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tinyywriterr · 2 days

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WHO WILL IT BE?

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{Toji + POC Reader}

∘°∘♡∘°∘𝓒𝓗𝓐𝓟𝓣𝓔𝓡 𝓔𝓛𝓔𝓥𝓔𝓝 ~ 𝓓𝓔𝓒𝓘𝓢𝓘𝓞𝓝𝓢 & 𝓓𝓔𝓐𝓛𝓢∘°∘♡∘°∘

⟿ Song to Go with the Chapter: Off To The Races by Lana Del Rey [Toji + Reader theme song for this chapter] {literally like idk why I didn’t think of this song before}

⟿ Word Count: 4,900 +

⟿ First Toji + Reader smut scene | finally Toji fluff | Nanami + Reader smut scene

⟿ Summary: Over dinner Nanami asks Toji a question that really shocks you. They finally clue you in on their little scheme and you’re truly taken aback. You also somewhat come to the conclusion that you have feelings for Toji that same night. Around four months later Nanami decides to stay home just so you and Toji could go on a date together. Through out the past four months you’ve enjoyed having Toji around along with his son Megumi. It’s like you all are one big family which is something you could only dream about.

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𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: contains smut, pet names, fluff, cream pie, fingering, oral sex, dom/sub, light brat taming, fem reader, black fem reader/you, and etc. [please don’t read if easily triggered or not 18 +]

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𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: 18+ please & please don’t copy and paste my story anywhere else. This chapter is slightly shorter then the last chapter by about 400 words. Mainly because I wanted to write some sweet moments and some smut before shit hits the fan again. BUT ANYWAYS, this is my first tumblr fic so if you leave a heart, reblog, or comment it’s greatly appreciated! If there are any errors I am open to anyone correcting me in the comments, leaving feedback, or dming me. I hope you will enjoy this as much as I did when I wrote this!

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝒩𝒟 𝒪𝐹 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒦 | 𝒴𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝒫𝒪𝒱✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

When you woke up the next day and realized Toji didn’t leave so you knew Nanami was planning something. Throughout the whole week, all of you continued to have incredible sex and just enjoyed each other's company. Nanami finally was able to leave the house not worrying about you being home alone or bored. Along with being able to work on his bakery business having Toji around want half bad. Toji always took the opportunity whenever Nanami was gone to rock your world and when Toji would be gone for the day Nanami would do the same. It was amazing having the both of them separately or at the same time almost mind numbing truly. It was like the best dream ever but it came to life.

‘I wonder what Nanami said to him. I love both of them and could see a future with all of us together. But I could also just see me and Nanami together and inviting Toji over whenever. But there’s something about Toji,’ you think to yourself as you prepare dinner for everyone. Today you decided to make something you’ve been craving, Sunday dinner. It was something your mother would make on rare occasions or when you’d visited your grandmother. It consisted of baked chicken, yams, green beans, baked mac n cheese, and lastly some cornbread. It was kind of hard to find the cornbread box mix you liked so you decided to just follow a recipe of it you found online. You started early preparing the meal so it’d be ready around the time you and Nanami usually would have dinner. This is the first time you’ve cooked in a long time so you’re kind of nervous to see what the two men will think of an African American cultural dish. You plated the food and set down each plate at their respective spots before calling for them to come to the kitchen.

“Wow, y/n what smells so good?” Nanami asks as he comes into the kitchen waving the air to get a better smell.

“Fuck, I’m so hungry…” Toji groans as he takes his seat and digs in immediately.

“That’s what you get for not eating breakfast,” you tease smiling from ear to ear as you take your seat. Nanami sits down last rubbing your back as you begin to dig in as well.

“This is really good y/n! You said this was called ‘Sunday dinner’ back in the States? Maybe we should move there!” Toji jokes in between chuckles before returning his attention back to his plate. Nanami chuckles as well and starts to eat savoring every bite still lovingly rubbing your back with his free hand.

“Ya, it’s usually something you’d eat after church. My mom only made it a few times but when she did it was a cause for celebration,” you explain trying not to talk with your mouth open.

“This is really good and hardy y/n, you should cook more if you’re comfortable,” Nanami praises as he has finished his plate rubbing his stomach proudly.

“Where the fuck did your food go?” Toji says flabbergasted as he takes his last bite.

“I should be saying that to both of you,” you tease as you point at your food showing a still semi-full plate. Everyone erupts into laughter then soon after Nanami gets up to grab some whiskey from his office.

“I hope everyone wants a drink I already poured 3 cups,” Nanami says as he walks back with three glasses with 2 shots of whiskey in them. You and Toji nod thankfully as you both take a glass sipping on it and both of you puckering your lips after. “You guys are some wimps,” Nanami teases grinning softly before taking a long sip and not making a face after.

“You just like the taste. Grab me something to smoke it’ll go great with this whiskey,” You command waving at Nanami who shakes his head as he walks upstairs to grab you a cigarette. After a couple of minutes he comes back down and he grabbed three cigarettes. Nanami individually pass one to each of you before he lights your cigarette for you. He then passes the lighter to Toji to spark his own cigarette. Once the lighter found its way back to Nanami he lit his cigarette taking a long drag.

“So have you decided Toji?” Nanami asks turning to Toji lifting up an eyebrow. You stare back between the two men as Toji looks like he’s thinking about what Nanami just asked him.

“Yes, I have and it’s a ‘yes’. Now don’t try to kiss me or anything,” Toji teases standing up and walking to Nanami to do a very interesting brotherly handshake that Nanami awkwardly accepted.

“So…who’s gonna fill me in?” You inquire standing up and putting your cigarette on the ash tray. You have finished eating and picked up all the plates to put in the sink. You make your way towards the sink as you wait for an explanation.

“My love, me, and Toji made a deal. I proposed to him that we all could become a poly couple. I see how you look at him and how he looks at you. So, I asked him and he had until today to decide.” Nanami explains grimacing as Toji puts his arm around Nanami's back giving it a good slap.

You’re speechless for a second as your back is turned to them. You put the plates in the sink and stand there for a moment. ‘How did he notice? I mean I know I brought up the threesome but this is for real life crazy; it feels like Nanami can read my mind. Or am I just predictable?’ You question to yourself but you pull yourself out of that spiral turning around and smiling.

“So, that’s why hmm interesting didn’t see that coming at all. Crazy how you all didn’t feel like including me in the conversation but I’ll let it slide this one time. You should be glad I love you both,” you tease walking towards them both. “But Mr. Nanami you never cease to amaze me. I’m glad our fun doesn’t have to end and will only continue.” You add playfully then lean in and kissing him softly letting both of your lips dance together. You pull away suddenly kissing Toji on the lips as you palm Nanami’s dick only his pants being the barrier. You moan softly letting Toji slip his tongue into your mouth letting your tongues explore each other. You smile in the kiss before pulling away and palming them both. “Or maybe I won’t let it slide and torture you both…” you coo smirking deviously. Both men look at each other wide-eyed both wondering what you’ll do to them or not do to them. You pull your hands away swiftly and pick your still lit cigarette up off the ash tray and take a puff of it while twirling away from them snickering softly. “Nothing for either of you tonight,~” you tease loudly as you walk up the stairs. Slamming your door you lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling.

‘I can’t believe Kento would ask that question that’s so left field of him. And I can’t ignore my fucking feelings for Toji. FUCK, how will this turn out?..’ you think as you continue to puff your cigarette.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝟦 𝑀𝒪𝒩𝒯𝐻𝒮 𝐿𝒜𝒯𝐸𝑅 𝑀𝒜𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝐼𝒯 𝒥𝒰𝒩𝐸 | 𝒴𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝒫𝒪𝒱✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You wake up slowly rubbing your hand on Toji’s chest and your leg on Nanami’s leg as you all had a sleepover in the sex dungeon. Fully awake now you look at the two men sleeping like babies as they both snored softly. You stare up at the ceiling recounting how life has been as of recent. Nanami is about to open his bakery and Toji has finally moved Megumi in but sadly it’s only during the summer break. You slowly slither out of the grip the two men had you in and throw on a silk robe. You open the door quietly you walk out of the room doing the same as you close the door. You make your way up to your room and close the door plopping on the bed lost in thought. You hear your phone buzz and roll over to grab it. After getting up again fully with phone in hand you walk over to the big windows facing the backyard. You unlock your phone the time reads 9 am and a ton of notifications flood in. You have a couple of texts from Angel, one from Trina, and a couple from your sibling group chat.

You smirk softly as you open Angel’s it reads; ‘girl when are you coming to see me I miss you!!!’ sent at 10:30 pm ‘I know you’re enjoying your soft life but don’t forget about me!’ sent at 1:45 am ‘YOU ALSO GOTTA TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!’ sent at 5:00 am.

While chuckling soft you respond with saying. ‘You’re so silly I'll come see you sometime soon I'm gonna be in the city next week anyways!! We should go get drunk or something. AND BITCH THERES A LOT TO TELL!’ You send the message then go to Trina's message.

It reads; ‘Good morning girlfriend! What hairstyle you wanna do next week?’ sent at 11:00 am.

You respond with; ‘Good Morninggggg! I'm thinking crochet locs. What you think?’

You send it and swipe to your sibling's group chat with your brothers. You have tons of messages from Angelo they read; ‘You forgot all about us!!! It’s okay though I know you’re busy and a grown up now. I can’t wait to see you! Nanami has taken great care of us and I’m happy you found him,’ from Angelo sent at 7:30 pm.

‘Daran is forcing me to do homework tell him TO LEAVE ME ALONE,’ from Angelo sent at 8:54 pm.

‘Don’t listen to him enjoy yourself big sister we both just miss you," from Daran sent at 9:15 pm.

You laugh loudly as you read the messages and you respond saying. ‘Mannn Angelo do your homework and I miss you both very much. And could never forget y’all I hope you know I love you both equally. I can’t wait to see you guys too! I might actually come to you all but don’t quote me on that.’

Once sent you hear a knock at your door; “come in!” You yell turning around as the door opens.

“Hello Mx. Nanami, I am hungry…” Megumi practically whispers as he looks around the room.

“Okay, I can make you something what would you like?” You ask as you walk towards him beckoning him to follow you.

“Hmmmm, pancakes please..” he says skipping a little as he follows you down the steps. You both enter the kitchen and you start to gather the ingredients to make breakfast. With Megumi sitting on the kitchen counter he just watches as you make his pancakes. “You’re very pretty Mx. Nanami. Will you be marrying Mr. Nanami soon?” Megumi inquires leaning closer to you and waiting for your answer. He’s the spitting image of his father and Toji was right he’s not as loud. But having him around reminds you of the old days of taking care of your little brothers.

“I sure hope so wanna know a secret?” You ask leaning in closer to him making Megumi become wide-eyed. “I really love Mr. Nanami..” you whisper leaning back and smiling then refocusing on flipping the pancakes making sure they don’t burn. Megumi has a shocked look on his face clasping his hands together before jumping off the counter.  

“I’m going to tell Nanami!” Megumi teases grinning devilishly just like his father.

“Ooooh no you won’t! Also, he’s still sleeping and your pancakes are ready!! Sit down at the table,” You say shaking your head as you point towards the table. Megumi huffs and puffs as he makes his way to the table thanking you as you place his plate on the table. He takes his time eating looking around and savoring every bite. You sit down next to Megumi both of you chatting and laughing as he finishes his food.

“I’m gonna go play now,” Megumi announces once bored with the conversation and running to his room slamming the door shut. You can’t help but laugh as you stand up pick up his dirty dish to put it in a pile in the sink. Once the plate hits the sink you suddenly hear a door swing open. You whip around to see Toji beckoning you to come to the sex dungeon.

“He’s upstairs playing he’ll be busy,” Toji says raising a devious eyebrow. Rolling your eyes you walk towards the room still in your robe. As you walk in Nanami walks out stopping you to kiss your cheek before you both continue walking.

“I’ll be look out and I’ll whistle if anything goes wrong,” Nanami explains before closing the door and locking it softly behind him. You turn your attention back to Toji who’s already pulling his boxers off.

“Come over and relieve me brat,” Toji commands as his boxers fall to the floor. You walk over to him and he shakes his head. “Turn around and do it again. But crawl to me this time and take that stupid robe off,” Toji teases winking at you. “I’ll take you out after I wanna have some alone time with you. I already told Nanami he’s gonna take Megumi to the bookstore," he explains in a sincere tone. Within seconds you have already turned around and got on your hands and knees.

“I’d enjoy that very much daddy,~” you coo winking back at him as you crawl towards him keeping eye contact the whole time. As you get right under him practically under his balls he points his dick down to touch your lips.

“I get your mouth today, we did rock paper scissors,” Toji explains as you part your lips softly licking his tip. “Ughhh don’t tease me brat you know I can’t take it,” Toji groans bending his knees slightly to force his dick deeper into your mouth. You smile softly before taking as much as you can into your mouth. Your jaw still hasn’t gotten used to Toji or your throat so you're expecting to be a little hoarse after. You hollow out your cheeks before placing your right hand around the rest of his length and playing with his hairy balls with the other hand. You earn a moan and a buck of the hips out of him making you moan softly. You bob your head at a decent pace not wanting to tire yourself out. Toji had other plans like always, he grabbed the back of your head as he meets each bob of your head with a deep thrust of his hips. You gag softly trying not to make too much noise as slobber starts to spill out your mouth. The lewd sounds coming from you two was always so enchanting and arousing. You swirl your tongue as best as you can still trying to keep up with Toji’s thrusts. “Fuckkk y/n your throat is so good,~” Toji praises loosing his grip on the back of your head and beginning to pat it instead. You quicken the pace as you feel his dick swell and decide to grip Toji’s hip with your right hand. You try your best to deep throat as much of his length down your throat. “Such a good brat, I saw you roll your eyes earlier at me you thought you’d get away with that?” Toji teases slightly tapping you on the cheek with a free hand. You look up at him and wink making him melt instantly he whispers a string of curse words tilting his head back. “You know me so well beautiful,” he says between groans trailing off at the end. Toji’s dick twitches as cum shoots out of it making your eyes water and gag hard. He bucks his hips again making cum shoot out your mouth and dripping down to your chin and to your chest. You swallow as much as you could as he slowly pulls his dick out. You open your mouth showing the cum you still have left to swallow. Toji bends over and grips your cheeks lightly making you keep your mouth open. He slowly lets a line of spit fall in before bending up again and smacking your cheek lightly. “Swallow,” he commands while patting your head. You do as he says and then slowly stand up wobbling a little as your legs had fallen asleep.

“I’m glad I can please you, daddy.” You say smiling softly as you use your finger to wipe from your chest to your mouth seductively before licking your finger. Toji groans smirking at you before kissing you passionately and full of desire. You bite his lip softly making him grunt before grabbing your throat softly. He bites your lip back and nipping at it before pulling away.

“Fuck, get dressed I’ll meet you outside. Wear a dress a white one with a matching thong and bring a pack of smokes with you too,” Toji says as his choke turns to caressing your cheek softly. “I love you in a dress,” he says as you put your robe back on and walk out the door. Nanami and Megumi were already gone you yelled at Toji from upstairs that he could come out. You rummage through your closet looking for a cute white dress. You picked a short one that stopped at your upper thigh and was flowy so you could feel cutesy more than sexy. You walk back down the stairs and see Toji wearing black jeans and a gray tee shirt smiling at you.

"Zip the back up for me please," you ask showing your unzipped dress.

”You look gorgeous, breathtaking actually. We’re going to the horse track," Toji states as he zips your dress up slowly savoring the sight. "JUST TO WATCH NO GAMBLING!” He says before yelling the last few words as he steps away.

You laugh before walking to grab some white slip-on mules; “NO GAMBLING TOJI!” You tease matching his energy as you open the front door and walk to his car. You lean against the car waiting as he grabs his keys and walks out slamming the front door. “You need to work on that,” you say in a playful tone as Toji opens the car door for you.

“What exactly brat?” He asks mocking your tone and then staring you down hoping you’d crack.

“Slamming doors.” You say in between giggles as you get comfortable in the car, lean back into the seat, and with that, Toji slams the door making you erupt into laughter. You both make your way to the horse racing ring and Toji holds your hand leading the way. He plops down in a seat and you sit next to him. You pass him the pack of smokes before grabbing two out of it for yourself knowing you're not getting that pack back. You both watch the race betting against each other who would win; not with money of course. It helped him not gamble and it was like harm reduction and thankfully, it was fun to go out with Toji. You guys talked the whole time making each other laugh and smile. Soon all the races were done and Toji got up helping you up as he did.

“I’m hungry,” you say pouting as you both walk to the car.

“Nanami made lunch come on I know you get HANGRY,” Toji teases opening the car door for you. You plop in crossing your arms as you stick your tongue out and once again he slams the door. The drive home is quick once home you barely even wait for Toji to park the car before you’re running towards the house. You basically burst in making Nanami and Megumi snap their neck towards the front door. Toji runs in after you rubbing the back of his head. “She’s hungry, really hungry,” Toji teases playfully following behind you as you walk into the house.

Nanami laughs pulling your chair out for you as you plop down he pushes you toward the table. A beautiful sandwich sits before you with your favorite chips [insert your favorite sandwich & chips]. Your mouth practically waters as you dig in not noticing Toji passed you a soju to wash it all down. Once done everyone just chuckles as you lean back in the chair and your mood changes completely smiling at everyone. “Thank you, sorry Megumi you had to see me so hangry.” You say laughing at yourself a little Megumi just shrugs his shoulders chuckling a little too before returning to reading his book. Nanami rubs your shoulders making you lean your head back to look up at him resting your head on the back of the chair.

“You had fun today?” Nanami asks smiling down at you still rubbing your shoulders and giving a slight massage. You nod your head ‘yes’ closing your eyes and smiling softly back at him.

“I’ll chill with the kid you guys go fuck off somewhere,” Toji says waving his hand at you guys to leave. Both you and Nanami chuckle before you stand up taking your plate to the sink and dragging Nanami around behind you. “You see kid those two need help,” Toji teases making Megumi laugh. You both begin walking upstairs and thankfully Nanami didn’t forget the soju. You open your bedroom door closing it shut and locking it once Nanami is fully inside.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day..” you whisper leaning close to Nanami making him blush.

“Oh really? I’ve been thinking about you too you know. You must have something on your mind,” Nanami inquired before kissing your forehead. “Come lay with me let’s talk a bit,” Nanami commands as he lays on the bed making himself comfortable. You grab another cigarette for yourself out of the vintage cigarette dispenser and pass one to Nanami sparking both of yours. You both talk about mindless things and feelings as you drink your soju. Soon you are both cuddling into each other loving the private intimate moment.

“I have a question y/n?” Nanami asks softly in between kisses on your head as you snuggle into his chest.

“Shoot.” You say in a sleepy tone as you have drunk your soju way too fast.

“What is it you’d like to do? I feel like you have more to show the world,” Nanami says turning your head up towards him looking deep into your eyes.

“I used to sew my own clothes when I was younger I always enjoyed creating I just have to find the motivation,” you explain before kissing his chin.

“I can definitely see you doing that. If you ever want to talk about it let me know, okay?” Nanami says sincerely making sure you understand he’s here to help. As you nod your head ‘yes’ he slowly lets go before snaking his hands around your waist. “Why are you so soft?” He asks softly before kissing your cheek. “You said you were thinking about me. What were you thinking exactly?” Nanami asks as he whispers into your ear making a shiver go down your spine.

“Of you fucking me...I miss your touch daddy,~” you coo looking back at him. Nanami’s cheeks are flushed red as he smirks softly.

“Hmm, to fuck my princess or not?” He asks out loud pretending to think. You roll your eyes and turn away from him leaning back into his chest. You feel his hands slowly unzip your dress and pull one strap down. “Ooh no bra ah? Who was this for?” He teases as he slips your dress off leaving you in a white thong. “He must’ve told you to wear white. Toji has great taste cause you look delicious,~” Nanami coos before leaning you forward so he can stand up and strip. Once nude he slides back in bed beckoning you to get under the covers with him. “We gotta be quiet but that won’t be a problem will it princess?” He asks as he snakes his hand up and down your body. You both face each other smiling softly at one another before your lips collide. You have memorized the way his lips taste, how they feel, and how he moves them. You love every second of it moaning softly once he starts to caress your breast. Nanami shifts down so he can put one in his mouth as he plays with the other breast making sure neither was neglected. You moan softly as he does and continues to switch back and forth. Soon he snakes a free hand down to your thong tugging on it before he practically rips it off of you.

“You’re taking me shopping tomorrow,~” you say between moans smiling softly as he grunts in agreement. Soon he's feverishly kissing up and down your body.

“Of course, I’ll take you out to go shopping tomorrow. Lay on your back, my love. I love to see you melt underneath me,” Nanami commands letting go of you so you can do so. Once you’re on your back he hovers over your love spot. He spreads your legs apart propping them on his shoulders as he lays on his stomach. Nanami spreads your lips apart showing your glistening slick entrance gaping from arousal. “So hungry to be stuffed hmm?~” He teases looking up at you smirking deviously.

“Yes daddy please eat me out then fuck me till I can't speak,~” you beg as even his touch is driving you crazy. Not being touched after sucking Toji’s dick was like torture and they both knew that. Nanami chuckles before licking slowly between your folds and sucking on your lips. You buck your hips wanting more of him which makes him lift his head up.

“Patience princess,~” He coos before going back to eat you out slowly drawing out each lick and suck. You moan loudly as your clit begins to throb he chuckled at you as you bite your lip remembering to be quiet. Soon after getting tired of torturing you, he sucks on your clit slowly making you almost bite your own lip off. Your stomach starts to tense up and your legs tremble as you start to cum showering Nanami’s face in your juices. He licks his lips and slightly his chin before fully sitting up. “Spread those legs beautiful,” he commands as he crawls back on top of you. You do so and suddenly he swipes his swollen head against your entrance. Groaning softly he slowly thrusts into you inch by inch before picking up the speed holding your legs now. “Your pussy is so tight princess, fuck,~” Nanami whispers into your feet making your toes curl. He starts slamming into you stretching you and demolishing your walls what’s crazy is his full length wasn’t fully in you. You grab at the sheets trying not to lose your grip but fuck he’s killing you. Nanami chuckles softly before putting your legs on his shoulders and rolling so you're more on your upper back. With your ass, slightly in the air, he holds your legs to support himself as he’s somewhat planking on top of you. Your toes point towards the headboard as he slams into you slowly basically drilling down into you. Nanami has reached a deeper part of you plowing your cervix. As he does so he groans softly bowing his head more and closing his eyes. The lewd sounds of your bodies colliding alone were loud so Toji had to turn on a T.V super loud downstairs shaking his head. As he does this you have been rendered speechless mouth open but nothing coming out as your cervix is getting demolished. You let out a soft moan as heat erupted in the lower half you truly didn’t even know where. You clench around his dick as you cum your legs shaking as you slowly crumble underneath him. “You are so beautiful princess,~” Nanami coos between deep guttural moms. Soon his thrust becomes sloppy as he slowly descends back to fucking you in missionary. He bites your neck softly as he grips onto your love handles slamming deep within you and making your back arch. Nanami curses softly in your ear then says your name as he paints your insides white. Hot cum coated your cervix, your walls, and spilled out of your pussy making you moan softly. Nanami bucks his hips a couple more times before pulling out fully and falling next to you. “You feel so good princess I’m addicted to your love and touch,~” Nanami confesses in a breathy tone.

You smile at him as you crawl on top of him now laying chest to chest. “I’m glad I could please you daddy, it was really good. I love when you fill me with your cum,~” you say in between kisses. "I love you, Ken my heart is yours," you say softly inches apart from him as you both touch foreheads holding hands.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

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Once again I hope you enjoyed this one and can’t wait to upload the next chapter! Also let me know how you guys like the little fluff and the smut in this one overall. I liked this chapter going on a little date with Toji likeeee. And for story purposes Megumi is like 5 or 6 right now. I’m so happy people on here actually like this story or smut it warms my heart. But, don’t forget to comment, leave feedback, leave a note, or anything truly. It’s all appreciated! ( v ω v)//

[Please don't copy or plagiarize my work thank you. I don't own any rights to JJK and all photos are from pintrest or here I'll try to tag people if I can]

⟿ Link for my AO3 lovers: {also it’s 24 chapters posted on here}

⟿ Credit for the inspiration for the Chapter:

28 notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 7 months

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 12] Appropriate Behavior

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*hope this makes y'all feel better

Your date progresses as smoothly as it can after Satoru leaves. You try to joke around and completely ignore the fact that Satoru is in the restaurant– It’s hard to do when both of you constantly glance his way to see what he’s doing, to see if he’s looking over at you. You don’t catch Satoru staring your way, but Suguru does. Of course, Suguru isn’t going to comment on it.

Suguru suggests getting dessert elsewhere because the dessert at that restaurant sucks; it isn’t true, Satoru took you there once years ago, and it was delicious but you agree. Neither of you want to stay there while Satoru is there. You get ice cream at a nearby place, and you feel like everything is going like it was at the very beginning of the date. The laughter isn’t as forced and conversation feels more natural.

Your night must come to an end though, and you stand in the front of your apartment a little too early for your liking, but there’s nothing else for you to do. You don’t feel like the date can go any further, even though you had many more plans for tonight. It just feels like everything went south after Satoru walked to your table.

“So…” Suguru awkwardly stands with his hands in his pockets. He hates first dates because he has no idea how to end them. You sweetly smile at him, and he smiles back. “We should do this again.”

“We should.” You answer. And you awkwardly stand outside for a moment or so, before you muster up the courage to kiss his cheek. You unlock the door to your apartment and you wave at him, “We’ll keep in touch then.”

He tries his best to not smile like a fool while he waves back. You enter your apartment, and try to quietly shut the door, believing your son is asleep. But he isn’t. He’s on the couch watching a movie with his grandma who passed out right beside him. You walk over to them, grabbing the remote control and turning off the television. Unlike his father at that age, Ren doesn’t throw a tantrum. His eyes go directly towards you and he runs your way, and you pick him up from the floor. You kiss his forehead.

“Did you have fun?” You ask, and he nods in response. He then looks at his grandmother who is fast asleep. He points at her and you chuckle in response. “What do you say, should we wake her or let her sleep on the couch?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and you raise your brows.

“Well, is the couch comfortable enough to sleep on?” And maybe you shouldn’t have asked because Ren finds any surface comfortable to sleep on, so of course he nods his head in response. You kiss his little face over and over again, and you ask, “You wanna sleep with mommy tonight?”

“Yeah.” He answers, and you put him down on the floor.

“Will you get ready for bed and then go to my room while I wake up grandma?” You ask him, and he slowly nods his head. His tiredness gets to him, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier which makes it hard for him to keep his eyes open. He walks away and you attempt to wake your mom up.

“Mom.” You half whisper, patting her shoulder to wake her up. You have to do so a couple of times before she finally opens her eyes. She takes a moment to gain consciousness and when she does, she frantically looks around. You laugh, and you’re glad that it’s something that you can laugh about since Ren is fine. “Ren is okay.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I was so tired and he wore me down.” Your mother apologizes and you assure her that it’s okay; Ren is fine, there’s nothing you can reprimand her about. Sure, it’s dangerous to leave him unsupervised but Ren is a smart boy and she didn’t fall asleep on purpose. “How was your date?”

“Guess who we bumped into?” You respond and she ends up sighing. Maybe she should’ve warned you against dating Satoru, but since she watched you two grow up together, she thought that maybe things would work out. But they didn’t, and Satoru is entitled. He grew up spoiled, how could he not be? “It’s fine. He walked away without saying a word anyway. I don’t think he’ll do much.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t.” Your mother says, although she doubts it. She watched the boy grow up, and while she’s not sure if Satoru still cares about you or not, she knows that Satoru doesn’t like when people use his old toys. She yawns before saying, “I’m going to bed. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When you get to work on Monday, you’re mentally prepared to deal with a bitchy Satoru. You’re ready for him to act the same way he did when you first started working together. However, he isn’t. He isn’t quite nice either, he’s silent. He doesn’t say anything to you when he walks past you. You don’t know what to say to him either, so you don’t greet him.

For an entire day, you work well without anything personal getting in the way. You hate to say that you like this arrangement better because he’s not the same cold boss, but he isn’t the one that’s trying to joke around with you. He simply does his job and you couldn’t be more grateful. Him seeing you with Suguru was the final push that was needed. Whether you’re okay with each other or not, the fact of the matter is that business comes first.

You’re working late once again, and he’s asking a million questions. The charity event that’s coming up has to be perfect, it’s the first big event that’s hosted with Satoru in charge, and he can’t afford to screw that up. You keep yawning with every passing second since you’ve been here since the morning, and you’re sure that it’s almost midnight.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, and you shake your head even though your stomach growls. The last time you ate was more than eight hours ago. You don’t want to waste more time, you simply want to get home and go to sleep since you doubt your baby boy is still awake. “I am. You should order some food.”

You glare at him but regardless do what he says because you have no other option but to. He’s still your boss. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want.” He responds, and you’re about to argue that you don’t want to eat, but you do want to eat. You know you’ll end up wasting your time and energy by arguing that you’re not hungry. Getting something to eat is two taps on your phone screen, and then you can focus back on work. But it doesn’t seem like he wants to. You try to talk to him about the topic at hand but he doesn’t say anything. When you don’t get a response, you repeat yourself, but he replies with, “I’m too hungry to work right now.”

“I don’t see the point in continuing this. We can always start early tomorrow.” You say. It’s not like you can leave when you just ordered food. Satoru raises his eyebrows but instead of agreeing or disagreeing with you, he says,

“Contact the front desk, tell them you’re expecting a food delivery.” And you do as he says. Since he doesn’t want to continue working while you wait, you stand up from your chair and you begin to walk out of the office. You plan on calling your mom (who took after the nanny when the sun began to go down), talking to your son, and then playing some stupid game when Ren gets tired of talking to you. But Satoru speaks up, making you stop in your tracks. It’s a question that has been on his mind the entire day, “How was your date with my best friend?”

“Are you two still best friends?” You ask, turning to look at him. He crosses his arms, leaning back on his chair. You feel your face get warm as you realize you’re the last person that should probably ask that question. “It was fine. I don’t think that’s an appropriate question though.”

“Hmm… I don’t think you dating my best friend is appropriate.” He responds, and you roll your eyes. He stands up from his chair and begins to walk over to you.

“Why not?” You reply. He stands right in front of you, his hands in his pockets. He purses his lips together, wondering if you really asked that question. He opens his mouth to speak but you speak before him, “You’re really the last person that’s allowed to tell me what isn’t appropriate. I hate to remind you that months within our break up you were married to another woman.”

“Well, we were broken up. Not like I was cheating on you.” He argues, making you scoff. Right, just because he wasn’t cheating on you everything is good. The whole situation stops being fucked up. He stopped being your lifelong friend, cutting off all contact with you and getting married, but it’s all fine because at least he wasn’t cheating. “That’s my friend who you’re trying to get with.”

“The same friend who had a crush on me? Didn’t you get with me knowing that Suguru had a crush on me?” You point out, making him clench his jaw. “You’re really no friend, Satoru.”

“Mr. Gojo. We’re in a professional environment, don’t talk to me like you’re my friend when we’re not.” He corrects you out of spite, and you roll your eyes at him. He says through gritted teeth, “Would you have chosen him over me?”

“Didn’t you just say that we’re in a professional environment? Why are you asking me this question, Mr. Gojo?” You laugh in disbelief. He bites his tongue and you sigh in response before nodding, “I would have chosen him over you. Suguru has never and will never treat me the way you treat me. Do you remember why you stopped being friends with me when we were preteens? Because you didn’t want to be friends with the poor girl. Suguru never thought of me as less than, but you– You’ve always managed to make me feel inferior even when you weren’t meaning to.”

It’s all lies. Given the option you would choose Satoru over and over again.

“You’re basing your answer off something that happened when we were twelve?” He asks, and you nod your head in response. You won’t elaborate further about all the instances. It doesn’t matter anyway.

“This isn’t something that we should discuss. It doesn’t matter now anyway, what’s done is done.” You say. “You’re married. Why does it matter if I had chosen you or Suguru? We don’t end up together anyway.”

“Because it hurts me.” He’s honest, and you puff out a breath. You inhale and think of what to say next. You’re definitely not getting out of work after dinner so you might as well try to make things less awkward for the night.

“Let’s get even then. If we were eighteen again and Sayo was friends with you, would you have chosen me or her?” You ask, and you feel your heart get heavy. Maybe you understand why he feels hurt because knowing that a man you loved so dearly for so many years, wouldn’t choose you if he had the chance to go back in time. But it’s not your fault. He chose to leave you. He takes two steps closer to you, dangerously getting closer to you. “Would you have chosen me or Sayo?”

“You. I would’ve chosen you.” Satoru’s hands cup your face and you watch his face creep closer to yours. You watch him, and maybe you should push him away but you’re too dumbfounded to say anything. Before you can even say anything, Satoru’s soft lips press against your own.

Your eyes are wide open as you feel his lips on yours. Should you push him away? What the actual hell is he doing? He’s married– He’s fucking married and he said he would’ve chosen you. He’s a piece of shit. He’s a fucking jerk kissing another woman that isn’t his wife.

You aren’t proud as you shut your eyes, your hands going behind his head and pulling him closer.

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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frost-queen · 5 months

Text

The moment I knew // part 7 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @cayt0123, @powwowsworld, @yomamacrusty, @mileyy22, @omgsuperstarg, @helen06dreamer, @misscaller06, @l4venderia, @dracoflaco, @loliakeoghan23, @emotionaldamageemotionaldamage, @reallysparklychaos, @ok-boke, @the-fifth-marauder7, @asgards-princess-of-mischief, @cherrysxuya

Summary: The social season goes on continuing with another ball. Yet this ball holds some surprises. Will it make a change for the better? [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3& part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 8 & part 9 ]

Tap

Tewkesbury tapped his finger mindlessly against the hard glass. His mind somewhere else, vision unclear. The upmost bored expression on his face. He heard his grandmother tsk loud for him to change his posture. – “Sit up straight boy!” – she called out as the carriage took a turn, riding on a gravely road. When Tewkesbury wouldn’t move she revealed her fan, giving him a hard slap against the hand with it.

“Au!” – Tewkesbury snapped awake, startled by the sudden whip on his fingers. His grandmother hummed loudly with a glance that it was his own fault. He exhaled deep rubbing his poor fingers. He straightened his posture, leaning back against the fabric as the carriage toggled a bit. His grandmother gave him a look for off judgement. Tsking her tongue again.

Tewkesbury tilted his head slightly knowing she just had a comment burning on her tongue. – “It’s the third ball already. When are you going to show any REAL interest in a young woman.” – she emphasized on the matter of real. – “I sure hope you don’t thinking to form an alliance with that wild girl.”

Tewkesbury knew she was referring to Enola. – “She was quite nice to return my child back to me, but good heavens her features aren’t standard. She has a heart too wild. Marrying a girl like that will only give you trouble, I’ll give you that.” – she spoke glancing out of the window. The skies light dimming out. A greyness colouring all that was bright away for the night to take over.

Tewkesbury turned to look out of the window. Watching the street lights being lighted up with their bright fires. Two men standing on a ladder to give the lantern light. A couple walking arm in arm just passing them by. – “What about the season’s diamond? She isn’t the fairest…” – his grandmother brushed her skirt with her gloves.

“Whatever possessed the queen to chose her. No foul words to her majesty.” – she quickly added as if speaking ill of the queen would cause her harm. – “Yet, she would be a good match. Marrying the season’s diamond always hyphen’s up once’s status.”

Tewkesbury sighed deep as a sign of protest. He wasn’t at all interested in the season’s diamond. There was only one calling his heart, yet she no longer wishes to commit herself to him. Perhaps it was partly his fault. He still didn’t know what possessed him that faithful night at the first ball. He had been exciting all day eager to see you again. A year. An entire year he hadn’t seen you. Only making him yearn for your presence more. It was nice to have you around. His feelings still a bit unclear at that moment. In the beginning it was merely out of boredom.

That was how it all started at the opera. The moment he found a willingly victim to laugh with him. To make the dreadful opera bearable. At first he teased a lot. Playing in on the signals you were sending him. A young girl gushing over a boy. Probably the first boy around her age she had met. As girls at that age were, falling hopelessly in love with each boy that flashed them a smile. Then he started to get to know you better. See more sides of you.

It was perhaps then that he had already started to fall for you, yet it wasn’t known to him yet. A bundle of feelings he couldn’t name yet, tumbling in his stomach. Spiralling and tumbling. It became clear to him the moment you returned the acorn to him. That stupid thing he foolishly had given to you in exchange for his ring. His father’s ring he should’ve never parted from.

Holding the acorn in his hand and watching you dance with someone else made him realize what he was losing. How much nights he had wasted with not being near you. It had created a drift between the two of you. – “No foolish sauntering this time. I expect you to be married off by the end of the season. It is my dying wish.” – she had clasped her hands together, looking up to the ceiling. Tewkesbury scoffed silently.

“To have me out of the house.” – he mumbled to himself. – “What was that boy?” – she snapped at him. – “Nothing grandmother.” – he responded quickly avoiding her stern eyes. – “Thought so.” – she flapped out needing to have the last word. Tewkesbury turned to look out of the window again seeing how much the sky had darkened already. The blinding estate of the next ball coming up in sight.

You had followed your siblings inside. Hand on Anthony’s arm. He sighed loud upon entering. You quirked your lips teasingly up. – “Oh how dreadful it is.” – you acted out dramatically with the back of your hand against your forehead. Your little act made Anthony look at you, puzzled. – “Another ball I have to keep my sisters save from. God forbid they find a match and leave from under my wings.” – you added sounding as silly as you could.

Anthony stared in shock at you as Francesca laughed loud. – “It isn’t funny.” – Anthony told you sternly. It made you press your lips together to withhold yourself from laughing at him. – “Oh come on Anthony.” – Benedict pitched in grabbing him by the shoulder. – “I thought Y/n did a great performance of you.” – he chuckled afterwards squeezing his fingers in Anthony’s shoulder. You let go of him arm, standing in front of him to curtsy as if being applauded.

Anthony brushed Benedict’s hand off him with annoyance. – “Poor Anthony being so teased by his younger siblings.” – Colin interfered wanting to have a say in it. Anthony turned to look at Mother. Violet tried her best to hide her smile, yet failed miserably. To Anthony’s annoyance as he stormed off. – “Oh Anthony don’t be so… it was a mere tease.” – Violet called out going after him.

Benedict came to your side, holding his palm up to you. You pressed your palm against him, snickering at your own tease. Arms locked in you followed mother who tried to reach Anthony. Anthony took halt by a set of vases. Half filled with flowers and peacock feathers. Francesca came running up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. – “You are so easily teased.” – she said with a smile. Anthony looked up to the ceiling not wanting to give in, but when you joined her.

Wrapping your arms around him at his other side, he couldn’t withhold himself anymore. Holding both of you for a warmful hug. The moment was ruined when Benedict decided to join in from behind, giving him a good squeeze. Nearly making him fall forwards. He nudged his elbow back at Benedict to get him off his back. Benedict let go of him, winking at you. Benedict stretched out making Anthony roll his eyes at him.

“I thought you had learned manner yet.” – Anthony spoke. Benedict lowered his arms from stretching up. – “Oh brother you must know me.” – he chuckled out giving him a hard slap against his back. A gentleman came over around Colin’s age. He invited him for a game of cards. Colin accepted dragging Benedict with him.

You stood with Francesca and mama, watching the dancers. A girl you had met before once came running over. – “They have peacocks in the garden!” – she called out unable to control her enthusiasm. Francesca and you looked at each other with delight and shock. – “Girls!” – Mama called out the moment the two of you started to run. Wanting to get to the gardens and see a peacock for real. – “Oh I wish it would open it’s feathers.” – Francesca huffed out pressing herself between people to get across.

Holding onto her hand tightly, you were behind her, trying to squeeze through those your sister just went passed. You were near the glass doors that lead up to the stone pedestal with steps downwards into the gardens. Many people wished to gaze upon the peacocks to be found in the garden. Francesca and you came to a brief halt as you locked eyes with a certain girl on your right.

The one who had danced with Tewkesbury. Her expression neutral. She went on going through the glass doors as Francesca followed taking the doors on the left. You had remained still, allowing your hand to slip out of hers as she got swept up in the crowd. Somehow the moment seemed ruined. No longer you contained any excitement for the animals. Moving a bit backwards, you went back further in.

Yet you didn’t wish to return to your mother who was clearly searching for Francesca and you. Neither did you wish to return to your brothers. Not even being allowed in the rooms where they played cards and gambled on the side. It was a secret, a hush-hush but everybody knew about it anyways. You decided to leave the ballroom for what it was. The music fading out when you went into the corridor. Most of the doors were closed. Others were open.

A group of people chattering and laughing loud with drinks in their hands. You passed them all feeling no need of entering a room full of strangers without the presence of your brothers. By the end of the corridor you were intrigued by a door partly opened. Not enough to peer inside, but wide enough to see a warmth glow come from inside of it. You neared the door staring through the creak to have a look inside.

Eyes widening at the sight of Tewkesbury. You gasped loud when he suddenly turned around spotting you. It had startled you, making you bump your shoulder against the door and trying to make a run for it. Tewkesbury hastened himself to the door, opening it more. – “Y/n!” – he called out. It made you stop. – “I mean Miss Y/n.” – he corrected himself. You took a step forwards not sure if you wanted to be around him. A second step was impossible as you felt a force keep you in place by your skirt.

Looking over your shoulder down, you saw Tewkesbury’s grip on your skirt. Your gaze went up to meet his. Full of sadness his eyes were. Perhaps yours were too. – “Please…” – he whispered, a hush almost unheard. Taking a deep breath, your shoulders slouched down. Unspoken you followed him back into the room, not sure why you did. The room was not that grand. Rather small. An armchair and small table positioned in the room.

White curtains with patterns on them. Here and there some trinkets. You went to sit down on the armchair, hands folded in your skirt. Tewkesbury stood up straight looking down at a small table. It contained a perfume bottle and a fan. It felt weird. Awkward to say the least. As if you were strangers again. Tewkesbury cleared his throat picking up the perfume bottle. You turned your head to look around the room.

Tewkesbury leaned forwards trying to sniff the smell. Accidently spraying in his face. He coughed loud, waving a hand in front of his face. Setting the perfume bottle back. – “I saw that girl head outside to see the peacocks.” – you said having the urge to cut through the silence. – “Enola.” – Tewkesbury replied as it made you hum confused.

“Oh…” – hearing him say her name made you turn your head away. It felt strange. Strange how your heart still yearned for him. Even in this moment. You wanted to run over to him, leap in his arms and hear him say how much he wants you. Tewkesbury understood the notion of your reaction, looking down at the table. He picked up the fan to occupy himself. – “Where is your suitor?” – he asked. You hummed confused looking up to him. Tewkesbury looked back at you opening the fan with a smooth movement.

It made you blink startled. – “That boy you danced with.” – Tewkesbury flapped the fan at himself keeping his eyes on you. – “I’m sure he has proposed by now.” – He went on unable to stop himself from yearning for you. For hoping you’d contradict his words. As a response you snorted loud. It made him curl up a smile not fully understanding what was this amusingly. – “I’ve danced with him once. Let’s not get too far ahead.” – you responded with a smile.

Tewkesbury’s smile got brighter feeling the tense atmosphere from before falter. – “Besides he’s not a prince.” – you added with a smile. – “Or a Viscount.” – Tewkesbury whispered out of ears reach. – “Enola seems nice.” – you told him. Tewkesbury flashed the fan in front of him again near his cheek. To you unknown, but to him full of words.

“She’s a terrible dancer.” – he commented making you laugh. – “Laugh all you want, I have the bruised toes to speak for me.” – he added as you started to laugh even harder. Hearing your laugh made him smile widely. In this moment it felt like heaven to him. He drew the fan down his cheek again to you. – “What are you doing?” – you questioned seeing it was the third time he had performed it. – “Fanning.” – he responded with a cheeky smile. – “It is hardly warm here… unless you are doing something else…” – you answered.

“Nothing else.” – he muttered out, looking away. Having a sense of time, you got up. Tewkesbury hasting him to your side. – “My siblings must wonder where I am.” – you spoke hearing your heart thump louder in his presence. – “Of course.” – he answered staring smitten down at you. You wanted to open the door as Tewkesbury was ahead of you. Opening it for you and allowing you to walk out. You went on, looking briefly over your shoulder back to him.

Unable to hide the fact you still much desired him. Your plans of marrying him still present, never buried away. You entered the ballroom once more. You watched a few more dances with mama at your side. Then there was a sudden announcement. Maken everyone hasten outside. The sky full dark now. Starless and cloudless. A blank canvas ready to be painted in with delights.

You neared the already standing crowd. Mama spotted Francesca going over to her. Not far from her you noticed Enola. Getting on the tips of your toes, you couldn’t help but see if Tewkesbury was near her. A part of you hoping he wasn’t. Your brothers were coming outside too, laughing loud. Colin holding a little sack in his hands. Probably the coins he had won with gambling.

They were getting behind some people to wait for what was to come. Setting your heels back down, you felt a presence near your right. Slowly letting your gaze go to your right to see who it was. Your heart leaped, expression softening when he stood beside you. Tewkesbury. Staring right back at you. Half a smile on his lips.

A whistle went off followed by a loud blow. It startled you and Tewkesbury as the night sky busted with colours. First a bright red. Then a bright blue. Tewkesbury and you looked up to the sky as the fireworks exploded. Bright yellow, green and red filled the night sky. Colours popping in the air. People were pointing and reacting startled with laughter.

You were amazed by the colours, watching them with excitement. A gentle nudge against your knuckles made you dim your enthusiasm. Trying to figure out what it was doing to you. Another nudge against the back of your hand. Pressing gently against your hand. A tingle went up your spine as you continued to watch the fireworks.

Slowly turning your palm and stretching your fingers out. Fingers glided over yours as they caught your hand. Another firework popped as the green colours reflected on your faces. Two hands intertwined for no one to see. Standing together in a heaven of bright colours.

--------------------------------------------

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multimilfs · 2 years

Text

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader: Melissa's No Good, Very Bad Cover-Up

Summary: 5 times Melissa Schemmenti tries to pretend she doesn't feel anything +1 time she stops pretending.

AO3

A/N: So I watched Abbott Elementary and fell in love with (1) South Philly redhead. She is everything. I was very surprised at the lack of x reader fics for her and well, I had to fix it myself.

If this is not your cup of tea, please don't read! Thank you!

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @escapetodreamworld

Warning(s): None

If someone asks Melissa Schemmenti how she feels about the new teacher, she’ll tell them she doesn’t feel anything about her.

Mistake number one? Never ask Melissa Schemmenti about feelings. Mistake number two? She looks at the new girl a little too much and too fondly to ‘feel nothing.’ That’s a problem with Melissa, her stories are always a little off; any cover-up is.

And this cover-up, well… Melissa had done better covering for her Aunt at 15 years old.

“I have a problem.” Janine announces, walking into the Teacher’s Lounge with the camera crew at her heels.

Without looking up from the papers, Melissa nods, “Your self awareness is improving.”

Janine makes a point to ignore the comment, as well as the grins both you and Barbara try to hide. Dropping unceremoniously into a chair–one of the wobbly ones, the imbalance almost sending her to the floor–she sighs. She doesn’t wait for Melissa to look before starting on her point. Though true to fashion, Melissa pays attention anyway.

“Sayed’s parents still haven’t paid the overdue balance on his lunch account. I’ve tried calling, sending notes home, nothing! And I’m running low on cash.”

Barbara offers up a sad smile, “His Grandmother was in the early stages of memory loss when I had him in my class. I can’t imagine she’s improved much, and his Mother is entirely out of the picture.”

“How did you handle it?”

“It was the first year we had extra funds. I kept some snacks in my desk; it wasn’t much, but he wasn’t going hungry.”

Nodding, Janine still looks distraught, and you know all too well where that leads. You dig through your bag and pull out a foil-wrapped sandwich. You hold it out.

“Make sure he’s not allergic and offer him half of this,” You smile, “keep the other half for yourself. I know you didn’t bring anything.”

You ignore all of the questioning looks from the group–namely Melissa’s stare burning holes in your head–and keep smiling. It was rare you said much during lunch, preferring the company of some big over-the-ear headphones and a choice playlist.

“What about you?”

“It was an extra I was saving for dinner, I’ll just cook instead.”

She looks between you and the foil package. Eventually she nods. Her eyes are a little glassy as she looks back at you and for an instant, you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. The smile on her lips is enough to set your fears to rest.

“Thank you.” Janine says genuinely.

Waving off the thanks, you pull out a familiar case from your bag and unfold your big headphones, sliding them over your ears. Relief washes over you as the rest of the room is blocked out by the playlist of your choosing. Your chest feels full with the knowledge that you did something nice–something good–even as you know you won’t have the energy to cook tonight.

The room misses the way Melissa’s mouth turns up in a fond smile as they go back to their own meals. The camera’s don’t, though.

—

It’s a Tuesday when Melissa ventures past your classroom with her own kids in tow. The silence makes her glance in and stop, eyebrows raising. The room is full. With a quick glance to her watch and a hand up to make her class wait, she tiptoes in.

Your students look up and you follow suit after a few moments. The surprise on your face must show as the redhead grins. Whispers start breaking through the room and you put a finger to your lips, squashing it just as quickly as it started.

Melissa crouches next to your desk and you make eye contact briefly, “How do you get them so quiet? I can never keep mine quiet before lunch.”

“We always have quiet time, so they’re used to it,” You whisper back, “It lets them color or read without having to meet some kind of requirement.”

“And you?”

“It’s… nice to be free of the noise for a few minutes.”

She wears a knowing smile on her lips and you wonder how she seems to read you so easily. It must be a South Philly trait, you decide. That’s what Barbara and Janine always tell you; Melissa is so different, so resourceful, because of her upbringing. You don’t think they’d lie to you.

“Might have to try this quiet time thing myself.”

You think you sense some approval there. Looking at her, you’re shocked to see how she’s staring back; you’ve only ever seen her look at Barbara so… sweetly. It drops away pretty fast though and she nods, standing back up and stalking out of the room without a word.

Attempting to savor the last few minutes to read your book, you try, and fail, to ignore the feeling of doing something wrong. Melissa smiling at you felt so nice, like she approved, like she liked you. But you weren’t Janine, Barbara, or even Jacob.

Maybe… you could be.

—

Parent-Teacher conferences, you decide, are awful.

Not because you’re expected to interact with strangers outside of your scheduled work hours—though that puts a wrinkle in your demeanor—but because all it turned out to be was several hours of waiting, for nothing. Energy drains from you the longer you sit, glancing up at every bump hoping for a little change; if you’re going to use your reserves, you’d rather it prove productive.

Your stomach growls and you’re made acutely aware of the last time you had something. Lunch was a cheesesteak from the corner store and a bag of chips, both of which you scarfed down without a thought of saving any for later. You could kick yourself for it now. The corner store is closed and your energy is gone, which means sleep for dinner.

Mood soured, you still force a smile everytime you think footsteps come near your door. Just because you’re feeling down doesn’t mean you can’t do your job. It’s a relief that years of practicing a toothy, winning smile haven’t let you down yet.

Time passes and you flip through pages of your book unbothered. Out of habit, you glance to the doorway and jump when you find it occupied. A familiar redhead is leaning against the door and watching with a blank expression. Your heart drops as you throw your book down, perfect smile forgotten as you fumble for composure.

“Melissa,” You say, withering internally at how your voice wavers, “How long have you been standing there?”

She says nothing and the few moments feel like an eternity. Her green-eyed stare feels like it's cutting through you, breaking you down to small little pieces—can she see how frazzled you feel? The way she leans, arms crossed over her chest reveals nothing.

“Have you eaten?” Melissa asks, your question ignored.

You want to lie and end this conversation as quickly as possible, but dishonesty makes your skin crawl, “Not since lunch.”

Melissa lets out a noise that you can’t interpret. She cranes her neck to glance at the clock on your wall, red hair shielding part of her face. Your sudden realization of how beautiful she is only adds to your overwhelm.

When she turns back to you, all you can think about is how her hair frames her face, and it infuriates you; you’re at work and she is your colleague, why on earth should it matter? Why are you so distracted all of a sudden? You’re all too glad to blame it on hunger.

“Come on, I’ve got some Lasagna from home you can have.”

“But, conferences don’t end until–”

“I know when conferences end. Are you coming or not?”

You hesitate and stand. The action earns you an approving nod and she walks out of the room, expecting you to follow behind, which you do; feeling a little too much like one of her students trailing at her heels.

“Did you have any parents show up?” You ask somewhere between your room and her’s.

“One or two,” She nods, “They came early, so it’s been me and my thoughts for a while.”

“I haven’t had any parents show tonight.”

“That’s usually a good thing. Some parents don’t have time for these things, but the ones who do only come if there’s a problem. Consider it a compliment.”

“A compliment that I sat around for hours doing nothing?” You raise an eyebrow.

“If that’s how you want to see it, sure.”

You look around her room and smile at the art on the walls, scribbled pictures that she clearly values. If you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t expected Melissa to care about her job like she does; she had too similar a demeanor to your teachers back in school when they’d grown to despise their jobs. There had been a few pointers to her caring more than she let on, but they hadn’t fully hit you until now.

Pointedly ignoring the camera crew in the corner, you sit down across from her. She’s rifling through her bag and pulling out a worn, stained tupperware container. The smell when she lifts the lid off is amazing, but the visual turns your stomach a little. You forgot how much went into lasagna.

“Don’t tell me you came over here and you don’t like lasagna?” Melissa asks, squinting at you, “You got something against Italians?”

“What? No,” Shaking your head, “Lasagna just has a lot in it. It can be overwhelming sometimes.”

Melissa looks at you like she understands, like she sees you, and you freeze. Have you let on a little too much? Some teachers can be outdated in their views. It squeezes your heart that she might be one of them, but she says nothing.

She holds out the tupperware and you can only stare at it. You aren’t sure you feel hungry anymore. Rolling her eyes and huffing, Melissa digs a forkful out of the container and holds it out.

“Open up.” She commands, “This is your chance to prove you’re not anti-Italian.”

Silence.

Another sigh.

“Come on, hon.”

You lean forward and wrap your lips around the fork, eyes slipping closed. The taste and texture are perfect. You’d always wondered about Melissa’s cooking, but never had an occasion to try it, or the bravery to ask.

“That’s… amazing.” You sigh out, smiling.

The corner of her mouth turns up in the beginnings of a smile, “Good. Then take the rest, ‘cause I’m not feedin’ ya.”

Obedience is a strong suit of yours when Melissa is involved, it seems; you take the meal from her eagerly. The two of you settle into silence as you eat and she grades and for once you don’t mind letting the quiet stretch between you. It’s… nice, you decide, but only with Melissa. And probably only this once.

You try not to think too hard about why that bothers you.

—

“You’re getting awfully close to the new teacher.” Barbara notes, watching the students all line up outside.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

The look Barbara offers is one that says ‘oh really?’ and Melissa does her best to brush it off. She’s being nice to you, that’s all, you aren’t growing close—she doesn’t do close, not since her divorce.

Her story will be the same as long as she can manage it; she isn’t fond of you, you aren’t growing close, and she definitely doesn’t search for you in a room. You can’t pry the information from her lips.

But Barbara only grins slyly and shakes her head when you appear around the corner and Melissa lights up. Her eyes brighten, a soft smile forming, and she walks to meet you instead of making you come to her.

Your smile is shy when you see Melissa, but you can’t help but light up yourself. The South Philly woman has a way of making that happen. She walks to your side and strikes up a conversation like it's nothing, her shoulder bumping yours as you walk side by side towards the door.

Barbara laughs under her breath, looking knowingly into the camera.

—

Your chair being empty when Melissa enters the teacher’s lounge sets off warning bells in her head. She can count how many times you’ve walked in after her on one hand. Ignoring the knowing glances from her colleagues, she can’t help but keep staring at your empty chair. Another five minutes and she’s up; following any sign of you like a bloodhound.

Curious stares follow after her, but she’s too preoccupied to care. The hallways are empty with the kids at lunch and she makes a beeline for your classroom. Darkness covers your room in a blanket and she wonders where else you could have gone off to, only to find her attention caught by a flicker of light somewhere inside.

Slipping the door open loud enough to be heard, Melissa hears noise coming from behind your desk. Her chest deflates as she lets out the breath she’d been holding.

“Knock, knock,” The redhead says softly, drawing your eyes to her.

As much as you’d like to, you can’t force your voice to work, only offering a smile. It surprises you when she crouches down and settles at your side. It surprises you even more when Melissa pushes a piece of hair behind your ear to see your face.

Hiding the puffiness around your eyes is impossible despite the low light. It’s why you’d confined yourself to your classroom, you wouldn’t have to draw attention to it. You hadn’t expected anyone to come looking.

“What’s going on, Hon?”

You want to shake your head, push away the worry etched into her face, but you can’t; not when she decided to miss lunch and seek you out, not when she’s looking at you like she is. It takes a few tries before you can speak around the lump in your throat.

“Today has just been… a lot.” You say lamely.

“I’ve never seen you like this. You need me to handle someone?”

Seriousness is plain on her face and you know she would given the chance. You wonder what lengths Melissa would go to, has gone to; and though it may be awful, you don’t care. It touches you to feel included.

When you shake your head, her hand settles on top of yours. Your face feels warm.

“There was a combination of little things but this,” You pull your headphones from your bag, clearly broken in half, “Took the cake.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“I let Bria borrow them since she seemed overstimulated, but the other kids wanted a turn. I looked up and they were in two pieces.”

It shouldn’t upset you the way it does; it’s just a pair of headphones, you know that, but really it’s so much more. Working at Abbott was your passion and yet, the conditions of the school often left you without any control over your situation, and everything could be so much sometimes. The headphones were a small way to establish control… or had been.

Melissa is up and jogging out of the room before you can blink, throwing a ‘wait here!’ behind her. So you do, watching the doorway for her shadow. She returns a few minutes later with something held behind her back and a small smile on her lips.

“Close your eyes.” She says.

“Melissa–”

“I’m not going to wait forever, just close ‘em.”

You make a show of sighing, but do as she says. Footsteps shuffle to your side and then the sound is muffled as something is placed over your ears. Reaching up and touching the headphones, you open your eyes, offering a watery smile.

“They’re nothing special, just a set from the days we had a computer lab, but they’ll do until we can get something better.” Melissa says, fixing your hair around the headphones, “They feel okay?”

“Yeah, they’re perfect.” You’re perfect, you want to say, the warm light from the hall surrounding her in a halo. Her grin is cast in shadow, but still the most radiant thing you’ve ever seen.

Melissa’s hands settle on your face, fingers running over the apples of your cheeks. The action only serves to make you smile wider. One hand moves back to a strand of your hair while a thumb rubs circles over your skin. She’s much closer than you realized and you wonder how inappropriate it’d be to kiss her right now.

The bell cuts through the possibility.

She doesn’t pull back or let her hand drop away, but her smile drops and she’s back to no-nonsense Ms. Schemmenti. You miss her smile already. With one last stroke on your cheek, she releases you, leaving you feeling cold.

“Take good care of those.”

—

You never expected late nights as a first grade teacher. Had you taught high school, maybe then you’d have prepared; what you failed to plan for was how in-depth lessons had to be for a first grade class.

Sometimes the kids just didn’t understand what they were being taught and that you prepared for. It didn’t bother you to take some extra time from a lesson to further explain, that was your job, and you were happy to do it. It didn’t account for the way you’d have to slice out different lessons or cut into your grading time, leading you to late nights like this one.

The clock hit six and a knock on your door drew your attention away. Melissa was leaning in, red hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, offering you a tired smile. Your chest filled with warmth at seeing her.

“Late night for you too?” You ask.

She nods and crosses to stand in front of your desk, “What are you doing here so late?”

“The lessons went long today, so it cut into a few things. I’m reworking it all for tomorrow’s lesson.”

Melissa’s hands come to rest on the edge of your desk as she leans against it. You make a concentrated effort to keep your eyes on her face. Her hand is reaching out to rub at something on your face and you offer up a questioning glance, but find yourself distracted.

Her lips are parted in concentration as she continues to rub at something you don’t know about. It gives you a minute to just admire her. Everything about her melts you. She’s strong and tough on the outside, but with a soft heart inside, and you wonder how many people really see her as she is; how many people got caught on the no-nonsense demeanor without looking beyond it.

At some point during your musings, she stopped moving. Her hand stays holding your chin, thumb running back and forth near your lips. You meet her eyes and find them locked on you.

“Kiss me,” You blurt without thinking. Her eyes go wide and yours do too, mortification going through you, “I’m so sorry, I just–I meant–”

You’re cut off when her hand slides to the back of your neck and she pulls your lips to her’s. For a brief moment you freeze, shocked that it’s really happening. How many times had you thought about kissing her like this? How many times had the two of you leaned so close, only to pull away at the last second?

When you sink into the kiss, it fills your chest to the brim. Melissa is a soft kisser to your surprise. You’d always imagined she’d be more demanding; she was a woman who knew what she wanted, after all. But she’s careful–slow–like she’s savoring it.

“You’re—wow.” You breathe out when she pulls back. She laughs then, lipstick smudged attractively around her mouth.

“Let me buy you dinner.” Melissa says, near-whispering with how close the two of you still are.

“Are you asking me on a date, Ms. Schemmenti?”

“Get your things,” She ignores your teasing, “I’ll wait outside.”

When she turns away from you, Melissa can’t help the soft, giddy smile on her lips.

So much for not feeling anything.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #abbott elementary x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine #abbott elementary imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #multimilfswritings #sept2022

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practicingsmut · 10 months

Text

Saturday

gamer!jisung x reader, 2.6k words, spot the sequel bait

Saturdays were supposed to be your lazy days, the kind where you stay in your pajamas all day, eat leftovers for lunch and take out for dinner, and do nothing more mentally or emotionally taxing than play video games with your online friends.

This Saturday was different.

Sana, your childhood best friend and roommate, decided that she wanted to throw a party to celebrate the advent of summer. Of course, she had never thrown a party before despite having gone to so many, so your help was enlisted to make sure everything ran smoothly.

“I only invited, like, ten people, and each of them is only going to bring one or two of their friends,” she explained as she loaded bag after bag of chips into the shopping cart. You looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“Sana, you do realized that adds up to around thirty people coming over, right? Where are they all going to fit?”

“Our living room and kitchen are big enough to hang out in. Plus we’ve got the balcony!” She pulled the cart further down the aisle towards the pretzels, causing you to stumble as you had been leaning on it.

“What about the fact that we only have one bathroom?”

At this comment she paused. “Well, we’ll just hope for the best with that.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “This is going to be an expensive trip. We haven’t even grabbed any alcohol yet, plus you said you wanted to get some pizzas.”

“Mina said she’s gonna stand at the door and collect $10 from everyone as they walk in,” Sana explained. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to pay.”

“Gee, thanks.”

The rest of the morning and much of the afternoon passed in a blur as you helped her set everything up. At one point you recieved a plethora of Discord pings, your usual gaming friends SpearB, CB97, and J.ONE wondering where you were. You merely responded that you were busy, resolving to tell them all about the horrors of throwing a party later.

Then the guests began arriving. You knew a few of Sana’s friends - Mina, who did as promised and collected the entry fee from everyone, as well as a couple of others like Nayeon and Jeongyeon. For every person you recognized, however, there were at least three you didn’t. You were pretty certain more than thirty people showed up, but that was none of your business.

You hung back in the kitchen where only a bit of the party spilled over. Most of the people were only there to grab a second, third, or fourth drink from the coolers set up on the counter. You were still on your first, some cheap cider that you weren’t quite fond of, but it was better than the other stuff Sana had bought.

“Excuse me, can I grab a drink from behind you?” A voice pulled you from your thoughts. A familiar voice. You looked at the guy who had spoken to you as you shifted out of his way.

He was taller than you, though not by more than two or three inches. His messy hair was dyed a blueish grey and he had the kind of cheeks that grandmothers would love to pinch as they told their grandkids how much they’d grown. You’d never seen him before, and yet you knew that voice…

“J.ONE?” you said, voice raising as if it were a question though you knew with 99% certainty who you were talking to.

“Do I… know you?” he asked back, clearly confused.

“Of course you know me, I kicked your ass in TFT just last night,” you scoffed. Realization dawned on his face.

“Hiraeth? Oh my god, what are you doing here?” He called you by your gamertag the same way you did with him. You suddenly realized that despite knowing him for two years, you never exchanged your real names.

You told him what to call you before explaining that this was your apartment.

“This is your party?” He was right to be skeptical; if you were the kind of person who threw parties, chances were that you wouldn’t be online with him and your other friends every weekend and most of the weekdays, too. “I’m Jisung, by the way.”

“It’s my roommate’s party, technically. I’ve been helping her prep for it all day, which is why I couldn’t get on to play earlier.”

Jisung nodded. “That’s fair. My friend Hyunjin invited me to tag along, and since we didn’t have the full crew to do anything tonight I figured why not? Kinda regretting it though, since parties are totally not my scene. Though I did get to meet you in person, so that’s pretty cool.”

“Wanna take a break from this? We can go do something back in my room,” you offered. Jisung accepted gratefully.

Your room was what you liked to call an ‘organized mess’. Sure, there were piles of clothes all over the ground, but you knew which ones were clean and which ones needed to be washed, and there were only two empty cups on your desk. Jisung stepped into the room as you locked the door behind the two of you. The last thing you wanted was for a couple of drunk party goers to think they could use your room to hook up. It also provided you with a mental barrier, letting you pretend there was nothing going on outside of this space.

“You don’t have a bedframe,” Jisung commented. You followed his gaze over to where your mattress was on the ground.

“Yeah, my old one broke a few weeks ago when I threw myself onto it too hard, and I just haven’t gotten around to replacing it,” you explained.

“Right. Well, at least you’ve got a nice battlestation. Why don’t we boot something up?” He immediately made himself at home in your gaming chair, pulling up your library of games.

“Let me see if I can snag a chair from the living room.” Jisung caught your wrist as you went to move past.

“Oh, don’t bother. You can just sit on my lap. Probably more comfortable than those wooden things you’ve got out there.”

“If you insist,” you said with a chuckle.

Jisung was right - his lap was much more careful than the chairs you and Sana had pulled off the side of the road to furnish your apartment. Almost too comfortable, you thought as you settled against him so that his chest was flush with your back. You found it odd to be so comfortable with him so quickly. You had been friends for a couple of years, but this was still the first time you had met in person.

“Yo, is this that game that SpearB was talking about the other day? How’d you get early access?” The game in question was some experimental horror game that had originally been an indie project before being bought and redeveloped by a bigger company.

“Honestly, they just emailed me and asked if I wanted the early access in exchange for giving feedback. I guess they saw how many hours I have on their other titles and figured I’d be their target audience.”

“That is so cool.”

“You wanna play? You can start a fresh save. I’ve already got a couple hours on it so you won’t have to worry about spoiling me on the content.”

Jisung did not have to be told twice. A minute later his arms were wrapped around you in order to reach the controller, his head propped up on your shoulder. It would have been a cute, intimate moment if not for the fact that he was so engrossed in the game that he didn’t even seem to realize the two of you were technically cuddling.

You, on the other hand, were more than aware, especially thanks to the growing erection you could feel against your tailbone. It had to have been a reflex caused by the friction of how you were sitting, nothing more, but it still sent your mind racing. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined what it’d be like to fool around with a few of your online friends, mostly Jisung thanks to his smooth honey-like voice, and now that you’ve seen just how attractive he was, well, there was nothing stopping you from pulling him over to your bed and fucking him right then and there.

Nothing except the video game, of course.

“Shit,” he cursed as he died again. The harshness of the sound and the way his breath caressed the shell of your ear sent a shiver down your spine.

“You want me to do this boss? It’s like, weirdly hard despite being the first one in the game. It took me like six tries to finally kill the thing,” you offered.

Jisung handed you the controller, his hands hovering in the air for a moment as he tried to figure out where to put them when your chair didn’t have armrests. You gently guided them to rest on your thighs and Jisung swallowed hard.

“This is what you gotta do…” you proceeded to walk him through the combos that you discovered worked best against the boss and in no time at all, you beat him. You looked over your shoulder at Jisung, waiting for him to react.

“Would it be out of place for me to say that it’s really fucking hot watching you kick ass at this game?” His voice was a little unsteady, and you figured it had something to do with the throbbing erection that still poked at your backside.

“Only if you don’t do anything about it,” you retorted.

A moment later you were shifted to be sitting perpendicular to Jisung so that he could get his mouth on yours, the lingering taste of the cheap beer flavoring the kiss. One hand ran gently up your spine and came to rest on the back of your neck while the other gripped your hip as if he were holding on for dear life. You smiled at the thought that you had riled him up so much.

Unable to hold yourself back any longer, you pushed his hand from your hip to your crotch, sliding it underneath the waistband of your leggings and hoping he’d get the hint. He hesitated briefly before pushing past your underwear as well until his fingertips came into contact with your already dripping cunt. You both moaned at the contact.

“Glad I’m not the only one insanely turned on right now.”

Your mouths stayed glued together the entire time as he pumped first one finger and then two in and out of your hole. He wasn’t able to pull out very far thanks to the restriction of your underwear, but that just meant he was incentivized to push his long fingers further in, making you whimper as they brushed against your g-spot. Then his thumb found your clit and you were cumming hard. Jisung slipped his fingers out of your pants as you came down from your high and popped his sticky fingers in his mouth.

“I’ve got condoms in the drawer of my nightstand,” you breathed out, chest heaving from the effort of your climax.

Without responding, Jisung stood with you in his arms and crossed the room to your bed. He placed you down gently, leaving you to strip yourself of your clothes while he did the same with his own. Your hand immediately found his cock as soon as it was free, pumping it a few times while he went in search of the condoms you mentioned.

“There’s, uh… there’s a lot more in here than just condoms,” he said, blushing at the contents of the drawer.

You rolled your eyes. “So I’ve got a few toys, big deal. Now, are you going to come down here and fuck me or am I going to have to use one of them while you watch?”

Jisung’s cock twitched in your hand. “We might have to circle back to that idea later,” he admitted.

You laid back on the bed as Jisung rolled the condom down his length and positioned himself at your entrance. His tip poked you a few times, but he didn’t move to go any further.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, reaching up to take his face in your hand and turn it so he was looking at you. A nervous blush crept across his cheeks.

“Um… would you mind being on top? At least for now. I think I’d feel more comfortable with that.”

Of course you wouldn’t deny his request. As he settled back where you had been laying, you reminded him that he could tell you to stop at any point. He made sure you knew the same applied to you.

Jisung’s cock was like his fingers - long and slim and hitting you in all the right places. From his place lying back he grabbed at your tits as you rode him, fingers grazing your nipples before they were out of reach again.

“Sit up,” you gasped. You wanted to kiss him when he did so, but his movement caused the angle of how he was inside you and you had to adjust to that first. Jisung whispered in your ear, though what he said was lost completely as your mind focused on the reverberation of his voice. It had your slick pooling out of you.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he growled as you clenched around him. “Can I flip us over?”

“Be my guest.” You weren’t even sure if your words came out the way they were supposed to, but Jisung got the message.

As soon as you were on your back he was thrusting harder and faster than you had been able to move when you were on top. You instructed Jisung to open his mouth and though he was confused, he did as you asked. His eyes widened as you slipped two fingers in to wet them with his spit before sliding them down your body to rub harsh circles on your clit.

It was the squeezing that resulted from your orgasm that finally sent Jisung over the edge. You felt the warmth of his cum even through the condom and it made you wonder what it would feel like spilling down the back of your throat. You were about to ask what he thought about round two when he interrupted you.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“What?” It was just about the only thing he could have said that would have shocked you as much as it did.

Jisung peeled himself off of you and moved to dispose of the used condom. “It’s just that, well, I’ve been saying for the better part of a year that if I ever met you in person that I’d ask you. I just never imagined the question would come after we did.”

You chuckled at his joke. “And what will the boys think of us dating?”

“Honestly? They’d say it’s about fucking time. I’ve been pining over you for ages and they’ve made it clear that they’d much rather deal with the two of us doing mushy couple things than hear me sigh wistfully after you leave the voice call again.”

“You’re such a dweeb,” you said with a smile, pulling him down for a kiss. “Luckily for you, dweebs are just my type.”

“Is that a yes?” he asked. You nodded and pressed closer to him, deepening the kiss. The two of you were now kneeling, you on the mattress and him on the floor, limbs tangling around each other.

“Why don’t you hop on now to tell them the great news? It is a Saturday night so chances are they’re on. It’ll be really funny for you to pop into chat under my name.”

“Hmm, I think it can wait a bit. I think my naked girlfriend deserves my attention more than they do.”

“What if I suck your dick from underneath the desk while you do it?”

#kpop smut #han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #han x reader #j.one x reader #stray kids x reader

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june-julie · 10 months

Note

Heyy!!Um if you don’t mind can you write for mbav?(benny weir x fem reader) Something along the lines of evil benny creating reader’s evil copy and she starts flirting hard with the real Benny and when Sarah and the real reader destroys the evil copies Benny gets sad and misses the evil copy :>

Two is better than one.

Benny weir x fem!reader

“What were you thinking?”

Warnings: cursing, seductive behaviour, degradation.

— Summary; what anon said 🫶🏻

— A/N; I LIKE IT PICASSO this came to me when cleaning and I literally stopped everything to write it. I got so many evil copy requests I’m down them ALL.

Benny and you didn’t particularly have a clear relationship at times.

There were certain things he said or done that always had you second guessing,

maybe it was the way he looked into your eyes a second longer than usual when he smiled that signature grin of his or maybe it was the way he teased you until he was sure he made the tips of your ears red but one thing was clear,

It was the things he would do a second later that would make you uncertain It was obvious Benny weir flirts with any girl that walks his way and honestly you were thankfully that the girl were daft enough to pay more attention at the fuck boys than Benny otherwise you were sure he’d be snatch up by now.

“Ethan you’re delusional if you think Benny weir has any sort of romantical feelings for me at all.” You explained your frustrating case of what always clouded your mind.

“Why are you so sure of yourself? Why is it so hard to accept what I’m saying is true y/nn? You’re telling me you don’t see the way he looks at you?” Ethan protested but not as strongly as he had before, poor Ethan has this whole conversation rehearsed with not only you unfortunately.

Benny had to force a giggle out of himself to cover for the untrue words Ethan had mistakenly spoken “dude, no need to lie to me. I like the girl and all but I think by now I can tell when a girl doesn’t like me as hard as that is to believe.” Benny replied sarcastically to a eye rolling Ethan, his favourite expression in both Y/N and Benny’s opinion.

Christ you guys even argue the same.

“Let me entertain the possibility that you are right for a minute,” Ethan merely nodded mind elsewhere. “If I get as far as asking him out and not get rejected by whatever godsend was on my side that day that Benny didn’t run away scared of my ‘proposal’ “ you qoutated for your special day of the weeks rant affect “who’s to say he still wouldn’t make comments about every other woman he saw that day? We just wouldn’t work as much as I wanted to.”

“Denial is a river in Egypt.” Ethan chimed matter of factly with a cheeky smile he knew pissed you off “your just trying to convince yourself because you know none of that mumbo jumbo isn’t going anywhere with me.”

“E, you wanna know how I can see that she doesn’t like me?” Benny tugged on his backpack straps with a thin pressed lip “not really.” Ethan muttered unbothered “great, well for one I flirted with a girl right in front of her today to get any reaction out of her anything! And she didn’t care! That’s like movie 101 the chick totally storms off in jealousy yet she didn’t budge.” He finished

How was it that Ethan was the only expert in spotting the hurt in the teens faces ? Or the broken laugh he oh so quoted All you guys needed was to stop being so stubborn and a little confidence couldn’t hurt.

It was after school and you were walking home with your headphones on, playing whatever song your iPod had to offer on shuffle then you spotted something, oh cool benny grandma Evelynn is having a yard sale.

“Hey Benny what’s up?” You waved as you saw his grandmother leave the stall seemingly leaving Benny to sell the remaining products,

“grandma is selling all the junk in her house she no longer uses and she said if I help I get extra cash so currently being an entrepreneur.” He grinned leaning on the table with his collared striped sweater sleeves pulled up revealing his forearms, that mixed with his smile had you saying ‘shut up and take my money!’

“I don’t think that’s how that works but sure I’m always up to support a business.” You furrowed your brows but nonetheless went along with his playful manner “I’ll take that vintage camera.” Maybe it’ll help with you and your friends picture day project.

“Fine choice m’lady.” You giggled in response and took the camera “I’ll see you later benns’ “ and with that you left.

It was the next day at school and if you had known Benny and Ethan had their own school picture day idea maybe you wouldn’t have volunteered to help your friend.

But having said that it didn’t stop you from sticking your tongue out at Benny like a child cheekily as he slumped in defeat

“defeated with my own tools.” He muttered as you laughed sympathetically in response patting his shoulder “sorry Benny rabbit, maybe next year?” You teased further more making sure to use the name you knew he hated cause you just loved to be the person to grind his gears.

Unfortunately you missed what he whispered to Ethan “It’s cute when she says it..” ethan looked puzzled at the boy.

You agreed after class to futhermore help your friend by testing out your retro cam, having successfully found a dark room you firstly tested it with a simple selfie really 2010 pose of you, Y/n.

And then you set it aside to develop, continuing with your classes.

Later on you went to check on it and would you look at that! Perfect 80s selfie, you just Missed the laboured breaths behind you as you were knocked unconscious.

Benny tapped his pencil on his desk as he watched the clock on the wall, you should definitely be at this class he remembered on your timetable you had the same classes as him! So then where were you? 10 minutes went by and mid way through class Y/N finally showed up,And boy did she make an entrance.

Are you allowed to wear shorts that short? Or leather jackets that cool?

You slumped in your chair looking directly at the teacher, eye contact and all. “Care to explain what was more interesting than class that made you 20 minutes late Miss Y/N L/N?” The teacher rightfully asked through a stern voice.

“literally anything..?” Y/N replied as if it was a joke and not they were real consequences.

The Teacher was taken aback “Y/N this is nothing like you whatever has gotten into you I’m not dealing with this today.” She explained furthermore to a doodling Y/H/C.

“I didn’t want to deal with this math today and yet here we are.” Y/N shrugged “who in the right mind puts fucking letters in marginal equations?” The teacher scoffed “detention IMMEDIATELY.”

And with that Y/N stood up, smirking at Benny who’s mouth was agape “like what you see? Or is staring your new habit Dork?” She leaned on his desk table inching closer to him as she maintain intense eye contact “what did I just say?” The teacher raised her voice and with that Y/N practically strutted out.

Benny leaned into Ethan “I don’t know what Y/N has done with herself but I like it.” He spoke unbeknownst to Ethan’s bewildered expression, this has supernatural written all over it and yet again he was the only one to spot it.

Obviously Y/N wasn’t gonna listen to the teacher though, she had a better plan in mind. Why not finish what she started? So she dragged her friend to the room where she left the camera and made a copy of her, putting on her best sickly sweet voice imitating the other sweeter more rational Y/N she managed to fool her friend into becoming a copy just like her and whilst Y/N was having fun Terrorising other teens days her friend would make more evil duplicates.

Fun and innovative, woman in stem yk?

Mindlessly she walked through the halls she had about a few hours before school was over and then she could go to go carts she rented for the day.

That’s when she spotted him. Benny weir. she just needed to figure out why the other Y/N was so intrigued by him so she made her way over to him “well if it isn’t just the guy I was looking for, can I talk to you? “ benny looked around puzzled and then nodded, Y/N turned to look at Ethan “alone. take a hint third wheel.” She did a fake smile for a millisecond benny raised a brow

Third wheel? In what?

“What is it that makes you so important?” She began in a low tone as she eyed him head to toe slowly “my charm, i get A’s in calculus I do a killer Tom cruise from top gun impression” no one in the world could not cringe at the words Benny utters.

Well unless you got a tolerance like the other Y/N does, which was what evil Y/N was so aggravated to figure out.

“Not the things you say Idiot, the things you do.” She took a step closer to him “ I’m not sure I’m following now y/nn? This about my yearbook photo idea?” He guessed utterly lost, poor guy.

“This is about how every thing you say or do drives other me crazy, you’ve such nerdy arms and yet she fawns over your slender hands.” Evil Y/N sure knew how to cut and praise you in the same sentence that was for sure.

Benny didn’t respond he just looked down to said hands in question and then back at Y/N he was finding it hard to maintain eye contact under this pressure “I bet you haven’t even been with a girl, how pathetic.” She chuckled yet her eyes showed interest and she inches nearer again.

Benny gulped “Y/n what are you talking about…?” Benny managed to speak as he trailed off as if he spoke any louder than he did he was afraid you would stop.

“Maybe if I teach you a few things you might actually have the balls to get with me.” Why she was speaking about herself in the third person was beyond Benny but what wasn’t beyond him is whatever degrading kink evil you just summoned in him.

He grinned “if this is you getting back at me for teasing you so much I admit im not sorry.” You pressed your hands flat against his chest “that’s exactly what it is.” sexual frustration totally didn’t play a part at all.

So you tangled your hands in his brunette locks and peckered his neck then his lips

‘Whatthefuckishappeningohmygodsheskissingmethisissohot’

And then she stopped with a tug of his hair releasing a low whine from Benny as he opened his Green eyes “If you actually want to take me up on my offer find me in the dark room, I’m only having fun. Think you can do that pretty boy? Hm?” Benny nodded cheerfully She smirked and spon around on her heels and walked away.

Did Y/N just walk straight out of his wet dream or something?! Like I know yesterday Y/N was pretty Damn sexy in her flarely skirt that Benny was so sure she put on intentional to screw with his head but this was definitely a dream he had only a week ago.

Somwhere along the line you woke up, not evil you but actual you and you spotted your friend tied up,

“what happened?! Are you alright?” You asked frantically concerned as you untied her “there’s a evil copy of me and you going around terriorising people! I don’t know what’s going on but I think she knocked you out too!” That would explain the raging headache that got worse by the minute.

‘I have to go tell Sarah and Erica’ you thought.

Frantic to find Sarah you scanned the halls as you tucked a strand of Y/H/C behind your ears and was certainly not looking where you were going and it became more certain when you bumped into a unknown force.

Benny flushed being met with you, except you lost the shorts and the leather jacket, but hey you did sport his favourite skirt on you “I knew it was intentional!” He muttered under his breath thinking aloud

“benns’ are you okay? You look a little red and your shirt is all scrunched up..” you expressed with much concern for the boy “I’m fine, y/n. And if I’m not I’m still taking you up on your offer later and you can make me fine.” He grabbed your hand to politely shoo it away from his striped shirt as he winked

“offer? What offer? Benny I need your help finding Sarah.” Benny tilted his head in confusion That word be the third time today you drive him around the bend in mind whipping mood Change,

you are a force of nature woman.

He was gonna flirt but he saw your expression and put his feelings aside for a moment “what’s wrong bunny?” His brows furrowed “there’s these evil copies of me and (I forgot her name I’m so sorry) walking around and they’re planning on making way more! We need to stop them or who knows what they’ll do.” You pleaded with urgency.

“That chick Ethan’s into? Wait you have a copy?” You nodded, deciding against telling Benny that she had a boyfriend right now as it wasn’t the top priority going on right now.

Benny slumped, of course it wasn’t you.

“Benny? Hello? Come on!” You grabbed his hand and went to find Sarah and Ethan, unknowing to how extra sweaty his hands were today as you interlaced your fingers together.

“What in the Jennifer’s body is this bullshit? You’re meant to be evil Me?” You scoffed eyeing her “it’s not like I give a fuck what you think honestly cause you’ll be dead in a minute.”

“Honey you’re just another bad selfie gone wrong.”

A few minutes of bickering and fighting go by and you finally manage to tear the developed photo apart.

Sarah stormed into the bathroom after dealing with the other copy “are you okay?!” You nodded offering a Sympathetic smile “totally should’ve took that jacket before she vanished.” Sarah rolled her eyes reminding you of how she does it just like Ethan does and you both smiled.

“Let’s get you up.” She helped you from your position on the floor as you regained your breath and stood up.

Now with school done you rejoined your favourite best friends as Rory, Sarah, Erica and Ethan walked ahead. Benny still looked distant and you couldn’t help but notice it.

“Hey Benny you’ve been quiet all day, are you alright? I hope evil me didn’t say anything mean to you, If she hurt you that wasn’t me I’d never do any like that.”

Benny for the first time after today looked you in the eyes again with a hitched breath I don’t think he’ll ever forget your hands on him, or your pillowy soft lips for that matter.

“She didn’t it’s just she said some things…” you looked at him as he looked down “what did she say?” Her words played in his mind but he couldn’t bring himself to repeat them so he shook it off “nevermind it doesn’t matter, it’s stupid I’m all good.” He forced a smile but you saw through it “hey.. you know evil Y/N rented go carts?” You tried cheer him up and knowing Benny it worked and automatically he was back to his old self “only room for 2!” And with that you two scurried to front in giggles

Maybe things could be different now?

Ahhh I’m sorry that was so short but I hope you like it😭😭 I’m gonna proof read it later if I made any mistakes <33

#my babysitters a vampire #mbav #mbav benny #mbav ethan #mbav rory #mbav erica #benny weir #anon!#anon <3 #📝#💌 anon #you've got mail 💌#anon requests #anon!fics #ff #fanfic #oneshot #anon oneshot request

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liaromancewriter · 9 months

Text

Birthday Cake

Premise: Ethan Ramsey doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday. No one told his daughters that.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. OC children Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 875

A/N: In Lia Land, Ethan's birthday is on July 31. I forgot to mark the occasion, but better late than never. Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge August challenge, birthday dialogue prompt (in bold). I'm also using @choicesflashfics week 46, prompt 3 (in bold).

Ethan Ramsey couldn’t remember the last time he’d celebrated his birthday with a party. Cassie knew how much he detested the fanfare around that day and respected his wishes not to make a big deal out of it.

Besides, he much preferred their private celebrations. Their sex life had always been hot, but it was downright incendiary on anniversaries and birthdays.

The special day was a week away, and he’d already made plans. Naveen had given him the keys to his cabin while he spent the summer visiting family. The nanny would look after the girls, and his dad was coming up from Providence to spend the day with them.

Ethan was already salivating in anticipation of unwrapping his birthday present.

“You look pleased with yourself,” Cassie commented from the other side of the couch, lowering the tablet in her hand, brow arched in question.

It was Saturday afternoon, and they were spending a quiet day at home. The twins were on the floor, engrossed in their coloring books. He heard them whispering and giggling mischievously every now and then. But that was a common occurrence between them, and he didn’t give it any mind.

“Just thinking,” he drawled, dropping his voice after a quick glance at the girls, “about my birthday present. And how much I will enjoy unwrapping it, inch by slow inch.”

“You have my full attention,” Cassie laughed, throwing him a sultry wink. “Two words. Black. Lace.”

“Happy Birthday to me,” he chuckled, seductively running one index finger up her shorts-clad leg, enjoying how she shivered.

At four years old (four and a half, thank you very much), Eloise and Sophie Ramsey knew birthdays meant cake. The games and presents were nice too, but really, it was all about the cake.

Eloise liked chocolate cake best, with chocolate frosting and sprinkles. Lots of rainbow-colored sprinkles. Sophie didn’t mind chocolate, but she’d rather have yellow cake with cream and strawberries; the more, the better.

It was just too bad their birthday was still months and months away. Instead, they had to settle for coloring a slice of cake on the page, they thought, sharing a commiserating look with each other.

And then they heard Daddy say the magic words.

Ethan quickly dropped his hand when he heard the sound of rushing feet. Before he could react, his arms were full of two little girls, their bodies vibrating excitedly.

“Daddy, is it your birthday today?” they chorused, pulling at the front of his shirt.

“Can we have a party?” Sophie said winningly, twirling one finger around a lock of hair.

“And birthday cake,” Eloise said, smacking her lips in a gesture reminiscent of her mother.

Ignoring Cassie’s snort and “Busted!” comment, he struggled for balance as Eloise and Sophie climbed atop the couch. They surrounded him, caging him between themselves, their tiny hands patting his cheeks for attention.

“Can we? Please?”

“Please, Daddy. Please?”

“It’s not my birthday today,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over their incessant pleading.

“It’s next week,” Cassie piped in eagerly.

“Not helping, Rookie,” Ethan glared at her, using the old nickname as he did whenever she annoyed him.

The girls ignored them, talking out loud as they planned who to invite to the party. Their list seemed to include everyone they’d ever met in their life.

“Grandpa Alan, Uncle Naveen, Aunty Si and Uncle Max. And Noah and Belle and Amelia and Bailey—”

“Don’t forget Grandmother Livvy and Grandpa Robbie,” Eloise interrupted her sister impatiently. “And Uncle Bryce and Aunt Rora.”

“Daddy, can we get a clown for the party?” Sophie asked.

“I want a magician,” Eloise added, tripping over the word so that it sounded like ‘maj-shun’.

“No, we cannot,” Ethan said grumpily, his scowl designed to dampen their enthusiasm. It didn’t work as he’d intended.

“Why not?” Eloise shot back.

She lifted her chin mulishly, green eyes firing in a surprisingly adult manner. However, Sophie’s eyes pooled with tears, making Ethan feel like a heel.

“Yeah, Dr. Ramsey, why not?” Cassie teased, lifting Sophie onto her lap as she scooted beside him on the couch.

“I never liked celebrating my birthday,” he explained calmly, looking down at his daughters.

Sophie was now cuddled against her mother, her face half-hidden, but he could see the damp spot forming on Cassie’s white top. If one thing was guaranteed to make him cave despite his best intentions, it was watching his daughters cry.

“We want cake,” Eloise said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

“How about we go to the bakery and get cake?” Ethan cajoled, feeling trapped.

“But that’s not a birthday cake,” Sophie argued, voice wobbly.

“A cake is a cake,” Ethan said reasonably, throwing Cassie a pleading look, hoping she’d back him up on this.

“A birthday cake is special,” Cassie nodded sagely. “Especially when it comes with balloons and pizza. Want to help me plan the party, girls?”

Traitor, Ethan thought in annoyance, shooting Cassie a look that promised retribution.

The twins jumped in delight, their voices bubbling over with excitement. And Ethan resigned himself to the inevitable as he watched his plans to seduce his wife go up in smoke.

Looks like he was having a birthday party.

-------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @takemyopenheart @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @youlookappropriate

#open heart #ethan ramsey #open heart choices #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x mc #writers on tumblr #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #ramsey twins

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justalonelyslytherin · 2 years

Text

Birthday Sweater

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female Reader

Summary: you and Ransom have just started dating and for his birthday you give him a sweater you personally knitted, how does he react?

Warnings: brief mention of his shitty parents & his not so great upbringing, otherwise very fluffy!

Wordcount: 1.9k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: Requested by the wonderful @chase-your-dreams-away , I hope you like it 😊

Dividers made by the talented @firefly-graphics

Ransom had an unspoken-off, not-so-secret secret love for knitted sweaters.

He never mentioned it but the amount of cable-knit in his closet spoke for itself. At home, he almost never wore anything else. That man practically lived and breathed in cable-knit. If there was a lightweight summer-appropriate version of cable-knit sweaters, he would wear them even in summer. All year round it would be.

He had a huge collection of them, spanning their own area in his closet. While there was such a big amount of them, a lot spend their lives entirely in his closet. Because Ransom only ever wore a handful of them in rotation. Each one of them must be a favorite of his. They certainly were all well loved. The holes and loose threads could attest to that.

It was a curious thing. For a man that was chick and vain, who had a very luxurious and particular taste, he didn’t seem to mind the un-perfect state of his cable-knit-wear. (But dare he be seen with a hair out of place or shoes that didn’t shine!)

This contradiction in him was one of her favorite details of Ransom. It made him human. This small detail made him approachable and just the tiniest amount of soft around his otherwise hard and cold edges.

As this man's love - his first true love she liked to jokingly call it - was so clear, what better present was there to get for his birthday? The date was fast approaching and she was ready for it. Ransom’s Birthday would mark the first festivity they would be celebrating as a couple, so she wanted it to be special. Knitting had been a hobby of hers ever since her grandmother taught her as a child. What better way to celebrate his birthday than knitting him his own sweater?

Finding the time to make Ransom’s gift, although, was a little harder.

While their relationship was rather fresh, they were progressing at a fast pace. She spent ninety percent of her time at Ransom’s house already. Her own toothbrush and half her clothes had also migrated into his bathroom and closet. And Ransom seemed to want to move even further. He had hinted - in his own ways - that she should move in.

It started with a pair of keys he conveniently ‘forgot’ on his kitchen island. When she had asked him about the keys he had told her it was a spare pair for the house that he had found somewhere and put there to store away. His explanation had been sound and she had accepted it with a nod. Ransom’s behavior afterward however gave him away. All evening long he kept eyeing her and the keys, until at one point - he had thought she didn’t notice - he had huffed rather annoyedly and taken the keys away.

The next hint came in disguise as him wanting to do some remodeling in his house. Mostly the guest rooms as they weren’t used as such. He had appointed her as his help, wanting her to browse ideas for different usages and design ideas. She helped him happily, secretly well aware he was trying to coax her into molding the cold, modern house into something she would like and feel comfortable in. Maybe it was her fault for initially complaining about how cold and bare his house was. She had faulted it for looking pulled straight out of an architecture magazine. Which was what Ransom had done. He had bought the place already furnished, not bothering with making any changes or having it look homely.

At one point - and this was the moment she had pulled the brakes on his antics - he had even brought her along to go look at new houses. His disguise had been that he was thinking about acquiring more properties. Passive income he had cited. Initially, she had agreed to go with him, thinking he maybe did want to invest. Ransom however had been surprisingly investive in the houses and asked about her personal opinions on layout and design. That’s when she realized he hadn’t taken her with him for her non-existent knowledge of investment.

After the third house, she had finally had time to pull him to the side and tell him that this was all very nice but he should just ask her if she wanted to move in. She didn’t want him to make such an investment - for her. Not when they couldn’t possibly tell how long their relationship would still persist. She did have a fear of their future ending rather abruptly and of him getting bored of her at some point.

Some very intensive insisting later from Ransom that he never could get bored of her, he reluctantly agreed and asked her to move in. And she had accepted. But only after the lease on her current apartment would be ending, which was still a couple of months away and to her convenience after Ransom’s birthday. So under the guise of wanting to rack up some overtime, so she could take time off once it would be moving day, she managed to find enough alone time to actually work on his birthday present.

She did feel a little bad about lying to him in order to make his birthday gift, but in the end, she concluded it was for the right reasons. And Ransom’s reaction to the present definitely was worth it.

On his Birthday they woke up together. She had arrived the evening before at his place for a sleepover. Ransom hadn’t said anything to her but deep down she knew he wanted her there. With him, it was a lot of intuition and silent telltales. For the short amount of time they had been together her fluency in ‘Ransom Drysdale’ was extraordinary.

Together they had a nice big breakfast and lots of cuddling, which turned into more, because Ransom was a horndog and who was he to not use his birthday as a pretense to get extra sex?

Sometime in the afternoon, it was time for his present. They were sitting in front of the fireplace in the living room when she stood up. Ransom protested, reaching out for her and pulling her back against him.

“Where do you think you are going?”, he asked her, playfully nibbling at her neck.

“Ransooom~” she whined, worming her way out of his embrace and turning towards him. He made an unhappy face scowling. She could see the protest forming on his lips, him wanting to use his birthday again as a way to get her to stay put. She shushed him this time, her finger on his lips.

“I’m just going to quickly get something.” Before he could protest again she had left the room.

When she came back she was carrying a square present box in her hands, that she put into his lap. He looked at her confused.

“I thought you promised you wouldn’t buy me anything,” he grumbled. She had to promise him. Ransom didn’t celebrate his birthday. The reason behind it was that he had never learned to. His parents had never bothered and in turn, he had never experienced how that day was supposed to be special. Knowing this made her sad, she wanted him to know the feeling and so she had made it her personal goal to show him a good birthday. Even if it was a small, toned-down version to ease him into the concept. He had refused to have anything bought for him, which she had agreed to. Her present was never meant to be bought.

“I didn’t buy it,” she told him with a smile, ushering him to open it. He was still grumbly but complied in untying the ribbon around the package and lifting the lid. Slowly he pulled out the sweater, unfolding it in front of him.

“Where did you get this if you didn’t buy it?” he asked her, confused but also curious. His fingers rubbed the material between his fingers, noticing how soft it felt.

“I made it,” she told him shyly. While she was proud of her work, Ransom’s reaction made her nervous. She did crave his validation in some kind of way and hoped he would like it. His head snapped up from the sweater. She could tell he was surprised by this answer, whether he couldn’t believe she had done it herself or why someone would even bother to make a present for him. The way he kept quiet and didn’t move made her fidget.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” she started babbling, no longer able to handle the quiet. Ransom stopped her. He stopped her with a deep kiss and as she relaxed into it he pulled her onto his lap.

“I do like it.” His voice was quiet as he pressed her against his chest, his eyes still focused on the sweater.

“You made it?” He asked again, unbelieving and she nodded.

“My grandma taught me how to knit when I was small. She and my grandpa had their own farm where they sourced wool. They sold the wool itself or as clothing and blankets.” She still had the baby blanket her grandmother had knitted for her, tucked away in a safe space. Both as a keepsake and because she wanted to pass it to her own daughter if she had one in the future. Shifting a little she slid down beside him on the couch and snuggled against his side.

“I had the wool laying around for quite a while. It’s from this really small business I stumbled upon when I was visiting a friend on the other side of town. It’s the softest wool I’ve ever felt.”

Ransom smirked down at her. He felt immensely proud of her, not only because she made this sweater for him but because it looked really good. He couldn’t tell the difference between her self-made sweater and the expensive ones sitting in his closet. Not to mention that this one felt a thousand times cozier than even his most favorite sweater.

“I hope you still got some of that wool to make yourself a matching one,” he murmured against her crown, placing a kiss there. It was hard for him to say thank you, she knew that never forced him to say it. There were a lot of things that were fucked up about him, he knew that. Thanks to his upbringing and his shitty family there were a lot of toxic behaviors to unlearn and even more normal things for him to learn. She was ever patient with him and for that and many more things he loved her.

Once more she shifted against him, lifting her head and smiling at him.

“Try it on? For me,” she asked him. How could he say no when she asked him so prettily? Nodding, he slowly detangled himself from her and stood up. His current blue sweater was replaced by the creme-white one she had made him. Putting it on, he nearly cried at the soft feeling. He had never felt better wearing something, he had never felt more loved and comforted. The feeling reminded him of her, of the things she made him feel. Before her, he had never felt such emotions and other soft things.

#sly's 200 #ransom drysdale x reader #soft!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom x reader

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thewingedswine · 7 months

Note

Are you going to finish writing Know You?

NOTE: I am so sorry the answer became a novel, but here you go anyway🤣

That is such an inadvertently loaded question that it hurt my heart when I read it😅

So, YES, I do plan to finish it, and yes, though you didn’t ask, I still plan to start the sequel soon after- I mentioned I think in the first or second chapter that I plan to keep the story going for a few years- and it will end with the characters being like ELDERLY(not all of them but you’ll have to wait and see which ones I YEET)

But honestly what slowed me down in the first place was the dwindling interest and the disdain for stripes as a main oc.

I have a good handful of people who want to see how it ends and I LOVE them, and I love writing for them, but Know You became much closer to my heart than I expected,

And while Stripes is admittedly a dick, I try to make the characters as aware of that as possible. People scold her, she has reasons for acting that way, she sometimes feels bad about it, and she is actively making SMALL unconscious changes throughout the story, (since I plan to make this story last YEEEEAAARSSSS, I can’t give her an arc that ends quickly, I understand how the slow slow progression is frustrating but it’s realistic) and so on-

When people started commenting that they didn’t like the story because of her, I was not in a good place, and I think I emotionally latched onto that as me being a bad writer instead of “this story just isn’t for those people”. And, though I know better now, that feeling still hasn’t gone away

ADDITIONALLY, when I started the story I had sold a big slice of my small business and I had a lot of free time to update frequently because the money was just rolling in and I had very little to do- plus the movie had just come out so the hype was high and people wanted whatever Avatar fics they could get their hands on.

Now there are more options for readers, I’m starting a new business so there is less time to focus on putting out those big meaty chapters, and Know You’s popularity has died so my motivation to post for it (*often*, because I’m still very much in love with the fandom and with my characters and I’ve written out too much of the fucking 75 year timeline to just STOP) has died a bit as well

Lastly, the 2% of my personality that ISNT Avatar is writing. My grandmother has a doctorate in English language and literature (I said in a few places it was composition but i oopsed) I’ve been reading and writing with her as a hobby since I could blink and I DO love writing,(I’m not the greatest writer ever but I do love it)

The reason I write fanfics, which don’t pay, is for the dopamine blast I get when someone says they like the story. I don’t think there is any writer out there that can say they don’t do it at least a little bit for that.

So with the minimal amount of dopamine I get from the satisfaction of making the story exist in general, and the breadcrumbs my 3 online friends who read the story are throwing me every so often, I am indeed army crawling my way to the finish line, but it’s going to be extraordinarily slow.

I hope that answers your question, sorry about the rant, the ending is going to make you explode✨

#neteyam fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #fanfiction #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x oc #avatar way of water #avatar #na’vi oc #writing #creative writing #no motivation

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

Brush Strokes

She’d always found funerals strange, how they catered so much more to the living than they did the dead. Her mother hated them too, often saying no one ever said what they actually thought at them, the truth shrouded in pointed comments and false niceties. It was ironic, Emily thought, given that was how Elizabeth had lived most of her life.

-x-

Hi friends!

My insomnia is back in full swing, and we all know what that means - I write very sad things in the small hours of the morning and inflict them on all of you.

-x-

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Dementia, loss of a parent

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“The food here is terrible.”

Emily smiles and a wry chuckle escapes her. She looks at her husband next to her for a second before she looks back at Elizabeth.

“It is a hospital,” she says, “It’s not exactly going to be Michelin star quality.”

Elizabeth scoffs, rearranging the sheet of her hospital bed over her lap, eyeing it like she was in a five-star hotel.

“It’s the best hospital in DC, the President would come here if needed,” Elizabeth replies, raising her eyebrow, “You’d think there would be standards to maintain.”

Emily feels Aaron place his hand on her knee, gently squeezing the joint through her pants before she places her hand over his, linking their fingers together.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make your feelings known.”

Elizabeth hums, a disapproving noise Emily was achingly familiar with, something she’d almost found herself missing in recent months. It makes her chest tight, a flash of what used to be filling the room.

“You remind me of my daughter Emily,” Elizabeth says, a smile that could be described as fond spreading over her face. Emily feels Aaron squeeze her hand tightly, his thumb rubbing over her pulse point, and she thinks it’s probably the only thing that keeps her grounded, “She’s a better mother than I ever was,” Elizabeth meets Emily’s eyes, and she finds herself missing the judgement she’d seen there for as long as she could remember, sure it was better than simply not being recognised, “Do you have children?”

It was slow at first. Small signs Emily could now see they had missed, hindsight both a blessing and a curse after Elizabeth’s diagnosis. It was the opposite of how Emily’s father had died when she was in college, a heart attack taking him in the middle of Thanksgiving break. This was slow and gradual as her mother disappeared in front of her. After it became clear that Elizabeth could no longer live alone, and that living with them wasn’t something that would be right for any of them, she moved into a nursing home. She’d signed everything over to Emily, including power of attorney, and declined sharply, as if on some level she’d been waiting for it all to happen.

The nursing home had moved her to the hospital after an issue with her heart. Emily was off work, spending half of her time at the hospital and the other half at home with Jack and Hazel, desperately searching for some normality as they waited for the inevitable end.

Despite how long it had been, how she was now used to seeing her mother like this, it still hurt. It still stung that she didn’t recognise her, that she didn’t remember the kids - the grandchildren she adored.

“Two,” Aaron answers for her, and Emily isn’t sure she’s ever loved him more, “Jack, he’s 12, and Hazel, she’s 4.”

Emily looks around the room, all of the drawings Hazel had done for her grandmother adorning the walls. Splashes of colour and scribbles that were supposedly pictures of them brightening up an otherwise dreary room. She wonders if her mother ever thinks about where they are from, if she wonders what child drew them for her, or if she was simply too far gone to think that way.

She knew there were framed drawings from Hazel, and from Jack from when he was younger, in Elizabeth’s home office. Brightly coloured and crudely drawn and mixed in among photos. Cartoon drawings and paintings of their home right next to a photo of Aaron and Emily from their wedding. It was physical proof of how much Elizabeth had changed since becoming a grandmother, or maybe how she’d always been capable of such care and had simply chosen not to portray it when Emily was young herself. She had no memories of anything she ever made for her parents being out on display. No paintings hung up on the fridge. No poorly made mugs leaking coffee out onto a desk simply to see a wide smile on her face.

She loved that her children would remember Elizabeth as a loving grandmother, as someone who listened to their endless stories, someone who shipped them gifts from anywhere in the world after an offhand comment about something they liked. In her worst moments it made her jealous, made her wish her version of her mother was the same as theirs and she hated herself for it.

“I bet they are beautiful,” Elizabeth replies, smiling at them and Emily swallows thickly before she nods.

“Yeah, they are.”

___

Aaron had never been more frustrated at the DC traffic. His nerves fraying even further as the minutes ticked by, highly aware of the fact his wife was alone at the hospital sitting at her mother’s bedside. When he arrives he barely puts the car into park before he is out of it, just about remembering to lock it as he walks away.

The walk to Elizabeth’s room was familiar now. Hallways they’d walked almost every day for weeks that he was sure he could navigate with his eyes closed. Aaron sighs sadly as he turns the corner, finding his wife sitting out in the hallway, her elbows on her knees as she leans forward.

“Em?”

She looks up at him, her lips set in a grim line, her eyes shining with tears he knows she won’t let herself shed.

“It happened about 10 minutes ago,” she says, looking back at the floor. He walks over to join her, sitting in the seat next to her, “It was a stroke. And she’d signed that DNR so…” she clears her throat, shaking her head at herself, “I held her hand. Not that she knew who I was anyway.”

“She would have known she wasn’t alone, sweetheart,” he says, placing his hand on her back. He’s grateful when she sits up straighter and leans into his side, her head resting against his shoulder, “She would have known she was loved.”

Emily nods, a sound neither of them can place escaping her, “Yeah, I guess she would have.”

Aaron kisses the top of her head and holds her closer, the arm of the chair digging into his side in a way he doesn’t care to stop.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time,” he whispers against her hair, and she shakes her head, pulling back to look at him as she smiles sadly.

“It’s ok, I know you would have been here if you could,” her smile twitches slightly, and she shrugs her shoulders, “Besides, we spend most of our lives just the two of us, I guess it’s fitting it’s how it ended too.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say to that, how to respond, so he simply kisses her forehead, “Want to go home?”

“Can we just sit here for a little while?” She asks, swallowing thickly, her chest full of grief she doesn’t know how to process even though she’d known it was coming, “As soon as we leave here there will be so much to do and I…can we just stay?”

He nods and tucks her back into his side, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, “We can stay as long as you need to, sweetheart.” ___

As soon as she’s in the house, and Jessica has left, Jack hugs her. His arms tight around her middle and his face against her chest. She hugs him just as fiercely, rubbing circles on his back before he pulls away so they are looking at each other, almost face to face after his last growth spurt. He has a sad look in his eyes that she had seen countless times.

It felt strange to think this was something Emily shared with her son now - the loss of a mother, despite how different the circumstances were. Emily had decades with Elizabeth, albeit most of them tumultuous. Jack had Haley taken from him when he was young. His memories of her were few and far between. Most of the images he had of her had been painted by Aaron and Jessica. Stories that they told him again and again until it seemed as if he remembered them himself, pairing the descriptions of his mother with the hazy memory of how it felt to be loved by her.

“Mommy?”

She looks past Jack and looks at Hazel, the little girl’s wide dark eyes shining, “Hi sweetheart.”

She walks over and leans down so she can pull Hazel into her arms, the weight of her daughter against her comforting as she holds her.

“Aunt Jessie said Grandma died,” she says quietly, and Emily holds her tighter before she walks over to the couch, sitting down and keeping Hazel in her embrace, “Is that why everyone is sad?”

Aaron sits down next to her, Hazel sandwiched between them, “Yes, sweetheart, and it’s ok to be sad.”

Emily flicks her eyes to her husband, knowing his comment wasn’t just aimed at their daughter, before returning her attention to Hazel. Jack joins them, sitting on Emily’s other side, resting his head against her shoulder as she wraps her arm around him.

“Do you understand, sweet girl?” Emily asks, running her hand through her daughter’s hair, tucking a wild curl behind the little girl's ear.

“Grandma has gone to be with Jack’s other mom?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she tries to process what she’s been told, what they’ve been preparing her for weeks, “And that means she can’t come back.”

“That’s right,” Aaron says from her other side, his arm around the two of them, “But it’s important to remember your grandmother loved you very much.”

Hazel nods, her confusion and sadness clearly mixing together as she turns to look back at her mother, “Did she like the picture I drew her?”

The way her little girl’s voice cracks makes Emily’s heart fracture even further, her daughter’s grief something she could latch on to, something she could try and help her through so she didn’t have to process her own yet, her relationship with her mother far more complicated than Hazel’s. She thinks of the neatly folded-up drawing in her purse, the piece of paper that she never got to hand over as she got to the hospital having arrived in the middle of a medical emergency. She’d never lied to her children, never anything beyond the childhood fantasies of Santa and the tooth fairy, but she sees no benefit in the truth here. A small lie something that can bring her daughter a tiny bit of comfort.

“Yes, baby,” Emily says, pulling her daughter closer, her eyes meeting her husband’s over the top of her head, “She loved it.”

___

Emily feels some of the tension in her chest ease as the door to her mother’s home office closes behind her.

It was only once her dementia was more advanced that Elizabeth started to be more outrightly honest. All of the social trappings she’d been part of her whole life, the very same ones she’d raised Emily in, fell away quickly, leaving her as if they had never been there at all. Emily had sat and listened as her mother talked about her daughter, not realising who she was talking to. She listened as her mother sounded proud, told her about her career and her family, how she’d made something of herself.

She hated that this is what it had taken to hear what she hadn’t realised she’d always needed. That her mother had lost everything that had made her her in order to say all the things Emily had spent a lifetime convincing herself Elizabeth didn’t feel or believe.

Emily steps further into the office, the noise from the wake dulled by the heavy wooden door. She sighs as she looks around the room, piles of paper on every surface, the usual regimented tidiness her mother had always lived by nowhere to be found. It was almost like it was a physical manifestation of Elizabeth’s decline, everything left out in the open - waiting for Emily to file it away, to put everything back in its place. She reaches for a photo on the desk, pulling it from amongst the paperwork spread around it, and she smiles. It’s a framed photo of Emily in her hospital bed just after she’d had Hazel. Jack was next to her, cuddled up to her side as he held his newborn sister. Initially, Emily hated the photo, seeing only her dirty hair piled up on her head, the bags under her eyes, and the clear exhaustion that was visible even through the camera. Now she loved it. She could only see the happiness, the tender way she held Jack to her with one hand whilst her other was cupping Hazel’s head, providing additional support as the newborn slept in her brother's arms.

She wondered if this is what Elizabeth had seen all along. If that was why she’d insisted Aaron print a copy after she saw it. If she’d seen the happiness that she knew Emily had been seeking most of her life.

There’s a knock at the door and then it opens, and Emily turns to see her husband walking into the room to join her, followed by a short burst of noise from the wake before he closes the door behind him. She smiles tightly at him, pressing her lips into a firm line to stop them from shaking.

“Are the kids ok?” She asks quietly, not looking as she places the frame back on the desk. She curses as she knocks a pile of paperwork onto the floor, files of paper spreading everywhere. “Fuck.”

Aaron is across the room in a second, kneeling down as she does to help her tidy up what she’d knocked over.

“They are ok,” he assures her, carefully rearranging some of the files, “Jack is showing Reid a game on his phone, Hazel is asleep in JJ’s lap.” Emily nods in acknowledgement, her eyes fixed on the papers she was gathering, “I’m mostly worried about you.”

She freezes for a second, her entire body seizing up before she clears her throat and carries on, her fingers shaking as she reaches for a piece of paper in between them. Aaron stops her, his hand meeting hers halfway, linking their fingers together.

“Aaron-”

“You haven’t given yourself a minute to just…stop since she died.”

“There isn’t time,” she says, gathering the last of the papers as she stands up, “Look at this place,” she exclaims, placing the files back down, “It’s a mess. And then we’ll have to list this place to sell it, and that’s without thinking about her properties abroad…”

She drifts off, her eyes fixed on a colourful piece of paper on the desk, previously covered by the files Aaron was still picking up. She picks it up, her eyes narrowing as she looks closer. The picture, clearly drawn by a young child, was a house with three stick figures standing outside, the smallest one in the middle.

“I don’t remember Hazel drawing that one,” Aaron says, now standing up behind her and looking over her shoulder.

“Me neither,” she says, frowning as she turns it over. She sucks in a breath and it feels like it catches in her chest, sticking on every rib as she reads the messy words on the back clearly written by a child, the letters mismatched and different sizes.

Emily Prentiss, aged 5. 02/23/1976

The laugh that leaves her borders on hysterical, and she shakes her head, gripping the drawing she’d inexplicably found in amongst her mother’s medical insurance papers and the deeds to the house even tighter. The paper creases ever so slightly as she turns it back over and looks at the drawing she had no memory of doing.

Her laughter turns into a sob, and it hurts. Her chest heaving with it as her spare hand covers her eyes, the grief she had held back since her mother died finally breaking free.

Aaron’s arms are around her in an instant, pulling her into his chest. He carefully takes the drawing from her, making sure it doesn’t get damaged, and she settles against him. She places her hands on his back, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, and her face on his chest. He feels her sobs vibrate through him, and he holds her tighter, fiercely kissing the top of her head as he cups the back of it, holding her as close as he possibly can.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her temple again, “I’ve got you.”

He holds her as she finally let's go. As she finally feels everything she’d been keeping in for weeks and months. Years if she was honest for herself. Grief for losing her mother twice - once with her diagnosis, and the other when she died. Grief for a relationship that was never what she needed or wanted, for a version of her mother that had existed nowhere but in her imagination.

“She was my mom, Aaron,” she stutters, her words muffled by his shirt and her emotion.

“I know,” he says soothingly, his fingers buried in her hair, “I know she was,” he encourages her to move back from him just enough so he can look at her. He wipes his thumb under one of her eyes, wiping away a tear and a smudge of mascara, and he doesn’t have to look down to know he’ll have a matching stain on his white shirt, “I’m so sorry, Emily.”

She nods, her chin trembling as she wipes at her cheeks, “I wish things could have been different,” she says, her voice wavering, “I wish we could have actually talked to each other instead of…being polite like we were for years,” she looks at the drawing Aaron had carefully placed on the desk and she points at it, “I shouldn’t have to find out how much she cared because of a piece of paper she kept for 40 years,” she chokes out a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, “I shouldn’t have to find this after she died.”

“You deserved better,” he assures her, cupping her cheek and pressing a kiss to her forehead, “And you are doing better,” he says, smiling softly at her, “Jack and Hazel never doubt for a moment how much you love them.”

She presses her forehead against his and stamps his lips with a kiss, “They know you love them too.”

They lapse into silence for a moment, the only sound the low murmuring from the other side of the door.

“Want to go back out there?” He asks, and she shakes her head, her forehead knocking against his before she presses her cheek against his chest.

“Not yet.”

“Ok, sweetheart,” he says, resting his cheek on top of her head, “Not yet.” He runs his hand up and down her back and looks at the drawing she’d done when she was just a little older than Hazel and it makes him smile. He tries to picture her, tries to think of what she would have been like at the time. If she was as quiet as Hazel could be sometimes, or if she’d always been as outspoken as she was now. “You know what’s crazy?”

“What?” She asks, letting herself relax in the comfort of his embrace, in the safety he always provided. He removes one arm from around her and picks up the drawing, turning it over to look at the words she’d written on the back all those years ago.

“Your penmanship hasn’t improved at all in 40 years.”

She laughs, loud enough that if someone from the wake heard it he’s sure they’d deem it inappropriate, and she pulls away to shake her head at him, a watery smile spreading across her face.

“How is it you always find a way to criticise my paperwork?”

He shrugs one of his shoulders, “Maybe one day it will sink in.”

She shakes her head again and her smile gives way to an adoring look. She leans in and kisses him, the taste of her tears on both of their lips.

“Thank you,” she says, her chest tight as she’s once again overwhelmed by emotion, “For loving me enough to make me laugh on a day like today.”

He kisses her once more before pulling her into a hug again, something she gratefully returns.

“You don’t have to thank me, Em. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world, no matter what day it is.”

Usually, she’d call him ridiculous. She’d roll her eyes and call him out for being cheesy, but she can’t bring herself to. Instead, she lets herself enjoy it.

A week later he frames the drawing for her and puts it in their home office along with drawings that Jack and Hazel had done for them.

When she looks at it, she thinks of her mother, and she smiles.

-x-

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skyward-floored · 1 year

Note

You’ve mentioned including Spirit and the tfh Links in The Incredibles AU and although this is probably a bit spoilery to ask; could you tell us a little about them?

FOR SURE :D *gently holds all four of them* I just think they’re neat

...And you’re right that it’s a bit spoilery, but I’m assuming that since you’re asking you don’t mind terribly much about that? Here’s your spoiler warning anyways though! A lot of after-movie stuff here.

It’s also really long XD

So you’re aware of the small timeskip in the Incredibles after they defeat Syndrome (a couple months I think? Two? Three?) yeah? Well since Sky is finally home after being missing for more than a year, he and Sun take the time in the skip there to just take it easy so he can rest and heal, maybe even get away for a weekend for a little vacation or something without Aryll (who’s about three or four)

And somewhere after that, Sun finds out she’s expecting again!

Triplets! 🎉

...Sky promptly faints.

They’re not born until after the second movie would happen (...I think, I might have to check my timeline) but their names are Crimson, Azure, and Sage (thank you Tellie for talking about me with names <3)

They’d all be blond if not for the influence of their powers (kinda like Legend with his pink) but if any of them ever didn’t use their powers for a long stretch of time, it’d probably fade a little.

Crimson is the oldest of the three, and got his name from his shock of red hair (he looks like Malon! How did that even happen?! Legend yells) but also the superhero names of his father and grandfather. His power is simply a super powerful punch (think like the tiger miraculous from ML) but uh... sometimes he forgets how strong it is. Oops. He can be a little dumb, but he always means well, and is fiercely protective of his brothers.

Azure is in the middle, named for his eyes, but also his hair that’s allllmost blue if you squint. His powers are basically “plagued by visions” 🤣 I thought it’d be nice to reference sksw Link’s visions he gets, and also lean into powers Zelda typically has (since Azure is blue and blue is wisdom), so he often has visions of the future when he’s asleep (and as he gets older, when he’s awake too), but he can also create shields a lot like Hyrule’s. Think Nayru’s love from oot. He’s the quietest of the three, and also the smartest.

Sage is the youngest, named for his unnaturally green eyes (and his grandmother’s maiden name) and I’m still conflicted about his powers honestly XD Courage doesn’t have very many specific “powers” attributed to it, so me and Tellie have batted ideas around a couple times. She suggested maybe he can imbue things with courage, objects so they can help him, people so they can get past their fears. Despite thinking about this for months I’m still not sure if I want to go with that, so his powers are still a little up in the air.

...I did have the thought that maybe I could lean into the dragon aspect of things and have Sage’s powers be lightning-related like Farosh from botw (would also make a cool superhero name) but once again... still haven’t decided XD if anyone has ideas or anything I will not complain.

Now for Spirit! I don’t have as much on him yet as of now but I’m working on it 👍

Spirit is Warriors and Artemis’ son, born after years of trying (and not succeeding) to have kids. He’s born either right after the second movie or during it (...once again, I’ll have to find my timeline) and his parents are both ecstatic.

Wind promptly decides he’s going to be the same kind of uncle to Spirit that Warriors was for him, so the two of them are really close, and Spirit looks up to him a lot.

Spirit’s powers I haven’t specifically thought out, but I’m pretty sure I’m going with just seeing ghosts? That seems a little plain so maybe he’s got something else too, but I haven’t thought of anything good/better. Suggestions and/or comments are always appreciated :)

#I think that’s all whoof #Incredibles au #lu spirit #Sky/sun #warriors/artemis #answers from the floor #anon #sky reacting to sun expecting triplets is like in encanto when the grandad finds out in the flashback btw #it’s a very specific image in my head

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littlebeethings · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Date

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader Word count: 2000 Warnings: None Summary: When a blind date goes horribly wrong, Frankie comes and makes it right. Masterlist | Ao3

Everything was going to shit. Your evening goes up in flames and turns to ash before your eyes. You wanted to curl up and cry. You wanted to scream and shout.

The asshole in front of you, your blind date, thought it acceptable to comment on your so-called “flaws”, flirt with the waitstaff, and get drunk on the most expensive alcohol at the restaurant he picked. Only now deciding to drop the fact that you would be paying the bill since you asked him on the date.

You forked over the money. “Are you sure?” She asked, looking at the man in front of you. “Perhaps you would like to at least pay for your drink, sir?”

“Take her money,” he said. “Because you’re not getting any of mine.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“It’s fine,” you told your waiter. “I’m paying.”

You pulled out your phone as you waited for your card.

You: Just finishing up the worst date in the history of dates. Please tell me your night is better than mine.

You set your phone down and watched as your date finished the last of his drink.

Frankie: What? A blind date didn’t work out? Never heard that one.

You smiled and shook your head.

You: It’s very hard for us common folk to get dates. You have the uniform. It draws the people in like moths to a lamp.

Frankie: Where are you?

You: Why?

Frankie: So we can salvage your night.

You: I can’t take any more disappointment tonight, Frankie. I’m getting an uber and heading home. Calling it now to save me any more pain.

The waiter dropped the card in front of you. You scribbled down a generous tip before saying goodbye to your date and leaving.

Frankie: I’m already in my car. Tell me where you are or I’ll meet you at your house. Your choice.

You groaned but texted him the name of the restaurant.

Frankie pulled up not ten minutes later in his old truck, just as your date stumbled out. You made your way to the truck when your date grabbed your arm.

“Come on, baby,” the man drawled.

“Let me go,” you said, trying to stay calm.

“Let me take you back to my place,” he said, swaying a bit.

Frankie got out of the truck and called you. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine, buddy,” your date said.

Frankie got a bit red in the face and came over.

“Hey, she’s my date, back off,” your date said, his hand on your arms tightening.

You tried to pull away but he yanked you back.

Frankie stepped closer, “Take your hand off her.”

The man got into Frankie's face. You pulled your arm back, causing him to stumble. Your purse came out before your date had a chance to punch Frankie. You slammed your bag into the man’s stomach and he doubled over, letting go of your arm and falling to the ground.

“Let’s go,” you said, leaving your date on the sidewalk.

Frankie smirked, “that’s my girl.”

The butterflies that took off in your stomach were unstopped. That’s my girl. It sent shivers down your spine and sparked a fire in your core.

Frankie slid into his truck as you finished buckling.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just not how I thought tonight was going to go,” you replied.

“There is only one way to go now,” Frankie said, smiling at you.

“And where is that, Morales?”

He pushed the gear shift into drive, “Up.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What are you planning?”

“Oh, nothing too extravagant,” he said. “Just the perfect date.”

“The perfect date?”

“You are going to love it.”

“Am I?” You asked, a bit skeptical.

“Do you ever regret spending time with me?”

You grew quiet. You thought back to the many years you had known Frankie. From the moment you met him, you were in love. And then he said he was a pilot in the military and you put him at distance. You remembered the stories your grandmother would tell you. Of opening the door when she was just a child, two men on the doorstep in uniforms. Them telling her mama that her dad was MIA. Her aunt’s husband KIA. We may be fighting different wars, but war is war, and loved ones who fight in it can very quickly be taken from you. But even with your fear of losing Frankie, you wouldn’t dare push him from your life completely.

Frankie was right, you never regretted the time you spent together.

That was how you ended up in a cart at a grocery store.

“You are insane, I’m not twelve,” you said.

Frankie leaned against the chart, “You know you want to.”

Oh, you wanted to, but you would never tell him that.

He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you gave in, climbing into the chart.

“What do we need anyway?” You asked as he pushed you through the store.

First, he took you to the home section where he grabbed a large fleece blanket. He tossed in beside you.

“Frankie,” you said. “What are you planning?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. Next stop, candy!”

The grocery store was pretty empty so when he pushed you out of the aisle with the blankets and pillows, he sped up.

“Frankie,” you shrieked as the two of you went flying through the store. Your hands gripped the side of the cart for dear life. Frankie laughed, leaning down as he slowed down.

“Is your night getting any better?” He asked.

“No,” you cried out even though you couldn’t hide the smile that was spread across your face. “You almost killed me!”

Frankie laughed and turned the cart down the candy aisle. He pushed the chart right next to the shelves and began dropping bags and boxes on top of you.

“What are you thinking?” Frankie asked.

“I think you’re crazy,” you said. “Who needs this much candy?”

“We do,” he said with a smile. “Now, what do you want?”

You picked out your favorite candy.

“Anything else?” Frankie asked.

You grabbed a couple of other ones. “That’s good,” you said, satisfied with your choices.

When you reached the self checkout, you tried to scan your candy at the register beside Frankie’s but then the box was swiped from you.

“I’m paying,” Frankie said, scanning the blanket and all the candy that had been piled around you.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said.

“I want to,” was all he said as he scanned the items. “Is that all?” He asked, looking at you.

You sat up, “Yep.”

Frankie paid and then helped pile the bags on top of you. The whole time you watched him and wondered why you had kept him away so long. Why did you push your feelings away?

He pushed the chart to the car and helped you get out. You helped put your little haul into the backseat and then got into the car while Frankie returned the chart.

“Where to next?” You asked when he got back.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he said with a wink.

Frankie drives out into the countryside until you reach the drive-in movies.

“No,” you whispered, looking around at all the parked cars.

Frankie smiled, “What do you think? Better date than that asshole?”

You leaned over and kissed Frankie’s stubbled cheeks.

“It’s perfect,” you said, sitting back. “Though, anything was better than that date.”

“You just can’t let me have it, can you?” He asked as he pulled up to the ticket booth.

“It’s perfect Frankie, really.”

Frankie smiled and took your hand, rubbing his thumb over the top of it. His eyes locked onto you and you couldn’t look away. Your eyes dropped to his lips for a split second as you licked yours. You thought about kissing him. Long and slow, and then fast and rough. Frankie was a good kisser, you knew it. You had spent more time than you wanted to admit admiring his lips and you just knew they would be perfect against yours.

“Sir?” The ticket attendant asked

Frankie jerked a bit, “Yes? Oh, two adults please.”

He handed over the money and took the tickets and drove forwards.

You cleared your throat, looking out the window. “So what movie is playing?” You asked. He passed you the ticket so he could focus on parking. “My favorite,” you whispered.

“I know,” Frankie said, you looked over and found him smiling. He knew you so well.

“You know me so well,” you said.

“I'll try,” Frankie said. He started to say something else but stopped.

He rolled down the windows and shut the car off. You watched him pull the blanket from the back and the candy. When he caught you looking you bit your lip and looked away.

Just say it, you thought. Enough is enough, say it.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom before the movie starts,” you said, escaping while you still could.

“Hurry, it will be starting soon.”

When you got to the bathroom you looked into the mirror.

“You’re a coward,” you told your reflection.

“And I always will be if I don’t tell him how I feel,” she said back.

You stuck your nose out at her and she stuck hers back at you. You gave her the finger and she did the same.

“I hate you.”

You did your business and freshened up before going back to Frankie’s truck.

He smiled at you when he saw you and patted the seat beside him. You climbed into the truck and scooted closer to him.

“I was scared you were going to miss the opening scene,” he said, opening one of the boxes of candy he picked out.

“Never,” you smiled, taking some of your candy.

You started with candy between you but as the movie began, the temperature began to drop. When Frankie caught you shivering, he put the blanket on you. That didn’t stop your small shivering which you tried to hide, so Frankie pulled out his hoodie from the back.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, your eyes glued to the screen.

“You are shaking the whole truck, sweetheart,” Frankie said.

You took the hoodie and slid it on. It was much warmer and smelled just like Frankie. You took in a deep breath of the collar and snuggled in closer. Still, you were freezing.

Frankie pushed the candy long forgotten into the floor and scooted closer to you.

“Come here,” he whispered.

You scooted closer, tucking yourself into his side. Frankie’s arm draped over you and pulled you as close as possible. You couldn’t stop your body from burrowing into him. You breathed him and your hold body calmed.

“Thank you, Frankie,” you whispered. “This really is the perfect date.”

“I’m glad,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “If a guy ever pulls the shit the asshole tonight did, remember your perfect date and never settle for less.”

“Frankie?”

“Hm?”

You went quiet, trying to pull together the courage to say what you needed to say.

Frankie said your name and you sat up. You looked at him with big eyes.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” he said, and your heart filled.

“I’m sorry,” you said, a tear rolling down your cheek. “I was a coward.”

Frankie moved closer to you and cupped your cheek. “No. You are not a coward.”

“I’ve been scared of losing you.” You held his wrist, keeping his hand on your face.

“You won’t lose me,” he promised. “I will always come back to you.”

Frankie leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes drifted close as you took in this moment.

Frankie pressed his lips to yours. He kissed you with everything he had. You finally realized what your perfect date was. Your perfect date was Frankie.

#triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader

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catgirl-kaiju · 1 month

Note

Hi, I really appreciate you giving me a genuine answer to my question. Your explanation makes a lot of sense to me. My position on it mostly comes from seeing tme/tma frequently used as a one to one replacement for agab. Since I haven’t often seen it used only in the context of tranmisogny, it feels like another false binary to me. I consider myself a very private person (hence the anonymous ask), so I choose not to disclose my agab or tm(e/a) status to individuals I’m not close to, but in a lot of online spaces people automatically assume that means I must be afab/tme, which rubs me the wrong way since I feel like disclosing that should always be a personal choice.

I wouldn’t say the model enforces arbitrary sex binaries on its own, but I’ve definitely seen it used in ways that do enforce it. Ultimately, I think any kind of labeling system can end up being used in a way that’s overly reductive. And when labels are being used in that reductive manner, then it often is something where people will assumptions about genitalia; that’s what I meant when I mentioned that in my ask yesterday. I have a body with “atypical” secondary sex characteristics, and grew up in and still live in a small conservative town. I’ve had people ask demanding questions about my genitalia since the age most “boys” hit puberty (I didn’t until 17 but the questions started sooner), which I believe is part of why I’m a bit sensitive to stuff that seems it’s demanding the same question of me.

I have only one testicle, what my grandmother calls “inappropriately wide hips for a man,” gynecomastia, an inability to grow facial or chest hair, and a not quite micropenis by the clinical definition (.25 inches longer than the measurement). There’s argument medically over whether my condition “counts” as intersex since it’s not apparent from birth, but rather shows up during puberty. I have a fairly complicated relationship with my biological sex and my gender as do many people. I have a hard time knowing where I sit in regards to transmisogyny, I know most people in my area consider me a somewhat “failed” man, but I have had a couple people (out of towners) ask if I was a trans man before on rare occasion (three times ever I believe). Like I mentioned, I’m fem leaning nonbinary, but have to present as a “typical male” for safety until I’m able to move which will hopefully be within the year. I think a lot of the online trans spaces Ive tried to engage in in the past have been very toxic, which hasn’t helped me in any way. When I move, I hope to find an in person queer space to explore some of this more.

Sorry for dumping this on you over seeing an addition you made to a post. And again, thank you for taking the time to give me a genuine response instead of just dismissing me outright. Your answer gave me a lot to think about, and while I still don’t like applying any label models to myself, I do see the utility to it better than before. This ended up much longer than I intended, so I think I’ll stop here. Have a nice day/night, and thank you

-Dee

thank you for the response and understanding, Dee.

i would like to clarify that i think using tma/tme in contexts that have nothing to do with discussions around transmisogyny is inappropriate and goes against the purpose of the terms. sorry you've interacted with people that, they sound like assholes.

i also feel you about everything you've been saying regarding your intersex experience. i was able to pass more as a man as i got older, but it took much longer than usual for me to be able to grown visible facial and body hair, and even when i wasn't fat, i'd get comments from people abt my "moobs" that made me feel uncomfortable with my body and not want to have my shirt off around anyone. my micropenis makes it difficult to urinate sometimes. i was often "mistaken" for a girl growing up, after i decided to grow out my hair because of my lack of facial hair, low body hair, high voice, and thin wrists.

i know that under the clynical definition of a micropenis, i definitely have one, based on my own measurements and those of a physician. and that in and of myself makes me intersex, but i definitely feel that same anxiety that you're expressing about not being counted as intersex in some people's eyes. i'm currently looking into get evaluated for klinefelter syndrome, bc so many of my experiences regarding my body seem to line up with the diagnosis, but i don't have an official diagnostic determination one way or the other yet and that makes me feel sometimes like i'm not as valid as other intersex folks. but i want you to know that we are both valid, and your body is intersex and beautiful. ❤️

i hope you're able to get to a safe place where you can explore your gender presentation more openly and i hope that femininity brings you joy ❤️

have a good one!

#ask #anon

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rfsak2 · 2 months

Text

Easy Target, Pt.2

Part two!! If you like it, please leave a like. Some of us authors claim we can write without feedback but it surely is much less fun! I would love to discuss headcanons and meta analyses!

Easy Target, Part 2

They thought wrong. Severus/OC

Warnings: cuss words, allusions to trauma and injuries.

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

Part 1

When next he saw her, she was considerably more put together. Her hair was pulled back into a neat chignon, she was wearing a simple knit dress, neat but sans teaching robes. She seemed much better rested as she sauntered into the Great Hall, whatever infernal shoes she had on clacking loudly on the stone.

She smiled serenely, lips a fetching red, as she settled her free hand on the back of her seat, the other small hand clutching a newspaper, long, elegantly manicured nails painted a deep, bloody red. “Good Morning.” She chirped as she scooted her chair from under the table, waving a hand over it, transfiguring it in a plush, soft cushioned chair.

Whatever his reservations about her, he had to admit that she was brilliant at transfiguration and likely excellent at spell work in general, considering her facility with wandless and wordless magic.

He looked up and caught her eyes, nearly starting at her bright, friendly smile. “Did y’all sleep well?” There were a few noncommittal morning mumbles, none of which fazed her.

He arched an eyebrow silently as she settled delicately against the right side of her over-large chair and opened her paper. Where was the snippy witch he had met last night? Where was the woman who had called him a dick and sparred toe-to-toe with him?

“Morning person, are you, Ms. de Vilieré?” He groused lightly as he sipped his tea.

Her smile faltered in the slightest as she spared him the barest glance over her New Orleans Magical Post and waved a negligent hand over her teacup. The acrid scent of strong coffee floated over to his nose and he watched as she poured a liberal amount of cream into the cup.

She sipped silently and shrugged. “No, not at all, Professor. I think I got more sleep than I’m used to yesterday and I’m kinda energetic, oddly enough. Before long, y’all are gonna need to peel me out of my chair in the morning.”

Y’all are gonna…

He snorted to himself, what an absurd accent.

Lupin leaned over her teacup and chuckled. “It’s not even brown anymore. Is there any coffee in there, Charlotte?”

She smiled and shrugged. “My hu... ex-husband’s grandmother used to tease me for exactly the same thing.”

Snape could smell blood in the water.

She grimaced slightly and looked up at him as if expecting him to comment. There was a sharp moment in which he could feel her vulnerability, then it was gone and she was looking back down at her paper.

“If it wasn’t the only way for me to get my morning start, I wouldn’t even bother with it. It takes too much cream to cut the bitterness out of coffee.”

He snorted again. “It seems to me that you don’t need a morning start, Ms. de Vilieré.”

She looked up at him, her blue eyes assessing his, as if wondering why he didn’t take the free shot she had all but given him. He smirked smugly at her, one word: leverage.

One pale blonde eyebrow lifted sardonically. It wasn’t the reaction Severus had expected and it set him on edge, as if she knew something he didn’t.

Then with a small smile, she looked back down at the paper. “Appearances aren’t always as they seem, Mr. Snape.”

Severus felt his jaw clench, an involuntary sign of his discomfort.

Then she winked at him. He sucked in a breath, trying hard to pin down the reactivity that still lingered after all this time.

Appearances aren’t always as they seem, Mr. Snape.

He took a few hours to cool his temper, thoughts -irrational thoughts not based in fact- making it difficult for him to not see her comment and wink as anything but meant to embarrass and ridicule.

She didn’t go to Hogwarts. She has no idea how I would take that. She was just being cheeky or mocking, at worst. She was responding in kind.

He kept the mantra up as strode through the blessedly empty halls up to the transfiguration professor’s office.

There was a wreath of seasonal flowers on the door. Severus stared mutely, its presence almost unintelligible.

Shaking loose of the confusion, he walked into her office without knocking, a smug smirk firmly in place, noticing how markedly different it was to Minerva’s former office. Gone were the tartan and biscuits, now replaced with Fleur-de-lis’, deep green, and wrought iron.

At least her color choices weren’t objectionable.

“It seems ironic that both you and the former inhabitant of this office are equally obsessed with your respective heritages.”

She looked over at him and sighed. She turned back to the shelf and released whatever complicated spell work she was performing.

Without a wand. Or verbal spells.

The effortless show of facility irked him.

A vase of flowers landed on a sideboard with a soft thud.

She turned back to him and set her hands on her hips, shrugged. “Must be a transfiguration professor thing. Besides I don’t rightly see how that’s a bad thing, myself.”

Snape ignored her. “You were married, that isn’t in your file.”

She sighed and transfigured a nearby wooden chair into a plush, deep green velvet armchair. “Please have a seat, Professor.” She waved elegantly at the chair and he settled himself in the ridiculous seat. “What is it exactly you would like to know?” He opened his mouth to speak and she quickly cut in. “Mind you, I reserve the right not to answer.”

He nodded. “Does Minerva know?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. She decided that it was best left out of the file.”

Interesting. “Why?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I didn’t ask her to.” She sighed and lowered her eyes from his. “I suppose that she wished to shield me from the stigma associated with divorcees.”

He shrugged lightly, his eyes heavy with suspicion, there was more to this story. He crossed his legs and leaned back a little in his chair. “Do you have any children?”

She stiffened. “One, a son.”

He nodded and smirked slightly, trying to see how far he could push her. “One would think that a mother would have her son here with her.”

She perched herself on the edge of her desk, crossing her legs primly at the knee, back straight and rigid. “One would think that a professor would be smart enough to not make such an imbecilic statement. But then, there you have it.”

It took most of his considerable reserve to not gape at her. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me.” She smiled blithely at him, not to be cowed. “I said what I said.”

He arched an eyebrow, fighting against a thrill down his spine that was fast becoming a predictable nuisance. “So then, your son doesn’t want to be with you?”

She rolled her eyes again. “My son can’t be with me.”

“Why is that?”

“The courts weren’t inclined to let me take him off to foreign locales. My ex-husband’s family had something to say, I think.” Her eyes hardened perceptively and her shoulders stiffened. “I have filed numerous petitions for sole custody and they have all been thrown out.”

Interesting. “Why?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not really any of your business.”

He settled back in his chair. “As deputy headmaster, I think you’ll find that’s not a correct statement.”

“As a man, I think you’ll find that you feel entitled to information for no other reason than you have a penis, whether it’s your business or not.”

He steeled himself, refusing to be set on his back foot by her blunt, provocative verbiage. “You seem to not think highly of men.”

She waved off the statement with a negligent hand. “On an individual basis? Sure, I think highly of a few men. My father, my brother, my brothers-in-law. I hope that my son will be a man to think highly of. As an institution? The whole of the biological sex that makes up men? I try not to make sweeping generalizations.” She examined her cuticles, casually unbothered.

“What was your earlier comment if not a generalization?” He tilted his head, watching her pretend not to watch him.

She shrugged, smirking. “I tried. I failed.”

“And your husband?”

“Ex-husband.” She caught his eyes and held them unflinchingly.

He was tempted to try legilimency, but he decided against it. He wanted information, to be sure, but not information at all costs. It was not war and whatever he thought she may be hiding, to pry into her mind without the justification of impending danger seemed wrong.

He acquiesced with a small nod.

“Beau?” She smiled coyly. “He’s a shining example of his sex. Surely a paragon. Which is exactly why I divorced him, an’all.”

He knew better than to wade into that water. “Why did the courts throw out your petitions?”

She shifted slightly and regarded him coolly. “Because despite claiming that they have entered into the modern era, Louisiana Court judges still can’t understand why a woman without means of her own, a former housewife in fact, would divorce her wealthy, well-loved, politician husband.” She paused and fanned herself with her hand, her accent deepening mockingly. “Well, it’s practically unheard of! She must be outside of her mind to even think it.”

A lone brow arched over a dark eye. “They judged you unfit.”

She shook her head, chuckling mirthlessly. “No, they could not do that. They have no evidence and defamation is a dangerous gamble to make. They tried, his lawyers brought it up once. It was pretty easy for me to dispense with. How lucky is it that one of my brothers-in-law runs the premier law firm in NOLA. His junior is better than the whole, very expensive team Beau hired with a fraction of the experience. Fish in a barrel, and all.” She smiled a shrewd snake smile.

He felt some part of him, long-buried from disuse, rouse and had to fight down his own answering smile.

Though she but little…

Severus nodded. “So shared custody, then?”

“The judge said fifty-fifty, so I guess they decided to play Solomon.” Nodding, she held up a finger, catching his eyes shrewdly. “But my son will be joining me here as soon as he turns eighteen.”

“How old is he now?” Severus wasn’t sure why he was so interested. He couldn’t imagine this woman doing anything nefarious.

His earlier suspicion had almost entirely abated in the face of her clear honesty. That and he could understand why she hadn’t wanted to talk about this at dinner, he could appreciate not wanting to open your chest in front of people who would surely judge you as many had likely done before.

She talked of her son with clear adoration and spoke of her situation with a bitter sarcasm that led him to believe that she knew she had been had and that there wasn’t anything she could rightly do about it.

But still- Severus ran the tip of his finger over his lip. But still that thrill remained.

“He turned seventeen seven months ago.” She smiled with an anticipation that lit up her face. “Any mandated custody is null and void in five months.”

“Seventeen?” Snape frowned.

Charlotte looked young, at first he thought that she was in her twenties. It was part of the reason he had been so suspicious as he watched her hedge and edit herself last night. What had she done in a relatively short amount of time that would warrant such evasiveness?

He knew better than to assume any magical person’s age though, such was the availability of anti-aging potions and charms. Regardless, she seemed too young to have a seventeen year old son. “How old-“

She smirked. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”

He frowned. “You’re clearly younger than me, therefore I see no reason to demure.”

She giggled and pulled a face, waggling her eyebrows. “Maybe I look good for my age. My godmother always says that the humidity keeps NOLA young.”

“Humidity has nothing to do with it.” He rolled his eyes. “Aside from potions, charms, glamours and muggle plastic surgery, I don’t see how it could be reasonably possible for you to be substantially older than me.”

“I think you just complimented me.” She smiled wickedly. “Well, this all hinges on your age, so how old are you?”

He reckoned he should be irritated with her. She was playing with him, enjoying being obstinate, but he found that he wasn’t. She wasn’t being manipulative or disrespectful, just coy and almost playful.

It wasn't that she didn’t want to share the requested information.

She was making him work for it.

He sighed. “I’m thirty-nine.”

“Then yes, I am younger than you.” Charlotte smiled smugly but provided no further information.

“By how much?” He drawled.

She bit her lip to avoid giggling. “About five years. Give or take. I was born in 1965.”

He nodded, doing the math quickly in his head. He tried for an even tone, not wanting to come across as judgemental.

It was a novel sensation. He normally didn’t care how he was perceived. “You had a child before you turned eighteen?”

“I did.” She no longer seemed smug, retreating being a mask of guarded indifference.

“‘Life got complicated.’”

She nodded hesitantly. “It did.”

“He turns 18 in January, correct?”

“January 12th.”

The irony was not lost on him, three days after his own birthday. “I see, and what does he plan to do when he gets here?”

“Hadrien wants to pursue an apprenticeship.”

He nodded. “What is he interested in?”

“Potions and Runes.”

“What are you doing, Ms. de Vilierè?”

She started and blinked up at him, quill drooping a bit. “Huh?”

He rolled his eyes, jaw tight, staring down at her with a sneer she wasn’t sure she had done something to deserve. “What are you doing, de Vilierè?”

She shrugged, tired enough to drop the mask of polite indifference she had been conjuring to maintain employment. “Lesson plans?”

His sneer deepened. “In your nightclothes?”

She frowned and looked down at herself. “I’ll admit this isn’t office attire-“

“How magnanimous of you.”

“They’re sweats and a t-shirt!” She huffed out on a chuckle, hoping valiantly that he was kidding, at least, or worried about her health if ‘she caught a chill’ as Minerva had said the first time she had caught her similarly dressed.

Charlotte was starting to think that she would have been better off going to teach on Mars.

In the past two weeks since joining the staff, it had become pretty clear that she was fast becoming odd. While no one was outright mocking or mean, it was crystal clear that most of her colleagues thought of her with fond, if not patronizing pity. It irked her.

She may have thought the social rules in NOLA were stupid, and it was true that she often purposely ignored them to rankle the judgmental fools that relied on them, but she understood them and knew what to do to pretend if necessary. She wasn’t socially acceptable in NOLA, but that had been a choice. Here she was plain inadequate.

This week alone, she had been gaped at when she referred to her ‘pants’ (Remus had actually snickered at her before deigning to point out her faux-paus), she had been gently informed by Pomona that she gave ‘too much detail’ in conversation, Filius had patted her on the head when she had asked about the possibility of having a television, and-

And the man in front of her had taken near every opportunity to point out her shortcomings.

You’re doing lesson plans this late in the summer holidays, Ms. de Vilierè?

Yes, it does rain frequently. You did very little research, then?

Why is it always like this? She sucked in a breath and tried to calm herself.

Snape scoffed. “I know what they are, de Vilierè. Why are you wearing them outside-“

She forced a breath out through her nose. “I’m trying to understand, Sever-“

“Professor Snape.” He seethed.

She froze, staring at him. “I see. Professor Snape, can you please explain why you object to how I am dressed?”

He seemed to flounder slightly and she noticed the clammy pallor of his skin. She had the brief thought that something had happened, that he hadn’t sought her out to lambaste her.

He looked down his nose at her like she was shit on a shoe and she felt her chest tighten and her eyes burn at almost the same time as long suppressed rage boiled over. “Your complete lack of professionalism will reflect poorly on Hogwarts as an institution.”

“It’s midnight.” She sucked in a breath. “I fail to understand-“

“Clearly.”

She sent him a nasty glare. “I do not understand how it is unprofessional to be in a library in comfortable, warm clothing while attempting to complete tasks.”

“What if a student were to see you?” He threw his hands in the air.

She rolled her eyes. “First, the students won’t arrive for another month. Second, I was not planning on regularly roaming the halls dressed so casually once they do arrive.” She shook her head. “You are not stupid enough to assume that I would, surely.”

“Stupid?”

She nodded, a sarcastic smile on her face. “Yeah, stupid. Do you really think that I would’ve dressed like this if I knew I would be seen?”

“Then why are you dressed-“

“‘Cause it’s fuckin’ midnight, Snape! I was alone! There are no students and I had no reason to assume that I would have to speak to you!” She gesticulated widely. “This goddamn castle is cold at the best of times and I wanted to get somethin’ fuckin’ done! That’s why!

“I don’t spend all of my time thinking up ways to flout conventions I didn’t even know fuckin’ existed. I’m not standing in a corner, twirling a mustache, waiting for my chance to embarrass all of you. I just wanted to be out of my office because I thought I might get more done. And I wanted to be comfortable.” She was starting to run out of steam, and she blinked away tears. “That’s all.”

I will not give this asshole the satisfaction.

Snape stared at her like she had grown an extra head.

“Well? Nothin’ to say?” She scoffed. “Typical.” She waved her hand over her belongings, stowing them in the satchel she had transported them in after lunch. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“This conversation is not done.”

He advanced on her and she felt herself flinch, stepping back.

Worse, she saw Snape register her flinch. He stilled, shocked and suddenly pallid.

“de Vilierè-“

She swallowed, voice dropping into a nearly broken whisper. “I know that I am not what anyone expected. I recognize that there is a lot about me that is not-“ she sighed, “not ideal. My apologies. I’ll remedy it.”

She left and didn’t turn back.

Severus stared at her chair the following morning.

Her empty, un-transfigured chair.

His jaw clenched. He would not feel guilty.

His eyes darted to the door, imagining the sound of heeled shoes in the hall.

“What happened, Severus?”

He started and turned to Minerva. She had asked softly enough to not draw attention but he flushed. “I’m sorry?”

“Why is our favorite American not at breakfast this morning?” She sent him a look that made clear who she thought was to blame.

“Why should I-“

Pomona sipped her tea. “Because you have not stopped watching the door, dear.”

Filius cut into his mushroom. “Or the dear girl’s chair.”

Severus flushed. “She was in the library last night…”

Minerva nodded encouragingly. “She has been most nights. What of it, lad? She doesn’t seem to sleep well.”

He winced, noticing for the first time that Lupin and a few of the other professors had left, leaving him with Pomona, Filius and Minerva.

He sighed. “I had a dream and went for a walk and then she was there…” he dragged his hand down over his face.

“Dear me,” Pomona mumbled.

Severus nodded. “I was harsher than I meant to be, then I had any right to be.”

The look on her face right before she had walked away, blue eyes focused on the floor in front of her. He pinched at the bridge of his nose. The brokenness had been worse than the fear.

“I believe I may have scared off your replacement, Minerva.” His posture belied the dryness of his tone, collapsed in and fatigued.

Pomona set her tea cup down and the soft sound resounded in his head. She set her shoulders and asked, more stern than she had been since he was a boy. “What did you say?”

“I objected to how she was dressed- how casually she was dressed-“ he amended. “I called her professionalism into question-“

“Merlin’s bones, Severus!”

Minerva leaned forward, fury in her posture. “And what did she say?”

He glanced at Minerva, wincing. “That she recognized that she wasn’t ideal. That she wasn’t trying to embarrass us.”

Filius hummed, catching Pomona and Minerva’s eyes in turn. “Thought as much.”

Severus frowned. “Meaning?”

“I think Charlotte is feeling inadequate, maybe out of her depth.”

Pomona nodded. “We’ve all tried to help her adjust, but I think she may have more foolish pride than even you, Severus.”

“I think we have been doing more harm than help, whatever our intentions.” Filius crossed his arms across his chest. “I saw it when we had the conversation about the tele- telev- blast, what is it called?”

“Television.” Severus sighed heavily. “And I have been feeding into all of this. Bloody hell.”

“And you must apologize before we really do lose her.” Minerva pinned him with a sharp look. “We will all endeavor to apologize for our own parts and to be more understanding of her cultural differences.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you need something, Professor Snape?”

He winced, still facing the wreath of flowers he had been pacing in front of. He turned and stared down at her.

She was herself and there was a part of him that sighed in relief at her unbothered appearance, as if it let him off the hook.

Her hair was pinned back neatly, her complexion smoothed and perfected by cosmetics. She wore neat dark jeans and a fashionably oversized, deep green silk shirt, teetering elegantly on dark leather boots. She cradled a mug in one hand and directed a levitating stack of books with the other.

“Did you need something, Professor Snape?”

He shook himself free of his inspection of her. “I came to apologize.”

She arched an eyebrow and moved past him to open her office door. She glanced back at him and made a soft dismissive sound. “Mais… it’s not necessary.”

She strode into her office and set down the books and the mug. She seemed to take an extra moment to fiddle with papers on the desk before taking a deep breath and turning to him. She smiled, but it was hollow, empty and Severus felt his gut twist.

“All is well.” She shrugged. “No apology necessary.”

“I am sorry, de Vilierè, truly.” He swallowed. “It’s no excuse but I often take walks when sleep is difficult. I took my frustrations out on you. You didn’t deserve it.”

She smiled her hollow smile again. “Thank you. It’s fine, though really.”

He watched the shutters go down in her eyes and felt an answering hollowness in his chest. She is not likely to ever be open to me again, if she ever was.

He nodded and stepped further into her office. “Minerva said you also don’t sleep well-“

“You spoke to Minerva about last night?”

She seemed upset, her brow furrowed. He made a vague gesture, looking down and away. “She noticed you weren’t at breakfast and rightly guessed that I was the cause.”

He thought he heard her scoff, but the hollow smile was back when he glanced back at her.

“I see.”

He watched her for a small moment. “If sleep is an issue, I can retrieve a Dreamless Sleep potion for you.”

She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you though, Professor Snape. I am capable of brewing a potion if I need it.”

He fought not to flinch. “Of course.”

Silence settled heavily over them and he set his jaw to avoid fidgeting.

She sighed sharply. “Was there anything else?”

He shook his head and moved to leave, catching the shimmer of a glamour out of the corner of his eye.

He turned back to look again and noticed that some of the smoothness he had attributed to her use of cosmetics was in fact a spell.

She is hiding.

He caught her eyes and held them. “For the record, de Vilierè, I know that you are capable and competent. My social skills are sorely lacking. I apologize.”

She turned away, the briefest flash of vulnerability swimming in her eyes before the shutters came down again.

“I’m fine.”

A dark owl sat ominously on the perch next to her desk, staring at her with large, round, dark eyes, a folded piece of parchment in its beak.

She breathed deep, fighting down a stab of panic. That’s not an owl I recognize. The Beauregards all have great greys because they’re bougie as fuck. It’s not their owl.

The owl vocalized softly and dropped the note. She reached for a jar of owl treats she kept by the perched, eyeing the owl as the owl eyed her back.

She held up the treat and reached for the note with her other hand. The bird took it almost gingerly and flew through her open window with the barest of whispers of wings.

None of them have ever had such a mild-mannered owl either.

Comforted by that fact, she unfolded the note and huffed.

Come to my office. -S

She was tempted to send her own note back and briefly amused herself with the look that would be on his face at dinner if she did.

Thanks but no thanks. -C or maybe How about you walk your happy ass up here? -C

She snorted and reckoned that being fired for being contrary after only a month wouldn’t do. He was the deputy headmaster after all.

She rubbed at her face, her temples twinging sharply.

Still, though the tension had eased considerably, she had spent most of the past two weeks avoiding him. Something he seemed to be aiding her in, by making himself equally scarce.

She could feel a migraine starting. She had spent the time since lunch in the library, alternately cataloging the reference material future students would have access to and watching for approaching company. It would be good to take a break anyways. She glanced down at the note and rolled her eyes.

Not much of a break.

She shrugged. Nothing to it, but to do it. At least, he’s interesting.

Sighing, she pinched at the bridge of her nose, chastising herself for continuing to entertain even an iota of interest in a man who plainly didn’t like her.

Glutton for punishment.

As if escaping that thought and the accompanying feelings, she all but sprinted out of her office and had to force herself to slow down and take her time walking down to the dungeons.

It truly was no chore to walk the long hallways and grand staircases and she imagined Snape would be less than delighted to hear that she actually enjoyed what he certainly thought was at least an inconvenience.

She grinned, maybe she should mention it.

But somewhere between her office and his, she forgot all about wanting to needle at him.

Such was the power of this place. She had thought that the mysticism of this place would have worn off by now, replaced with staff duties and routine, but it had yet to do so.

She breathed deep, enjoying the wet smell of old stone and the cool, clean air that got cooler and damper the further she trekked. The impending migraine lessened somewhat as if the magic etched into the stone could reach inside her and permeate the tangled mess of scars she often felt made of.

She shrugged. Maybe it could.

As if wanting to connect further with that possibility, with that power, she traced her fingertips into dips and crevices, scuffed the toe of her loafer against floors that had witnessed so much. Hundreds of years of history and conflict, a recent battle even. She kind of wished she had attended school here, as opposed to the Convent, with its rigid social rules and roles, a structure that she hadn’t been able to get free from no matter how hard she had tried.

But then this place has rules too. They’re just nicer about it. And I don’t fit in here anymore than I did at the Convent.

Sooner than she would have liked, she found herself in front of a blackened, aged wood door.

She took a deep breath and thanked whatever god applied that she hadn’t gotten lost. She hadn’t been paying much attention as it was and she had simply been shown what hall to traverse to find Snape’s office and classroom.

She knocked right under where his name had been painted in an elegant silver hand. S. Snape, Deputy Headmaster

She heard steady footfall on the other side of the door and marshaled herself into some semblance of professional disinterest.

He opened the door and by virtue of his height alone, filled the doorway. He cast a look over her, clearly taking umbrage with her jeans and cardigan ensemble. She bristled.

Be polite, Charlotte Theodosia.

She held up his note.

Be polite.

“You rang?”

He met her eyes and held them. “You came.”

She arched an eyebrow, slightly shocked by his tone and the unreadable something in his eyes. She swallowed, eyeing him in his trousers and shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His collar was undone, no cravat or tie to be found, and she caught her first sight of the remnants of the wound that nearly claimed his life.

She thought better of lingering overlong on that spot, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, and not to add to his obvious antipathy.

And honestly, she’d much rather keep looking.

Clearly having come from working on something, he bore all of the marks of potions-in-the-act. He was slightly flushed, skin dewy from the humidity of a cauldron. He had tied his hair back, inky strands slipping from a low ponytail that was losing its battle against gravity.

His limbs were long, his forearms looked strong, if wiry, and his hands were large with prominent veins and knuckles. There was strength and hard work written into his calloused fingers and she fought the slightly hysterical thought that Beau had baby-soft hands until he didn’t. Severus’ hands didn’t engender the same response.

But then Beau had never engendered anything other than fear and apathy from her. Snape, it seemed, called forth an emotional range she had not thought existed, or at least had no longer existed.

She breathed deep and worked to put that thought away.

There was a nasty scar on the inside of one of his forearms. She knew immediately what that was- or what it had been- and, shrugging, she met his eyes again. “I wasn’t aware it was an invitation. Felt more like a summons.”

He moved wordlessly back, a clear indication that she should enter.

She felt the air, heavy and loaded, and then broke eye contact, staring down at the toe of her loafer. She stepped past him and risked a glance up at him. He caught her eyes again.

He closed the door behind him and fought the urge to fidget with his collar or unroll his sleeves.

‘You came’? How bloody asinine. Collect yourself, Snape.

He honestly hadn’t expected her to show up at his office door. The note had been the result of a fleeting thought, one he hadn’t caught and suppressed before Blodeuwedd flew from her perch by his desk.

A thought born from lingering guilt and some cockamamie desire to see her outside of meals. Guilt and desire that led him to act rather rashly.

Not that she needed to know that.

But then here she was, dressed casually, comfortably, sans heeled shoes and cosmetics since the incident.

She was so small.

He had almost forgotten, her personality was bold enough to create a mirage of physical presence, but the top of her head didn’t even clear his shoulder. There was something soft and feminine in her oversized cardigan, which had slipped from her shoulder in an effortless show of allure that reminded him of the courtesans of old.

Courtesans? Hell, Snape, get a hold of yourself.

She looked around, some of the same wonder he occasionally saw on her face at meals when she didn’t think anyone was looking.

She crossed the room to look at one of the jarred specimens on his shelf, stretching up on the toe of her leather shoe. “Do you use any of these or are they just for intimidation?”

He considered her quietly for a short moment, unsure if she was mocking him or curious.

She glanced back at him, blue eyes genuine in her curiosity. There was no meanness that he could catch and he cleared his throat.

“Some of these specimens have been in this office since I was a student.” He watched as she meandered down the line of the shelf. “But generally, no, they are not ingredients.”

She smiled. “So, intimidation then.” She chuckled and caught his eye over her shoulder. “And something you inherited from potions masters in days gone past at that.”

“What is it that you Americans say? If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.” He sneered or, at least, he tried, it felt more like a wry twist of his lips. “It has worked for as long as anyone can remember, so why change it?”

She turned and her face was lit by the glowing liquid in the canister nearest to her. “I never did know when to leave well enough alone. When is well ever enough?”

He hummed. “Are you feeling philosophical, de Vilierè? You’ll not find a ready conversationalist in me.”

Snickering, she ran her finger over the edge of the shelf, nails a deep, almost black shade of purple. “For the record, we woulda gotten that saying from y’all. The language is called English, after all. And if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

He scoffed. “Hogwash. The only thing broken is that grammatical structure.”

“Fair enough.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Back to the matter at hand then. You mean to tell me that tradition has kept preserved animal parts on the shelves of your office and you’ve left them there because it ain’t broke.” She tapped her finger against the glass. “So, then I can conclude that intimidation is precisely what you’re going for.”

He shrugged. “It gets me what I want.” At her look, he added. “Peace, quiet, a controllable classroom.”

She leaned her hip against the row of cabinets under the shelves. “My-oh-my, dontcha know you catch more flies with honey?”

Severus felt his chest warm at her coy smile. “Why would I want flies?”

She nodded. “I asked my grandmother that very same thing when she told me that it would be easier to get what I want if I played nice.”

He sneered. “We are generally not considered to be nice. Potions masters, I mean.”

“I dunno…” Laughing, she turned to stare at a preserved sheep’s heart. “I know a nice potions master or two.”

He knew that. That was why he sent the note to begin with. He shifted, suddenly aware of the time they had wasted… doing whatever it was they had been doing. “I’m aware.”

She turned and smiled up at him again. “Ah, so that’s why I’m here. I thought maybe this was some sort of tactic, a power play. Tryin’ to intimidate me or somethin’.”

No, I lack impulse control on occasion and we’ve been avoiding each other.

He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t expend the effort. I don’t spend all of my time scheming and plotting, contrary to popular belief.”

She stilled, watching him with intensity. “So you haven’t tried to intimidate me?”

Staring into her very serious eyes, he again wished to use legilimency, his fingers veritably aching to retrieve his wand and do just that. “Are you intimidated?”

She turned and leaned against the door jam that led to his private study. She smiled and he was briefly relieved to see a real smile from her. It wasn’t the cheeky grin he had seen her share with Filius and Pomona, even Minerva recently, but it was some amount of progress.

Progress towards what? He lambasted himself. The most he could truly hope for was the warm professionalism he shared with Minerva and some of the other staff. To not actively be enemies.

That is all it will ever be, Snape. Don’t get your hopes up.

She had been watching him as he chastised himself. He thanked whatever god applied that he was already flushed from potions making.

Her smile took a cheeky, mischievous edge. “Should I be?”

“Answering questions with questions.” He sighed. “I have not tried to intimidate you, de Vilierè. I’m sorry that I have failed to communicate effectively.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, cher. You’re a very effective communicator.” She smiled, eyes dancing in the light of candelabra above her. “It’s just that I’m veritably bulletproof at this rate. Un-intimidatable, nearly.”

He should be irritated with her. Should take affront at her cheeky, cavalier attitude, but he found it almost refreshing that she didn’t shy away.

He had seen her eyes find what remained of his Dark Mark, had seen the comprehension on her face. He had been prepared for her to turn on her heel and sprint back upstairs.

After the Incident, he expected that she would.

But she hadn’t, she had shrugged.

He didn’t have time or predilection to examine his feelings on the subject but he didn’t have it in him to totally eschew the attentions of a pretty woman, however fleeting they likely were.

The silence stretched for a brief, but not uncomfortable moment, as they considered each other.

He motioned to the door behind her. “I have something to show you.”

He unwarded and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter in front of him. On his study desk, sat a stack of half a dozen or so books.

She lifted the first book and smiled down at the front cover. “My dad’s book!”

He breathed deep. “So, you are Theodosius de Vilierè’s daughter?”

She nodded and opened it, idly flipping through and reading his personal annotations. “Yep.” She glanced up at him. “Should I tell him he has a fan?”

He sent her a baleful look.

She chuckled. “I mean he’s read your work, he’d be pleased to hear you’ve read his.”

He ignored her. “Your father is a prolific writer.”

She nodded and picked up the next book in the pile. “He enjoys research and writing.”

He sighed. “Since you are Theodosius de Vilierè’s daughter, I have also found a book by your grandfather. Aurelius de Vilierè.”

She smiled. “The History of Southern Potions Making.”

“Quite.” He leaned back against his desk as she perused his annotations in the next book in the stack.

She set her fingertip over one of his annotations. “Milk Thistle as opposed to Milkweed?

He nodded. “Milkweed is not indigenous to Europe.”

She made a soft exclamation. “I’ll have to tell dad that.”

“Why did you not tell me who you are?”

She froze, a deer in the gaze of a predator, and he wondered at her reaction, having not intended to cause such a reaction. “What do you mean? I did tell you who I am.”

He nodded, aiming for a softer tone. “You neglected to mention who your father is, who your grandfather is.”

She relaxed and smiled, setting the book down on the stack. Wandering past his overstuffed bookshelf, she made a parody of looking at the titles, though her eyes were more often studying him.

“I really didn’t think it would matter.” She shrugged. “You didn’t seem predisposed to liking me and I’ll be damned if I name-drop to impress someone.”

He hummed. “Too proud?”

She shrugged. “Where I’m from, everyone already knows who I am, who my family is. It was nice to escape that, I think. Honestly, it was refreshing to be disliked because of something I did, separate from my family or what I was expected, but ultimately failed, to be.” She smiled again, though softer and more sad. “How dumb is that?”

“Your pot was too small.” He drawled. “I don’t dislike you, de Vilierè.”

She snorted. “Coulda fooled me.” She held her hands up. “Well, is that all, Professor? I am released on my own recognizance?”

He moved to stand, mistakenly knocking over a small stack of books that had been precariously placed on the edge.

She flinched minutely at the clatter, but Severus caught it. “What is it?”

She hummed and he noticed the tightness around her eyes and the tension in her neck and shoulders.

He scoffed and moved toward a closet in the wall opposite the bookcase. “Foolish woman.” He all but whispered and held out a vial for her to take. “You should’ve said.”

Migraine/Tension. 1-2x/day SS

She caught his eye with a speculative look.

“What?” He groused. “Take the bloody potion or give it back. I wouldn’t poison a colleague.”

She shook her head, before popping the cork and throwing it back. The difference was immediate as her shoulders dropped and her eyes fluttered open. She smiled, relieved. “I didn’t think you were going to poison me, for the record.”

He doubted that. It wouldn't have been the first time someone assumed negative intentions on his part.

She handed the now-corked vial to him and laid her hand on his elbow, getting his attention. “I assumed you didn’t like me, professor. Not that you’d poison me but that you wouldn’t expend effort on my behalf.”

“You can use my name.”

She tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t have to call me professor. It will be odd if you are still doing so when the students arrive.” He nodded, feeling supremely awkward when she shot him a cheeky grin. He shifted away from her, turning his back on her with a dismissive wave. “Now, I’m busy. You may leave.”

She nodded. “Alright. Thanks for the potion, Snape.”

#harry potter fanfiction #severus snape/oc #fanon severus #pro severus #severus snape fanfiction #pro severus snape #severus x oc #harry potter

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riality-check · 10 months

Text

Rambling thoughts about Father’s Day and grief (of sorts) that I’ll probably delete in the morning because I need to stop oversharing on the internet.

My father’s mother died in January, when I was four. It kicked off the worst year in my family’s life, the details of which I won’t share. I got sick, then better. My father got sicker in a different way, and it took him a lot more to get better. My sister was not old enough to go to school. My mother was trying desperately to hold us all together.

And the spiral started with that one death.

Just like I don’t remember everything falling apart that year, I don’t remember my grandmother dying. I remember her alive, bits and pieces of her sitting in a chair and commenting idle things as my sister and I ran around her, but I don’t remember her dying.

The first time I was aware of it, that my grandmother died, was when my mother said it to explain why my father was crying in the middle of our living room floor.

I had never seen him cry before. I was in pre school, I was already able to read, and I thought it was impossible for my father to cry.

But there he was. Six feet tall, but he felt smaller than me.

So, I did what any four year old would have done: I put my arms around him and I said, “It’s okay, Daddy. We can get you a new mommy.”

I didn’t understand, then, why that made him cry harder.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about this today. Nearly fifteen years have passed. I FaceTimed my father today, and we talked about the Red Sox.

We always start off by talking about the Red Sox during baseball season.

It’s odd to think about grief on a holiday where I can celebrate someone who’s still with me, especially when that grief isn’t mine.

I don’t think you can really grieve someone you didn’t know all that well. So, I don’t think I’m grieving my grandmother. I think I might be finally understanding just a fraction of how my father felt, sitting there on the living room floor, with his daughter telling him with full confidence that the impossible can happen.

It’s 10 PM. I’m sitting outside, listening to Bruce Springsteen, and typing this up.

I’ve never cried while writing something before.

I don’t know what the point of this is. I think it might be an apology of sorts.

Sorry, Dad, for making the same mistake that every other kid makes. For failing to understand the distinction between cruelty and kindness.

I promise I’ll study tomorrow. I’ll get a B+ in my class. Hopefully.

Happy Father’s Day. I know you’ll never see this because there’s no way in hell I’m letting you know about this specific social media presence, but:

I love you.

#ria life #delete later

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delilah705 · 2 months

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I totally get that. As much as I try not to be bothered by what others think, deep down I still care. We are all human and trying to fit in and while I have made progress with writing/posting what I want, there are some days where I’m weak to how I imagine others perceive me/will perceive me. Spot on with the whole ‘others thinking that the way authors write certain characters is ooc’. I’ve seen writers get hate comments because they wrote a character a certain way and a reader saw that as ooc. The whole thing about writing fics is how you perceive these characters and how they will act in certain situations and unless it’s specifically stated in canon its up to the writer’s interpretation of the characters (even then authors are free to write characters deemed as ooc if they want, that’s the beauty with fics is that your making something your own)! Same, I lost so much due to losing hyperfixation. There have been so many times where I have great ideas for a specific fandom/character, write a premise of it, then leave it alone and not build on it only to come back to it later on wanting to continue but ultimately not being able to because I don’t have the same love for that fandom/character that I used to. It’s a shame really and no fault but my own…definitely a needed learning experience but it still doesn’t ease the pain. A piece of advice to any creators of art or stories would be to work with that current inspo while it’s there before its lost because you never know what will come out of it or when, if ever, that inspo will come back to you (it’s such a fickle, delicate thing). Well said, I agree that we should try new things despite the fear (this applies not only to fandom but life in general). I would rather do it scared than regret not trying/taking that new opportunity (I’m saying this from experience, there has been so many missed opportunities because I was too scared to try)

FF.net? Is it still popular?? I think I’m slight just after that era of popular fandom sites but apparently it has a lot of good fics on there from what I’ve heard around on the internet. I know at some point, when the whole fiasco about certain people being on the board of ao3 was happening, there was talk about going back to that site. You read fics to your grandmother? You’re very brave lol. Honestly, that's so sweet and I love that for you!!! I don’t think I have the face to read fanfics to anyone I know irl. Yeah, same I wanna know who changed my life (for the better), let’s just have a little chat. I wouldn’t be surprised if they got hate for it, since it would be drastically different from other fics at the time, and if they did I’m glad they powered through. We wouldn’t have what we have today if it wasn’t for them 😌

I feel your pain. I, unfortunately, have my fics locked because of the whole AI thing. I was told it would lessen the likelihood of it being scrapped for learning material but as much as I don’t want to think about it no matter how hard I try if someone really wanted to use my fics there is no stopping them unless I delete them. Idk if that is still going around but it does give me a little comfort knowing my fics have a little layer of protection. What I’ve been trying to do is comment *2nd re-read* or *chapter kudo* on fics. I saw someone else do this online and think it’s such a great idea! Oh yeah, ao3 is intimidating. There is so much I don't know about the site and I’m constantly learning something new all the time. Wait, what??? That’s how you get the little heart?? That’s so cute!!! I have no idea how to rec a fic, didn’t even realize you could do that! One of these days I have to take the time to sit down and teach myself all that you can do on ao3. Being able to private bookmark is such a saving grace!! Tho I do appreciate users who don’t private bookmark fics they like because if I like your writing then generally we are going to like reading similar styled fics (after reading a fic I usually check out their other works and then occasionally check their bookmarks if they have them not privated). Haha, I’ll take time to go through them then. From the sounds of it we have similar interests

Oooh, that makes sense now and it is such a mood. I do like slow burn and they way some writers are able to write it without dragging it out for too long is *chefs kiss* but another feral part of my brain just wants to get to the nitty gritty asap

Yeah, socials are so hot and cold when it comes to nsfw. Like,, please let me enjoy what I enjoy. I’m just trying to escape the real world for a bit. I do understand wanting to keep minors safe but honestly they are going to find a way regardless if they truly wanted to (I was once one of them but never attacked adults for me making the choice to see nsfw). That’s why I have a minors dni in my bio so they get a warning but I can’t control them….it really sucks that one thing ruins it for everyone. Why come after me for not controlling your child?? It’s your job as the parent, not some random stranger on the internet just trying to live their life. I didn’t force them to come on my page and look around???

Sdjofbswowefhowa - don’t even get me started on villains!!!!!!! That is such a passion of mine!!!!!!! They just change my brain chemistry in the best of ways. Every time I see those memes along the lines of ‘if bad, why hot’ or even people analyzing why villains are more attractive than heroes (the villain will choose you over the world and the hero will choose the world over you) I go insane. Agreed, mostly every character I have found hot is the villain, or if I'm just starting a show/movie I genuinely gravitate towards the villain. Bye, they are my fav now. Just recently I saw an edit of snow, from the hunger games, when he was younger and omg when I tell you he has me in a chokehold, he fr has me in a chokehold. Yes sir, you are 100% percent right, snow does land on top. I saw a comment where they said Lucy Gray was stronger than them and they are right, there’s no way in hell I would be strong enough to resist a character that pursued me how villains pursue their love interests. Sorry, you’ll never have my heart like they do. I’m not even into the hunger games movies and I haven’t seen tbosas but god damn I be reading fics about him all the time and from what I grasp his character is just my type. I don’t see myself ever writing for the tbosas fandom but you best believe I’m eating all those snow x reader fics up 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

Dude, you fr could write an entire novel length response and I would read every word of it! Same, I completely understand!! Some of the stuff I write I’m borderline worried it’ll come off as trying to make it about me but I’m trying to show that I relate 😭. That’s so sweet of you 🥹! Honestly made my day 💝

Yeah. :( I'll be real, the fear of being perceived is what keeps me from making progress on my WIPs some days. I'll fret over something and then get mad at myself for letting my fear of what people will think control me to that degree. There's so many WIPs that I'm rather nervous about posting because of that, but… If I let that hold me back all the time, I'd never get anything done or be able to express myself to the fullest extent possible. DX I've been one of them, I'll be real. But comment moderation has been my best friend in that regard now. I used to not have it, and other websites don't have the option to turn comments off. It's true! And… When it comes to AUs, of course they're going to be different! The thing that defined them as characters to begin with were their canon experiences! Take that away, and you get an entirely different person. (Which is what fascinates me most writing AUs) And… While I do try my best to keep everyone as in character as possible, it's just not possible when it comes to situations that they haven't been in in canon to use as a reference. Everyone's going to have a different opinion of how they'd react in those situations, and the best you can do as a reader is find a person who writes them to your tastes and leave the fics that go a way you don't think that character would behave.

And, if you really don't vibe with anyone's interpretation, the best part is that you can write your own fic! You can write them the way you want, even if it's not physically. You can write it in your brain if you don't want to on paper or digitally! Create scenes and craft scenarios! I always get so mad when the excuse is, 'Well what if I don't know how to write?!? >:(' asodghi- Like!?!? Have you never written a paper in school for an assignment?!? You wanna tell me you've never picked up a pencil ever?? You're typing right now! What makes you think you can't write your own fic? We all had to start somewhere! We didn't just start writing master pieces at the tender age of twelve! There is literally no reason to leave a mean comment on someone's fic. Ever. Even if it's the most offensive thing in existence. Just- Just leave. It's not that hard. Even if it triggers you or hurts your feelings, just leave. But I know the hard truth is that some people thrive off of being mean to others and some don't even realize how hurtful they're truly being. Awww! D: No!! Augh. DX I haaate that so much. :'( I'm sorry. Yep! You really gotta grasp that inspiration by the neck when you can! Even if you have to tackle it down by writing those story notes and ideas on a napkin on a lunch break! Yes! That's become my new motto basically. Do it scared, because otherwise, some of those opportunities you might look back at and say, 'If only I had done this, if only I had taken this chance.'

XD I have no idea! I was mostly there around 2014-16 or so. They've added ads on there last time I check though! DX Super annoying to be reading and then big square with an ad that didn't load. Ugh. And this annoying verification thing. >.< I haven't been on there in a while, but it was sometime last year when I was last on. I don't even know if some of those fics I adored will still be there… I heard something about fics being purged on there, so people were warning others to back their fics up and I think quite a few moved theirs to Ao3. o.o Really? I did not know that… But I don't keep up with the OTW stuff. XD I sure did! I even read some of my own to her! (Not the spicy ones, though. >.< Good Lord, the embarrassment I'd feel now if that was the case…) But usually only the ones I thought were funny. There was one in particular, a Ghirahim story…

XD Okay, so while on a journey to find it, I logged back into my account. That annoying verification thing isn't there anymore, but I dunno about the ads… I joined Jun 18, 2013. XD If you want a younger me's favorite works from FF.net to check out, let me know, haha! My last favorited work is actually also on Ao3 so it should be in my bookmarks there too I think! My last favorited work was in 2020! DX Never mind! Stupid verification thing is still there, only when you click on a fic! How annoying! They could just be mad I have adblocker though. :/ They can get over it. I'm not turning it off. The fic I remember most reading to my grandmother was A Different Path by Catwhiskers24. And there was one fic of mine in particular that I have not reposted mostly because it's a little hard to look at without thinking of her as it was one of the last things I read to her before her health plummeted and… Yeah. But thank you! :') It makes me really sad because there's so many things I wish I could have read her now that I've discovered so much more, and I wonder what she'd think of the kinds of (not lewd lol) stories that I'm writing now. I think I would have enjoyed sharing certain parts of FTPOF with her… I wish I could have known what she would have thought about Vash, as I'm sure she might have gotten a kick out of his 98 persona in those first few episodes. And I was told by someone in the family after she passed that the highlight of her day was me coming down to talk to her about my interests and read her stories. TvT Excuse me for a moment- Hhhh-

Anyway, love your folks while you can, people! They won't always be there! Tell your friends and family members that you love them! Hug them while you can, love them while you can, spend time with them while you can! XD Oh God, the only other people I've read to in my life other than her in my younger years have made me A.) Insecure and B.) Feel like they really didn't care so uh,… Don't read to people if you're fragile, okay? <.< Especially if it's your own fic. Me too! :D I hope whoever they are that they're doing well! DX Oh, I could totally see that but I really hope they didn't. Me too! Gosh, the courage to just post something entirely new like that! But that's totally true! We wouldn't! And I'm very grateful that they did share!

Oh, yes! I remember seeing all the posts about that! It's true. :( That's partially why I didn't lock mine. I'm just kinda, 'Whatever happens, happens.' And also because I'm greedy and want longer reach. XD That, and I didn't think it was fair that those who've been following my fics so far without accounts would have to make one if they didn't want to just to keep reading my fics. Honestly, to them, it would have seemed like I'd deleted my work entirely too, and I didn't want that, but that's just me personally. If you wanna lock your fics, that's your right and decision. If it makes you feel safer concerning AI or in general, if you think it'll mean you're less likely to get troll comments or just mean people in general commenting, I say go for it. :o Omg! That is great! Oh, same! And I've been using it for years now! Yeah! :D Next to the Private bookmark checkbox, there's one called 'Rec' and that's how you give people a heart bookmark! There's still so much to learn about that website omg! XD Oh, me too! Some of my favorites I found by browsing my favorite author's bookmarks! And then it's just like a continuous thing for me of reading people's works and then looking into their bookmarks unless they have all of them privated. XD But then I just find someone else who doesn't and yeah. Oh no! haha! XD Be wary! I have quite a few that I know would squick a lot of people out, and note that some of my all-time favorites are still not in there as I have not been able to go through every fandom I've ever been in just yet looking for them again. If you wanna read a really funny platonic one that I adore that I literally hunted for for about fifteen minutes because I wanted to read it again that I have not bookmarked again just yet, it's: Sometimes, You Just Have To Scream In A Front Garden Until You Get What You Want by maximum_overboner

XD Oh, same! Omg… I read this fic once. It's super long and the main couple still has not gotten together! It was the longest slow burn I've ever read! D: But unfortunately, they had computer trouble and lost a lot of their work. T^T Which, I can relate. There's one one-shot in particular that I just… Lost a lot of progress on. I'm hoping it can be recovered from my hard drive, but if not,… It's just lost. I mean, the good part is that I still have the uneditted version I'd been working on at the time, but it's just… Missing a lot of stuff that I can't hope to recreate because I just… Don't even remember what all I've lost to be able to replicate it. I've also lost at least one entire fic due to my laptop dying and having not saved it. And one time I lost a bunch of headcanons because my computer randomly restarted. It was awful. But if you wanna check out the fic in question, it's Keeping Secrets by ElvenSemi. XD I know what you mean!! That's me right now with FTPOF!! I'm like, 'Do I hold off more or?? Sex scene this chapter?' I don't know! XD I don't wanna rush it but!! There's so much sexual tension rn!! This is why I mostly write oneshots! 😂

For real. :/ I do too, but I was also one of them as well! XD Lied about my age on Deviantart, and then lied again to see stuff on Newgrounds that I definitely should not have! But I also never attacked the adults for what they made! It was my fault for going into those spaces knowing that it had adult content because my parents literally had no idea how the internet functioned all that well and that that kind of content was on there. And I was a little sneak who would clear my history and listen very close for footsteps and pull up a bunch of tabs to hide the names of them. I would hope no minors are following me! But I really can't control that unless they put their age or 'minor' in their bio and I'd really rather them not? I mean, it's so easy to lie about it and I think it puts them in more danger than it helps if they truly are underage and are sharing their real age. For real, though!! D: Especially when it comes to spaces that does allow nsfw! Or is strictly so! (Which you don't see much of these days, really.) I'm a firm believer that adults should have their own spaces! I saw someone compare it to a child walking into a liquor store and complaining about the liquor like?? It's an adult space? Liquor is not for children?

X3 Omg!! I could talk about villains all day! XD Omg yesss!! So true! (Omg. 🤤 My heart…) XD They just!! The way that I'm so weak for the 'I'll burn the whole world down for you' or that character that literally hates everyone but you. 😍 Omg… lASghja-s XD It's so funny that I'm literally re-reading the first book rn with the intention of reading the entire series!! I've been watching people react to the movies to see their opinions and insights on them and I just-- AAAa! We read the first book in school and watched the first movie when it came out and I just… Couldn't handle the events that happens in movie 2 and dropped it for the longest. That book traumatized me with the mutts. I never forgot that they were made from the dead tributes. And I seen Snow's actor for TBOSAS and oh. 👀 I can see why the thirst is there for him. XD Omg yessss! Aaaaa- She's so strong. I couldn't. I think I'd cave. I hated him sooo much as the villain when I was younger, let's see if that changes as I re-read this first book and finish the series. It's already made me cry in chapter one. :') God, the books are so heavy. Though I must admit I did gain a new appreciation for Peeta recently that a younger me just did not have. Don't be surprised if you see Hunger Games references in my stories in the future.

Aww! 😭 You're gonna make me cry! It hasn't don't worry! I love reading your asks! Aww, I'm glad I could! :'D I hope you have a fantastic day today. I would have responded sooner, but I had to go places and I didn't get to finish my response until now. I wish you well!!

#Sfw #Anonymous #Ask

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