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emeritusemeritus · 9 months

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Me, however. [Fred Weasley]

(Gif not mine)

Title: Me, However.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Gryffindor!Reader, implied Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger.

Timeline: Non-specified.

Summary: Ginny doesn’t find ginger men attractive, the same can’t be said for her friends.

Warnings: Mentions of implied sex, mainly just fluff and humour. Some original background characters have been created just for purposes of the story.

"I'm just saying, ginger men are literally the worst looking, I'd never chose one," Ginny says harshly, raising her hands in defeat at she makes her point.

"Gee thanks sis," Fred says, leaning forward to tap her on the back of the head, not to hurt her but just enough to ruffle her hair and frustrate her.

"Yeah, way to make a guy feel pretty," George mutters with the same playful tone as his brother, flicking out his long hair as if to push it sassily over his shoulder. Ginny simply roles her eyes at their behaviour, turning to Parvati who tries to argue the point.

"Yeah but Septimus Goshawk, he's ginger and he's fit!" Parvati says arguing the point, met with an enthusiastic nod from her sister. Fred and George sat back with smug looks on their face at the new information, shooting a 'told you' look towards Ginny.

"Or Rigby Tennerfink!" Padma piped up, mentioning the wizard singer, one of the infamous heartthrobs.

"Gross!" Ginny scrunched her face up, picturing the red haired singer serenading a crowd of adoring women. "The only man for me is Aegus Troy," she adds, a smile passing her lips as she daydreams about the blonde Irish Chaser.

"Ginny, you used to fancy Gilderoy Lockhart, you're hardly one to talk," Hermione laughs, earning a chuckle from the group.

"And you fancy Ron so you're entirely biased!" Ginny replies, laughing at Hermione who tries to protest but it's a hopeless endeavour. "I need someone who is completely neutral here and doesn't fancy one of my brothers"

"Have you seen Bill? That'll be hard to find!" Parvati says, earning a giggle from the girls in the group. Fred and George groan simultaneously in defeat at hearing their oldest brother's name brought up, once again being the target of girls affections.

"Aha! Y/n!"

You walk down the stairs from your dorm, throwing a cardigan over your shoulders as you walked, only to be greeted by the group in the common room who all look up at you expectedly as Ginny calls you over.

"You're unbiased," she begins to say, pausing briefly as you move to be beside the couch where George and Fred sat, perching on the arm of the sofa next to Fred.

"I don't know, dark magic isn't really my thing," you say sarcastically, earning a chuckle from the brothers next to you.

"Not that! Are ginger men unattractive? I need someone unbiased, someone who hasn't shagged or wants to shag my brothers," she says, getting comically irate as she desperately tries to prove her point.

George suddenly snorts out a loud laugh that he desperately tries to cover with a fake cough, leading Ginny to shoot daggers at him and then you.

"You haven't!" She spits out, turning her head to shoot daggers at her brother. "George!"

"Course not!" He says trying to seem as honest as he can as he raises his hands in surrender.

"No way," you reply sincerely.

"I would never do that to you," George says in complete honesty, though his resolve is cracking quickly and you can hear a tone of humour in his voice, though it appears Ginny didn't pick up on it.

"Oh," Ginny says, realising her mistake and shooting an apologetic look at you and then George.

"Me however..." Fred says with a laugh, admitting everything, immediately making a blush form on your cheeks as you all laugh at Ginny's over the top gasp. She throws a cushion at Fred who laughs, grabbing it and throwing it onto his brother beside him. He then reaches up to grab you and slide you across into his lap as you squeal, feeling his cold hands wrapping around your waist as he holds you firmly on his lap, placing a kiss in your hair, finally able to in public now the secret was out.

"No way! Do I not have one friend that hasn't slept with my brothers?!"

"We haven't," Padma and Parvati say quickly and defensively in complete sync.

"Although if Bill offered..." Padma adds, causing another groan to fall from Fred and George. George dramatically groans and falls back to lean on you as Fred's head drops into your shoulder in disgust, causing you to laugh.

"Well at least I know who my true friends are," Ginny huffs, though her words hold no weight as she smiles sarcastically.

"Or future sister in laws," George quips, only to be smacked by another cushion, this time launched by Hermione.

When no laugh comes from Fred as expected, you turn to look at him questioningly only to be met with a small smile tugging at his lips. When he catches you looking, he offers a sort of one sided shrug, eyebrows raising with a wide smile, as if he completely agreed with George.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #harry potter #emeritusemerituswrites #emeritusemeritus

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whetstonefires · 9 months

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Hey you said something about the my hero academia creator being unhinged about sexism, do you mind explaining?

I tried to write like, a thorough explanation of this and it just got longer and longer and longer and I have not touched this series in actual years and yet I've still got all these receipts a;lkjk;lfasd.

So rather than trying to build the whole massive case, here's a pared-down version. It's normal to have sexism in media, and shounen manga especially. Everyone does it. The level and mode and intentionality and so forth all vary, but of course it's there.

What's not normal is to have lots of varied and interesting female characters with discernible inner lives, and on-page discussion of how sexism is systemic and unjust and holds them back in specific ways, and then also deliberately make consistent sexist writing decisions even where they don't arise naturally from the flow of the narrative.

Horikoshi is actively interested in gender and sexism, he's aware of them in a way you rarely see outside of the context of, you know, fighting sexism. He is hung up on the thorny issue of what women are worth and deserve and how power and respect ties into it. He genuinely wants, I think, to have Good Female Characters, and not be (seen as) A Sexist Guy!

But. He doesn't actually want to fight sexism. He displays a lot of woman-oriented anxieties, and one of the many churning paddlewheels in his head seems to be that he knows intellectually that morally sexism is bad, but emotionally he really feels like it ought to probably be at least partly correct.

There are so many things I could cite, and maybe I'll get into some of them later, but the crowning item that highlights how the pattern is 1) at least partly conscious and deliberate and 2) about Horikoshi's own weird hangups rather than simply cynical market play, is Mineta Minoru.

The writer has stated Mineta is his favorite character. Mineta is also designed to be hated--that is, he is a particularly elaborate instantiation of a character archetype normally deployed to soak up audience contempt and (by being gross and shameless and unattractive and 'unthreatening') make it possible to include a range of sexual gratification elements into the narrative that would compromise the main characters' reputations as heroic and deserving, if they were the actors.

Good Guys don't grope girls' tits and run away snickering in triumph, after all. Non-losers don't focus intense effort around successfully stealing someone's panties. Nice Girls don't let themselves be seen half-dressed. And so forth. You need an underwear gremlin for that. So, in anime and manga, longstanding though declining tradition of including such a gremlin, for authorial deniability.

Horikoshi definitely uses him straight for this purpose, looping in Kaminari as needed to make a bit work. And yet he has Feelings about the archetype itself.

The passages dedicated to the vindication of Mineta, then, and the author's statements about him, let us understand that Horikoshi identifies with the figure of the underwear gremlin. He understands the underwear gremlin as a defining exemplar of male sexuality, at least if you are not hot, and finds the attached contempt and hostility to be a dehumanizing attack on all uh.

Incels, basically.

It's not fair to write Mineta off just because he's unattractive and horny (and commits sexual harassment). Doesn't he have a mind? Doesn't he have dreams? Doesn't he have human potential?

So what's going on with Horikoshi and gender, as far as I can figure out, is that he knows damn well that women are people and are treated unjustly by sexist society, but however.

He also understands the institutions of sexism as something protecting him and people like him from life being nebulously yet definitively Worse, and therefore wants to see them upheld.

So you get this really bizarre handling of gender where obviously women's rights good and women cool, women can be Strong, and the compulsory sexualization imposed by the industry isn't them or the author, and so forth.

But also it's very important that in the world he controls, women never win anything important or Count too much, and that jokes at their expense that disrupt the internal logic of their characters are always fair game, that women asked about sexism on TV will promptly get into catfights amongst themselves, and they are understood always in terms of their sexual and romantic interests and value, and sexual assertiveness and failures to perform femininity well enough are used to code them as dangerous and irrational, and that the sexy costumes are requisite and will never be subverted or rebelled against--at most they might be circumnavigated via leaning into cute appeal.

And that Yaoyorozu Momo, who converts her body fat into physical objects, is being frivolous when she wants to use money to buy things instead (rather than as sensibly moderating her Quirk use) and is never encouraged to eat as much as possible at every opportunity to put on weight and even shown being embarrassed by hunger (even though Quirk overuse gives symptoms that suggest she's been stripping the lipids out of her cell walls or nervous system to keep fighting) and always, no matter how many Things she has made, has huge big round boobies.

#ask #hoc est meum #beastenraged #bnha #sexism #i think i got the main points here #just getting lost in the weeds of subsidiary arguments and supporting evidence was destroying me #i don't need to do those this is fandom on the internet #and not even a serious level of that #meta #mineta minoru #yaoyorozu momo #honestly psychologically pretty interesting #it's like he keeps saying 'look i know sexism bad but I Need It'#someone tell him that the patriarchy is exploiting him too and we can all achieve liberation together #this is the same mechanism that upholds white supremacy among the poor #'my life is so bad already the idea of liberating those below me and having to share the crumbs with them is horrific'#ESPECIALLY if i know they're worthy and lots of them are better than me #injustice is the only thing keeping my head above water!#he's also fishing for vindication ofc #but it's wild to see how he'll put in the groundwork that would let him do something gender-egalitarian with his themes #and then opt not to #despite having done the hard part already #idk how much that's making a statement and how much it's just 'this Feels Right'#but as a pattern it murdered me

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inkdrinkerworld · 7 months

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ahhh i love chubby!reader and spencer!! what if she overheard someone talking about her weight in a negative way and when she runs into spencer he instantly goes into his own kind of awkward comfort mode bc he secretly has THE biggest crush on you and any other time he would be VERY proud that he managed to get you to hug him but now you’re crying and oh no he doesn’t want you to be sad especially not over the way you look!!

It’s gross. To hear people make comments about your body behind your back in the way you do.

It’s all snide, backhanded comments disguised as compliments. Your stomach rolls because none of your team is near enough to hear them and you don’t feel like making a scene.

Your mind changes when you hear, ‘And it’s so obvious she likes him but what would he do with a girl like her? He’s less than half her size. She doesn't deserve someone like him.’

Your blood boils and you flick away imaginary dust and lint from your clothes before making yourself known.

“You might not like the way I look but you’re much more unattractive than you find me because that’s just vile. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It's none of your business but Spencer and I are dating.”

The local officers blanch and you walk off ignoring their stunned silence and stutters for an apology.

Your hands shake as you sit next to your team and you’re silly for thinking Spencer wouldn’t notice it. Spencer noticed when you had dusted the ends of your hair a week ago.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice so low it's barely a murmur. Spencer's eyes remain trained on you as you nibble on your lip trying to decide what to do.

"I've been better," you say and Hotch saves you from more questions by instructing, "Y/N I need you to speak to the local police and get every name they have for people who came in."

No one else notices the way your back stiffens as you stand. Spencer does, "I'll go with her, and we'll call Garcia."

Spencer takes you to a secluded hallway and tips your chin up, "What happened, sweetheart?" it's cruel for him to whip that out at work, but it has the same effect it does when you're at home curled in his lap while reading.

"The locals were saying things about me- which is fine, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. But they were extra mean and rude about it." you debate whether to say the rest, but it comes out before you come to a real decision. "They said they don't know why I think I deserve your attention and they said you're too small to be with someone like me."

Spencer gasps like you've burnt him. He feels heat searing his chest as he replays your words. He doesn't know exactly how to comfort you without his words being hard and rough.

"But I stood up for myself," that eases some of the pressure in his chest. "I told them they should be ashamed of themselves and that I wasn't just some girl pining after you and we were together."

Spencer presses his forehead into yours. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself, but you shouldn't have to defend yourself at work or in general. You're amazing and stunning and you're more than anything I could've dreamt up for myself."

His words are soft, sweet and it melts the remaining worry in your bones that even though Spencer loves you, he had regrets.

"They're fucking assholes," he deadpans quietly and you laugh. "But we have a job to do so we'll be civil for the rest of the time we're here but the second we're done, we're messing with them."

#spencer reid x chubby!reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencerreid

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sameschmidtdiffname · 2 months

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hai i have a request for a mike fic, so i was thinking of a comfort/hurt type of thing and maybe like a “i didn’t know where else to go” kind of trope where reader shows up to his house in the middle of the night distressed and he comforts her

To All I Think is Safe

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: After a family dinner gone awry, something guides you somewhere where your mind can safely wander in better memories than the ones you're making right now.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific pronouns for Reader, mentions of arguments, heavy disassociation, heavy nosebleeding, flashbacks, first kiss, date, fear of heights, fair date, author is fucking trying, fluff.

Notes: I think my bosses want me dead. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I can handle family. Who can't handle family?

The part of me knocking on the green door illuminated only by the orange streetlight a few yards away, trying to peak through one of the three window slots on the door to see if there's any sign of life inside of the modest house, praying that there is out of selfish desperation. That's who.

I hadn't called. Hadn't given notice. I'd been too caught up in the emotions of myself to do so, worried I'd be turned away if I had. The thought makes me feel ill now, my mind chastising me for such a self interested act.

For a moment I almost turn to leave, sure that no one is awake and that I've simply wasted the gas in the trip over here. But at the loud clunk of the door unlocking, I feel my heart jump and sink simultaneously as Mike peaks his head through the crack in the door, bags under his eyes and hair tossled from sleep.

"Hey," he croaked, blinking away the sleep as his tired face managed a look of surprise.

"Hey," I said softly, trying not to let my voice crack. But it does. "Is this a bad time?"

I don't know what gives my state away. Maybe it's how swollen my face is, puffy and burning from the overexposure to salt water. I can already feel the skin on my eyes balloning in a disastrously unattractive manner. Maybe it's the snot that's still on my face even after trying desperately to wipe it away, my problem being I'd run out of napkins in my car some time ago and hadn't replaced them, so I'd been resorted to just trying my best to sniff back the snot or use the arm of my jacket, which is now soaked and covered by my hand to conceal it, to wipe it away. God, it's fucking sticky and I feel gross. I don't understand why the snot won't just stop fucking flowing.

"Shit, you're bleeding," Mike says. His eyes widen as he steps forward, instantly dragging me into the house, down the hall and into the bathroom.

Oh. That's why my head hurts.

The white light is blinding and overstimulating in the small, disorganized room. One glance in the mirror and I can see the bottom half of my face is grossly smeared in the snot-blood combo running from my nose, my eyes bloodshot and more dry than a British comedy from all of the tears. I stare at myself for a moment, hardly even realizing Mike is yanking my coat off of me, stroking my hair and trying to ask me questions about what happened. I can hear his voice but the words are muffled, and even though my eyes are staring at him now, I don't know when I turned to face him or what I'm really looking at. I'm just staring at anything. My mother used to call it 'staring off into space.' It's actually a disassociation episode. The kind that can make me lose myself in other thoughts, making me distant from reality where I assume the worst of things.

I'm rational enough to know not to lean into him. If I throw myself into his arms I'll smear my shit everywhere and then he'll be grossed out and will have to play nice after I interrupted his sleep to beg for comfort that should come easily enough from my aforementioned mother, but clearly I'm adult enough now that I don't need coddling and I shouldn't have driven here and-

Am I saying this out loud? Because my mouth is moving and I'm trying to say something but I'll be honest, my head is in disarray and Mike looks worried. Me too, buddy. Me too.

My hands try to help his find a wash cloth in his closet, trying to be useful, but they're covered in snot and blood too and it's dried and horrid looking and I just feel like some sticky toddler that's wailing over nothing because that's what I'm doing, and I'm trying not to dissolve into a new wave of tears because my eyes really, really hurt and I'm gonna end up hiccuping and sobbing and I shouldn't even be here right now.

Mike's hands wrap around mine and he's trying to pull me somewhere. But he won't get out of my way, tugging me forward and blocking me like it's some game. Then I realize it's him he's trying to drag me to, and I try to push away, not wanting to get him dirty or let him fulfill some duty of pity just because he feels obligated seeing me in such a state. He's touching my hair and there's snot in that too and this is all just entirely too much, making me burst out sobbing once more as I try to hide my face in my arm, feeling all too vulnerable and alone while in a house that's not mine in any way, shape or form. But his arms feel nice around me, and he's guiding me to the bathtub and helping me lay down inside of it. When he pulls away I'm paranoid for a second that he'll turn the shower head on and wash me like a drunk, especially when he reaches for the shower handles. He presses a clean, white cloth to the spout and let's just a little bit of water out to wet the washcloth before turning the water off and coming closer to me, dabbing and wiping gently at the drying mixture on my face.

There's a long while of silence. Him carefully washing me, his touch gentle and caring as I feel the wet glumps with dried crusts fade away. The pounding in my head begins to dull to an overwhelming ache, making me shut my eyes as I softly groan. When I think he's done I dare peaking at him from under my lashes, trying to read his mind. His brows are furrowed, probably in disgust. Lips pressed together as he sits on the balls of his heels,, watching me carefully. Most likely he'll let me sleep on the couch and then kick me out in the morning. I'll be lucky if I get the "We should see other people" speech. I wouldn't blame him if my calls just couldn't connect when I get home, leaving me to wonder what could've been if I hadn't been so selfish.

I don't even know the time for fucks sake.

"I'm not crazy," I say in this broken voice that only a crazy person would have.

I don't know what's funny, but he's laughing. His hand reaches out to stroke my cheek, and he feels so warm. His callouses have this smooth texture to them. Working hands. It's the first thing I noticed when we held hands the first time. It was at some carnival thing, and Abby was with us. It was sweet under those neon lights. The rides always look so cheap, but there's something enchanting in that. It's what I focus on now as my mind finally begins to relax, allowing me the guilty pleasure of mentally slipping away into an actual memory instead of just static filling my mind and drowning everything else out unpleasantly.

"I know," Mike says softly, his thumb stroking the raw skin under my eye as he watches me with a gentle smile, one probably meant to hide his contempt. "You're okay."

The rides had these giant speakers built into them. And the workers would play songs from them, loud enough it was blaring in your ear on the ride but it was a reasonable volume when you were just walking around on the wet, overgrown and matted grass that curls around the giant cables Mike and I both had to be irritating about reminding Abby not to trip on, both of us looking down to watch for them more than looking at anything else.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Mike asks gently. He's always so gentle. Well, not always.

"Ope, someone lost their drink," I said to Mike, pointing at a spilled lemonade on the dirt path that had been created by decades of the county fair foot-traffic.

"Five second rule," Mike said, his voice low and teasing in my ear, making me burst out laughing.

"That's fucking disgusting!" I exclaimed, looking at him incredulously. A mother passing by snapped 'hey!' At me, tugging her child harshly behind her as she glared. I blushed, covering my mouth with my hand at the outburst, which made Mike laugh just as hard as I just had.

I suppose I have to talk about it. I can't really just not show up at his doorstep in the middle of the night and not just explain myself. But my teeth feel cemented together, my throat full of glue that halts the words I could use to inform him of why I look like this. And my eyes are too tired to make contact with his. So I just melt into his hand, pressing it between my cheek and my shoulder. And he doesn't press any more.

"I always liked the rides that made me feel like I was flying," Mike said as we watched Abby spin round and round with some girl she often spent her days with. Lisa Something.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning to look at him, taking a drink from the giant lemonade that was not at all real lemonade and was instead some horrid sugar that's taking five years off of our lives mixed with whatever makes the color of the drink the same as construction workers glow-in-the-dark vests that I'm sure will have like, ten different studies on how it gives you some cardiovascular disorder from overexposure in twenty years. There's a waxy ring of chapstick around my straw, so it's easy to tell which one to drink from. Mike had gotten just the one giant drink and two straws, shoving them in with a smooth smile as he handed me the already sweaty, Pepsi branded cup to hold while we walked. I think he didn't know that I noticed the twelve year old boy who'd been five people ahead of us in line do the same thing with his date earlier, but it was a cute gesture nonetheless.

"Yeah. I don't know why, it just felt comforting. Wind fuckin' up my hair and shit," he said, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he watched the two girls, who are sticking their tongues out at us as they whirl by.

"What, like you were flying away from your problems?" I ask, genuinely guessing.

"Nah, I don't really think of it like that. Just felt like I was somewhere else for a bit. Could close my eyes and the only anxiety I felt was whether or not Genie there was gonna fucken drop me," he said, glancing at me and smirking as he points at the giant airbrushed painting of Genie from Aladdin on the side of the ride. That's definitely not licensed.

"Have you eaten?" Mike asks softly, coming a little closer to me as his other hand cups my opposite cheek. At that I shake my head, pressing my lips together.

"It was all just some giant fiasco," I said as I laughed while trying to aim my basketball for the hoop several feet in front of me. Mike's made like five goals in a row and is proudly holding a very cheap rainbow dolphin with lopsided eyes for me while he watches me struggle just to get one.

"What, your prom date?" He teased, leaning closer to my ear as I take a shot. And miss. Again. "Or this?"

I turned to him, glaring and trying to suppress my amused smile.

"The date was fine, my hair was horrid," I said, turning away from the man working the booth who was trying to convince me to try again.

"I always like your hair," Mike says softly, one hand stroking my hair as he presses his forehead against mine. God, why won't he just tear into me already? The anticipation is fucking killing me.

I open my mouth to respond, but I just hiccup instead. At that he gently helps me up, guiding me out of the bathroom and leading me into the kitchen where he promises a leftover bowl of chicken noodle soup has my name written all over it in the fridge.

There's a thousand insecure questions I want to ask right now. Does he hate me? Will he hate me? Is this just a prelude to an awful breakup? But instead I just cling to my thoughts quietly, not wanting an answer to anything. Reality fading in and out of focus.

The kitchen is quiet as he moves about, dishing out the leftovers and putting them in the cheap, stained microwave he'd had to buy when Abby blew up the last one with a pitiful attempt at making her own rice Krispy treats. He leans against the counter as we wait for the rattling machine to finish, neither of us really saying anything as my leg bounces wildly in anxiety.

"Are you okay?" Mike asks softly after a moment, tilting his head. His arms are crossed in front of him, which is normal for Mike but it still makes me on edge.

I try again to speak, but I can't. It feels like I'll just blow up again if I do. So I just shrug instead, not wanting to talk about the lengthy screaming match I'd managed to find myself in earlier that night.

The microwave beeps loudly, causing us both to start, Mike pulling the door open quickly to shut it up and take out the now hot bowl, hissing under his breath at himself for not grabbing a towel as he quickly moves to set it down in front of me. If I'd been in a better state I would've laughed at the admittedly comical sight, but I felt like I'd done enough at his expense for one night.

Once situated, there's long while of silence. No other noise except for my spoon clinking against my bowl as I eat quietly, Mike watching me across the glass table as he takes a few drinks from his clear glass of water, head on his large hand. A clock ticks in the other room, the hour later than I'd wanted to be when I showed up unannounced.

"I'm sorry," I finally say in a soft voice, my spoon scraping soundlessly against the maroon bowl. "I just didn't know where else to go."

He smiles softly at that, his hand reaching across the table for mine. The touch meant to be comforting instead sends me back into my thoughts, my body stiffening as my mind tries to distract me from my anxiety and doubt.

Our hands had been brushing against each other for hours as we'd walked. Both of us were too nervous to take the others, which is a bit silly since we were grown adults. But really we hadn't had any serious discussions yet. We were still in the dinners and texting phase, dancing around any serious 'what is this' talks until we felt like we would both have similar answers ready for any questions. The night had settled in solidly now, the fairgrounds only alive by the bright lights of the rides.

The grazing, however, had come to an end when the ferris wheel started clicking towards what felt like my untimely demise.

I fucking hate ferris wheels, fun fact.

I don't think Mike particularly likes them either, based off of how stiff his body was next to mine, his eyes trained dead ahead, his jaw clenched. I think he might break a tooth. Or maybe I'm projecting.

Abby and Lisa had been insistent on riding it, and had been even more insistent that Mike and I needed to ride something with them before the night was over. And even though we both looked at the thing with a pit in our stomach, neither of us felt ridiculous about being grown adults on that ride as opposed to all the others flooded with teens and kids dodging in and out, stomping in puddles of who knows what on their way to the next ride. So we gritted our teeth, handed over our tickets and got into the cart right behind Abby and Lisa, who wouldn't stop looking back at us with amused eyes, whispering into each other's each as they covered their mouths.

"My dad worked as a carnie," I blurted out as we hung mid air, halfway up the ride while they still loaded people in. "These things are fucken sturdy."

Mike didn't look at me. Or at least he didn't turn his head. I didn't either. His silence makes my anxiety a bit worse, wondering if my random fact had somehow irritated him, or if there was something I was supposed to do that I wasn't picking up on.

"... I'm gonna die to Creed," he finally said between his gritted teeth.

My brows furrow for a moment before I realize what song is playing, and then I'm laughing. Maybe a little too much, but that's the anxiety. Abby and Lisa are darting their heads around to look down at us, trying to see what's set me off, and Creed's taking One Last Breath on the blaring radio somewhere around us as they have been for the past however many months with the top song.

"I'm never gonna escape this, they play this way too much at work," I laughed. And he started laughing too, both of us white knuckled as we gripped the bar in front of us. Then we move up again, and the cart is slightly rocking, making me feel ill.

"That's okay," Mike says softly, his thumb trailing across my knuckles as I stare down at our hands. "I was missing you, anyways."

I look up at him, trying to read his expression, my head still trying to balance my focuses. There's concern in his eyes, obvious as he realizes how awful this particular episode is.

Abby is yelling something at us, but my head is buzzing with too much anxiety to hear her.

"Go away!" Mike yells back at her, waving his hand in irritation, then stopping as he realizes he's rocking the cart. He looked back at me anxiously, trying to smile. It just looked like he'd been shot instead. "Sisters," he said shyly.

"What's she saying?" I asked him, leaning closer to hear him better over the heavy guitar.

"Nothing," he insisted. "She's just being twelve."

I go to look up, only to feel his hand on top of mine, warm and strong as he grips it a little too hard for the first time, but I think that's out of anxiety too. No matter what, the first move makes me more dizzy.

"Your dad worked fairs?" He asked anxiously, obviously trying to change the subject.

"I should've called first," I say softly, leaning onto the table and pushing the empty bowl away from me as I lay on top of my arm.

"It's okay," he reminds me in a soft voice, rising from his chair while still holding my hand. "You're home now."

"Well, I'm at your home now," I hiccup into my arm. His arms wrap around me, guiding me up and into his warm embrace that I'd been longing for for what felt like hours.

"I thought you said you liked flying!" I laughed, terrified.

"Flying! This is sitting still while dangling above death!" Mike clarified. The carts began clicking again, and we now had an easier view of the two girls in front of us, making him gasp and yell out Abby's full name in scolding.

I see why he didn't want me to look up. Abby and Lisa are miming a make-out session while they giggle obnoxiously.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna fucking ground her," he groaned, covering his forehead with his other hand. His face is completely red, his body so stiff it feels like I could break off his arm with barely any pressure, and my own heart is slamming so hard against my chest I think it's visible.

One more click and we'll be at the top. Great.

He's looking down at me, I think he's trying to get me to refocus but I just can't. I've done my duties for the night, and now I'm stuck in this emotional pit of hatred and numbness as my mind tries to remind me of a better time that just makes me feel worse because Mike is speaking again and I just can't hear him.

"She's being a wingman. Really, she's just spotting a good opportunity," I rambled in Abby's defense. Mike glanced at me, then at the tweens in front of us.

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice nerve wracked.

"Oh yeah. Every little sister does it. I mean, it's partially based in torture, but overall she's trying to help," I said quickly, my breath shortening.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking just as pale as me.

"I fucking hate heights, please distract me," I pleaded quickly, only to immediately feel his teeth click loudly against mine as he kissed me, his lips sweet with sugar and hands nearly breaking mine from his tight grip, Abby and Lisa whooping obnoxiously in front of us as we freeze in the moment. It's clumsy, certainly. And it's obvious on both ends how long it's been since either of us have done this. But it's an effective method, my mind beginning to refocus on the taste of the borderline awful lemonade fresh on his breath, his shaking hand moving from the bar to cup my cheek cold from the wind. My eyes widen in surprise, the music swelling around us and the lights somehow brighter as we rock above the rest of the fair in the squeaking booth.

When he pulls away, there's a soft smile on his face, his tongue quickly darting out to taste his own lips.

"... I like your chapstick," he said shyly, neither of us focused on the fact that we're now moving steadily in the ride, fully tuned in to the other.

"Thanks," I said softly, cheeks burning against his touch. "Strawberry."

There's a long second of nothing, and I'm vaguely aware of Abby and Lisa screaming "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" And someone is trying to shush them. I know it's not Mike because he's staring at me like an idiot. Completely satisfied and dramatically more calm as he leans in for another kiss, this time pulling me fully into his embrace.

"You're home," Mike repeats against my lips, then moving to trail along my cheeks, his hands carefully cupping my face once more as his touch grounds me back in reality. "I'll be here when your mind gets back."

As my own hands graze along his soft, cotton shirt, I feel my pulse begin to relax. Doubt beginning to creep away as his lips trail along my jaw, slowly working to my neck. It's not a demanding touch. It's just comfort. And he'll keep doing this until I return to him like I always do, and then he'll keep doing it until we both fall asleep in a tight embrace under a dozen blankets, half of which will be gone by morning as we wake in a pool of sweat across the bed from each other, only to seek the other out again in wakefulness. And there will be answers for his questions, and I'll be fine.

I'm home now.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I FINALLY FUCKING PUBLISHED SOMETHING. HOLY FUCK I'M OVERWORKED. (Fun fact, this was fucking hard because I was actively disassociating while writing the whole thing. Reader just like me frfr)

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool. Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

#josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #jhutch #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #jhutch1992 #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf mike #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you

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robobarbie · 4 months

Note

I just wanted to ask if the bp LIs would still love me even if I’m conventionally unattractive. I just see them complimenting MCs looks a lot and I just wanted to know. TY!! :)

I've myself dated many conventionally unattractive people, but still called them handsome and sexy and all that because that is truly how I felt. It's to the point that a lot of my close friends have called my exes ugly or fat or gross, and it hurts my feelings every time. Not for shame for dating them, but discouragement that people I care about can be so cruel to each other

A person becomes uniquely lovely when you have them in your heart -- so, yes, they would still compliment the person they like, regardless of what their features were. Because they are gorgeous to them

#bp ask #anon ask #im choosing to believe this was not a passive aggressive ask #LOL #if it was #brother #just come meet me in the parking lot we can be straight up aggressive with each other #then i can buy you a coffee at dennys and we can discuss life #i will make sure you get home before 3am dont worry

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Fixed: Jason Todd x reader

@jasontoddsthickbabe asked me for a story when Jason's girl find out she is pregnant, and once @pinksirensong found it out, supported this idea, so they left me no choice in the matter.

This can be read as part 2 of my ff Broken, since it gives the origins of the problem.

MINORS DNI!

***

Ever since he realized what was bothering her so much to push him away, Jason was doing anything he could to prove that she was the most important person for him.

Sure, it was hard, but he could never insist on having kids or parting ways with his love just because of something she had zero influence on. Obviously he supported her through the therapy and treatment which was a bitch. All those medicines and hormones made her mood swing, her weight go up and her hair fall. She hated herself. She hated what it was doing to her body and how unattractive she felt.

One night, when Jason came back from patrol, he found her in the bathroom, crying on the floor, squeezed in the corner between the toilet and the sink sobbing uncontrollably.

“Baby?” without second of hesitation he dropped down on his knees next to her, grabbing her face in his large, still gloved hands “Baby, look at me, what happened?”

“I’m hideous” she cried “I’m fat and ugly and I feel like crying all the time. Why isn’t is working Jace? It’s just so unfair, you know?” she hiccupped, looking as broken as his heart was becoming at the moment “there are so many people who don’t want kids. At all. And never care about them…..”

“Don’t I know that…” he muttered

“Oh my god! I’m sorry, Jace, I’m so sorry. I never should have brought that up. Stupid me, I’m so sorry!” she hid face in hands, unable to look him in the eyes after saying thing like that.

“Stop saying you’re sorry” he put an arm around her waist, pulling her in, so she wouldn’t lean on the cold tiles on the wall “You did not say a thing wrong. Just facts. And it is unfair. And I wish it wasn’t, cause if there’s anyone who deserves good things in life it’s you.” closing his eyes he kissed top of her head.

“You too….” She mumbled incoherently, still sobbing and shaking, just a little bit less “listen Jace, I won’t hold it against you if you want to back out….”

“We’ve been through this, babe. I already told you I only want you. ”

“I know, but I’m being a menace because of the treatment. A challenge. A torment. It’s ok if you don’t….”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He hissed and leaned in to kiss her.

To say it was fiery would be an understatement.

I mean, consider the fact he came back from patrolling, the adrenaline was still bubbling up in his veins and it seemed like putting all the energy and attention on her would be good for both Jason and his girl.

“Jason…..” she whined feeling how hard he was getting “not here…. Not like this…”

“Right.” Only now he realized he was about to fuck her on the bathroom floor next to the pot. It was definitely far from the good and romantic environment and not an efficient way to lift her mood up. Pushing her into the cold floor wouldn’t work for his benefit. So instead of laying her down, he did quite the opposite picking her up in his arms and carrying her towards the bed. “I’m gonna treat you right, Y/N.” his lips came back onto hers, slowly moving down, making her shudder in anticipation. “Fuck, you always make me want you. So bad, baby. So fucking bad….”

“Even with my gross look?”

“Shut up.” His voice became dark and that commanding tone made her pussy throb and ache for him. God, that was truly pathetic how needy and craving she was of his touch. Another side effect of all those pills. “You will shut up and do exactly what I tell you. Nod If you understand.” She nodded too overwhelmed with his body over hers. “Good. Now. You are way too overdressed for my liking, so how about we get rid of those layers?” one move of hand and her sleeping T-shit was gone “much better” he grinned, massaging those perfect, plump breast that came on full display “Mm, I love playing with your tits. All mine for the taking, aren’t they?“

“Jace….” She whined “more, please’ her back arched involuntarily, hips moving up, making it easier for him to pull down her pants. “tell me how you want me…. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

“That would be first, you tease.” He scoffed remembering all those times she acted like a brat during their lovemaking.

“I’m begging you. I want you too, baby. So bad. So, so bad.” She clawed on his back, getting irritated by the thick layer of his jacket and Red Hood suit “take it off.” Even that desperate tugging on the material did nothing to remove it, since his hands were still on her body, touching every inch of her skin. “I need to feel your skin on mine. Please, Jay….”

“I never said I’ll be good, hm? You pledged that, baby. So give me a reason to listen to you now.”

“Reason?” she moaned feeling his lips kissing under her breast, avoiding the most sensitive part of them, even if her nipples needed his attention as well. It was pure torture and all she could do was hope for the sweet release after. “I’ll give you a reason, damn it!” She wrapped legs around him, still in his clothes and pressed her whole body into him, grinding lightly to create any friction, hands on his face, kissing him with all the passion she had. Which was a lot.

Oh, he was getting hard due to her action, and his groans gave him away. Knowing his impatience and look of pleasure appearing on his face she knew it was a good way to convince him “Come on, baby.” She panted into his ear, hands running through his hair. “You said it yourself, you want me. You want to get home, right? Remember how good it feels? Warm and tight and nice and …..” she moved underneath him even more and finally pushed him past the last line of self-control.

“Ah! Fuck!” he hissed letting go of her body beneath him and tossing the jacket away. “You do act like a brat.” Piece by piece his body armor followed the jacket and more and more of his skin started to show. Fuck he was so perfect.

“But you like it, don’t you…” she smirked, finally able to get hands on his chest and abs, feeling the muscles and warmth of his body. It was so good and so familiar, tracing patterns there, causing his body to flex under her touch, leaving goosebumps everywhere she caressed him.

“Not tonight. I told you. Tonight, you will listen to me. I don’t care if you like it or not.”

“Show me who’s the boss then.” She whispered and fuck, did that turn him on, pants getting uncomfortably tight “someone’s excited?”

“Still talking?” he mocked “I’ll remedy that. I’ll make a mess out of you….” and with such words he dived between her tights finding that one spot that made her moan and writhe and scream his name with panted breath. He knew her body so well it was actually embarrassing. He could have her coming in minutes.

“Jason!” she cried, tears brimming in her eyes “Jace!”

“Keep saying my name” he commanded. “Just keep on doing that. This will remind you that you’re place in under me. Never dominating.”

“I don’t…..” she cried again but before she finished the sentence he pulled back, leaving her high and dry “Jason?” Y/n looked up at his slightly annoyed face.

“Why are you testing my patience, baby?” he grabbed her chin lightly and connected their foreheads. “I’m trying to make you feel good here and you just keep resisting. Do you want to be left high and dry?”

“I got toys, you know….”

“Are. Those. As. Good. As. Me?” he punctuated each word with another short brush of his hardness on her pussy “Can you look me in the eyes and say that?”

“No. No, no. I can’t. Those could never… ah, compare.”

“Than what do you want, love, huh?’ he moved closer and harder to tease her more.

“I want you inside me. I want you to take control. I want you to take me. Now.”

“And what do we say at the end of such sentence?”

“Please….”

“That’s my good girl.” In a blink of an eye his pants were gone and with how wet she was for him he slid inside her in one fluent movement, bottoming out instantly, stretching her and filling fully. “Isn’t it good?”

“ Yes, Yes, Jason, so good.”

“It’s gonna get better.” He grabbed her legs and put them around his waist, changing the angle and going deeper inside her.

“Stop bragging and just move for fuck’s sake!”

At first he wanted to pull out and leave her. She did not listen to him, again. However, all his self-restraint and self-control started to leave him the second their bodies became one, joint, together. It was not about teasing her or being mean. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, it was just a tad harder to admit it, since he was let down by people in the past. Trust and love and being in need of someone was still something he was learning. But with her? With her, he felt safe. Safe enough to get himself lost in her.

“Fuck. I love you.” he pulled back slightly just to pull back in. And again and again. Each trust faster, harder, stronger, getting them both closer to orgasm. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. Forever.”

“Yes! Yes!” her nails dig into his back. It was so good. He was so good with pleasuring her. “You are Jason. You are mine and I….ah! So close. Don’t stop.”

“Never. Let go for me babygirl. Now. Let me feel you.”

“Jason!” she screamed loud enough so that neighbors would judge her in the morning and came hard, with literal stars exploding in front of her eyes and he followed equally hard, right after. In fact took a few minutes for them to ride those highs down and get their breathing and heartbeat back to normal.

“That was….” She started when he pulled out and hugged her close to his chest. “Wow. I don’t think we ever….So intense.”

“ You know I would give you everything, right?’ he looked straight at her. “All I’ve got. Everything.”

“If only I could say the same” she thought to herself, tighter wrapping arms around him.

***

“What the fuck happened?” he almost kicked the door to the hospital reception room. Half an hour ago he received a very disturbing call from Tim, who with shaky voice informed him, that Y/N had some sort of faint-like accident and were taken to the hospital.

“Would you calm down, Jason?”

“How the fuck do you expect me to calm down?! I got questions that someone needs to answer right now or the head will roll and blood will be spilled…..”

“He’s joking.” Tim grinned at one of nurses, who were already picking up the phone, most probably to call security “Just worried about his girl and acting emotional.” The nurse just put it down and walked away as fast as she could have not saying a single word “Calm down, you idiot or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Ha! Good luck with that. It will be the other way round if you don’t tell me where is she? How is she? Why didn’t she call me? Why…. Why did she came with you?”

“ She did not. She actually came alone, but I was listening the police frequency again and they reported someone being taken from some accident.”

“She was in an accident?! I’m gonna kill…..”

“She was not in an accident.”

“….you, Drake. I’m gonna kill you. TALK!” Jason almost grabbed Tim by the collar and almost pressed him to wall, but stopped himself at the last second, his hands itching.

“They were talking about casualties and some of the officers mentioned something about it being the hard day not only for them, but also for the girl next door who was having a meat wagon outside her house. It was happening in Y/N’s area so I just connected the dots and came here. And then I called you.”

Jason sighed deeply.

“Do you know something more? What happened? Why did it happen? Anything?”

“Not yet. Her doctor told me to wait.” To be honest Tim wasn’t surprised by his brother behavior at all. He would act exactly the same if something were to happen to Bernard. “It’s going to be alright.” He reassured Jason.

“You don’t know that.”

“I… I don’t, but she’s strong. She’s a fighter.”

“Tim. Stop. She’s fragile. She’s delicate. And she’s my one and only. I…. I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t. She would never make it easy on you and leave this way. Not to the one to get rid off this way.”

“Mr. Todd?” one of the nurses emerged from behind the door “You came with miss Y/L/N, right?”

“I did.”

“I can tell you that…..” she started but stopped in the middle of the sentence eyeing Jason who looked like he just came back from hell (which was truly not so far from reality) “and who may you be?” her tone changed into defensive.

“He’s the boyfriend!” Tim cut in, before his brother started causing drama. “He’s worried about her too. Is she alright?”

“Boyfriend, huh?” the nurse scoffed and crossed her arms “I strongly recommend you to behave and take responsibility, young man. She’s in this state because of you.”

“What…. what state?” Jason stuttered

“She can tell you herself, mister. You can go and talk to her. And I got my eyes on you.” she pointed two fingers towards her eyes and then at him, and damn that made him shake and start creating scenarios in his head. Was it that serious? He knew it was probably his fault, since he did not protect her from whatever danger got to her, but still….

“Come on, big guy, move!” Tim pushed him through the door to the padded room where Y/N was laying in the hospital bed. Pale and tired, but with the lightest smile on her face.

“Hi boys.” She greeted both of them, Tim standing back and raising his hand in greeting, Jason rushing to her side, almost ramming the doctor, grabbing her hands and scanning her face, begging for explanation with his eyes since words failed him.

“We’re good here miss Y/N?” the MD made sure it was safe to leave her with those two strangely looking men.

“Sure, doctor. I’ll be fine with them. I’m sure.”

“All right. I’ll have the prescription ready for you and remember what we talked about. A lot is about to change, dear. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you, doctor.” She smiled a bit and he left.

“Happy for you?” Jason frowned “Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re in a hospital. Since when is that a reason to be happy?”

“Y/N” Tim smiled, detective instincts kicking in “Are you…?”

“SHSH! Quiet, Tim! Let him figure this out by himself!”

“Figure what out?”

“’Jason. don’t freak out…” Y/N took his hand in hers and slowly, gently, lead it onto her belly, keeping it there. Then it dawned on him.

“Are you….” he gulped “pregnant?”

“I am….” Tears started falling from her eyes

“With my kid?” Jason stuttered, the reality slowly catching him up. Y/n was pregnant. His girl was pregnant! He was going to have a kid!

“And whose else you dumbass?!” Tim could not hold back a comment on Y/N behalf and she smiled at him in silent thanks that she didn’t have to be the one to roar Jason up.

“We’re going to have a kid. I’m going to be a dad.”

“Are you happy?” she asked quietly

“Am I….? Fuck, I’m the happiest man in the universe. And it’s all thanks to you. I’m gonna take care of everything, I promise. You won’t have to lift a finger. Do we know if it’s a boy or a girl? Is he or she all right? Healthy? Do you need any special meds to keep yourself safe and healthy during the pregnancy? What furniture do we need? Or toys? Do you think a giant teddy bear would be ok?”

“Jason” she cupped his cheek and giggled a bit “Calm down, it’s only the beginning .We can handle everything one step at time baby.”

“And I’ll be with you every step of the way. And later.” He raised her hands and kissed her knuckles “I love you, baby. You and the kid.”

“Do you want me to….” a soft voice came from behind

“GET OUT DRAKE! I’m talking to the mother of my child!”

“It’s gonna be nine long months…” Tim muttered walking out the door and rubbing his forehead knowing well enough that during that term Jason will be more annoying and abnormal than usual.

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