that fear doesn’t seem to raise any red flags. One day, she comes to the Bluth Company office to see Gob, as he’d told her he was working there…He wasn’t. But even though he’s not there, she suspects absolutely nothing. I mean, he’d turned a new leaf! He told her she was a treasure and a once in a lifetime woman! Why would she even consider he’s lied to her about this?

She’s practically incapable of assuming the worst of people. It’s a part of the code she adamantly holds herself to. Michael mentions, among other things like her hair, face, and breasts, that her sense of right and wrong is what attracted him to her. And what a sense of right and wrong that is. When it comes to herself, she holds herself to a very high standard. She’s unabatedly insistent on doing the right thing, and she’s willing to face the consequences if she doesn’t, regardless of what position that puts her in. But I think the most blatant example of this is how she views family.

She said herself that she “[lives] by a code: to honor family.” Family and commitment are “the only things that matter in life”. She’s always commenting about how much she admires acts of what she believes are familial kindness. Family is so important to her, in fact, that when she sees Michael and Gob in a fight, she calls off any sort of relationship with either of them for good, which I find very interesting. Obviously, we know that the Bluth family is very toxic, but she doesn’t know that. She doesn’t know the context of this fight, but it’s this, not any of the other bullshit she had to deal with when dating Gob, that makes her draw the line. Even more interesting was her immediate nope of Michael, who up until that point, she’d had overwhelmingly positive experiences with and as far as she knew, he valued family very much. Again, she doesn’t know the context of the fight, he could’ve been defending himself, and arguably, that’s true since I’m pretty sure it was Gob who started it. But nope, no questions, no second chances, he clearly doesn’t value family. That also is lacking the nuance of…why should someone have to respect and honor their family if their family isn't worth respect or honor? She made a good choice to not get herself involved in this family, but it was a very odd line to draw given everything else.

She has a very naive, idealistic view of the world, and we see that can impair how she navigates it, ending up in relationships like the one with Gob, where her kindness and blind trust is taken advantage of by men who do not care about her. And this is where we step into her world outside the Bluths, made compelling by the little snippet of her life we see. On the topic of family, Marta is a single mom with two young kids, the oldest maybe five at most. But something left unaddressed is what happened to the father. Where is he?

Okay, like-...I guess he technically could've died but with how dedicated Marta is to honoring family, I feel like she’d, like, mention him. So I’m gonna just…move on to the other stuff.

Where is he? He stuck around long enough to have two kids with her.

Okay, stepping aside again, I guess the kids could have different dads but, like…I can’t cover everything, okay, imaginary audience member???

Where is he? He stuck around long enough to have two kids with her. Clearly it was a pretty substantial relationship. But there isn’t a word about him. He doesn’t appear to be in their lives, and with how important family is to Marta, I doubt going no contact would be a decision made lightly, especially since they have kids. I mean, look at how Gob treated her, and none of that disrespectful, inconsiderate, unfaithful behavior was enough to make her call it off for good or believe he wasn’t being honest. And through it all, she was incredibly supportive of Gob. In my opinion, she was one of the few people that actually understood Gob. Most of all, she took his magic career seriously, which couldn’t even be said of other magicians, let alone people who weren’t into magic. There was something about them(autism) that just made Marta able to empathize on a level others couldn’t. But Gob couldn’t manage to do as little as to come to the award show Marta was nominated in. So if she’ll tolerate that, what would make her decide to break a serious relationship like that off?

Of course, we don’t know the answer to that question. From here on out, it would be purely speculation, so I don’t have much more to say in that regard. But yah, I just find her so compelling. She’s an actress, a single mom, an optimist, an idealist. She’s faithful, considerate, caring. She sees the good in everyone. She’s forgiving and nonjudgmental. She’s rigid and unwavering.

She’s a bitch, she’s a lover, she’s a child, she’s a mother; you get the picture.

Her character has real potential for a larger story. And I dunno, I just like thinkin’ about it.

[kelyon]

Courtship 17: Ceremony

The knot is tied

Read on AO3

She didn’t sleep well, the night before her wedding. Her childhood bedroom was cleared out and all the shadows were strange. They seemed sharper now, darker. They threatened to swallow her. All her clothes were out of her closet and out of the dirty clothes hamper. There was nothing on her dresser except the makeup she’d need for tomorrow. All the usual clutter of her life was gone, either packed up to go with her, shoved away in drawers, or in the trash. A room this clean felt empty, maybe dead. A skeleton picked bare of flesh. 

Energy born of nerves and excitement filled her up like champagne bubbles. She tossed and turned in her twin-sized bed, trying to get comfortable, trying to relax enough to sleep. Masturbating might have helped, but Mr. Gold had forbidden her to touch herself if he wasn’t present.

If only he was! Miss French flipped over onto her stomach. If Mr. Gold was here, if she was trying to sleep next to him--in his bed that would be her bed, in his house that would be her home--well, he wouldn’t allow any restlessness in his plaything, would he? He would wear her out. He would use her until she couldn’t do anything but sleep. He would fuck her into a coma and keep fucking her in her dreams.

Soon, she promised herself. Tomorrow night was her wedding night. If she knew Mr. Gold, he would exhaust her. Everything would be alright once they were together. Once they were married, once she belonged to him, once she was really Mrs. Gold. Then everything would be perfect.

She just had to make it until then.   

****

In the morning, she showered and did her hair. She used all the expensive products and lotions and cleansers that would have been unthinkable before she’d started dating Mr. Gold. Hell, before she’d gone on that first date, hot water had been a faraway dream. Now she luxuriated in steam scented with expensive shampoo. She rubbed her feet with a brand-new pumice stone and exfoliated with a coarse mixture of salt and orange-scented oil. No more of Miss Trudine’s homemade crap.

She lathered herself in foamy shaving cream--as she had every day for the past two weeks--and took a razor to her legs, armpits, and pussy. If she wanted Mr. Gold to eat her out, she had to keep herself clean. Repeated attempts had made it a lot easier to find and remove the pesky, wiry hairs grew between her legs. Yet she never shook the feeling that she wasn’t bare enough. There always seemed to be more faults she had to eliminate, more parts of her that Mr. Gold would find distasteful.

She would figure it out. Mrs. Gold would be good enough. She would deserve her husband. Mrs. Gold would cut away and burn every part of her that wasn’t up to his standards. 

No matter how much it might hurt in the moment, his approval would be worth the price.

Primped and perfumed, Miss French began to dress. For her wedding, she’d bought a white corset that pushed her boobs up to her neck. The matching thong was basically a just white silk triangle on a string. It covered nothing, which was exactly what she wanted. She put on a white garter belt and a pair of white thigh-highs. They clung to her legs, tight and silky and delicious. 

Technically, her wedding dress wasn’t meant for a wedding. Storybrooke didn’t have a dedicated bridal shop, and there hadn’t been time to have something made or even order a dress from a catalog and have it mailed in. Fortunately, Modern Fashions always carried a scant collection of prom dresses.

It was white, at least. The entire dress was covered in beads and sequins--all white and silver and crystal. She would sparkle like a movie star on a red carpet. Like everything else in her new wardrobe, her wedding dress was short and tight. One sleeve went all the way down to her wrist--conveniently covering the last yellow traces of her bruise--but her other arm was completely bare. It showed off her shoulder and a good bit of cleavage. Overall, it had the same allure of the purple-blue dress she had worn on her first date with Mr. Gold. Back then she had been a thousand times more innocent than she was now in snow white.  

She stepped into the dress and brought it up to her waist. She slid her arm into the one sleeve and found the zipper on the back with her other hand. But when she pulled, the zipper didn’t move.

A white-hot arrow of emotion pierced Lacey. This was why people had bridesmaids. This was why a woman was supposed to have friends and family she could rely on to be there for her on the most important day of her life!

The jolt of rage was enough to get the zipper to pull up. Miss French breathed. Shallow breaths--the dress was tighter across her ribs than the corset--but breaths all the same. She had to learn some self-control. This was nothing to get upset over. Miss Trudine and Miss Woolverton had made their choice. They had decided she wasn’t worth helping. She just had to accept the fact, and move on with her special day.

Besides, she had zipped her dress up by herself. Her hair looked just as good as it would have if Miss Woolverton had worked on it for hours. She was immaculate and she had done it all on her own. That just proved she didn’t need them anyway. 

****

She still needed practice to walk in her tall white wedding heels. Carting her bags down the stairs a few times did the trick. She set everything in a neat row outside, by the side door, well out of sight of the shop. Moe was in there, frantically filling out Valentine’s Day orders. He knew she was leaving today, but that didn’t mean they needed to see each other. 

Mr. Gold had told her that their appointment at City Hall was at three. His employee, Dove, would come by at two to get everything. 

“Everything” was seven shopping bags of her new clothes and jewelry, two bags of makeup and skin and hair products, and one bag of books and mementos--things she didn’t want Moe to find if he ever went into her room. Not that he would. It would be too much work for him to clean out her old stuff himself. The garbage bags full of clothes she had wanted to give to Janine were still up there.  

Once her things were outside, she couldn’t very well leave them unguarded. The French’s neighborhood wasn’t exactly rough, but a line of open shopping bags would be a tempting target for anybody. So she lingered in the doorway, wrapped up in a white woolen coat and white leather gloves she would probably never wear again after today. 

At exactly two o’clock in the afternoon, a long black car pulled up in front of Game of Thorns. It was even bigger than Mr. Gold’s Cadillac. It took Miss French a minute to recognize what it was.

“He rented a limo?” She asked Dove when he came out. “Or did he already own one?”

The tall man gave her a brief nod. “Mr. Gold didn’t know how many companions you’d have with you. He wanted to be prepared.”

“Oh,” Lacey said softly. “Right.”

Without another word, Dove picked up the shopping bags, two in each hand, and took them over to the limo’s trunk, leaving her alone on the sidewalk.

It made sense of course. She hadn’t told Mr. Gold that all her invitations had been soundly rejected. It was a lovely gesture, to provide transportation large enough for her whole family. In a perfect world, it would have been a treat for everyone. Janine and Mara would have squealed, they would have felt like celebrities. Chloe would be excited just because they were excited. Uncle Manny would tell them all the ways a limo was better than any other car. Maybe Aunt Terri would smile a little, maybe some light would come back into her eyes. The best she could expect from Dad would be an approving nod, but that would be enough. 

In a perfect world. If they could all be together.

Her eyes burned, but she couldn’t cry. It was too early in the day for her makeup to be ruined. Instead, she blinked the tears away and took a breath. The air was so cold it hurt her lungs and that was just what she needed. 

All her luggage was packed. Dove held the limo door open for her. She was just about to step into the car when a familiar figure turned the corner to their street. 

“Uncle Manny?” Lacey whispered.

Holy shit, it was him! He was here! She wanted to run to him, but her heels were already too precarious. Instead, she stood in front of the limo and waved.

“Uncle Manny!” she shouted. “You came!”

When he saw her, her uncle picked up his pace, doing a half-jog with his hands in the pockets of his coveralls.

“Ace!” He smiled as he got closer. He gave a brief nod to the looming shadow of Dove. “I’d hug you, but I can’t get motor oil on all that white.”

“Why are you wearing something with motor oil on it?” she laughed. “Don’t you know how to dress for a wedding?”

Manny’s smile froze. He didn’t say anything. His large eyes watched her face like an anxious dog.

“Oh,” Miss French said softly. She took as deep a breath as she could manage. “I see. What else could I have expected?”

“I’m just here cuz your dad needs someone to drive the delivery van, since you’re…” He gestured at her outfit and the limo.

“Since I’m getting married?” she asked tartly. “An event for which I just might want at least one family member in attendance?”  

He shook his head. “Lacey, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that!” she snapped. “You’re the one that always said love means never having to say you’re sorry. Doesn’t that mean not doing things you need to apologize for?”

“Yeah, and that goes both ways.”

Her white gloves gripped the edge of the limo door. “I’m not going to apologize for marrying Mr. Gold. It isn’t wrong.”

“Is it right?” He asked softly. “Honey, do you really think this is the right thing to do?”

She clenched her jaw. 

“It’s my only choice,” Miss French said in a tight whisper. “Being with Mr. Gold is my best chance.”

Mr. French nodded sadly. “I can’t stop you,” he said. “But I can’t support you. Not about this. Not about him.”

He turned to go into the store.

“We’re gonna have shrimp!” Desperate, Lacey tried a new tactic. “Shrimp cocktail, passed around by waiters. A-and surf and turf, and a live band, an open bar. It’s gonna be a good time!”

Her voice broke on the last word. Silently, he turned around to look at her.

“Dodici’s” The word blew away in the cold winter wind. “At seven. Please come.”  

Uncle Manny sighed, and turned away again.

****

The interior of the limo was a cave of black leather. Two rows of lights ran down the long ceiling, but the dim yellow was darker than the cloudy afternoon outside. All the seats were on two benches, one in the back like a normal car, and one going longways up the side. Her whole family could have fit in here. It could have been a real party. Instead, Miss French sat in the center of the back seat, alone. 

 Before they drove off to City Hall, Dove showed her the various amenities: The button to raise and lower the partition that separated the driver from the back, the phone she could call him on if she had instructions. There was a sound system for music, ways to change the colors of the lights, and a bar with champagne in a bucket of ice.

She took it all in with polite nods. She should have been dazzled by the luxury, the expense, but right now she didn’t have the heart for it. 

The best she could do was accept a glass of champagne when Dove offered to pour her one. It was bitter--dry--and the bubbles popped like pins inside her mouth. The alcohol and that slightest touch of pain worked together to help her relax. She slumped in the overstuffed seat, her legs sprawled out in front of her. 

They drove on Main Street to the good part of New Town. City Hall sat within walking distance of Mayor Mills’ house. Through tinted windows, she saw people on the sidewalks stop to stare at the fancy car. Marco the handyman coming out of the hardware store, the patrons in the diner, a group of kids bundled up to play in the park--all of them gaped at her. 

Miss French sat up a little straighter. She waved at everybody through the window, but they couldn’t see her. Well that wouldn’t do. This was the happiest day of her life, she was on her way to become Mrs. Gold. People had to see what that looked like.

Heedless of the cold, Miss French rolled down the window. She stuck her head out and smiled like a prom queen. When they stopped at Storybrooke’s only traffic light, she leaned out further and waved at the other cars.

“I’m getting married!” she shouted to everyone and no one.

Somewhere in this town, there had to be someone who’d be happy for her. 

****

On a Saturday afternoon, City Hall was almost empty. She didn’t see anyone as Dove guided her to the office of the Municipal Clerk. The clack of her heels on black and white tile echoed through the halls. Was there anyone else in the building right now? Had Mr. Gold pulled some strings to make sure it was open at all? 

When they got to the office, Mr. Gold was already there. He looked wonderful, even more elegant than normal. His suit was pure black, sharp and crisp. He wore a dress scarf under his lapels, black and blue paisley, threaded through with gold. His cobalt pocket square was intricately folded, as though to mimic a boutonniere. She’d told him she didn’t want flowers, so he wasn’t wearing any. His tie was the same rich blue color, stuck through with a golden tie clip.  

He stood in front of a gray metal desk where a beleaguered civil servant was straightening stacks of papers and manila file folders. The miserable-looking little man was trying to look busy so he wouldn’t have to confront the reality of being alone in a room with Mr. Gold.

Miss French smirked at that. If people couldn’t be happy for her, at least she could be happy at their discomfort. 

Mr. Gold grinned when he saw her.

“There you are,” he said. 

“Miss me?”

“Not anymore.” He reached out his arm and pulled her in for a quick, possessive kiss. “I’ll never have to miss you again after today. You’ll be mine forever, dearie.”

Miss French beamed at him. Her groom, her husband. Forever. 

Mr. Gold pulled her aside, so they could be away from Dove and the clerk. He pulled a long box out of his suit jacket. “I have something for you.”

“More gifts?”

“Technically, one of these is supposed to be borrowed.” He offered her the box and she took it.

The box was red velvet, and opened on a hinge. Inside, laid out on a black satin pillow, were more pearls than Lacey French had ever seen in one place in her life.

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God,” she whispered. She looked up at him. “Mr. Gold…”

He smiled slyly, pleased with her adoration. He took the box and lifted up some of the pearls. It was three strands banded together with a gold and diamond clasp. Mr Gold took her bare arm and laid the bracelet against her wrist. The pearls were cool to the touch, or maybe her blood was running so hot that they just felt that way in comparison. 

“As I said, one counts as borrowed.” He picked up the other set of pearls, this even longer than the first. He stood behind her and wrapped them around her throat. When clasped, they fit snugly, more like a choker than a necklace. Miss French could only manage shallow breaths. “And the other is old.”

It took her a moment to register why that was important. When it finally clicked, she chuckled. 

“Old, new, borrowed and blue,” she recited the old rhyme. “I didn’t realize you were superstitious.”

Mr. Gold shrugged. “Only about things that don’t really matter.”

Miss French was too overwhelmed to wonder what he meant by that. She ran her fingers over her bracelet. The pearls had yellowed slightly with age, giving them a lovely golden luster. Each one was just a little misshapen, a little short of being a perfect sphere. Mom had said that was how you knew they were real, a natural stone and instead of a manufactured bead.

Mom knew a lot about pearls. They were her birthstone.

She took as deep a breath as she could manage, dug her white-painted fingernails into her palms. Somehow, she hadn’t thought about Mom all day.  Of all the people who weren’t here with her, this was the absence that hurt the most. The mother of the bride should be there for the wedding. 

People might tell her that her mother wouldn’t approve of this marriage, but they didn’t know. Maybe Mom would have understood, if she was here, if she could see how happy Mr. Gold made her daughter. Lacey would never know, but she could hope. Maybe Mom could have convinced the others, or at least Dad. The perfect world--the world of happiness and togetherness--would have been the one with Mom in it. 

But even if Mom could be happy for her, even if she supported them and blessed them with her whole heart, it didn’t matter. She was gone. Forever.

“It’s funny.” Miss French spoke softly to keep her voice from breaking. “My mother used to say it was bad luck for a bride to get pearls. Something about them being a symbol for tears.”

“Every pearl a man gives his bride on their wedding day is a cause he’ll give her for weeping in their marriage.” Mr. Gold didn’t deny the superstition, just gave her necklace a pointed look. “It’s not too late to change your mind, my dear.”

Miss French shook her head. “I want to marry you,” she told him. “I want to be with you, and I don’t give a damn what anyone says, living or dead.”

Mr. Gold gave her a satisfied grin. “That’s my girl.”

****

The process of getting married was surprisingly simple. In front of the sad little clerk, Miss French and Mr. Gold separately filled out their intention of marriage forms. Then Mr. Gold paid a paltry fee and he received their license.   

“Um.” The clerk made darting looks between Mr. Gold, Miss French, and Dove. “Is there a second witness?”

“Is that really necessary?” Mr. Gold asked.

“Um, yes? Legally, there has to be two, or else the marriage license is invalid.”

“And we can’t have that,” Mr. Gold said dryly. He turned to her. “Are you expecting any of your friends and family?”

“No,” Miss French said simply. “No one’s coming.”

Brusquely, Mr. Gold turned to Dove. “Find someone.”

Without a word, Dove left the office and went out to the rest of City Hall.

“I’m sorry.” Miss French looked down at her new/old bracelet. “If my family wasn’t so--”

“Well, you’re better than them.” Mr. Gold cut her off before she could find a word to describe her family. “They are little people in a little town and you want more than they can even dream of. Don’t be ashamed of it.”

For the first time that day, Miss French felt warmth in her heart instead of her eyes. He was right. Mr. Gold understood her in a way that no one else could, not even people she’d known her entire life. Being understood, being accepted, being told to have no shame--that was more of a gift than all the wealth and luxury in the world. That was why she was going to marry this man.

A moment later, Dove came back, followed closely by the lanky figure of Dr. Hopper. The psychiatrist had his dog--a friendly Dalmatian named Pongo--on a leash.

Mr. Gold sneered. “Leave that animal outside, please.”

Dr. Hopper’s face turned as red as his hair. “I-I can’t just let him alone in City Hall,” he protested weakly. “What would Mayor Mills do if she found him?”

“Turn it into a fur coat,” Mr. Gold muttered too low for anyone but Miss French to hear. 

She snickered. “I guess you don’t like dogs, huh?”

“I don’t need a slobbery, mindless beast to jump in my lap and demand my attention. That’s what I have you for, dearie.”  

Miss French burst into giggles so pervasive she covered her mouth with her hand to keep the other men from seeing. She leaned in to whisper into her groom’s ear. “I’ll be your bitch any day of the week, Mr. Gold.”

He made a low noise in his throat and put his hands on either side of her waist. “I know you will,” he whispered back.

That exchange seemed to improve his mood. He waved Hopper up to the clerk’s desk and didn’t say another word about the animal. 

“Mr. Harlan here is a notary,” Mr. Gold indicated the city clerk. “And as such, he is able to officiate the wedding as well as file the license. Shall we get on with it?”

The little man nodded and began to read some words off a typed sheet of paper. His voice was so weak, Miss French didn’t bother to listen. She spent the ceremony looking up at Mr. Gold. He held her wrists in both hands, a grip that went tighter every minute the clerk droned on. They didn’t exchange rings, they were already wearing them. Miss French voiced her consent to marry Mr. Gold, her agreement to go along with whatever romantic bullshit the state of Maine thought a marriage was. Their marriage would be different, of course. It would be like nothing this world had ever seen. 

They said, “I do.” They kissed. The sad clerk said they were man and wife. The license was signed by two witnesses and returned to the city.

It was done. 

They were married. 

[itwoodbeprefect]

WIP Game! ✨

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

-

i was tagged by @luredin (thank you!) and i’ll tag @redgoldblue, @spaceradars, @logicgunn, and you, the person reading this, to either do this tag game, not do it, or do it six months from now (or anywhere between now and then) - whichever works for you.

-

and then, hm. the thing about how i write fic is that technically speaking it’s, uh, deeply inefficient, in the sense that i’ll start a hundred things (more literally than you might think) and bounce around between them until something gets close enough to being finished that it just needs a final little push (which only happens for about half the things i start, but that’s okay, because the other half is also an invaluable part of the process).

point being, the list of WIPs is long. curated version (with any projects i’d consider abondoned/barely started filtered out) below the cut. send me a title or fandom + number!

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Starsky & Hutch (practically all of this is Starsky/Hutch)

Our girlfriend who lives in Canada

All your ducks in a row

Starsky gets politically involved

Starsky decides Hutch’s mustache is gay

On blond blintzes, and how to sweeten them: easy 5-step recipe!

Starsky interrupts Hutch’s date with a guy

Gold dust woman // Take your silver spoon (Dig your grave)

Hutch has a new neighbor

Peter Whitelaw meets Starsky for dinner

Someone overhears them

Starsky’s brother visits

Hutch gets himself a beard

Not even a good kisser (Death in a different place tag)

Everything goes wrong / They were jinxed

Hutch kisses Starsky

Hutch would pick Paul Newman

Starsky’s painted nails

Love you to love me

Sleep together sometimes

Fire metaphors - And a freight train running through the middle of my head

Starsky dates a married woman

Here be dragons (Cowboy on the white horse)

Hutch is the utterly oblivious one, Starsky is confused

Greg is a four letter word

Cuddling only happens when they’re dying

Huggy brings a housewarming gift

Arranged Marriage AU

The Brotherhood of the Traveling Pet Rock

Hutch vs. glasses

Twilight

Personalized embroidered towels

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Hawaii Five-0 (everything here is Steve/Danny)

It might sound cheesy

The opposite of purple prose (isn’t this)

Counting the days (and the hours, minutes, seconds, and maybe a microsecond or two)

The fic where Steve thinks Danny is dating the botanist neighbor

Arguments over spice racks

Five people who don’t get why Danny couldn’t just tell Steve that he’s in love with him (and one person who does)

Steve sees rainbows everywhere

Danny loses track of the line between friendship and romance

Five things Nahele learned from Steve (plus one)

They try to find a term for each other

Ace soulmate AU

The bunk beds fic

Steve and Danny buy a house together

Five times Steve is not going to be emotional about moving

They have Lou and Renee over for dinner!!!

The hyphenation of life

I love you sounds different if you’re saying it to a guy you’re sleeping with

I spy, with my little bi

Multimedia fic?

The soap opera fix

Deus ex machina (the one with dolphin God)

Danny has someone else

Steve’s becomes… themed

They watch Top Gun

Danny Williams and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Neighborhood Barbecue

Danny undercover needs to ward off advances

Danny tries to get Steve’s phone because he sent Stella a gay crisis text

Superheroes at a museum

A flip-flop state of mind (the half-posted multichapter fic already up on ao3)

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Stargate Atlantis (John/Rodney except for that last one, where it’s &)

The Brightest Light in Atlantis

Universe where X

Some kind of DADT repeal fic

John tells Rodney he likes him and they try to figure it out together

Aro Ace John

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due South (RayK/Fraser, and for #2 also RayV/Stella)

Oral hygiene fic

Fraser and both Rays and Stella have dinner together

The Guy Thing

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Other

Homophobia? (Sports Night, Dan/Casey)

Leapfrog (911, Buck/Eddie)

Jolene/Diane (from the songs. so I guess songfic)

Johnny comes out (and he and Daniel keep going to that bar) fic (Cobra Kai, Johnny/Daniel)

Our Dear Mr. Wilson’s Guide To Becoming A Successful Contributing Member Of A Team Of Internationally Renowned High-Tech Do-Gooder Criminals (Leverage Redemption, gen with background OT3)

MASH marriage fic (MASH, Hawkeye/Trapper)

BJ figures out Hawkeye is not very heterosexual (MASH, gen)

[olipstories]

The HalfBlood in Hawkins- Prologue

A/N: Welcome to my first-ever fic on Tumblr! And my first-ever Stranger Things fic! This is going to be a long series, I have no idea how long. I am watching, writing, and planning all at once, so there may be long periods between posts. Please be patient with me.

This series and my introduction to Stranger Things is entirely to do with @skyfall8600 and her series Sucked In. I definitely recommend checking out her writing.

Warnings: Swearing, technically this hasn't been beta read sooo good luck.

Paring: Undecided

Playlist: this is a playlist of music I feel Cordelia would listen to. I didn't search for dates on the music. It also gets added to every so often. I just put it on shuffle

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3hehRdcULhKHnY6yu42ga2?si=04e46412b0274c46

Summary: What happens if I shove the seventeen-year-old daughter of Poseidon from 2016 into 1984 Hawkins.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to camp myself?" The man with dark curls with streaks of gray in them and eyes the color of ocean water in the sun asks the teenager in front of him. The teenager clearly takes after him, with dark curls, ocean-colored eyes, and skin tanned by long hours in the sun. Though; her short height and build comes from her mother. Her fashion choices often show the time spent around her cousin Nico and Uncle Hades. The World Magnetic Tour Metallica shirt Poseidon knows Hades bought when he took her and Nico to the concert for her birthday; it looked like it might have belonged to Hades at first. Black skinny jeans with rips, Adidas hightops in blue, and a leather jacket he's sure he's seen on Hades' kid. She wears her camp necklace, a choker with magic dagger charms, a sand dollar on a slightly longer cord, a ring that turns into a sword, and a chain hanging from her belt. She has five piercings; a double hoop helix in her right ear, a daith hoop in her left, her right nostril hoop, and a belly button bar with a chain around her waist. He freaked out about each one while she and Amphitrite laughed at him. "Dad, you know you can't take me to camp. Everyone would flip out if Poseidon showed up," she says with a laugh. The man sighs, knowing she's right. "Hey," she says, voice softer as she recognizes the worry on his face. "I'll be fine. I'll be in New York within two weeks. Percy will pick me up from the station and drive me to camp. Mitriá gave me enough ambrosia to last like a year of weekly one v one with monsters. If I need help, Apollo and Hermes keep an eye on me when I travel and will be down before I can even pray for help." "I know, I know. Camp is a long way from Los Angeles." Poseidon sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. "You're my youngest. I worry." "Well, don't. I have one layover in Indiana that last two days. Otherwise, I'll be on a train the whole time," she says as she scoops up her bags, preparing to board the train. "Cordelia!" Poseidon scolds. "It's Indiana, Dad," Cordelia calls back as she walks away, brushing her dark curls out of her face. "What's the worst that could happen?" Poseidon groans as he watches her board the train. "I wish she didn't say that," Poseidon murmurs.

"Hey, Percy, I made it to Indiana. My train from Indy to Cincinnati doesn't run for another two days. There's a town North-East of here that shouldn't ask too many questions if I get a room there. I'll have to go through that ghost town some kids at camp tell campfire stories about. I'll be cautious. I have all the weapons you and Dad gave me, so don't worry. I should be in New York City by the end of the week. I'll call when I get to D.C.. I love you," the call ending has the seventeen-year-old sigh before shoving her phone into her back pocket. She scoops up her satchel bag and crosses the strap over her body before pulling on her backpack. Long dark curls sway in the wind, and ocean blue eyes squint from behind dark polarized aviators as she tries to find the correct street. A familiar cherry-red Maserati pulls up next to her. Blue eyes and blond curls frame the bright grin aimed at her. "Need a ride?" Apollo asks. She laughs and makes her way toward the passenger side door. "How far can you take me?" She asks as she moves her bags to sit on her lap. "I can take you to Marion. I think your brother and old man would be after me if I stuck around longer," Apollo informs her as he pulls away from the curb. "That works." They listen to the radio as they go, chatting every so often. As they cross the city limit into Hawkins, a shimmer from the passenger seat causes Apollo to look over and curse. "Damnit, Cordelia. Why is it always Poseidon?" Apollo gripes as he ascends into the air, hurrying back to Olympus to report the sudden and magical disappearance of Poseidon's daughter.

In the same spot, thirty-two years prior, a dark-haired girl with eyes the color of the ocean appears on interstate thirty-seven, just outside of a rather full Hawkins. In her arms are a backpack and a satchel bag. "The fuck?"

[baileyjane3769]

Original Copy is on Quotev, for a better viewing experience and chapter by chapter reading head on over to my Quotev page @BobbyWolf3769 or click the link here

***

When a game is over and all hidden things have been found, what is there left to do? Move on. That's what you would have liked to have done after finishing the disappointing secret ending of a popular otome game. But when the story is over, and all things were said and done, you find yourself trapped in that very game. Faced with the task to keep everyone alive, can you make it to the end without falling in love?

Long read ahead

Chapter Nine

Mid-Morning Crisis

That night was probably the best sleep you’ve had all week.

It was around eleven p.m. when you finally woke up, you guess your mother decided to let you sleep in after all that you went through yesterday. Sitting up in bed, you stretched your arms wide over your head, humming in satisfaction, you actually felt good today, despite how sore your face and hand felt. You had a feeling today was going to be a great day. While yesterday didn’t pan out the way you expected, seeing as you found yourself back in the hospital, you still accomplished your main adjective and saved Makino. You did end up more battered and bruised than you expected, you were just glad to get past that chapter of your life, but now comes the more tricky part. 

With the first week technically over, the actual plot of the game starts next week, and with it comes many uncertainties. Even though Akui hasn’t gotten his first taste of murder there is still the possibility he could end up killing someone anyways, he is at his breaking point after all. He’s been at his breaking point ever since Yuki first left him, and when she came back he became obsessed with the idea of keeping her to himself. Makino’s death might have been an accident, sure, but so was Suzuki’s. It was Suzuki’s death that really gave Akui a taste for blood, and he couldn’t escape the sickening sweet feeling he had after killing to ‘protect’ his love. Actively killing anyone he saw as a threat to him and Yuki. There was no doubt that, if you left him alone, Akui Minato would eventually kill someone.

With your mood temporarily soured, you left your bed and made your way to your desk. On it was pretty much the same contents as before: school papers, a cup full of pens and pencils, sticky pads, and your calendar. Nothing has changed on it, the date that every character died on is still circled in red. ‘So nothing changed even though I prevented Makino’s murder,’ you think to yourself, picking up the calendar. ‘Does that mean I have to stop each of them? Wait, but some of the characters can only be killed in certain routes. Even if this world followed the plot of the route with the most deaths, only five dates should be marked. Hold on, let me…’ Flipping through the calendar, you count every date that was ominously circled and came to the conclusion that ten dates were circled. Ten dates for ten different people’s deaths. Seven rivals, three love interests.

‘The only ending where everyone dies is the secret ending, but I stopped Makino’s death. There should be no investigation, no snooping around, no reason for Yuki to–’ your train of thought was cut off by your own realization. ‘Yuki has already met two out of the three love interests that I know of. Already, they have gained an interest in her, and, because I was so distracted with dumb Makino, I completely forgot that Suzuki was slowly growing attracted to Yuki this week. Have those two even properly met yet? And what about the other boys who fall for Yuki? Sure, I can prevent the bullies from harassing her so that they don’t die, but can I really keep the love interests from falling for her? 

Akui is so sick in the head that I doubt it would take much for him to want to kill someone. At this point, what is the use of knowing the plot if most of it revolved around Yuki trying to solve a string of murders. Events, the investigation, and opportunities to gain favor with the love interest were all factors that prevented Akui from killing all willy-nilly, a fact I picked up in the secret ending, but now that I prevented the original plot, what’s going to stop Akui from killing someone one day out of jealousy. Saving Makino meant nothing, and I’m still gonna have to prevent so many more murderers, but look at how I turned out after just the prologue! I have been hospitalized twice already, am I really gonna have to keep this up for nine more people?’

As your mind began to spiral, you failed to realize how labored your breathing became, nor did you notice the quivering of your hands, and you didn’t even bother to care about the globs of tears rolling down your face. You didn’t know it at the time, but all those feelings of dread and turmoil that your brain was subconsciously burying were finally breaking to the surface. ‘How–how am I even gonna be able to keep doing this? I-I can’t, I don’t think–’ Feeling like the room was spinning, your eyes seemed to dart around before they settled on the brightly colored sticky notes on your vanity mirror.

One note in particular caught your eye. 

‘You’ve got this!’

It was such a small and simple declaration, but reading it brought you clarity. It kept you together before you could fully fall apart.

‘Okay stop,’ you assertively thought to yourself. ‘Being pessimistic won’t get me anywhere.’ In an effort to try and calm yourself down, you laid your head down on the desk, savoring the feeling of the cold surface on your hot face, and closed your eyes. You took in a few deep breaths to try and stop your racing heart, to stop the shaking of your hands, and to stop the whirlwind of thought and emotions that were overwhelming you. ‘The timeline might be off now, but I can still do this, I can still figure out how to save everyone.’ 

Sitting up right, you reach into the very bottom of your junk drawer, and you pull out the notebook that you wrote down all of the original plot in. Your junk drawer was the only place you could think of where most people wouldn’t go snooping because of how cluttered it was, later you would buy a small lockbox to put it in. Opening it, you turned to the page where you neatly wrote down everything and began to analyze all the information. ‘Even if the plot changed, now that there is no murder investigation, there are still plenty of opportunities that I have to prevent Akui from wanting to kill one of the targets. School events, field trips, festivals, all points that didn’t necessarily connect to Yuki’s investigation, and if they don’t connect to the investigation then they will happen regardless. Now for the plot events that are connected….’ Uncapping a black pen, you draw a thin line through every situation that happened in correlation to Makino’s murder. 

School was closed for investigation until Monday, crossed out.

Talk around town about Makino’s supposed suicide, crossed out.

The police released a report that stated Makino was actually killed, crossed out.

Suzuki changes econ partners…

‘Actually,’ you think to yourself. ‘Suzuki changes lab partners in home EC because Makino was his old partner, and she died, so he needed a new one. Class 2-A, our classroom, originally had thirty-six students before Yuki arrived. With her addition, the class became an odd number of thirty-seven, leaving her without a partner. That is until Makino’s death. With an extra spot open, Yuki became partners with Suzuki, fully kickstarting the romantic feelings he would grow for her. Romantic feelings that will get him killed. 

How can I keep those two apart?

Even though Makino didn’t die, she was still expelled, and a spot is still open for Suzuki to become Yuki’s partner. It’s unavoidable, really, because I can’t ask to be Yuki’s partner since I already have one, who I don’t even remember because I have only been to that class one day this week, and I can’t trade partners because the teacher is the one who assigned them. Think, Y/n, think. There has to be something that I can do.’

Vigorously flipping through your notes, you try to come up with a solution, a plan, to keep Suzuki from pursuing Yuki. 

“This is hopeless!” You groan, face flopping down onto your desk, hands limp at your sides. ‘I don’t have enough information about the guy to even try and formulate a plan. The only hard info that I have is that he goes missing next weekend, doesn’t show up to class that Monday, and his body was found a few days later. I don’t even know he got so attached to Yuki, the two of them only ever interact in home EC for some reason, and he asks her out on a date Friday afternoon. Surely that boy needs more than an hour a day of interaction to apparently ‘fall head over heels’ for someone.’ It seems the plot holes and irregularities of the story have finally come back to haunt you. ‘And of course she agrees because who cares about a murderer on the loose when you have teen romance in the air, not them apparently.’

Lifting your head up, you pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “Great,” you scoffed quietly to yourself. “All this crying and thinking is giving me a headache.” Your eyes were squeezed shut in a pained grimace, and you softly began to message your head. It felt like every injury you sustained yesterday was throbbing.

“Ignoring him for now, what happens between now and Friday?” Still messaging your head, you think aloud to yourself. “Students are scared… bullies are quiet… Yuki starts investigating…” ‘But most of that happened because of the murder, people should be acting normal now that it never happened. There might be a bit of gossip surrounding Makino’s expulsion but other than that this week should otherwise be normal.’ The thought of a normal week allowed you to give a small sigh of relief. ‘So I don’t have to worry about psychotic people trying to hurt me, that should give me breathing room to figure this out and stop Suzuki before Friday.’

Relieved by the idea of having a normal week ahead, you decide to finish up marking in your notebook before you put it away. With a yellow highlighter, you mark every detail, or event, that relates directly to the murder mystery aspect of the game. As long as you did your job correctly then none of what you highlighted would be that important.

Feeling like you aged thirty years in the last thirty minutes, you robotically closed up and put away your notebook, burying it again at the bottom of your junk drawer. Despite it being mid-day, you just felt like going back to sleep. Of course you wouldn't actually go back to bed, to you it felt like a waste of time, so instead you decided to get ready for the day, the start of it wasn’t as great as you had hoped but you still had the rest of it to make the most of. 

Lifting your gaze up, you caught a look of yourself in your vanity mirror. “Geez, I look awful.” You didn’t actually take a good look at yourself until just now. Your hair was ruffled and tangled, sticking up in various directions; your face was puffy and bruised, irritated from all of Makino’s assaults; your eyes were red and swollen, a faint black eye had formed under it. The bandage on your forehead would also need to be changed but you didn’t have any more supplies in your room, which was fine, you needed to go to the bathroom to clean up anyways. Right now you were a mess and not the hot kind.

Sluggishly, you left your room and were about to enter the bathroom that was across from it, but your mother calling for you briefly prevented you from doing so. “Y/n,” she hallard from down stairs. “Is that you?”

Pausing in your step, you replied, “Y-yeAh.” Your voice cracked mid-way, so you cleared the frog from your throat and continued. “Yeah, it’s me. I was just about to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. Well, your little friend came by this morning and dropped you off a package. I left it in the living room for you, so come check it out when you’re done.”

“Okay, I will.” Curious as to what the contents of the package were, you did your best to hurry and complete your morning route without straining yourself. You couldn’t use the products that you would normally use to wash your face, not with all the cuts and scratches that littered your face at least, so instead you opted to just use water and an antibacterial soap. Washing your face was probably the hardest part since you couldn’t get your cast wet, but everything else was pretty easy to do, brushing your teeth, changing your bandage, all were quickly completed. You ended up not doing anything to your hair, your head still felt too tender after everything that happened yesterday, and you were not willing to try and sort out your bird's nest.

Now that you were done you could finally satiate your curiosity. Making quick work of the stairs, you enter the living room and quickly spotted a small white box, with a yellow ribbon tied around it, sitting on the coffee table. After untying the bow and lifting up the lid, you realized that it was a little ‘feel better’ package that Yuki prepared for you. Inside was a small assortment of gas station goodies: a box of matcha flavored poki, strawberry wafer cookies, a strawberry flavored soda from a brand that you have never heard of, a box of yogurt covered raisins, a few boxes of milk chocolate candies, and a bag of dried fruit. There were also a couple of non-food related items too like: a brand new pair of fluffy socks, a packet of stickers, two blind bags from an anime that you have never seen before, and a handwritten card.

Picking up the card first, you read it to yourself.

‘Dear, L/n-chan, I hope that you are feeling better by the time you get to read this. I heard about what Makino-san did to you today, and I am so sorry that I wasn’t there to help you out. I promise that I will try better as a friend to stand up for you and keep you safe! (Did you know I have a black belt in Judo) Anyways, I have put together a few of my favorite snacks for you and a couple of other goodies (I didn’t know what you would have liked so I hope these will do :(  ). Please get well soon so that way we can have a proper hang out and I won’t have to guess on your favorite snacks. In all seriousness, I hope you feel better soon. Sincerely, Kobayashi Yuki’

You almost felt like crying again, touched by Yuki’s kindness, but you already had a headache from the last time that you did, so you instead chose to indulge yourself a bit in the tasty treats she got for you. 

“I hope you don’t just plan on spoiling your appetite with junk,” Your mother playfully teased. She stood by the door leading to the kitchen, hand on her hip, waiting expectantly.

“What? Noo…” The pitch of your voice raised as you nervously tried to play off the situation. “I was just lightly snacking.”

“Hmm, sure. Alright, Ms. Lightly Snacking, I have breakfast ready in the kitchen.” Your mother turned back into the kitchen. “Well, it’s more like a brunch, but it’s better than whatever you were just about to eat.”

You scrambled to put up the nice gift that you got before you hasten your way to the dining room. The same time you sat down at the table, your mother entered from the kitchen’s side door and placed down a tray of steaming hot food for you. It was different from the other breakfasts that she prepared for you previously this week. While those were a more traditional Japanese breakfast with white rice, tofu soup, a slice of grilled salmon, and different vegetables (which was very different to how she used to cook you breakfast), with this one you could tell she was trying to spoil you after yesterday. It was what you liked to call an American breakfast which consisted of bacon, easy-over eggs, hash browns, and a plate of pancakes. You also had a bowl of fresh fruit with yogurt. In true American fashion, it wasn’t the healthiest but this was supposed to be a treat anyways. It helped that it all was homemade, your mother would never dare to use box mix anything.

As you began to dig into your food, you chose to ignore the hovering of your mother. You didn’t need to look at her to know that her face held a more worried look than normal.

It almost startled you when she reached to fix your hair a bit. “Your hair is a mess,” she stated.

Putting down your fork, you responded saying, “Yeah, my head hurt too much to try and tame it.”

“Oh, my poor baby…” your mother sadly said, motherly cupping your face with her hand. “I’m sorry this happened to you, my love.” Tenderly, she rubbed her thumb under your slightly bruised eye. “Don’t worry though, I have already taken care of most of the legalities, we have court in a few weeks, so you will get justice.”

“Court?”

“Yes, I am suing them for all the trouble they caused you, and I am hoping to get a restraining order placed against that crazy girl.”

“Oh, okay.” Was the only way you knew how to respond to that before you went back to eating. You finished the rest of your brunch in relative silence while your mother left to quickly do the dishes. With your meal finished you took your dirtied dishes to your mother and sat down in the living room. You didn’t do anything in particular, you didn’t even put on tv, you just sat there in silence.

A few moments later, your mother peaked her head into the living room. “Do you want to do puzzles with me?” she asked.

You contemplated for only a second before you turned your head and said, “Hm, yeah…” And that is how you spent the remainder of your day, quietly completing puzzles with your mother until your father got home. That quiet afternoon served as a break that took your mind off of the inevitable reality that you will have to face. The day didn’t start off like you expected, having a midlife crisis at the age of seventeen really dampens one’s mood, but by the end of it you felt you could forget about everything. Forget about Suzuki; forget about Akui; forget about the world that you were stuck in. At least until tomorrow, you could forget about all your worries.

[protokirby]

Gonna be adding a couple more foxes to the beast au for storyline reasons. Started on one edit a few days ago and another might come once I finish this one someday (also I'm very sorry this ended up being bigger than I meant it)

Can anyone guess who this is based on the pose left from the lines? Hints: It's a pokemon character. Also the dragonfox moth symbols on the clothes don't have any relation to the canon character and are there only due to something in the beast au

Some following stuff you might be clueless about except if you read this post (Long Rambling) Not every detail of course. Some things are more relevant than others. I'm sorry I can't be specific about it.

Anyway beast au specific stuff I needed two characters to be fox or moth or moth fox with extra stuff but not pure moth fox because I needed some guys to be orb temple guards. Pure moth fox beasts would may as well be orb keeping - except for the fact that by this time the orbs are keeping themselves after they got fused to a particular beast in ancient times(azrgeszDraytonkhjujyjcfg) and then said guy was magically sealed away into the orb temple. But anyhoo Needed two guys who would have also been descended from the orb temple keeping family. Specifically two guys who would be there when the sealed one is unsealed (technically he goes on an adventure in another universe and meets cloak guy [before he was cloak guy] the moment he wakes up and nobody in the beast world knew otherwise because of the way time works between universes sometimes but shhh the guards don't need to know that) Anyhoo the two beasts currently guarding the orb temple are from many many hundreds of generations since the day the particular beast was sealed. So all these two guys know of the orbs is that they used to exist and that now they exist in a different way and the orb room must be kept guarded from any threat to ensure what remains of the orbs stays safe.

The two guys I chose, one is a long time favorite character of mine since childhood that I have been thinking about a lot more lately. (also the one whose beast au edit lineart is being shown as a preview) (anyone who guesses correctly who that is gets an imaginary gold star sticker that says "awesome" on it) and the other guy will be Riley, who is one of the characters I go "well he's cool. I think I totally like him" about but at the same time he's actually far away from my favorites list and I regularly forget he exists, despite being slightly fascinated with the dude. I have a psuedo-favorites list I guess(?) and Riley is on it.

It was funny to imagine them hear some noise from the orb room (The beast Drayster returning home from a portal) only to enter it and find that lazy ghost moth fox that he is just on the floor spacing out. Spacing out intentionally. (Riley and the mystery guy just witnessed history enter the present. Kind of. It's not time travel. Beast Drayton just took a "nap"(?) that was so long it may as well have been time travel) The interactions and reactions I thought would happen are good. If I were to write out my paracosm and interlapping alternate universes as fanfiction, I think my fingers would fall off though waaa (Although I have a work in progress fic of one of the major universes but it's written in a discord server and will only have moments interlap with other universes when necessary ghcghh)

So those two (Riley and the guessing game subject) are also descended from beast au Kaitou Joker just like beast au Drayton. (Although, with the amount of generations that passed since Drayton was sealed and the time he was unsealed, he could date either of those two and it wouldn't be sweet home alabama. I'm not going to make him do that anyway though because it still sounds wonk. That would be weird as flip) Beast au Kaitou Joker being the original orb keeper because he went something to the sense of "ooh shiny i want that" to something he should not have touched is still funny to me. Except, until beast Drayton got himself fused to the orbs, the orb keepers before him all just stayed in the orb room monitoring three large floating orbs. But Drayton can go wherever he wants to while still keeping the orbs safe. Question is whether or not he wants to do anything but sit in the orb room all day. Keeping things random and unexpected between different alternate universes is the way I like things to be.

Like- one of my alternate universes has Iris as a cousin to Leon and Hop but most of my other aus don't have that. And that's one of the more normal things. Want crazy? Re-read the thing I said about Kaitou Joker in the previous text block.

Another completely outrageous thing I have is an au Leon who is enemies with his own universe's Hop but hangs out with a different au Hop a lot.

Here's another. Beast au Crispin being raised by beast au Cid Kagenou(the eminence in shadow) and is in beast shadow garden.(shadow garden is a thing in the eminence in shadow. go watch the eminence in shadow [if you want] it's a good anime) Shadow garden is a lion pride in the beast au. In addition to that, beast au Crispin and all of beast au shadow garden existed in an era before the beasts had their own universe and they were among the first beasts who would set foot in what would be the beast world. Also beast Crispin is a legendary warrior still told about to the day of the modern beast world. Beast Cid Kagenou and the rest of beast shadow garden were also ancient warriors alongside Crispin but they kept themselves secret and Crispin got all the fame. The shadows like their secrecy, and Crispin exclusively didn't care if anyone saw his heroics so that meant he would be the only one seen even with shadow garden doing things in the background.

I think I have even weirder but my mind's blanking on that right now

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

Jumping at Shadows

Masterlist

Summary: Reader's at work when Eddie's father shows up out of the blue, looking for him.

Word Count: 3.5K ish

Warnings: ANGST, super insecure Eddie, mentions of past abuse and garbage parenting, self-deprecation, threatening behaviour, childhood trauma. Comfort at the end

A/N: I'm a Brit so anything I get wrong about America, that's why. Hope y'all enjoy!

Please don't copy my work

Seconds stretched into eternities as you flipped impatiently through your magazine. You checked your watch for the hundredth time. Three hours and eighteen minutes! Wednesdays were always slow at the record shop but today was agonising. You'd been on shift for what felt like forever and you just wanted to see Eddie.

Work had kept you apart for almost a week. You were itching to be close again. The thought of tonight’s date with pizza and a movie was too enticing for words.

The shop bell jingled. Despite it heralding the first customer of the day, you didn't look up. Reluctantly, you shoved your magazine under the counter as the customer approached. 'Welcome to Hawkins Record Store, how can I help you today?' you recited with an imperceptible sigh.

'Hey sweetness!'

Your heart stopped. It couldn’t be! Please don’t let it be him!

But there was no mistaking. His hair was shorter, eyes colder, but aside from that…

‘Listen, I’ve been outta town,’ he continued, ‘Looking for a kid named Eddie, I’m a relative. Was hoping to surprise him, know where I might find him?’

You were frozen. Your eyes must be like saucers, wide with fear, heart thumping, blood rushing so loud, surely, he could hear it! What the hell was he doing here? Eddie told you he was in prison states away.

He cocked his head to one side, a laugh passing his lips before he repeated himself, just like Eddie would to get your attention when you zoned out. ‘Any idea where I might find him, sweetheart?

‘No!’ you blurted, hiding your shaking hands by your sides.

He leaned an arm on the countertop, casual enough not to alarm an onlooker but you felt his warning. ‘Are you certain about that, princess?’

His words, laced with poison, made you shiver. Clenching your fists, you nodded, ‘I haven’t seen him around town for a long time,’ you lied, praying he didn’t hear the quaver in your tone. Your fists were curled so tight, fingertips cutting into your skin. You couldn’t stop them trembling. ‘Please let him go! Please let him give up and leave!’ you begged silently.

He stood there staring you down, testing your resolve. He didn’t believe you; you could tell. What was he going to do? Eddie had told you he was in prison. You didn’t know what for but you knew what an awful father he’d been. You had no idea the extent of what this man was capable of!

‘Well, thanks anyway!’ he said eventually, jaw set, turning on his heel and leaving the store.

The door swung shut. You tore your eyes away like he’d burned you. Paralysed by fear, you’d held your breath, now on the verge of hyperventilating. What the hell was Eddie’s father doing here? It couldn’t be anyone else! They were spitting images of each other! The way he looked at you made you feel sick, his eyes a horrible, twisted inversion of the ones you held so dear. What did he want with Eddie?

‘Hey, are you okay?’ Jan, your co-worker laid a hand on your arm making you flinch, ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost!’

Your eyes flickered to the parking lot outside where to your horror, he sat on the hood of a car, checking his watch. Swallowing, you nodded, ‘Fine.’ She didn’t look convinced. ‘Can you cover me a minute? I need to use the phone!’  

Jan hesitated. Technically it was against store policy but you looked so shaken she agreed, chiding you to be quick.

You ducked into the backroom, frantically dialling Eddie’s number. The line rang once, twice, thr- ‘Munson Trailer,’

‘Eddie!’

His voice echoed your name back at you, ‘What’s up? I didn’t think you got off shift ‘til like six thirty!’

‘I don’t’ you answered, ‘I just-.’ What did you tell him?

‘Is something wrong? Do you need me to come?’

If you told him the truth, he’d do just that. Jump in his van and come and get you without a second thought.

‘That’s what he wants!’ you thought. ‘That’s exactly what he wants!’ No! After everything that man had done! After everything he’d done to hurt Eddie, he didn’t get to win! It wasn’t your decision to make but if Eddie saw his father, it would be on his own terms! His choice!

His anxious voice crackled through the line, calling your name, ‘Are you alright? What’s going-.’

‘You can’t pick me up from work tonight!’

A pause. ‘What? Why?’ he was confused and a little upset, ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine!’ you said, fighting to sound it. ‘Everything’s fine! I just…’ Need an excuse! ‘I’ve got some other stuff to do tonight so I can’t come over!’ Wow super convincing! ‘I’m gonna get the bus, don’t worry!’ Please don’t worry!

‘Okay?’ he drew out the word, clearly disappointed, ‘I can always-.’

‘No! Really, it’s alright!’ You winced at your snappy tone, ‘I’ll call you later, okay? I promise!’

‘Okay,’ came the flat reply.

‘I love you!’ you hurried but the dial tone cut you off. Your heart stung but it was for the best. If he was annoyed with you, he was less likely to show up! You’d make it up to him later.

***

You eyed the man in the parking lot all afternoon. He never moved, just checked his watch and occasionally glanced inside at you. Your heart was in your mouth and the rest of the shift passed by in minutes.

It wasn’t properly dark when the time came to clock out but dusk was falling fast and the late-autumn breeze in the shadows was cold. Somewhere in the clamour of closing, Eddie’s father had left the parking lot. If only that were enough to let you relax. Now you were even more wary. Scanning your surroundings, you said goodbye to your colleagues and headed for the bus stop a street away.

What you wouldn’t give for Eddie’s hand to hold right now, the warmth and safety of his van with the promise of comfort. Instead, you boarded the bus, hard fluorescent lights glaring as you stared out the window into the darkening night.

By the time you stepped off, it was almost pitch black. Every so often a streetlight would throw your path into sharp relief then douse it in darkness again. Light. Dark. Light. Dark. Nearly home.

A shadow flitted in the corner of your eye. You didn’t look back, only quickened your pace.

Your parents were away for a long weekend so the driveway was empty, nowhere for anyone to be hiding. You fumbled with your keys, finally closing the door behind you and locking it shut. Breathing a sigh of relief, you dropped your bag in the hall. You headed straight for the phone, anxious to hear Eddie’s voice in the safety of your home. It only rang once before he picked up.

‘Eddie-.’ Was all you managed before ruthless, ferocious banging shook your front door.

‘Hey? Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on?’

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. Eddie was practically yelling down the phone but you were petrified.

The beating got louder, a string of threats and profanities roared from the other side.

Eddie stopped, ‘Is… Is that?’ his shaking voice snapped you back to your senses.

‘Stay where you are!’ you begged, ‘Please Eddie, if you love me, stay where you are!’

You hung up before he could respond, hastily dialling, 911. ‘Hawkins PD, how can I-?’

‘Hopper!’ you screamed, ‘I need Jim Hopper!’

***

Eddie was losing his mind. Huddled on the floor, next to the phone, his mind was racing. He’d thought, or maybe hoped, he’d never hear that voice again. His heart raced, lungs gasping for air, he fought the rising panic in his chest. Wayne was sleeping just feet down the hall but somehow Eddie couldn’t call out for help. He was eight years old again, listening to his mother cry, hand clamped over his mouth to stifle sobs for fear he’d be next. He kept hearing your voice pleading with him to stay put but you needed him! You needed him and he was powerless.

Somewhere in the distance he heard quiet shuffles when Wayne got up for work. His bedroom door opened just as the phone rang. Eddie shot up and grabbed the phone almost screaming your name.

‘She’s fine, this is Police Chief, Jim Hopper,’ came the reply.

Wayne rushed in, concerned at his nephew’s distress, asking a hundred questions but he didn’t hear them. ‘She’s… She’s okay?’ he breathed, scarcely comprehending the words. His heart was still beating a mile a minute. ‘You were okay!’ The thought reverberated between his shallow breaths, ‘You were okay!’

Wayne eased the phone from Eddie’s grip and placed a grounding hand on his shoulder. ‘Wayne Munson speaking,’ he said, raising the handset to his ear, ‘What the hell’s happened Jim?’

While Hopper explained, Eddie sank to the floor. A curse or other exclamation would sound from his uncle every now and then but all he could think about was you. He needed to get to you, to hold you, protect you!

‘I understand. We’ll be right over!’ Wayne hung up the phone and dropped to one knee beside his nephew, softly squeezing his shoulder.

‘Where is she?’ Eddie choked through fresh tears.

‘Down at the station, she’s alright!’ he answered quietly, helping Eddie to his feet, ‘Come on son, let’s go and get your girl!’

***

You sat alone in the police chief’s office, bouncing your leg and staring at the clock. You hadn’t even had time to take off your jacket at home but you still felt cold. Your mind was racing, a thousand blurry thoughts ran through your head, hardly formed. Everything that had happened dwelt on the page that sat on the desk in front of you and now there was nothing left to do but wait.

A door slammed down the hall and angry voices stirred you from your stupor. Above the sound, another voice cut through. Anxious and afraid. Calling your name.

You were already standing up before he burst through the door and threw his arms round you. You curled your own around his neck, relief washing over you. Eddie clung to you like a lifeline, face buried in your neck and hands grasping at your clothes like you were about to disappear. Hot tears began to soak your shoulder and you held him tighter.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked after a while, voice thick with tears. He held you at arms-length, looking you over. ‘Did he hurt you?’

‘No!’ you assured, cupping his cheek and pressing your foreheads together. ‘No darling, I’m okay! I’m okay now!’ Your voice caught on the last word and your own unshed tears began to fall.

For a long time, neither of you could do anything more than hold each other, thanking the stars you were both safe.

‘This isn’t how I thought today was gonna go!’ you laughed through the tears, remembering your ruined plans. A weak smile glanced across Eddie’s face but when he looked up, his eyes were still raw with pain.

‘If he’d done anything to you-!’

‘He didn’t!’ you soothed, tracing his hairline with your fingertips.

He caught your hand and pressed it to his lips, relishing your touch. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Your heart clenched at his broken tone and tears began to well in your own eyes again. ‘Because you would have rushed in and got me!’ you sighed, wiping your cheeks on your sleeve, ‘You wouldn’t have hesitated and I didn’t-.’

You struggled for words. His eyes never left yours, needing to understand what he’d done to make you distrust him.

‘I didn’t want you to have to see him! That’s what he wanted and I…’ you looked away, ‘I wanted you to have it on your own terms!’

‘Oh baby!’ he melted instantly, hugging you close again, pouring every scrap of love into his embrace.

‘He’s taken so much from you already; I didn’t want him to take away your choice!’ you murmured into his chest between sobs.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, rubbing circles over your shoulder blades with one hand. The other curved around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Absorbed in each other, it was a while before you noticed the angry voices moving closer.

‘I don’t care Jim! That monster ruined my boy’s childhood and his mother’s life! I won’t let him ruin it or that poor girl’s any further!’ Wayne had never been this angry before. He was normally quiet, a man of few words but you heard every one imaginable directed towards the man in the cell a few doors down.

‘I’m hearing you Wayne, believe me!’ Hopper countered, ‘But this is a police station! I can’t let you go around making open threats like that!’

The two men entered the room. Wayne’s anger faded when he saw the two of you. Cupping your cheek fondly he placed his other hand on Eddie’s back. ‘Are you okay kid?’ he asked, lines of worry prominent on his face. You nodded gratefully, forcing a smile.

Hopper clicked a pen, putting his signature next to yours at the bottom of you statement and leaning his hands on the desk. ‘That’s everything I need taken care of’ he said, ‘And I don’t want you to worry. He’s not getting out of holding anytime soon!’ he paused, grimacing like he tasted something bitter. His eyes shifted from you to Eddie. ‘Just one more thing… He’s asking to see you.’ Silence. ‘Now I’m not saying you have to-.’

‘Absolutely not!’ Wayne snapped, ‘If he thinks after all this-.’ He went off on one again and Hopper tried to interject.

Eddie just stood there, still holding onto you but staring at nothing. You could see the thoughts flying through his mind. You squeezed his arm gently. He looked down at you something unfathomable in his gaze.

‘I’ll go with you if you want,’ You whispered.

His eyes widened, ‘I can’t ask you to do that!’

‘You’re not asking,’ you answered. ‘You don’t have to.’

He thought for a moment then nodded slightly. ‘Okay,’ he said, cutting off the argument abruptly. ‘I’ll go.’

‘Son, wait a minute-.’

‘It’s my choice!’

***

He was going to do it! He was going to march in there and tell that monster exactly what he thought! Warn him never to come near him or anyone he loved ever again! Years of pent-up hatred and resentment boiled in his blood.

‘Just in here.’

Hopper gestured to the door. He was going to tell him where to go! He was gonna-. But Eddie’s hand stopped over the doorknob. His veins turned to ice. Everything came flooding back.

You clutched his arm, trying to comfort him but he couldn’t hear you. All the shouting and the insults and abuse echoed through his mind. Ghosts he’d thought were long gone grew flesh in an instant.

‘Eddie!’ Wayne caught his quivering hand, drawing him out of the spiral. ‘Come on son,’ he said gently, ‘Let’s go home!’

He could feel everyone’s gaze like laser beams. Ducking his head to hide the red-hot shame burning his cheeks, he nodded quickly.

***

The ride home was silent. Wayne offered to put you up in their trailer for night and you gladly accepted. You didn’t want to be alone tonight and you didn’t want Eddie to be either.

He was uncharacteristically quiet.

That was a bad sign, it always was, and him shying away from your touch was an even worse one.

‘I’m really sorry, I’ve got a shift tonight and I’m late as it is,’ Wayne said as you stepped inside, ‘I don’t want to leave you kids but-.’

‘It’s okay Wayne, we get it,’ you assured.

He nodded appreciatively, ‘Look after each other, and keep this door locked ya hear?’

You smiled and nodded, wondering where you’d be without his kindness. ‘Thanks Wayne, for everything!’

He waved a hand as if to say ‘Don’t mention it,’ collected some things, and was gone.

The two of you were alone. 

After standing awkwardly for a moment, you found yourself curled up in the arm of the sofa hugging a cushion. The familiar scent helped calm your still shaken nerves. You were safe. Everything was alright.

Eddie couldn’t even look at you. He staggered into the kitchen and clutched onto the countertop for support. Humiliation kept its searing hold.

What had he been thinking? What, he was gonna go in there and say something heroic? He was gonna scare the man who’d made his childhood a living hell? Who’d hurt his mom? Who gone after you? Like some ridiculous knight in shining armour, he would slay the dragon and save the princess?

And what had he done? Cowered in fear! Stood there shaking like a fool! He couldn’t even go in there! Couldn’t face him! Couldn’t defend the girl he loved. He was a child again, running away and jumping at shadows! A coward!

He struck the worktop. 

Pain shot through his wrist but he didn’t care. He cursed and cried, hitting the counter and kicking at the cupboards blindly until your hands caught his, voice begging him to stop but he was too far gone.

‘There you go then!’ Bitter tears fell as he pulled away from your grasp. ‘You finally saw it!’ he drawled. He spread his arms and grimaced in wretched, theatrical defeat. ‘The real me!’

You’d never seen him this upset. It was like some irreplaceable piece had broken inside, shattered beyond repair.

‘I don’t know how you can stand to look at me!’ he laughed hysterically, reaching to cover his mouth, ‘Especially now! Now you know I look just like him!’ he clawed at his cheek like he wanted to shred the skin.

‘Eddie!’ you coaxed. He recoiled from your outstretched hand.

‘No, no I get it! You don’t have to pretend you still want me! I wouldn’t!’ he stammered, voice catching, ‘I wouldn’t want me either!’

‘Eddie!’

‘I’ll go!’ he choked through tears, already backing away from you, ‘I’ll stay away! You don’t have to look at me! Ever again, I swear!’ Every word felt like a punch to the stomach.

He turned, moving quickly down the narrow corridor, throwing his bedroom door closed.

You ran after him, holding back your own tears and taking a breath before gently pushing the door open again.

He was curled at the foot of his bed, head in his knees, muffling his cries. Dropping down next to him, you pulled him into an embrace. He flinched at your touch but you didn’t move away. Resting your cheek on his head, you hushed and comforted for who knows how long. Stroked his hair and murmured words of solace. In time, the wrenching, soul-wracking sobs subsided and turned to stifled hiccups.

‘I mean it!’ he said weakly, ‘I won’t blame you; you don’t have to stay!’

‘I’m not going anywhere!’ you insisted, cupping his face and guiding his face to yours. His red, swollen eyes still wouldn’t meet yours but you felt him relax at your closeness. ‘I’m staying right here! With the wonderful, brave man I love!’

The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, ‘Harrington lives the other side of town!’

A rueful laugh escaped your lips and his smile grew wider at the sound. ‘You idiot!’ you pressed a kiss to his forehead then leaned yours against it. ‘I mean you!’

‘No!’ he muttered, shaking his head and pulling back, ‘I’m not that! I’m not those things!’

‘You are!’ he kept shaking his head ‘til you gripped his jaw, holding it still. ‘You are every one of them and more!’

He looked at you now, eyes full of anguish, ‘But he scared you so much and-,’ his face contorted, ‘And I look just like him!’

You smoothed a tender thumb over his cheek, wiping away the tear tracks that had begun to run fresh again, watching his eyes flutter closed. ‘No, you don’t,’ He tried to protest but you persisted, ‘I thought you did too at first.’

He stopped, ‘What changed your mind?’ he asked a tentative smile, crossed his face.

Leaning back slightly, to take him all in, you simply said, ‘Your eyes are different.’ You reached to play with a strand of his hair while you studied him. ‘They’re warmer.’

He drew a shaky breath and, tracing his hairline, you continued, ‘Your smile is brighter, your words are kinder.’ Your hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing, ‘Because you, Eddie Munson, are kind, and brave, and good! And I could never love anyone better!’ You smiled faintly, ‘I don’t think you look anything alike!’

A moments silence passed then he threw his arms around you so tightly you thought you’d burst! Your arms wound their way round his neck; you buried your face in his shoulder. ‘I love you!’ he whispered, breathless, ‘I love you! I love you! I love you!’

‘I love you too!’

***

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I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing!

Masterlist

[seijorhi]

Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand. 

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected. 

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby. 

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute. 

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’. 

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind. 

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency. 

Hizashi was not, and so here they are. 

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness. 

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you. 

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd. 

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks. 

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them. 

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent. 

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :( 

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him. 

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself. 

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm? 

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy. 

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it. 

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off. 

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him. 

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would. 

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either. 

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.” 

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.” 

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause. 

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face. 

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight. 

It bothers him. 

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no. 

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant. 

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?” 

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly. 

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump. 

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless. 

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach. 

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run –  and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick. 

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace. 

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least. 

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true. 

It’s just not the entire reason. 

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length. 

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong. 

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them. 

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with. 

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side. 

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust. 

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch. 

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more. 

He wants all of you. 

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them. 

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder. 

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own. 

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too? 

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them. 

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open. 

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you. 

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy. 

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue. 

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants. 

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss. 

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

[skyeet-the-writer]

okay i’m not sure if you are taking like open requests but corpse and reader are dating and nobody really knows but like the fans ship it and stuff, and they are playing among us with jack, felix, rae ect,, and someone invites somebody and it’s reader ex boyfriend and corpse notices that she’s acting really quiet and he texts her like “baby are you okay??” and she tells him that’s her toxic ex and during an emergency meeting, her ex suspects her and when she defends herself he says something along the lines of “don’t believe her she’s a fucking liar, she’s been one since the day i first met her” and everyone is like ??? but corpse flips out on him and just snaps telling him to leave his girlfriend alone which breaks his cover so everyone knows about you guys and just like really mad corpse and having to help him calm down and you get up from your seat to see him in his streaming room and just sit on his lap and he’s like “fuck that guy it’s okay baby we can just play minecraft or something” lmaooo 🥺🥺🥺 sorry i know that was so specific but the thought makes me so soft i would actually cry if you wrote this

This Is A Shout Out To My Ex

here’s my first request guys! so sorry they’re taking so long. i’m trying to get these done before i do anything else. hope you guys enjoy! x,

corpse x female!reader

summary: while paying a game with her friends, y/n’s toxic ex joins the game. when he calls her a liar, corpse snaps and defends his girlfriend

word count: ~4.4k

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse, gaslighting, near-death experiences, swearing, some angst but it has a super fluffy end!

Living with your boyfriend is, obviously, amazing in every way. You see each other all the time, you get to cuddle almost all the time, and you get to see his handsome face every morning.

Probably, the only downside is the fact that living together makes it nearly impossible to hide the fact that you’re dating.

But, somehow, you’ve managed to keep it a secret from you rabid fans for the past four months. You literally have no idea how because you’re pretty sure you accidentally got a glimpse of Corpse walking by while you were doing a vlog.

Miraculously, no one noticed it. Then again, none of your fans knew what he looked like, so there’s a plus. There were one or two comments asking who the person in the back was, but you lied and said it was a friend. Technically, you weren’t wrong.

And so you’ve been trying to keep your relationship with Corpse on the DL to avoid any stress or anxiety his way. You could deal with it, you’ve been doing Youtube for years and could handle almost anything. Corpse, bless his heart, might not be able to.

One morning, you’re awoken by some slight tugging on your hair. You crack your eyes open but the bright light makes you whine and close them again. There’s a soft laugh behind you and you roll over onto your back, scooting over closer to him. You stretch your legs and grin, still keeping your eyes closed. 

“Did you sleep at all?” you ask in a quiet voice, your head resting on your lover’s chest.

“No,” he answers in his deep voice and you feel him play with your hair. “Anxiety, insomnia, the usual shit.”

You hum and open your eyes slowly, deciding to brave the light. You blink up at Corpse who is staring at the ceiling. “What were you thinking about?” Your own voice is a bit scratchy and rough. 

He looks down at you and you take notice of how bloodshot his eyes are and the bags under his eyes. “How pretty you are when you sleep.” He grins.

“You watched me when I slept?” you ask and playfully narrow your eyes at him. “You creep.”

He laughs and you turn around onto your side, your back facing him. “Baby, no, I didn’t mean it that way.”

You smile. “You’re so creepy, Corpse.”

He doesn’t say anything but you hear him sit up in bed. You begin to ask what he’s doing but then he lifts up the back of your shirt to press a few kisses to your back. “You’re still here, though. With me.”

“Hm. Yeah.” You turn around and he gazes at you. “Because I love you.”

His eyes light up in the way that they always do when you tell him those three, simple words. You love seeing them light up that way and you grin. “I love you, too.” He leans in for a quick kiss.

“What time is it?” you ask when you pull away.

Corpse reaches over to his side of the bed and turns his phone on. “Noon.”

“Noon?” you shout and sit up so quickly you get a head rush. “We were supposed to be playing Among Us with Sean, Pewds, Toast, Rae, and them.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You turn and see him with his hands covering his face.

You walk over to him and kneel next to him. “Babe? What’s up?”

He just groans and you frown. He doesn’t feel good. 

You push his hair from his forehead. “I can tell them that you’re not feeling up for it. They all know you, they’d understand.”

He shakes his head and runs his hands down his face before they rest on his chest. “No. No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” He gives you a smile.

You kiss his cheek. “Okay, then, babe. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.” You grab his hands and tug him up until he’s in a sitting position. He pulls you in for another kiss but you lean away.

“You have morning breath,” you tell him when he gives you his sad eyes. “Brush your teeth and then I’ll kiss you.”

That seems to get him out of bed and into the bathroom while you change clothes. You change out of your sweatpants and t-shirt and into jeans and a shirt. He walks out of the bathroom yawning and you walk past him to go to the bathroom.

I wish he’d sleep, you think to yourself while brushing your teeth. After brushing your teeth, you wash your face and do a little bit of makeup so you don’t look like you just rolled out of bed even though you did.

Corpse walks into the bathroom as you’re finishing your makeup and has a mug of coffee for you. You’re the only one in the house who drinks coffee since he can’t, so you always find it so sweet that he makes it for you.

“You made me coffee?” you ask and he nods. You take it from him and give him a peck. “Thank you, love.” 

You take a sip and grab your phone from your nightstand and shove it into your pocket. You walk out of the bedroom the two of you share and into the kitchen to check on your cat. 

Before you met him, Corpse had never really wanted a pet. He said that they die and he doesn’t want to deal with that, which you understand. But after the two of you had been dating for three months and you had been living with him for a month and a half, you begged him to let you get a cat. You knew he couldn’t say no to you. 

“Where’s Inky?” you call out to your boyfriend after not finding your cat in the living room or the kitchen. 

“In here,” he calls back and you follow his voice. Corpse is sitting in his chair getting ready to stream. You spot a black cat sitting on his table, licking at his hand. Corpse laughs and pets the animal on the head. “Stop licking me, girl. Your tongue feels weird.”

You smile and walk over to him, picking the cat up. “Come on, Inky, let’s leave dad to do his job, yeah?”

The young cat meows up at you and stares into your soul with her green eyes. You lock her gaze and have a staring contest. You lose, however, and blink away. 

“Why is your cat so weird?” you ask, placing the cat back down and watch her run away. 

“Probably gets it from her mom,” Corpse mumbles and you hear a smile. 

You scoff and smack his hand away gently when he reaches out to you. “Fine, you don’t get a kiss before the stream.”

“No, wait!” he shouts and grabs your hand, pulling you towards him. “I was kidding, baby.”

You smile at him and cup his cheek. “I know.” You lean down and give him a long, deep kiss. You feel him smile against your lips and you pull away. He gives you a smile.

“I love you,” he mutters, brushing some hair away from your face. 

“I love you more.” You grab his hand and press a kiss against his knuckles. You take a step back. “I’ll see you in the Discord chat, babe.”

“Okay. Also, don’t close the door all the way!” he calls to you and you look back at him, your hand on the doorknob. 

“Why?” you ask, leaning on the doorframe. 

He takes a second to respond. “Because I want Inky to come in here later.”

You laugh but smile. “Okay, fine.” You walk away from the door and across the hall into your own recording room. 

Your room is a lot different than your boyfriend’s. His room is dark and doesn’t have a lot in it. Yours, on the other hand, probably has too much stuff. Most of it is gifts from fans like stuffed animals and other knickknacks. Your desk, monitors, and lights take up a lot of the already limited space. You turn both your ring lights on after closing the door and turn on the LED lights you have attached to the ceiling. You switch them to the f/c setting and put the remote next to your coffee mug. You sit down in your black and white gaming chair and set everything up after putting on your headset. 

You join the Among Us game after beginning your stream and then the Discord call. You seem to join before Corpse because you can’t see him in the call. 

“You’ve finally decided to join us, y/n!” Felix exclaims and you smile. 

“Am I late?” you ask, taking another drink of your coffee. 

“No,” Sean replies. “I mean, we played a couple of rounds to pass the time, but nothing interesting happened.”

You nod and glance at who all is in the chat. It seems to be you, Felix, Toast, Charlie, Rae, Sean, later Corpse, and someone else who’s tag sounds familiar. 

“Oh! I invited someone new!” says Rae. “He’s a friend from college. y/n, this is Dallas.”

“Hey, y/n.”

Your eyes widen and your blood goes cold at the sound of his voice. You know him. You used to date him. In highschool before you moved away. You remember how toxic he was. He would always blow you off when you wanted to hang out and when you did hang out, he always played video games and never talked to you. 

“Hi, Dallas,” you stutter out. “Uh, hey, didn’t you and I go to highschool together?”

You can practically hear his smirk. “Yeah. We did.”

“I didn’t know you two went to school together,” Rae says happily. 

“Yep,” Dallas says. “We were friends, too.”

You want to throw up.

Suddenly, your loving and not toxic boyfriend joins the call and your spirits lift. 

“Corpse!” you exclaim, almost letting another word slip out. 

“You’re here,” says Rae. “Good noon!”

“Yeah, I’m not a morning person,” he says and you just now notice how deep his voice is. “I just woke up.”

“Oh my god,” Felix says. 

“Jesus,” says Charlie, dragging out the ‘u’.

“You just woke up?” asks Toast. 

He’s a liar, he didn’t sleep at all, you think but keep your mouth shut and laugh. 

“It’s like a forty-hertz voice,” Sean says. 

“It sounds like short wave radio,” Charlie adds. 

You laugh. “You sound like spoken brown note.”

Corpse laughs. “This is me when I wake up, that’s what...” He cuts himself off and laughs again.

“I’m scared,” says Dallas. 

“I didn’t know it could get any lower!” exclaims Sean. 

“I didn’t know you could hit puberty twice.” Felix laughs. 

After some more laughter, Corpse is introduced to Dallas. 

“Hey, man,” Corpse says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Dallas replies. 

“Can we start the game now?” Sean asks when everyone is in the waiting room. You take a sip of your coffee while Rae starts the game. 

You mute yourself as your role is revealed and let out a sigh of relief. “Crewmate. Good, this makes this less stressful.” You go into the hallway, following Felix and Sean to go do wires. You clear the two of them and you three go up to admin. “Okay, so for those of you wondering about my reaction to Dallas joining the stream is that he’s my ex. Uh, we dating in highschool and broke up around the end of senior year. So this is pretty awkward for me.” You break away from Sean and Felix to go do a task in the greenhouse. 

You leave out the part about Dallas where he was borderline abusive. You remember him shouting at you for asking for the littlest of things to him gaslighting you and guilt-tripping you into going skinny dipping with him. 

Maybe that’s why you love Corpse so much. He’s the opposite of Dallas. He’s sweet and he’s caring. He’s never once raised his voice at you unless you were beating him in a game. Even then you both knew he wasn’t serious. And he had never once pressured you to do something you didn’t want to do. 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when someone reports Rae’s dead body. You unmute yourself and take another drink of your coffee. 

“I found her in decontamination,” Dallas says. “I opened the door and she was right there.”

“I was down by storage doing wires,” you tell them, putting your mug down. “And I was with Felix and Jack for the beginning and I’m pretty sure they’re cleared. So it has to be either you, Toast, or Corpse. Or Charlie.”

“You almost forgot about me,” he says and you laugh. 

“We never vote on seven, right?” Toast says. 

“Not if no one is sus, no,” Corpse answers. 

“I’m skipping,” says Sean. 

You nod and skip voting. “Same here.”

Everyone skips voting and you continue on. You do the rest of your wiring tasks and go out to the balcony where you notice Corpse standing out there. You smile and walk up to him and make your characters’ “eye” parts touch. “Look, Corpse. We’re touching eyeballs.”

You can just barely make out his laugh from the room across from yours and you grin before doing to do your task. You glance at your chat while you run to the reactor with Corpse. “How have you guys been doing? Hope you’re having a good day. Don’t forget to drink some water and eat something.” You smile at the camera and enter decontamination with Corpse and Toast. 

When you enter reactor, Corpse and Toast each go to do it and you head to the sorting in the lab when suddenly a body is reported. 

You decide to be quiet and drink from your coffee while everyone else discusses what happened. You zone out a little when Dallas talks and your mind flashes back to memories you’ve been trying to forget. 

“Wait, who are we voting?” you ask when you suddenly snap back to reality. 

“Felix,” Sean answers. “He vented right in front of me.”

You nod and vote for Felix and he gets ejected. 

pEWds was ejected 

1 imposter remains

You mute yourself once more and continue to do your tasks and stick with Corpse as much as you can. Your chat notices this and begins to blow up with the ship name they have for the two of you. You laugh at the chat as you scan yourself. “Why are you guys freaking out about Corpse and me? We’re literally just walking.”

Another body is reported and this time it’s Toast’s. You know who the imposter is. You unmute yourself and quickly say, “It’s fucking Dallas, it’s a self-report.”

“What?” Dallas exclaims and you immediately sense the hint of anger in his tone. He used to get so mad during video games and it seems like nothing has changed in the past few years. “How’s it me? It could be Charlie.”

“Charlie is dead, too,” Sean says. 

“Yep. And I know both Corpse and Sean are cleared because I was with Sean for a long time and I just watched Corpse get scanned.”

Dallas scoffs. “Well, shit, you got me there.”

After Dallas is ejected, the crewmates win and you all start another round. You suddenly don’t feel like talking too much anymore and do your stream in mostly silence. Just Dallas being there and in the same call as you is making you anxious and bringing up memories you don’t want to remember. 

Your chat asks you about this and you ignore it as you continue to do your tasks as a crewmate. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, looking at who it is. 

corpse 🖤

are you okay? you’re being really quiet

y/n

yeah, ig. just that dallas is my ex. toxic ex too

corpse 🖤

want me to kill him for you? im imposter

You smile and shake your head. “Oh, Corpse,” you whisper to yourself. 

y/n

no dont kill him lol

You put your phone back down on the table and look back at the game. 

You don’t pay too much attention to the game until the fourth round after you and Rae lost as the imposters. You’re a crewmate once again and you’re peacefully doing your tasks when suddenly something lays on your bare feet. 

“What the?” You look down at your feet and see a little dark fuzzball on your feet. “Inky, get off my feet, baby.” You move your feet and pick her up. You hold her in your arms like a baby the way she likes and rub her belly. “Okay, go see your dad.” Inky jumps out of your arms and you watch her leave your recording room. 

You turn back to your task and continue to do them without any interruptions. You notice, however, that Dallas has been following you for most of the round. You’re starting to get a little nervous and you run into the cafeteria to get away from him when he calls an emergency meeting.

You unmute yourself and Dallas says, “I think it’s y/n. I’m pretty sure she’s faking tasks.”

“Except I’m not,” you tell him. “You’re the one following me around, too, Dallas. What’s up with that, huh?”

“I’ve been following you because you’re acting sus.”

You glare at Dallas’s character on the screen, heat rushing to your face. “I’m literally doing my tasks, I know you saw me do the card swipe--”

“Don’t listen to her,” Dallas says and he sounds far too confident. “She’s a fucking liar. She has been since the first day I met her.”

By now your face is completely red from anger and you gasp. “Excuse me?”

“What are you talking about?” Sean asks. “I’ve known y/n for a long time, she’s never told a lie so long as I’ve known her.”

“That’s because she’s too good at it,” Dallas says in a snarky tone and you’ve never wanted to punch a screen more in your life. “Her and me used to date in highschool but I broke up with her because she lied to me about everything.”

“That’s not fucking true!” you shout and you can hear blood rushing to your ears. “I was the one who broke up with you after you gaslighted me about not hanging out with you enough when in reality you were always hanging out with your stupid football friends!”

“She’s lying--”

“The fuck are you saying about my girl?” Corpse demands. 

The chat goes silent for a moment. Corpse just called you his girl. You look at your live chat and it’s exploding with “i knew it”s and lots of keyboard smashing.

“Your girl?” Dallas asks after a moment.

“Yes. My girl. As in my girlfriend.” He sounds so possessive and it’s kind of hot to you. “Why are you calling her a liar?”

Dallas stumbles on his words. “B--because she is one.”

“Right. And how long have you known her?”

“I knew her in highschool--“

“Nevermind, I literally don’t care,” Corpse interrupts him. “I’ve been living with her for the past five months and she’s never lied to me about anything.”

Dallas is quiet for once. Everyone is. No one is really even breathing but your heartbeat is rattling your brain and blood is rushing through your ears.

“I don’t wanna play anymore,” you whisper. You swallow thickly and glance at your chat. Luckily, they’re all defending you and yelling at Dallas. You turn back to the screen. “Dallas, I’m not the imposter. And stop making stupid ass accusations.”

“I--“

“Kick him,” says Felix and you can tell he sounds mad.

“No wait--“ Dallas begins to say.

“No!” Rae interrupts. “I knew there was something off about you.”

“You don’t get to come in here and talk shit about our friend,” Jack says.

“I was kidding,” Dallas tries to explain.

But then something inside you snaps. You forgot how much you hate Dallas. How he always turned the blame on you when he did something wrong. How you almost lost all of your friends because he convinced them that you were a bad person.

At first, you thought he had changed. You thought that he had actually grown up. Turns out that people don’t change.

“Like you were kidding when you almost got me kicked out of the house because you made me go out with you to go drinking?” you ask. “Or how you played a stupid trick on me when I was driving us to school and I almost fucking crashed the car and nearly killed us?”

“Jesus.” You can hear him roll his eyes. “You’re still on about that? It was April Fool’s, you should have expected it—“

“I shouldn’t have expected shit!” you yell and it comes out raw. The memory flashes in your mind and you cringe. “That wasn’t funny, Dallas! You weren’t funny! I fucking hated my life in high school. I was already stressed out because I thought I wasn’t smart enough and you being my boyfriend and ignoring me and manipulating me didn’t help.

“So fuck you. Fuck you for everything you did to me when we were teenagers. Fuck you for making me think that you changed and were actually nice and then ripping that away from me. But you know what? Thanks. Thanks for being my ex because you made me what I am today and you’re the reason I moved to California and met the love of my life.”

You suck a deep breath in and wipe at the tears that had fallen. You put your hand on your camera. “Speaking of which, I need a hug from him. Bye, guys.”

You stop streaming and disconnect from everything. You turn your computer off, unplug your headset, and turn your lights off. You sit in your chair trying not to cry in the dark.

Corpse, your mind says and you open your eyes. You really want a hug. His hugs are the best. You take your headset off and walk out of your recording room. Before you walk into Corpse’s recording room, you head to the living room and grab a fluffy gray blanket and wrap it around yourself.

You don’t even bother to knock on the door and just walk in. His room is still dark and it appears like he’s angry. You can tell by the way his voice is deeper and how he looks like he’s shaking.

But when you tap on his shoulder, he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Babe.”

You sniffle and he pushes away from his desk. You shake your head and pull his arms up above his head and settle yourself on his lap, your legs on either side of him, and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Baby,” he whispers and you lean your cheek on his shoulder. “Just fuck off, Dallas.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and you shift up a little, pushing your nose into his neck. He smells nice. “Stop talking to them.”

“What?” he looks down at you and asks what you’re doing when you take his headset off. You unplug them, thereby disconnecting him from the stream. “y/n, what are you doing?”

“I want to cuddle with you,” you mutter and bury your face into his neck.

You feel him wrap his arms around your back and he pulls you up, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Okay, baby. We can cuddle.”

The two of you sit like that for what feels like a long time. You hear Corpse’s phone buzz, but the two of you ignore it. He kisses the side of your head and you smile.

You sigh deeply as he tightens his hold against you. “Fuck that guy, baby. It’s okay.” He moves his shoulder and you look up at him. “Wanna go play Minecraft?”

A grin spreads across your face and you nod. Corpse smiles back and picks you up, bridal style, blanket and all. You squeal and laugh as he carries you to the living room. “Put me down, Corpse!”

“Alright.” He drops you into the couch and turns around to turn the Xbox on.

You huff and push your hair out of your face, keeping the blanket wrapped tight around your body. “I didn’t mean literally drop me, dummy.”

He shrugs and sits next to you, handing you a controller. “Should’ve been more specific, baby.”

You scoff but can’t hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. “Jerk.” You put the controller next to you on the couch and move the blanket so it’s over both of your laps and you lean into his side.

After playing Minecraft for the majority of the afternoon and evening, you finally drag Corpse to bed with you after ordering pizza for dinner.

His arms are wrapped tight around your waist as your back is pressed against his chest. Inky hops up onto the bed and nuzzles your hand until you begin to pet her. She lays down on her belly and you gently pat her.

“Am I really the love of your life?” Corpse asks after a long time of sitting in the quiet darkness

You nod against the pillow. “Yeah. You are.”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s smiling when he kisses the back of your neck.

Your phone on your nightstand lights up and you head Corpse’s phone buzz again as well. You think for just a moment about all of the texts, all of the messages, all of the DMs you’re getting about what happened. For a second, you panic. What if people don’t think that you’re worth to be dating Corpse? What if people are calling you a pussy for how you reacted to Dallas? What if everyone hates you?

But those thoughts immediately go away when Corpse mumbles something in that husky voice of his that makes the butterflies in your tummy come back. “You’re the love of my life, too.”

“Yeah?” you hum, your eyes slipping shut.

“Yeah,” he says and you can tell that he’s getting tired as well. “And I’m gonna marry you someday.”

An involuntary smile spreads across your face and your entire body overheats. You bite your lip in the darkness and whisper,

“And I’m gonna say yes.”

But he’s asleep. His breathing has evened out. He shouldn’t have heard you.

You know he heard you somehow, though, because his arms tighten around your waist. You wiggle backward so that you’re flush against his chest and his head drops down onto the top of your head.

You place your hands over his and close your eyes. Finally, he’s sleeping.

--------------------

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[ready-the-sails]

Nace Appreciation Week | Day Five: Childhood/High School

Title: The Memory of the Hidden Photograph (AKA - Florence’s origin story)

SUMMARY

Ace is in love with his new car. From the worn-in green upholstery to the classic wood panelling, she's a masterpiece in his eyes. Unfortunately, most of his peers at Horseshoe Bay High don't see her that way. All except one -- a certain redheaded teen sleuth with an antique car of her own.

Author Note: I love how Nancy and Ace's cars are an extension to their personalities, and I've often wondered what their origins stories might be like. How did they come to own these cars? And where did the name Florence come from? I thought it would be fun to explore some of these questions through the lens of Ace's first drive to school in his new car. I hope you enjoy (:

She was perfect in every way. There wasn’t a single part of Ace’s new car that he didn’t love, from the forest green upholstery to the shiny wood paneling that ran down her sides. Sure, maybe she was technically older than he was, but that only made her more classy in his eyes.

When his parents had taken him to the used car dealership over the weekend, the station wagon seemed to glow from across the lot, charming him with her unique personality. His dad had certainly liked the low price tag too, so it was a match made in heaven. 

For as long as he could remember, Ace had dreamed of having his own car and the freedom to drive anywhere and never look back. It wasn’t that he actually wanted to leave Horseshoe Bay, but there was something about knowing it was now an option that was comforting to him. 

Another perk of owning a car was not having to take the bus to school anymore. Ace hated taking the bus, and had since the second grade when he’d been pantsed by Tony Morano while trying to find a seat. Not only had his crush at the time seen the whole thing, but Tony and his terrible friends had also called him “tighty whitey” until middle school. Thankfully, once he hit 7th grade, they had moved on to torment another poor unfortunate soul. 

The driver side door creaked open and Ace tossed his backpack over to the passenger seat as he slid in. It was a beautiful sunny morning, so he flipped down the visor to keep the sun from blinding him. Apparently, he had yet to do so since acquiring the car, because something tumbled from behind the visor and landed on his lap. 

It was an old black and white polaroid. In the picture, a middle-aged woman sat atop the hood of what appeared to be the same station wagon Ace sat in, smiling brightly at the camera. Ace flipped the picture over to see if there was a date for when it had been taken, but all that he found was the name “Florence” etched in pencil. 

Ace was excited to discover the little piece of the car’s history, and decided to tuck it in the glove box for safe keeping. Then he stuck the keys in the ignition and the wagon came to life with a thunderous roar.

It took less than 10 minutes to drive to Horseshoe Bay High School, and Ace went straight to the back of the parking lot when he got there, easing into the second-to-last spot in the row. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed of his car and wanted to hide in the back — it was the opposite in fact. Ace had seen how horrible some of his peers were at driving, and he was already so attached to his car that he didn’t want to risk her getting dinged on their first real outing together.

When Ace got out of his car however, it became pretty clear that he was just about the only one who thought his car was actually cool. The other students who drove to school in their Civics and Corollas snickered as they walked by. 

He placed a hand affectionately on the hood, and spoke quietly to the car, “Don’t you listen to them, you hear me?  They’ve got no taste.”

A pleasant, low rumble filled the parking lot as a little blue Sunbeam drove past Ace to pull into the spot next to him. He had been drooling over the car since the first day Nancy Drew had rolled up to school in it. The sky-blue paint seemed to jump off the car’s rounded edges, making it look cartoonish. The car was in pristine condition too, like it had come straight out of a time machine, and Ace suspected it was likely thanks to Nancy’s proclivity for also parking far away from their peers.

Ace was admiring the Sunbeam when Nancy stepped out. Next to the vibrant blue car, Nancy’s red hair looked like it was on fire. Ace didn’t know her very well, but they shared a class in first semester and she had been nice to him. Not to mention she was a certified genius. What kind of kid solves FBI-caliber mysteries at the age of 13? A kid like Nancy Drew, apparently.

“Hey! Ace, right?” Nancy asked while shouldering her messenger bag.

“Hi, yeah, we had Medieval Lit together last semester.”

“Oh god, right… I hated that class, but only because Mr. Mota’s voice would always make me sleepy” She said with a laugh.

“Yes! The way he read those Canterbury Tales was so soothing.” They both laughed again at the shared memory.

“New car?” Nancy asked, pointing toward the station wagon.

“New to me, at least. Drove her off the lot this weekend.”

Nancy walked over to stroke the wood panelling of the passenger side. “She’s got a lot of personality,” she said. 

Ace liked the way she was looking at his car, like she genuinely appreciated her quirkiness. “I thought so too,” He agreed with a smile.

The sound of the bell rang across the lot, signalling students to begin heading to their homerooms. Nancy started walking in the direction of the school, and Ace made himself look busy by checking that all of his doors were locked. Oh the woes of manual locks.

Just as she was walking past him, she turned. “Does she have a name yet?” She asked, facing him as she walked backwards toward the school.

The question caught Ace by surprise, but he didn’t need to think too long before the memory of the polaroid came to mind. “I was thinking Florence.”

Nancy nodded slowly, mulling the name over in her head. “Florence,” She tried it out for herself before meeting his gaze with a warm smile. “It’s perfect.”

Then she turned toward the school and left Ace to watch the silky flames of her hair sway with the beat of her strides. He leaned back against the hood, placing his palms face-down on it to support himself. 

With a smile, he looked down at his car. At Florence. “Did you hear that, Florence? Nancy Drew thinks you’re perfect.”

Fin.

(Read on Ao3)

[bonvoyagenoona]

masterlist | OT7

MASTERLIST 📚 | ASKS QUEUE❓| TAGLIST 💜

SE | series ; OS | one-shot ; CO | collection ; s | smut ; a | angst ; f | fluff

Bon Voyage Noona | SE ; s ; a ; f

A change of plans has Sooyeon serving as a production assistant on this installment of Bon Voyage. A change of weather has her stuck with these seven stars. What other changes could this spark?

Drabbles and Reactions | CO ; s ; a ; f

A compilation of scenarios with the boys.

Letters from the Road | CO ; s ; a ; f

Errant thoughts. Reminders of you. Read these love letters from the boys while they’re out on the road.

Playing Hooky | OS ; s ; f

Our seven neighbors take us out for a hump day treat. Written for @mochilatae​ / Roomie.

The Road to You | SE ; s ; a ; f

Armed with your quick wit, creative passion, talent for storytelling, and innate understanding of your fanbase, you have achieved the unimaginable. So why do you feel so lost? And who can you count on from your past to help you find your way?

works in progress:

Bon Voyage Noona 2 | SE ; s ; a ; f

Hana doesn’t believe Sooyeon when she tells her about her snowed-in production assistant gig with the boys one year ago. She definitely doesn’t believe the raunchy stories that Sooyeon tells her on the plane. And she can certainly come up with other explanations for the fancy limo that comes to pick them up. She can even poke holes when Jungkook pulls Sooyeon into the VIP suite at the most glamorous, most classically Parisian hotel that Hana’s ever seen or imagined. But when Jimin’s curious eyes peek out in the hallway to see if Hana will join them, Hana wonders if she’s the one losing her mind.

Bowties | SE ; s ; a ; f

So far, Jungkook has only had to ask two terrifying questions in his life: Will you marry him? (Thankfully, and to no one’s surprise, you screamed a resounding “yes” to that one.) And, will his six as-of-yet unmarried best friends serve as his groomsmen? (Again, to no one’s surprise, they screamed resounding “yes"es to that, too.) But as the day on your save-the-dates looms near, and everyone gathers for your wedding, you all fail to realize that there is one big question left to answer: what does marriage really mean to everyone?

Last Summer | SE ; s ; a ; f

In the sleepy beachside town just a few hours away sits an old, dilapidated vacation home, rumored to be haunted by the spirit of a little boy who was found washed up on the shore. That’s what brought the Burger Boys together. Well, technically, what brought them together was their summer job flipping burgers at Sejin’s burger stand – hence, their names. But the eerie, fascinating story about that boy and that house brought out something else in them, something real, something that kept them together, seemingly bonded for life. Namjoon has finally gotten the inspiration to write about the Burger Boys’ adventures, but he’s missing some details. He isn’t exactly sure why everyone has lost touch since their last summer together in that beachside town, but with the book advance in hand, Namjoon figures that maybe now might be a good time for a reunion on the beach to pay homage to the story of that little boy, and to find out where the Burger Boys’ stories have led after all this time.

© bon voyage noona // est. 2020 // all rights reserved // these are all works of fiction // tumblr, ao3, and ficbook // please do not copy or steal