#but if someone asked me to use a set of pronouns i’ve never heard before ofc i’m gonna use them??

[tonyspank]

LOST IN THE FIRE

black!singer!reader x jenna ortega (they/them pronouns, but there’s mentions of them having a pp, lol)

warnings: fluff and a tiny bit of angst i guess, my poor attempts at humor again, social media w a bit of irl

a/n: i’ve always wanted to do a social media book. so this is just something fun i came up with, i hope you enjoy :) it’s also a way i can put u guys onto my fav songs 🤭

faceclaim: khalil beth

Is Percy Hynes White Dating Jenna Ortega?

Jenna and Percy have yet to confirm or deny dating rumors, but they have posted many cute cast photos of one another on Instagram. On top of that, Jenna took Percy as her plus one date for the 2023 Golden Globes — and they're set to star in a movie together!

━━━━ iMESSAGE

3 talented artists + jack lani - kehlani jackie - jack tae - matteo

lani Y/N sweetie..

jackie 🙁

tae what'd i miss??

jackie Y/N's fav ex is dating an ugly man 🥺

tae JENNA? NAHH

tae let's hope she leave him too 🤞

tae she'll miss the bbc 🥲

lani omg wdf 😭😭

you ...

jackie now the dots was a lil dramatic

lani JACK 😭😭

you jack stfu before i shave ur beard

tae got his ass

lani LMFAOO

jackie 🤐

tae ok ok but Y/N how are u rn?

lani frr like talk to us

you wdym?

you we broke up why would i be bothered

jackie

🤨

tae 💀💀

lani i've never met anyone who still likes their exes posts

you it's called being mature

you i am able to support her regardless of what happened

tae it's called being delusional

jackie laughed at "it's called being delusional"

jackie i have an idea

jackie

tae fam what is ur camera roll? 💀

lani what's ur idea jack

jackie i'm gonna ask demi for an invite to the scream 6 premiere

jackie then me and Y/N gon jump percy in front of jenna right

lani

side-eye…

jackie and then jenna gon be like

jackie oh my god not my mans getting his ass beat by my ex & their bsf tf

you please stfu 🙏

jackie bro

jackie i'm tryna help you save ur gf from a guy who looks like the definition of pervert

tae laughed at "i'm tryna help you safe ur gf from a guy who looks like the definition of pervert"

lani 😭😭😭😭

lani i can't breathe

you it's literally just a rumor that they're dating tho

you & i'm not going to the premiere

jackie mhm

━━━━

y/nhart posted on Instagram.

Liked by jackharlow, devyn_nekoda, and 7,891,103 others

y/nhart what's your favorite scary movie? 🔪 #ScreamVI @screammovies

View all 12,793 comments

screammovies You, of course. 🔪🩸 > y/nhart can we kiss?

jackharlow what did you say in the group chat? > y/nhart that jack harlow is a flop 🤫

user15 bro doing everything but dropping an album 💀 > user1 ong. right my wrongs ep was amazing but it's been 8 months 😭

mrmatteo where was my invite? > y/nhart drop a song then let's talk > user3 what a hypocrite 💀

user8 bite me

kehlani you could never be ghostface > screammovies Its always someone you know. 👻🔪🩸

user11 GO TO THE STUDIO

user992 i have $1,000 frank will drop before this mf

user90 MORE JENNA AND Y/N CONTENT??? > user78 i missed them :')

━━━━

            Your eyes were starting to water due to the number of flashes from the cameras that were going off around you. The bright lights made it difficult to keep your eyes open, but you knew that this was just part of being in the spotlight.

  Jack places a hand on your arm, slightly shoving you towards the exit. You ignore the yells of your name and continue to make your way off the carpet.

Your bodyguard, who had been standing nearby, steps in to create a path through the crowd, shielding you and Jack from the relentless paparazzi.

  "Did you talk to Jenna?" Jack asks, leaning close enough for his voice to be heard.

You send the bearded man a glare, shaking your head. "No. I don't even think she's walked the carpet yet."

Jack raises an eyebrow before turning his head to the carpet, which is still filled with celebrities and flashing cameras.

He scans the area, searching for any sign of Jenna among the chaos. He then turns back to you with a smirk on his lips. "I think you're just ducking her."

You roll your eyes at Jack's teasing remark.

"Please, like I have time to play hide and seek with Jenna. I'm just trying to avoid the relentless paparazzi."

You gesture towards the swarm of photographers jostling for the perfect shot.

Jack hums, his smile widening. A thought clicks into his head, causing his smile to drop.

"Oh, yeah! I talked to Melissa, and she is fine as fuck."

You thin out your lips. Jack probably didn't know she was married.

"I'll tell her husband you said that."

"You know what they say. Don't let your husband distract you from finding the love of your life."

You chuckle at his joke.

━━━━

"May I say you look amazing tonight?" The interviewer states, smiling as they admire your appearance.

You smile, bringing your hands together to calm yourself before responding.

"Thank you so much."

"Are you a big fan of the Scream franchise?" The interviewer asks, moving their microphone closer.

You nod, your eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Absolutely! Ghostface is such an iconic character, and I love the twists that they put in the movie. It just always keeps you on your toes."

The interviewer chuckles, sharing your enthusiasm. "I completely agree! The Scream franchise has definitely left a lasting impact on the horror genre with its clever storytelling and memorable characters. Speaking of memorable characters, whose is your favorite?"

You pause for a moment, looking up at the sky as you bite down on your lip.

"Uhh... It's hard to choose just one, but if I had to pick, I would say Roman Bridger. I didn't suspect him at all, and his reveal as the mastermind behind everything in Scream 3 was a total shock. Plus, Scott Foley's performance was absolutely chilling."

The interviewer nods, appreciating your choice. "I couldn't agree more. He's surely one to remember."

You nod again, smiling. "For sure. I've always wanted to play Ghostface. Taking off the mask and revealing your plan must be so fun."

The interviewer laughs and says, "I'm sure you'd do great."

Before you could respond with a thank you, the interviewer speaks up.

"Jenna! It's so nice to see you." You turn to see Jenna, your heart dropping at the sight of her.

You force a tight-lipped smile at the brunette. "Hey Jenna, long time no see," you say, trying to sound casual.

Deep down, you can't help but wonder if she still thinks about you.

Jenna returns the smile. "Yeah, it's been a while," she replies softly.

Memories of your past together flood your mind, and you can't help but wonder if there's still a chance for reconciliation.

"You guys are so stunning, I can't even!" The interviewer gushes, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Jenna chuckles, her eyes meeting yours briefly before she turns her attention back to the interviewer.

"Jenna, I've gotta ask. Are you a fan of Y/N's music?" Jenna nods her head, glancing at you again before answering.

"I am. They're very talented musically, and I'm waiting for another album."

You try to fight back a smile, but it fails miserably. The interviewer notices your failed attempt to hide your smile and chuckles.

"Seems like there's mutual admiration here," they remark, noticing the subtle connection between you and Jenna.

You tilt your head, shrugging a bit. "I guess you could say that. Jenna's very talented herself, both musically and in acting."

Jenna feels the butterflies in her stomach erupt as you compliment her.

She's missed you, and she wants nothing more than to reconnect with you. She blushes slightly and responds, "Thank you."

━━━━

You walk over to Jenna, interrupting her conversation with Percy. "Jenna."

Jenna turns towards you, a surprised expression on her face as she pauses mid-sentence.

"Come home with me?"

Jenna's eyes widen as she processes your unexpected request, leaving her momentarily speechless.

After a brief moment of hesitation, she nods slowly, her curiosity piqued. "Sure, why not? Let's go."

Percy furrows his eyebrows, watching you and Jenna walk off together.

When you arrive home, you take off your jacket and help Jenna with hers.

Jenna mumbles a thank you before making herself comfortable on the couch.

She looks around the unfamiliar surroundings, seeing as you've changed a few things since the last time she was there.

Jenna's eyes linger on a Polaroid of you and her, capturing a happy memory from months ago. Of course, Jenna still loved you, but was she ready to take the risk of getting hurt again?

She couldn't bear the fact that things might not work out between you two, causing more heartbreak.

Fame had always been a double-edged sword for Jenna. While it had brought her success and recognition, it also came with constant scrutiny and pressure.

It's what ruined you two. Jenna being constantly busy due to acting and you constantly being busy due to singing made it difficult for you both to find quality time together.

Despite the love that still existed between you, the demands of your respective careers created a growing distance that neither of you knew how to bridge.

You walk into the living room, two glasses of wine in your hand. "Actually," Jenna speaks up, and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

She continues, "Could we sit on your balcony?"

You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Of course," you say, leading the way to the balcony.

As you settle into the comfortable chairs, the city lights twinkling below, Jenna takes a deep breath and says, "I miss moments like this, just being together without any distractions."

You take a sip of your wine, pausing to savor the flavor before responding. "Me too," you say, gazing out at the night sky.

"I missed you."

Jenna's eyes soften, and she reaches over to gently touch your lap. "I missed you too," she whispers.

"I hope you know that I'm not dating Percy."

"I know," you reply, a small smile forming on your lips. "I knew you wouldn't downgrade like that."

Jenna chuckles softly, her dimples beginning to show. "That's hilarious."

A silence falls over the two of you.

"I couldn't imagine being with anyone other than you," you snap your head towards her, your heart swelling with love at words.

She always knew the right thing to say.

"You're the only one who truly understands me, Y/N." Jenna's eyes meet yours, her brown pupils glistening in the moonlight.

"I can't find myself being vulnerable or trusting with anyone else." She finishes off, breaking away from your gaze.

You don't say anything, you just place your hand over top of hers, which was resting on your lap.

━━━━

y/nhart posted on Instagram.

Liked by jennaortega, jackharlow, kehlani, bnyx, and 13,829,100 others

y/nhart 12...??...23...lost in the fire...earned it...all mine...confident...all mine...oui...greece...get me...kiss land...for free

➕➕➕.

meltdown...i'd do anything to make you smile...boyfriend,girlfriend...rambo...let em'know

@chancetherapper @djkhaled @kehlani @travisscott @jackharlow @feliciathegoat @theweeknd @bnyx

View all 46,829 comments

user12 OMFG BRUH

user99 AOTY

jackharlow deluxe 🔜

bnyx 👨‍🍳🔥🎶

theweeknd 🫡

user77 couldve had better feats tbh > user880 STFU

djkhaled 🔥🔥🔥 WE'LL NEVER STOP 🛑!!! 

>user14 TELL EM BRING OUT THE ALBUM ALREADY

user67 i'm about to cry.

━━━━

y/nsrealwife posted on Instagram.

18,782 likes

y/nsrealwife i stand by what i said

View all 138 comments

user11 unknown? it's jenna😭 > y/nrealwife me when i'm delusional

user45 there's no misses on the album + they ate down in the deluxe > user89 came in my pants when they came on the track w that "t-time, t-time, t-time.."

user66 can we talk abt for free? bro had like 10 viagra pills before pulling up to the studio > user77 💀💀💀

jackharlowsbeard kehlani & jack on the album made me so happy.

━━━━

y/nhart posted on Instagram.

Liked by jennaortega, jackharlow, mrmatteo, kehlani, arianagrande, and 17,839,138 others

y/nhart mega christmas dump 🎄@jennaortega @jackharlow @mrmatteo @kehlani

Comments have been limited.

tonyspank had to put it in a collage due to the 10 photo limit 🙁

—

jennaortega has posted a story.

#tonyspank #wattpad #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega gn!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #black!reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega x black!reader #jenna ortega x singer!reader #social media

[astridthevalkyrie]

inferno | enji todoroki x reader | chapter 1

“Why do you want to be a hero?” he finally asks, knowing the answer doesn’t matter. “Doesn’t everyone want to be number one?” You shrug. “If you don’t agree, I’ll tell everyone it’s because I’m a woman and expose you as a misogynist.”

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns, age difference, enji's bad parenting, eventual smut, eventual daddy kink probably

a/n: right off the bat this is an au where enji and rei are divorced and touya never “died” because i can’t do my girl rei dirty (she’s living her best life away from fire ppl) and frankly touya being alive and well (relatively) just adds a certain spice to the story. enji is still a terrible dad and i’ve got issues lol

word count: 1.3k

Next

“Sup, Endeavour,” you greet when the door opens, popping the p.

The number one hero stands before you, and his eyes take you in sharply—from the equestrian boots on your feet to the bell bottom jeans trailing up your legs to the black crop top that hugs your chest and shoulders to the Ray-Bans covering your eyes to the coffee in your hand that you obnoxiously take a sip out of as you stare at him.

Then, bluntly, he asks, “Who the hell are you?”

Without answering, you make your way in, even though he towers over you, and Enji’s first thought is to burn you alive. It would be justified, considering you’re breaking and entering his residence. But an intruder would know that, wouldn’t they? An intruder, even a foolish one, would be ready for an attack. From the way you only take another sip of your coffee and raise your glasses to peer around the foyer, you’re either so beyond help that you accidentally stumbled here or you’re entirely confident that you could beat him in a fight.

Frankly, he’d rather question the young woman before he incinerates her.

“This is a nice place.” You whistle lowly, settling the Ray-Bans atop your head before turning to face him. “Oh, right. I’d like you to train and sponsor me.”

“Get out,” Enji says. He should have gone with the burn first, ask later method.

“Please?” You just your lower lip out; it’s still wet from your drink. 

“Get out or I’ll call the authorities.”

You’re nothing special, he realizes as your fist balls up, just a child who wandered too far from home. Countless people have begged him to train them, thinking that he has the time or the patience or the willingness to waste his time on such a pointless task. Mostly it’s men and women who he has at least heard of, as half rate as they are. Even being a friend of a friend of a friend of a colleague can go a long way, but never has someone demanded such outrageous things without even a reference to back them up.

He never gave in to any of them, so whatever delusion you created to think you could even ask must be a hell of a drug.

With an infernal pout still on your face, you set the plastic cup down on his console table, the one Fuyumi picked out three years ago and the one he’s never so much as let a stain form on. 

“Don’t call the authorities.” Slowly, one after the other, your lashes flutter, and it’s been so long since any woman has looked at him like that in such proximity that he actually feels a redness creep up his neck, making him cough into his fist, sending you a furious, stern gaze over his hand. “C’mon, I haven’t even shown you my quirk yet.”

“I said no.”

“It’s called inferno.” You snap your fingers, and in a second, you’ve set your top half on fire, including your head. 

The smoke detector goes off right away, even as he shouts, pinning you to the wall and covering your face with a large hand. The flames sear his hand, much like Touya’s used to, much hotter than the fire he creates. He isn’t able to control fire that he didn’t create, but that doesn’t matter, you’re going to burn alive and he needs to absorb it because he didn’t actually mean to kill you.

It takes three seconds for him to feel a movement against his hand that he realizes is your lips and another four for him to catch your muffled voice, very much not burnt to a crisp.

“Ey! Hey! Endeavor!” Your squirming turns to smacks against the back of his hand, and he only then realizes he’s crushing you. “I’m fine! I’m fine!”

The advanced water systems have already gone off, soaking you both in water. In a few minutes, he’ll receive a personal call from the fire marshall, who will be in the middle of shoving his boots on, asking him frantically if everything is alright.

And what will Enji tell him? That a brat broke into his home and set it off by trying to cremate herself?

“We have the same quirk,” you whisper, eyes gleaming as you bring his hand down—his thumb accidentally catches your lower lip and Enji pulls back in disgust. The sprinklers have water trickling down your face, putting out the last bits of flames on your eyelashes. “Only fire doesn’t burn me at all. I could sit in it for hours and I wouldn’t have a mark.” Without even trying, your Ray-Bans fall over your eyes again, so he can’t even see your eyes as you proceed to lean back against the wall, clearly not minding the water dripping onto your neck. “You have a setback—you can overheat. You’ve tried having multiple kids and one of them can cool himself down, but I don’t need to do that. I’ll never overheat. You want someone who can take the number one spot without just defaulting to it? Sponsor me, and I’ll be the best damn hero you’ve ever seen.”

Now that you’ve explained yourself, he really wishes he had just thrown you out when he got the chance. Because now there is something in Enji’s throat, an opportunity, a dangerous opportunity and a path that he was just starting to stray from. In front of him is a mold of clay to shape, but not one of his own creation—and he’d be insane to not be skeptical of something falling into his lap like this. The irrational (or is it rational?) part of his mind tells him that he’d be equally as insane to let you walk out the door with nothing.

“How old are you?” is the question he finally settles on, glaring, not letting you in on a single thought of his.

“Twenty-six. Plenty old enough to be a pro, don’t you think?”

“Why didn’t you go to a hero school or university?”

The droplets rolling down your arms do nothing to make your skin look less delicate, even though it was surrounded by flames a minute ago. “Don’t like working in a classroom setting. I prefer one-on-ones.”

“Why not approach my son instead? He’s closer to your age.”

“No offense, Endeavor.” You push your hair out of your face—Enji has the urge to rip your sunglasses off your face and crush them under his feet. “But your son is notoriously bad to work with. And so are you, but he hasn’t figured out how to make it part of his brand yet, and I’d rather train with the top hero in Japan instead of a nepo baby that only debuted this year and isn’t in the charts at all.”

A shallow child, he realizes. Either there is no thought behind that head, but, and he thinks this is the far more likely conclusion, you are just inherently a cruel person.

Much like him. The only reason he’s survived so far is because unlike other horrible folks, he doesn’t break so easily. You look so flimsy that he’s sure if he bends you enough you’ll crack like a board, but Shoto will not answer his texts, Touya has sworn him off and Natsuo and Fuyumi will never have what he desires. Maybe someone easy to break is what he needs, someone that he can destroy and build back up, someone that is begging for him to do such a thing.

“Why do you want to be a hero?” he finally asks, knowing the answer doesn’t matter.

“Doesn’t everyone want to be number one?” You shrug. “If you don’t agree, I’ll tell everyone it’s because I’m a woman and expose you as a misogynist.”

His phone rings in his pocket. Enji takes it out, flipping it open (you snort) before pressing it to his ear.

“Hello. No, no emergency, we’re fine.” He settles you with a hard look, hoping you’re ready for the absolute hell he plans to inflict upon you. “I was just training my newest student.”

#mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji x reader #enji todoroki #endeavor #inferno #valkyrie stories

[mcyt-peach]

Hi, Peach~! I would like to request a oneshot/drabble for cc!Schlatt with "one gives the other a kiss on the cheek and the other one suddenly turns their head" prompt with fem!Reader please?

sneaky schlatt

·˚ * summary: a discussion on the chuckle sandwich podcast means schlatt has to test out a prank suggested by his friends

·˚ * pairing: cc!schlatt x fem!reader

·˚ * warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, technically schlatt kisses reader on the lips without asking but reader was ready to kiss him anyway so...

·˚ * word count: 576

·˚ * genre: fluff, romantic

·˚ * note: kaiselin this was adorableeeeeee I love me some fluffy schlatt and this is totally a trick he'd pull so I hope I did your idea justice

The new Chuckle Sandwich episode was being filmed and the three hosts had decided to talk about old movies and childhood nostalgia.

“Do you guys remember that thing where someone would try to get the love interest to kiss them on the cheek, but they’d turn their head at the last second and get a kiss on the lips?” Charlie questions, carrying on the conversation about old romance movies with plots that flew over their heads as children.

“No.” Schlatt scowls at the screen, clearly confused as to what his friend was referring to.

“Dude, it was a super popular trope!” Ted counters. “I remember my parents even doing it sometimes.”

“Yeah, it was like a cute thing people would do all the time.” Charlie agrees. “You’ve definitely seen it before, you probably just don’t remember.”

“No, I’ve never even heard of it. Besides, there’s no way it would work. What, the other person just doesn’t notice their partner’s head swinging around at top speed? They’d have to be blind for that to work.” Schlatt doubles down on his stance, in classic Schlatt fashion.

“What?” Ted has his signature disbelieving smile pasted on his face. “There’s no way THE Jschlatt has never seen it. It’s the oldest trick in the book. How do you not know it? You’re basically our jester!”

“I’m electing to ignore that.” Schlatt fires back at Ted, turning around to watch you tentatively open the door, his lunch in hand and Jambo at your heels. He motions for you to come in and while you cross the office, he swings around in his chair to face the screen again.

“Dude, try it on her.” Charlie proposes, seeing you usher Jambo through the door before you close it. “She’ll totally fall for it!”

“She won’t.” Schlatt still doubts how anything so childish would ever work, but tests it nonetheless, just to prove Ted and Charlie wrong.

As you set the plate of food down on his desk, Schlatt looks at you and taps at his cheek. “Knock me a kiss, sweetheart.”

All too used to his needy bouts, you don’t put up a fight, getting ready to plant a peck on his cheek. But before you can, he swivels his head to catch your lips in his own.

The kiss is short and sweet. Obviously not too explicit for the sake of his two friends watching on screen, but still conveying all the emotions he found hard to express with words.

Separating from him, you feel a bit embarrassed about kissing in front of an audience. Said audience is currently cheering and shouting “I told you so!”, heard even through Schlatt’s headphones.

Neither of you can hide your smiles when you turn away from each other, him muttering a shy “Yeah, whatever” into his mic. You shuffle out of the office and catch your breath in the hallway, wondering if he’ll be doing that more often.

“Can we keep that in or do you want the editors to cut it out?” Ted asks seriously, not wanting to cross either of your boundaries.

“Nah, cut it out. She’s just for me.” Schlatt’s smirk is oh so obvious on screen.

“God, you even sound like an old movie. You sure you weren’t cryogenically frozen in the 90’s and thawed out?” Charlie moves to a new topic, laughing at how easily Schlatt jumps into explaining the conspiracy that Walt Disney’s head was frozen when he died.

#mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt fic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fluff #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp x y/n #dsmp x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp fluff #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x reader #dream smp fic #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp fanfic #dream smp fluff #chuckle sandwich x reader #chuckle sandwich x y/n #chuckle sandwich x you #chuckle sandwich fanfiction #chuckle sandwich fanfic #chuckle sandwich fic #chuckle sandwich fluff #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x reader

[why-am-i-here-someone-save-me]

May I ask for a SAGAU Venti x reader/player fic where the reader takes Venti to the GAA and mains him always please? And one day he sees the reader/player is crying so he’s determined to get out of the device to help her. Thank you! Also if you can please use she/her pronouns ❤️

Gladly! Since you didn’t specify wether you wanted cult sagau or just basic sagau, I went with basic since that seemed to fit your request a bit more. Also, while I do understand the request for a gendered reader; I do try to keep my works gender neutral, since it’s never fun to be left out. So while I can’t fulfill the fem!reader part, I can certainly do the rest!

Well Done

If someone had asked Venti where his favorite place was a few years ago, he wouldn’t have missed a beat before replying with the answer of ‘why, all of Mondstandt of course!’

But had someone asked him that now, well, his answer would be quite different.

While his nation would always be dear to him, he had found something he loved even more.

Your company.

He adored every moment with you, enjoyed going wherever you took him, every second with your presence was a joy. The bard’s heart would leap when he heard your voice, and the sound of your laugh was a sure fire way to make him smile.

But today… Today something was different.

You had been silent today. Uncharacteristically so.

He grew more and more nervous, but he really began to panic when he heard you sniffle quietly and hold back sobs. He wished with everything in him to reach out and comfort you, but he couldn’t reach your world.

You log out of the game, too emotionally exhausted to try to continue playing. Instead you opt to lie down and cry, letting the tears that had been begging to be shed all day finally go free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bard clad in green barged into an alchemist’s mountainside camp, out of breath from the journey.

“Ah, Venti, what brings you here? Has something happened?”

“Albedo is the portal ready yet?”

“Oh that’s what this is about. I see. Well, in a literal sense, yes, it’s operational. However it is… Unstable. Extremely so. While I’m certain you must be eager to meet them, for now it’s best to be patient. I will need time to resolve some of the issues that have arisen before it is safe.”

“There’s no time for that! J-Just let me use it, I’ll be fine! I’ll test it out for you!”

“Are you alright Venti? You’re not this… frantic usually. Has something happened?”

Venti sighs softly and looks the researcher in the eye, a few stray tears in his own.

“…they were crying Albedo… They’re crying and I can’t do anything to help them from here…”

“… I… I see.”

Albedo hesitates for a moment before sighing himself.

“Very well, if you are certain you wish to take this risk, then I’ve no chance of swaying you. However, keep in mind, this is not permanent. The way the portal is now it can only form a temporary connection between worlds. Once that time is up, you will be transported back to Teyvat.”

“That’s fine. That’s enough, more than enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hugged the pillow tightly as you lie on your bed, having exhausted yourself from the emotional battle so thoroughly that you’d cried yourself to sleep.

Because of this, you didn’t see the familiar set of doors that you passed through every time you logged into Genshin materialize in your room. Nor did you see them open, or the figure that stepped through. You were too deep in sleep to know the fact that they muttered quiet words of affection and validation to you.

“You’ve been so strong… Please, let yourself rest [Name]. You’ve done more than enough…”

Later you’d awaken to a lingering scent of flowers and apple cider, and perhaps if you looked a moment more, you’d find a small pendant of a blooming cecilia left on your pillow.

#luci answers #luci writes #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin sagau #sagau venti #venti #venti x reader #genshin venti #venti the bard #gi venti #gi barbatos #genshin barbatos #sagau #comfort #fluff #request

[dionysus-drabbles]

I can’t take your touch

————————————————————

Pairing : Tony Stark x gn!avenger!reader

Word count : TBA

Summary : has your relationship with Tony reached the end?

Warnings : Reader has childhood trauma, angst, mention of intrusive thoughts, Tony is oblivious, no pre-assigned triggers, use of pet names (honey), minor violence (r slaps Tony’s wrist), talk of hospitals

A/N (IMPORTANT) : This is about my personal experience with my mental health (specifically my cPTSD) and it’s effect on my relationships. It can be read as x reader and I’ve labelled it as such, but they/them pronouns will be used throughout and this is very self indulgent for myself. Please read the trigger warnings above before viewing this content.

————————————————————

If Tony was looking, he’d have seen their decline months in advance.

The thing is, he wasn’t looking.

Well, technically he was. He was looking for the version of them he used to know. The one who sung in the kitchen whilst they cooked and the one who stopped in the street to pet dogs and talk to the owners. The one who took pictures of stray animals. The one who held him every night, who craved his touch. Not the one who shut themself away, the one who shied away from his touch, the one who feared the moment they had to make conversation.

He didn’t notice it until they resigned from the avengers. Of course, he knew they had weekly therapy, but he never bothered to ask what for. Never bothered to ask why their lips grew more chapped, assigning the cold weather as the cause, never bothered to ask why they often dropped knives so abruptly. So they never answered. They let Tony work it out for himself, though he was ‘too busy’ to ever do it.

Nevertheless, they organised the charity dinner for Tony, sipped champagne next to him, and agreed with whatever he said. They weren’t fully in the room - the lights were on, but nobody was home - until they overhead the murmurs of the two men across from them.

“Why is he dating someone with such…issues?” Was what the man said, obviously louder than intended.

“Excuse me,” they stood up abruptly, the sound of the chair scraping across the floor almost deafening. And with that they walked calmly out the door, only letting the tears spill once they set foot in their shared room with Tony. And then they let go. They were shaking, rocking back and forth with their knees drawn to their chest, hyperventilating, sobbing. And when Tony came to find them, they were so entangled in their emotions that they hardly noticed.

“Honey, are you ok?” He asked, sitting on the bed. He reached out his hand towards them and they pulled away before he could reach them, frantic.

“Don’t touch me!” They exclaimed, breathing rapid.

“Do you need to go the hospital?” He asked, ignoring their request and placing his hand on their thigh, to which they sharply slapped away.

“I told you not to touch me. Why can’t you fucking listen to me?”

“Honey, you’re not mentally stabl-“

“It’d be nice if you could stand up for me just one fucking time, Tony. We all know that yeah, I’m fucked up, but you can’t just let them say that shit about me!” They snapped.

Tony sighed, standing up and walking towards the door, only pausing once he heard their voice. “I’m breaking up with you,” they murmured.

“What?”

“I can’t work out my illness for myself whilst having to explain it to you, Tony. You don’t listen. You don’t notice,”

“Notice what?”

“My stuff will be gone by tomorrow morning. We’re over,”

#angst #marvel mcu #mcu #mcu x reader #writing #fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #mcu angst #tony stark #tony stark x reader #breakup #trauma

[j3lle]

just because you don’t understand something doesn’t mean you shouldn’t respect it.

#there’s a lot of things about the lgbtq community i don’t understand and i am constantly educating myself #but if someone asked me to use a set of pronouns i’ve never heard before ofc i’m gonna use them?? #i don’t get why people feel the need to hurt other people because of their own ignorance #just like respect? peoples identities?

[sadprosed]

𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑶  𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

↬   OF  MERMAIDS,  MASQUERADES  AND  MAGIC.

scenarios  inspired  by  various  settings,  encounters  &  magic  tucked  between  pages,  fashioned  by  the  author.  tw  for  drowning  mentions.

+   feel  free  to  change  pronouns  /  roles  !

MERMAIDS.

‘  beyond  the  winds  and  past  the  shores,  strange  magic  lurks  about.  ’

‘  will  you  go  to  the  lagoon  with  me  ?  it’s  unsafe  to  go  alone.  ’

‘  they  say  a  siren’s  call  alone  can  drown  a  man  before  she  swallows  him.  ’

‘  quick  !  cover  your  ears.  ’

‘  what  did  you  imagine  as  you  heard  the  song  ?  ’

‘  i  can  feel  a  voice  like  claws  sinking  beneath  my  skin.  ’

‘  one  can  pray  to  the  ocean,  but  the  waters  answer  in  strange  tongues.  ’

‘  careful,  or  we’ll  hit  the  reef.  ’

‘  the  sea-folk  are  flighty  as  their  fins,  and  illusive  as  shimmering  scales.  ’

‘  i  should  like  to  find  myself  a  sailor  fit  for  a  feast.  ’

‘  sometimes  i  wish  there  was  more  than  the  endless  waves.  ’

‘  do  you  see  that  ?  there,  beneath  the  surface  ?  ’

‘  that’s  no  fish,  and  no  woman  either.  ’

‘  what  lies  off  the  edge  of  the  map  ?  ’

‘  the  sea  has  monsters,  but  beauties  too.  ’

‘  i’ve  heard  that  merfolk  make  bargains,  and  trade  in  the  ocean’s  magic.  ’

‘  i’ve  never  seen  a  pearl  like  this  one.  ’

‘  the  ship  will  go  down  if  we  don’t  turn  about  !  ’

‘  what  is  that,  out  there  on  the  rocks  ?  ’

‘  won’t  you  listen  to  my  song  ?  ’

‘  mermaids  love  shiny  things.  keep  a  careful  eye  on  yours.  ’

‘  if  we  hide  in  the  kelp,  we  might  see  them  as  they  pass.  ’

‘  i’ve  heard  the  tales.  to  catch  you  means  to  gain  a  granted  wish.  ’

‘   i’ve  never  seen  your  likeness,  only  heard  the  myths.  ’

‘  come  with  me,  beneath  the  sea  and  foam,  and  be  mine.  ’

‘  some  of  us  live  in  the  ocean,  others  in  rivers  and  streams  and  even  trees.  ’

‘  falling  in  love  with  a  human  is  an  old  tale.  tell  me  a  new  one.  ’

‘  so  you  gave  up  your  fin  for  legs  ?  ’

‘  soon  i  will  be  nothing  but  seafoam.  ’

‘  what  is  a  heart,  but  an  ocean  of  secrets  ?  ’

‘  you’d  let  yourself  be  undone  and  remade  for  someone  you’ve  never  known.  that  is  not  love.  ’

‘  let  your  dreams  sink  to  the  depths.  they’ve  done  you  no  good.  ’

MASQUERADES.

‘  i’ve  never  seen  so  many  unfamiliar  faces.  ’

‘  he’s / she’s / they’ve  been  looking  at  me  all  evening.  ’

‘  would  you  do  me  the  honor  of  a  dance  ?  ’

‘  neither  of  us  need  know  the  other  tonight.  i  prefer  the  mystery.  ’

‘  your  choice  of  costume  is  rather  extravagant.  ’

‘  what  fun  would  it  be,  if  i  took  this  off  ?  ’

‘  i’m  certain  we’ve  met  before.  ’

‘  i’ve  always  longed  for  a  night  like  this.  it’s  something  out  of  a  dream.  ’

‘  won’t  you  come  away  with  me  ?  there’s  a  balcony  just  outside.  ’

‘  i’m  inclined  to  think  we’ve  never  met  before,  and  perhaps  will  never  meet  again  after  tonight.  ’

‘  you  look  like  you  know  how  to  waltz.  care  to  ?  ’

‘  i  must  stand  up  with  someone  this  evening,  and  i  don’t  see  why  it  can’t  be  you.  ’

‘  would  you  stop  staring  so  intently  ?  what  do  you  think  to  find  ?  ’

‘  i’ll  stop  bothering  you  if�� you  agree  to  dance  with  me.  ’

‘  please  take  it  off.  i  want  to  see  you.  ’

‘  i’ve  never  been  to  a  masque  before.  ’

'  it  seems  our  attire  makes  opposites  of  us.  ’

‘  i’ve  never  seen  a  more  hideous  costume  than  that  one.  ’  

‘  i  can’t  stay  much  longer.  you  see,  i’m  not  supposed  to  be  here  at  all.  ’

‘  you’ll  never  know  who  i  am.  ’

‘  people  like  you  always  make  a  fool  of  me.  ’

‘  oh.  i  thought  you  were  someone  else.  ’

‘  i’ll  give  you  three  chances  to  guess  who  i  am.  ’

‘  the  next  time  i  offer  you  my  hand,  you’ll  get  more  than  a  dance  from  me.  ’

‘  i’ve  wanted  to  dance  beneath  stars  like  these  for  as  long  as  i  can  remember.  ’

‘  what  do  you  look  like  ?  ’

‘  that  look  in  your  eyes  tells  me  all  i  need  to  know.  ’

‘  you  won’t  like  what  you’ll  see.  ’

‘  i  recognize  your  voice.  ’

‘  you’ll  know  the  truth  before  the  night  is  up.  ’

‘  i’ve  heard  the  darkest  of  dances  are  the  best  for  falling  in  love  to.  ’

‘  you  don’t  know  it  now,  but  we’re  friends  already.  ’

‘  can’t  we  pretend  a  little  while  longer  ?  ’

‘  it’s  when  the  party  is  over  that  we  learn  to  know  each  other  most.  ’

‘  happily  ever  after  can’t  come  so  easily  as  a  single  night  dancing.  ’

MAGIC.

‘  i’ve  caught  you.  you  have  to  undo  the  spell  for  me  now.  ’

‘  think  carefully  before  asking  for  something  well  beyond  the  reach  of  mortal  power.  ’

‘  i  think  i  know  a  spell  for  that.  ’

‘  i  can’t  help  you.  but  there  are  people  in  other  worlds,  in  the  moors  and  hills  and  trees,  that  might.  ’

‘  you  must  gather  the  necessary  ingredients  for  such  a  potion.  ’

‘  true  love  is  never  the  answer  to  the  riddle.  not  when  so  much  as  life  and  death  is  at  stake.  ’

‘  i’ve  found  and  made  my  way  here  by  right.  you  can’t  deny  me  the  answers  i  seek.  ’

‘  be  warned:  monsters  hide  between  the  trees  and  whisper  in  magic  tongues.  ’

‘  it  always  makes  a  fraction  of  sense  to  be  careful  what  you  wish  for.  ’

‘  i’ve  been  turned  into  an  unsightly  creature,  and  i  need  a  way  of  turning  back.  ’

‘  not  all  magical  stories  happen  in  castles,  or  cottages  in  the  wood.  ’

‘  preposterous.  magic  and  sorcery  do  not  exist  but  in  the  minds  of  superstitious  fools.  ’

‘  get  back  from  that  cauldron  !  it’s  dangerous.  ’

‘  i  don’t  mess  with  things  like  candles  and  the  stars  and  the  moon  after  dark.  it  never  ends  well.  ’

‘  i  am  something  ancient.  my  name  has  been  forgotten  by  mortal  mouths  and  is  found  only  in  their  oldest  texts.  ’

‘  not  all  fairy  helpers  are  kind,  and  not  all  villains  are  ugly,  or  even  cruel.  ’

‘  if  you  want  my  help,  you  must  earn  it.  ’

‘  is  this  something  i  could  learn  ?  ’

‘  i  don’t  want  to  be  ordinary,  and  i  don’t  care  what  the  risks  are.  ’

‘  you  think  to  put  a  curse  on  me  ?  i  will  spend  my  life  defying  it.  ’

‘  stay  back,  witch,  and  keep  your  spells  from  sneaking  past  your  lips.  ’

‘  you  must  chain  a  magician  in  more  than  metal  or  rope  if  you  wish  to  stop  them.  ’

‘  that’s  a  parlor  trick.  show  me  real  magic.  ’

‘  only  you  can  break  the  spell.  it  is  something  you  are  meant  for.  ’

‘  fate  is  nothing  but  an  illusion  placed  in  our  heads,  that  we  might  follow  the  words  of others  and  not  our  own  intentions.  ’

‘  whatever  has  brought  me  here,  i  cannot  turn  back  now.  ’

‘  soon  the  clock  will  strike,  and  nothing  more  might  be  done.  ’  

‘  magic  requires  taking  in  order  to  give.  it  will  keep  demanding  parts  of  you.  ’

#rp memes #rp starters #rp prompts #ask meme #ask prompt #sentence meme #sentence prompts #sentence prompt #sentence starter #rp meme #askbox meme #inbox meme #askbox #starter #fairytale #mermaids #mermaidcore #masquerades #magic #ask memes #witchy #sentence starters #inbox starters #sadprosed #fairycore #mermaid rp #witch rp #masquerade prompts #scenario prompts

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Meeting the Family // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: Hello there, could I please request Anthony bridgerton and reader fic where hes introducing the reader to his family for the first time and shes really nervous but the family ends up loving her more than him? Thanks, I absolutely love your work!! Please dont overwork yourself darling❤ - @lespaceboi

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I had so much fun with this request, I love it so so much. I only hope you do too! Lowkey posting this early bc I’m watching the euros final tonight and I won’t have time. 

Warnings: she/her pronouns, female reader, light angst, some worries, lots of fluff, family fluff, Anthony being cute, dialogue heavy, declarations of love.

Word count: 3.6k

Her hands shake uncontrollably as the carriage clatters through London. Taking calming breaths, (Y/N) does her best to stop her shaking hands by gripping her shawl tightly. Her maid, Jayne, looks over at her in concern. “We can always turn back, my lady,” Jayne whispers, “I’m sure Viscount Bridgerton won’t mind postponing to another day.”

(Y/N) smiles warmly at her maid; grateful for the care in her voice. However, she shakes her head. “I’m afraid it can’t wait any longer, Jayne. Anthony’s sister and her husband have travelled all the way from Scotland.”

Jayne sits back against the carriage bench, nodding her head understandingly. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” She offers in comfort.

“I can only hope,” (Y/N) whispers, casting her gaze out of window and into the London streets.

She had met Anthony Bridgerton when shopping for ribbons. An unusual time and place to meet anyone, but Anthony had strolled into the shop and asked to see the best ribbons in the place as nothing would be better than the absolute best for his nieces. (Y/N) had giggled at the tone of his voice; unused to seeing such a powerful figure in such intimate settings. Her laughter had drawn his attention to which a conversation began. By the end of the Viscount’s visit to the ribbon shop, he had asked to see her again.

The visits continued in secrecy, or in as much secrecy as one could afford when holding a peerage. The relationship blossomed; what was once considered a friendship was turning romantic, and (Y/N) could not help her feelings for the Viscount. He had captured her, body and soul. She counted every blessing that Anthony felt the same.

The first glimpse of Bridgerton House steals her breath away. The red brick stands out amongst the paler buildings; Anthony’s wealth already obvious but further personified by the sheer scale of his home. The sweet scent of the violet hyacinths perfume (Y/N)’s carriage; their aroma bringing a small smile to her face as she remembers a masquerade party in Chiswick, a balcony and Anthony’s hands on her waist.

Her carriage rolls to a natural stop; (Y/N)’s heart in her throat as she tears her inquiring gaze from Bridgerton House to Jayne. Jayne smiles and squeezes her lady’s hand, a silent offer of support for the afternoon.

“They’re going to love you,” Jayne whispers, bolstering (Y/N) as best she could as the door to the carriage is opened by (Y/N)’s footman.

Now closer, Bridgerton House is much grander. The deep green iron gates pronounce the family’s wealth further. (Y/N) gulps as she takes step after step down the path to already open front door. Her steps falter slightly as she catches sight of Anthony waiting in the entrance; his hair the usual untameable mess that endears her so.

“You came,” Anthony breathes in greeting; his eyes wide with barely concealed surprise as he takes in the sight of her on his doorstep.

“I came,” (Y/N) answers just as breathlessly. Even the sight of him was enough to leave her gasping for breath; there were moments in their prolonged courtship that she couldn’t quite believe he had chosen her, that he wanted her. As Anthony stands there, his white shirt unbuttoned from the collar with his waistcoat undone, she realises that this is the most casual she had ever seen him. His outfit wasn’t proper, but she doesn’t want it to be. She wants to see him from every angle; she wants to know every Anthony there is. So far, she had found herself besotted with each and every one.

Both remain silent as Anthony offers his arm to her. (Y/N) uses the silence to quash the nerves rioting in her gut; she had never been this nervous, not when she was presented in front of the monarch for her season, and not when she danced with the Prince of Wales at his birthday celebrations two years ago. Now, however, her nerves were beginning to get the better of her.

Anthony pauses their journey. “Are you okay?” He asks, a note of concern in his voice.

“I’m nervous,” (Y/N) confesses bashfully, “What if they don’t like me? What if they hate me so much that you end things? I’m having so much fun with you, Anthony. I don’t want this to end.”

“Hey,” Anthony whispers, taking her face in his hands, urging her to look at him, “You’re going to be fine. They’re going to love you, I know it. I’ve spoken about you so much they feel they already know you.”

“You talk about me?” (Y/N) asks, her voice small.

Anthony presses a kiss to her forehead. “Constantly. I’m surprised they haven’t kicked me out with how much I talk about you.”

“You’re really very sweet.”

“Only because of you,” He flirts, pushing his luck by kissing her quickly.

(Y/N) laughs softly against his mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”

Anthony laughs gently, pulling away from her lips but keeping hold of her hands. “I’m as nervous as you,” He confesses, “But I have you by my side to help me get through just as you have me through this too. Any time you want to go, let me know and I’ll call your carriage back round.”

“Thank you,” She whispers before Anthony continues on down the hall, his hand squeezing hers tightly.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Anthony asks, double checking, voice wavering as they stand outside the door to the drawing room. “My family can be a bit much to meet all at once.”

“We’re nothing of the sort!” A masculine voice shouts from behind the door.

A surprised laugh leaves (Y/N) lips. She covers her mouth to bring back the mask of perfect decorum, not wanting to insult a member of Anthony’s family. “I’m ready when you are,” She whispers, smiling at the eldest Bridgerton.

“Sooner rather than later,” Anthony whispers before opening the door, giving her the first glimpse at his family.

The Bridgerton brood sit around the large drawing room. Sisters and brothers, husbands and wives – they all mix together as they wait for Anthony and his new beau. Each all fall silent as Anthony and (Y/N) enters the room; their first glimpse of her, their first conversation with her. Anthony had spoken about her constantly but refused to let any family meet her until they were both ready.

Now that moment had arrived.

“Mother,” Anthony introduces to the silent room, “This is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” (Y/N) exclaims, smiling at the Bridgerton matriarch. “I’ve heard so much about you all,” She continues, casting her gaze around the room.

“It’s a pleasure for us too, dear (Y/N),” Violet announces, “Anthony has been nothing but a ball of nerves since he announced you would be joining us.”

(Y/N) nods at the matriarch, feeling herself become speechless as she takes in the sheer size of Anthony’s family. It isn’t hard to tell who the Bridgertons are among the group are; they each have the same eyes and smile. “It’s lovely to meet you all,” (Y/N) announces, repeating her earlier words, unable to keep the nerves from entering her voice this time.

“I’m Benedict,” The second eldest introduces, jumping up from his seat on the couch, holding his hand out for her to take.

“The artist!” (Y/N) gasps, “I’ve seen some of your work. You’re exceptionally talented.”

“Thank you,” Benedict blushes, excusing himself with a pat to Anthony’s shoulder, a silent sign that Benedict already approves.

“Help yourself to some tea,” A younger woman exclaims in the brief silence between conversations, “I’d get up to greet you, but it would take twice as long as the conversation itself.”

“Please don’t strain yourself,” (Y/N) offers graciously, “Congratulations on your pregnancy.”

“Thank you, dear. I’m Daphne, and this is my husband, Simon.” Daphne introduces, her hand landing on the thigh of a handsome man.

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” (Y/N) greets, making her way to an empty seat at a nearby table. There she pours two cups of tea, one for her and one for Anthony, knowing he would be dropping by in a minute or two. The tea steeps as (Y/N) helps herself to one of the many biscuits, taking a small bite of the buttery concoction before reaching for the milk and sugar. This is a routine she has practiced many times before, knowing exactly how long to stir her tea so it wouldn’t burn the tip of her tongue with every sip.

It’s takes less than two minutes for someone to join her at the table. (Y/N) offers the young woman a polite smile, “I’m (Y/N).”

“Eloise Bridgerton,” introduces the young woman.

“A pleasure to meet you,” (Y/N) repeats, feeling herself already grow tired of the words.

“Are you educated, (Y/N)?” Eloise enquires; her keen blue gaze dancing over the young woman.

(Y/N) finishes her sip of tea before nodding at Anthony’s younger sister. “I am,” She answers, “I studied under a very thorough governess, and I am fluent in French and Latin, but I’ve also been fortunate enough to sit in on some lectures at Oxford and Edinburgh.”

“How?” Eloise all but demands, ignoring the stern stare of her mother as she leans forward, elbows on the table. “You must teach me your ways.”

(Y/N) represses an amused smile at Eloise’s antics. “My favourite cousin, Sylvester, was a student at both. I often annoyed him into letting me attend in secret whenever I visited.”

“Did you attend any interesting lectures?”

(Y/N) nods, happy to further indulge the brunette. “Sylvester was a student of medicine, beginning his education at Oxford before continuing on to Edinburgh where he lives now. I’ve attended a few medical lectures, but I pressured him into letting me attend a philosophical debate surrounding Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Woman.” (Y/N) shakes her head, amused at the memory, “Sylvester didn’t find that one nearly as thrilling as his medical lectures.”

“Anthony!” Eloise calls, gathering the attention of all her brothers, “I’m keeping (Y/N) for myself. You’re going to have to find a new beau, I’m afraid.”

Anthony chuckles, leaving his brothers to their own conversation. “Pray,” He begins, “Just what are the two of you talking about.”

“(Y/N)’s education. Did you know she’s sat in lectures at both Oxford and Edinburgh? I daresay I might attend a few myself.”

Anthony’s hand lands on your shoulder; a warm squeeze has you turning to meet his stare. His smile is fond; his eyes are bright with happiness. “Are you inciting further rebellion in my little sister?”

“Of course not,” (Y/N) playfully scoffs, “Just letting her know that should she want to attend any lectures, I have a connection for her.”

A laugh leaves Anthony’s lips as he catches sight of Eloise’s excited wiggle in her chair. “I’m glad you’re getting along,” He murmurs to (Y/N) quietly, dropping an unexpected kiss to her hair before entering a debate with Eloise, explaining why she cannot go about interrupting lectures at prestigious universities.

Leaving the siblings to their bickering, (Y/N) stands from table, wanting to stretch her legs and discover more to the drawing room. By this point in the afternoon, the appeal of company has worn off. The large family now broken off into their own conversations; Francesca and Michael remain sat close together on the couch under the window, Lady Violet remains sat by her eldest daughter – the matriarch keeping a weather eye on her pregnant daughter.

(Y/N) smiles fondly at the scene before turning to one of the many fixed bookshelves in the room; leather bound volumes line the shelves. There wasn’t much for light reading, she thinks to herself as she reads the spines. Much about the War of the Roses and the subsequent Tudor reign, not much in the way of Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron.

“You’re very pretty,” A young girl announces from behind (Y/N). She turns to find two girls, both no older than four or five, their hair matching pigtails, curled into ringlets.

(Y/N) kneels to their height, ignoring the pinching of her corset as she smiles at the young children. “Why thank you,” She states gratefully, “But you know what I would really like?”

“What?” The eldest of the two asks, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Gorgeous pigtails like yours,” (Y/N) smiles, gesturing to their hair.

Both girls break into wide smiles, already won over. “What are your names?” (Y/N) asks.

“I’m Amelia,” The eldest states proudly, “I’m five and a half.”

“I’m Belinda,” The second girl introduces, “I’m four.”

“Well it is lovely to meet you both,” (Y/N) compliments, “My name is (Y/N).”

“We know,” Belinda chimes. “Uncle Tony talks about you all the time.”

“He does, does he?” She murmurs amused; catching sight of the brunette doing his best not to intervene on the conversation taking place with his nieces.

Amelia nods. “All the time!” She cries happily. “He talks about your hair, your eyes, your smile.” She breaks off, leaning towards (Y/N) to whisper in her ear. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“Do you think?” (Y/N) questions, unable to keep the eager hope from her voice.

“I know,” Amelia nods sagely, “I heard Uncle Tony tell Mama and Papa.”

(Y/N) presses her lips together to keep the wide smile from growing across her face. She had known that Anthony felt very deeply for her though he had never uttered a word. With a quick glance in Anthony’s direction, she gestures for the two girls to come closer. “Can you keep a secret?”

Amelia and Belinda nod silently; too excited to hear what (Y/N) has to say. “It just so happens,” (Y/N) whispers to the two girls, “That I also love your Uncle Tony.”

“You do?” Belinda squeaks.

“I do,” (Y/N) nods seriously, “I love him very much.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Amelia asks; her blue eyes wide with burning curiosity.

“I think on some level he already knows, but I plan on telling him very soon.”

Both girls squeal in happiness, leaving (Y/N) behind as they run towards their parents. Daphne and Simon greet their children with open arms, wide eyed at their level of noise as they demand their voices to be heard over the hubbub of the rest of the family.

“I don’t suppose you’d enlighten me to this particular conversation,” A warm voice sounds from behind her. The way his arm slips around her waist, as if it were his home, tells (Y/N) that Anthony has found her once more.

“A secret for another day,” (Y/N) teases, turning to face the man that had captured her heart so wholly.

“Will you tell me later?” He asks, pushing out his bottom lip in a pout that has her giggling.

“Perhaps,” She whispers, leaning ever closer to the Bridgerton. “Only if you promise me something.”

“Anything,” He whispers seriously, “I’d give you the world if I could.”

“I know you would,” She murmurs, “But all I’m asking for is for you to not pester your nieces over what I told them.”

“How did you know?” Anthony asks, voice glum.

(Y/N) brings a gloved hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing his cheekbone. “Because I know you, my dear.”

Anthony leans into the touch, turning his face slightly to press a kiss to her wrist. “I like being your dear.”

“I like being yours too,” She replies earnestly. “Now, I’ve spoken to most of your siblings. Do me the honour of introducing me to Francesca, she came all the way from Scotland, it’s rude that I’ve neglected her.”

“Yes, my darling,” Anthony responds, taking her hand and leading her to the couch where Francesca sits with her husband, Michael.

The day continues in a similar fashion. Bridgerton House had never been quiet when the whole family was in attendance; raucous laughter and loving bickering filled its many corners with noise. The life and laughter of the family bringing the house to life.

As the grandfather clock ticks closer and closer to the evening, (Y/N) finds herself lamenting the fact that she must leave the Bridgerton family so soon.

“I must take my leave,” She announces to sad cries to Amelia and Belinda, already so attached.

“So soon?” Benedict asks, frowning as he wonders when he’ll get to continues his conversation with her. So few wanted to talk about art nowadays.

(Y/N) meets Anthony’s gaze, hating how sad he looks. “I’m having dinner with my parents and their friends. An occasion I simply cannot miss, I’m afraid.”

“Do we know them?” Violet asks in an attempt to delay the inevitable. She had grown fond of the young woman over the course of the afternoon, seeing how perfectly she fit amongst her family, how she brought out the best in her eldest son.

“The St. Clair’s?” (Y/N) enquires, drawing her shawl around her shoulders. “My father has worked with Lady Danbury’s family for a long time. Gareth and I are old friends.”

“Have a wonderful time,” Violet announces, “But please visit us soon.”

“I would love to,” (Y/N) smiles, crossing the room to be by Anthony’s side.

Offering her goodbyes to the large family, (Y/N) takes Anthony’s offered arm, hooking hers through his as they descend the grand marble staircase to the foyer. “Your family are lovely,” (Y/N) compliments as she takes care not to trip over her skirts on the stairs. “You all care for each so much, it’s clear the moment you enter the room.”

“My mother and siblings are the best people I know,” Anthony murmurs, walking beside (Y/N) at a steady pace in order to delay her departure by a minute.

“I can only hope they liked me,” She worries, her teeth biting into her bottom lip in a way that has Anthony restraining himself by gripping her arm tighter.

“You were wonderful,” Anthony murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheekbone before helping her into her carriage.

“Thank you for today,” (Y/N) calls, sticking her hand from the window to prolong the contact between Anthony and herself. She wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye; wasn’t quite ready to leave him.

“Thank you for coming,” Anthony answers, kissing her hand before tucking it back through the window of her carriage. If they didn’t say goodbye now, they wouldn’t say goodbye at all. If she didn’t leave, he would most likely offer marriage on the pavement than somewhere proper.

Nodding to her footman, Anthony watches her carriage leave. He stands on the doorstep to Bridgerton House until her carriage is no longer in sight. Only then does he let himself release the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Weariness washes over him as he turns to face his childhood home. Inside, in his mother’s drawing room, await his family. Each one ready to give their verdict on the woman he has had the good fortune to fall in love with.

Sighing, he kicks at the ground, knowing he cannot delay this any longer.

His mother and siblings are where he left them; his mother’s drawing room. They fall silent at the sight of him; each clearly unwilling to make the leap and be the first to broach the elephant in the room.

“What do you think of (Y/N)?” Anthony asks; voice loud in the ever so silent room. He meets the eyes of each of his siblings, not missing the way Daphne leans into Simon or the way Michael reaches for Francesca’s hand. They’ve all found their love matches; it was now Anthony’s turn.

Colin takes the fall for his family, standing to face his eldest brother and titled peer. He clears his throat, fidgeting on the spot before he eventually pauses all movement, breaking into a smile to declare, “We all loved her!”

“You do?” Anthony asks, falling onto a nearby couch in shock.

Violet smiles at her eldest son. “We do. (Y/N) is a sweetheart and looks to be just as taken with you as you are with her.”

Blush begins to paint Anthony’s cheeks. “I can only hope, dear mother.”

“It’s true,” Amelia chimes, her young face bright with joy. “She told Belinda and I.”

“You have found your love match, my darling boy,” Violet states warmly.

“It does help that (Y/N) is a trifle more tolerable than you, dear brother,” Benedict teases, laughter bright in his Bridgerton blue eyes.

“And so educated!” Eloise gasps, “We had an enlightening conversation about Wollstonecraft’s Vindication on the Rights of Women.”

“She was wonderful with Amelia and Belinda,” Daphne murmurs, her hand falling protectively over her pregnant stomach.

“Why do I get the feeling that you prefer (Y/N) to me?” Anthony murmurs, mischief bright in his eyes and evident in his voice.

“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Gregory points out, “I only hope (Y/N) can keep up with your obsession with Pall Mall.”

“A worthy obsession,” Anthony argues, mind wandering to the games he could play with (Y/N).

“She’s wonderful,” Violet interrupts, a large smile on her face as she takes the final say.

Anthony smiles widely at his mother; constantly grateful for her love and care throughout his life. She had been lost after the death of his father, as had Anthony, but Anthony had never truly understood what it would feel like to lose someone you love as wholeheartedly as his mother loved his father.

Until now, that is. The mere thought of losing her sends a lance of pain through his chest, cutting short his breath and increasing his panic. Anthony shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts and feelings.

Calm enough, he faces his family once more. “I plan on proposing to (Y/N),” He announces, showing his family the ring box that has been sitting heavily in his trouser pocket all day.

“Thank goodness,” Francesca murmurs, smiling indulgently at her big brother. “I cannot wait to call her sister.”

“Indeed,” Anthony murmurs, a loving smile on his face, “I cannot wait to call her my wife.”

******

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @sexysirius @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley @spideysz​ @iammirrorball​ @writeroutoftime​ @joyfullymulti​ @nuttytani​ @multifandomfix​ @freyathehuntress​ @lespaceboi​

Taglists are open! Drop me an ask if you would like to be added!

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fanfic #Bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fluff

[360iris]

Wanna Be Down (George Weasley x Reader x Fred Weasley)

Warnings: Pure smut! She/her pronouns for the reader! No funny business between the boys I promise! There’s bound to be some typo that I missed, sorry ‘bout that!

Word count: 1,628

Summary: There’s a birthday, a bunny costume and The Twins... What could go wrong?

A/N: This was originally meant to drop on their birthday, April 1st... I’m 28 days late for that but hey, better late than never! It’s been collecting dust for the entire time and I wanted to set it free. I hope someone enjoys it!

“You want me to- to wear a bunny outfit and have the two of you…” You faltered nervously, the words seemed foreign on your tongue.

“-fuck you in it.” Fred finished for you with a wide grin, as if this was the most in the ordinary activity to plan.

The twins wanted to sleep with you? This was the first you’d heard of it, that’s for sure. And though the thought sent waves of excitement through your body, the prospect was daunting.

You’d been friends since diapers, a meager six hours separating your births. And whether the bond that formed later was predetermined by fate, or by pure chance, it was wholly indestructible.

Through the years, the three of you operated perfectly insync. Remaining quite persistently glued at the hip; completing every task deemed worthy enough as an odd unit.

There was an unspoken rule that each of you would make sure that the others felt equally included in activities.

So why should taking your virginity be any different?

“We’ll be twenty in a few hours, Y/N. Don’t you want to kick off the new decade with a bang?” George asked, his face genuine and voice laced with just the right amount of sweetness. He always did know how to persuade you into going along with Fred’s crazy schemes.

“Quite literally in this instance.” Fred added cheekily and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Both of you have had sex before though. Plenty of times in fact! You told me about it afterwards! In vivid detail at that! Why are you so worried about me now?” Your brows were furrowed, lips turned downwards in a pout.

Sitting criss-cross on your bed, you tugged one of the many pillows on your bed into your lap. Squeezing it tighter when you met their gazes again.

Fred had his hands tucked into his jean pockets, happy as ever. He acted as if it was only a matter of time before he’d get the answer he wanted.

George on the other hand, at least looked like he was having a conversation with you; and not like he was just waiting for you to realize you’d never actually said no to them before. His eyes were soft, assessing your demeanor before approaching your spot at the foot of the bed.

“You know you’re our favorite girl. Don’t you, Y/N?” He questioned and you suddenly felt smaller looking directly up at him. Ginger waves caressing his cheeks and pooling at his shoulders.

“I mean- I suppose.” You replied dumbly.

“Who do we always come back home to?” He asked again, his left hand lifting up from his side to comb through your hair. The pads of his fingers brushing against your cheek as they went.

“Me.” Your answer was hushed, though it was only the three of you in the flat. They’d closed the shop downstairs hours ago.

“And who trails after me as much as she can during the day, practically jumping into my lap the first opportunity she gets?” His voice was getting lower and his gaze remained fixed to you, you tried your best not to squirm.

“M- Me.”

“Lastly, whose the babygirl that slips into my bed at three in the morning because she stays up too late and gets scared?” He was teasing you now, you knew it, but still gave him a reply.

“Me, George.” Both of his hands were cupping your face now, fingertips laced in your hair, you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to.

“So when I ask my favorite girl to put on the outfit I picked out for her, so I can make her feel good on her birthday, what do you think I want to hear back?” A single brow arched as he waited for your answer, ignoring Fred’s quiet “I helped choose it too, y’know.”

Wrapping your fingers around his wrists, you thought about all the times he and Fred had slept with other girls. How deep down you’d wished they’d looked at you the same way.

He allowed you to remove one of his hands, a dark smirk splitting across his face when you’d slowly brought it between your legs. Only coming to a stop when he was cupping your heat.

“I think- I think I’ve been holding out for you.” It was no higher than a whisper, but it’d been the truth nonetheless. He smiled wider at this confession, leaning in and pressing a light kiss on your forehead.

“All the more reason not to disappoint.” He responded, you faintly registered rustling from behind him.

“Y/N, dear?” Fred called.

“Hm?”

“Time to put the outfit on.”

It’d been relatively easy to slip into the get-up. The bodysuit, wrist cuffs and neck piece fitting like a glove.

“When did you get my measurements?” You asked, looking down at yourself.

“Since when have we not had your measurements?” Fred laughed, pulling you onto the bed with him until your back was flush against his chest. Your head comfortably leaning back on his left shoulder.

George following after you, settled for sitting up in front of you, his knees digging into the pink duvet.

“The ears are a nice touch.” He remarked with a pleased smirk. “Don’t you agree, Fred?”

“Absolutely. All white suits her.” He replied matter-a-factly, hands already roaming your torso. Ghosting over your exposed thighs, he hooked a finger under the bikini line of the bodysuit and let it snap back into place. Your hips jutted outwards at the impact.

“Want to hear you ask for it, Y/N.” George was palming your calves, making you feel small again.

“What do you want me to say?” Your brows furrowed curiously at the request, breath hitching when he utilized his grip to pull you further down Fred’s chest. Your ankles eventually hooking against George’s shoulders.

“Want him to play with your little cunt, don’t you baby?” Fred asked from above you, heat rushing to your face at his words.

“Y- Yeah.”

“Then ask, darling.” He grinned at your eyes widening as you met his gaze upside down.

Turning your attention back to George, you absentmindedly bit at the end your thumb nervously. Sure you’d used curse words like anyone else in the world, but the thought of actually asking the twins to fuck you was on a level you’d never thought you’d reach.

“Georgie?” You tried carefully.

“What is it, baby?” He replied softly, a smile playing on his lips, patiently waiting.

“Want- Want you to make me feel good.”

“How?” He prompted, delighting in your fidgeting. Fred however wasn’t feeling as patient, sending a soft smack to your inner thigh.

“Don’t have all day, bunny.” He chided, slowly massaging the site.

“Want your cock, Georgie.” You finally relented, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in your hands, but you feared being spanked again by Fred. 

George rewarded you with a kiss, palming your clit through the material. He swallowed up every whimper that escaped your lips, only answering by expertly thumbing the area faster. 

“Let’s see how wet you are, bun.” Fred whispered, pulling the bodysuit aside to reveal your heat. Running a finger through your folds, he promptly brought it to your mouth. Smirking widely when you began meekly sucking at the digit.

“I’m gonna get you ready, okay sweetheart?” George asked, mouthing at your neck. He didn’t move until you garbled something close to “okay” through Fred’s fingers sadistically pressing down your throat.

Armed with plenty of lube, the first finger sliding into you felt like nothing. By the third, he resorted to distracting you by rubbing your bud to ease the initial stretch. Although nothing could have prepared you for how uncomfortable taking his tip was.

It was a slow process, full of the boys tenderly guiding you to breathe deeply and relax your muscles. With the abundance of their attention focused on outweighing the discomfort with pleasure, eventually the mild pain began to blur around the edges. 

The level of satisfaction that rolled over you when you’d finally reached the hilt was like no other. 

“Good girl.” Fred purred into your hair as George wiped away a stray tear from the corner of your eye. “Took it like a champ, didn’t she, Georgie boy?”

“Sure did, Fred. Squeezing me so nicely too.” He replied smiling proudly.

“Full- So full.” You whimpered blearily, not sure which boy you were grasping for. Each accepted one of your wandering hands, giving them an encouraging squeeze.

“You’re doing so well, babygirl. How about you let me make you feel good now, hm?” George’s voice was gruff as he patiently waited for you to nod back in response.

Soon the discomfort had melted away, leaving only the easy slide of George’s length and the gratification of being engulfed between the loves of your life. 

You promptly got lost in the jumble of mouths, hands and pleasure. 

“Gonna come for us, love?” George asked, holding your hips done to focus his thrusts. 

“Can I- Can I, please? Please let me come!” You whined desperately, unable to distinguish whose hands belonged to who.

“Go ahead, bunny.” George answered and it was all you needed to hear. Your visioned blurred as your toes curled, the only thing you could register was that he was fucking you through it. Fred’s fingers circling your clit didn’t let up until you were pathetically trying to pull at his wrist.

A weak mewl fell from your lips as George pulled out of you spent. Simpering under his praises, you closed your eyes. 

The sudden smack against your face was sobering, leaving you blurrily blinking up at Fred’s eager grin.

“I hope you didn’t think you were off the clock, bun.”

#the weasley twins #the weasley twins x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader x george weasley #fred and george #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #harry potter fic #hp #hp fanfic #hp smut #hp imagine

[loafslibrary]

Burn - Bruno Madrigal X Reader (Part 2)

Part 1

Word count:

5960 words

Description:

Alma approaches the Ruiz family in the market about Bruno’s vision of his and their daughters marriage. 

It doesn’t go well to say the least.

But when all hope is lost, the family are visited by the last person they expect to see.

Her...

Theme/Category:

Slow burn, angst, romance, star-crossed lovers?, pining

Warnings:

Sexual/+18 content mentioned and to come in later chapters, judgemental family members, profanity, mentions of pregnancy.

Authors Note/s:

Thank you so much for the support of the first chapter! I’m having so much fun writing this! Now that I am taking my time to write these and I’m not sticking to a schedule I’m very happy with how my writing is now!

Also, I have set up a ko-fi ( Ko-fi.com/loafslibrary ) if you would like to donate/tip me for my work. It is never expected, but it will always be appreciated!

Previously mentioned: I’m not Colombian, so I apologise if I get any phrases or cultural points wrong, I have tried my best and done research while writing theses chapters, but if anything is wrong I do apologise.

Reader in this uses she/her pronouns and is AFAB

- 🍞

Eye meets in that short instant

The moment all senses stop

Little tremors spread inside me

For the first time I am swallowed by the feeling

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Mi Mariposa,

I can still remember the first time I saw you. How I’d thought I’d gone to heaven, because Infront of me was an angel. Someone so perfect, I was sure I wasn’t worthy of your love. Even now I must question if I truly deserve someone as special as you.

How I long to have you in my arms, to kiss you. I wish to be by your side every second of every day just in order to bask in your beautiful glow. Mi vida, you have no idea how much my soul yearns for you.

You make me feel as though I’m living in a dream. A dream I never wish to wake up from.

I wish to have you here with me now, so I could tell you this in person.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

The extended olive branch of peace hadn’t gone as smoothly as the family had hoped.

When Alma originally approached the family in the market with the proposal of an arranged marriage between their daughter and Bruno, Santino Ruiz had almost lost his cool.

“So, now our family name is good enough?”, he had scoffed, not even looking the woman in the eyes. Sofía, his wife, had smacked his shoulder, scolding him to at least be civil with the woman after everything they had done for their community.

“I’m sorry Alma, my husband-“, she began to stutter out apologies. Sofía was a sweet woman. She always had been. It just so happened that the man she had fallen in love with wasn’t.

“It’s okay Sofía, I understand that I’ve hurt him in the past”, she soothed, taking the smaller woman’s hands in her own with an understanding smile. The slightly younger woman smiled back as a silent thank you, her eyes wrinkling at the corners as age had begun to catch up with her youthful looks, while her husband tutted and looked the other way. Alma remembered her from before the Encanto, before her and Santino had married. She had always been the quiet and shy type growing up. Alma remembered how Sofía had looked up to her; asking how the older girl thought she should style her hair, doing the same activities as her, always staying close by at any festivals.

“So, why our daughter?”, She asked.

“My Bruntio used his gift and had a vision. The vision showed him marrying your daughter and the two of them living a beautiful life together”. Sofía swooned at the news, the whole idea already sounding more romantic than anything she had ever heard. “The vision promised prosperity, good health, grandchildren-“, Sofía audibly gasped, a wide smile spreading across her lips. This sounded like a fairy tale to her; her daughter marrying into the most powerful family in the Encanto, the pair being happy and showered in blessings, it was more than she could have ever asked for. For her daughter to live a happy and healthy life. What Alma was saying had completely captivated her, so much to the point where she hadn’t even noticed her husband’s building rage until it was too late.

“I will not have your son dirtying our bloodline!”, he spat, standing tall over the two women. “That boy is a bad omen. I highly doubt he saw all these things in his vision. It’s probably all just a lie to get someone to marry him, since no one else wants to marry that pendejo”. Alma flinched in shock and Sofía’s eyes widened at her husband’s comment.

“Santino! Don’t say that! You’re making a scene”.

“Escúchame Sofía, what can that boy offer her? She would be limited in life if she married him! And should they have children- No lo permita dios- They would be every bit as much of a freak as their father!”. The man’s shoulders were tense, his breaths heavier than usual, clearly and truly bothered by this conversation. He took his wife gently by the elbow and began to guide her away from the market and the matriarch of the Madrigals.

“They are not freaks, Santino. Their gifts are blessings! Look at our community! Look at what they’ve all done for us!”, Sofía pleaded for her husband to open his eyes, gesturing around them at the bustling community. “We are thriving thanks to the Madrigals”.

“And how has Bruno helped?”, he snapped back. His wife wouldn’t often stand up to him, but she knew in her mind and in her heart that he was wrong.

“He has helped to keep us safe and out of danger with his visions! He has allowed us to spend time with our loved ones when there wasn’t much time left! And now he has told Alma that there is a possibility for our daughter to have the honour of being part of their amazing family! So why can’t you open your heart and forgive the past-”, Sofía then flinched as her husband stood in front of her, blocking their path and glowering down his nose at her.

“Don’t you dare insult me like that!”. This now caused some others at the market to turn their head, wanting to know what this sudden outburst was all about. Sofía couldn’t blame them, it was a small village and people wanted something to talk about. Noticing this, Santino cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “We’ll discuss this when we get home Sofía, I don’t want the whole Encanto listening in on our conversation”. With that, he left and began walking in the direction of their house.

Sofía’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat. She turned to Alma with sad apologetic eyes. “Alma, lo siento. I wish he would learn-…”, she sighed, rubbing her eyes in irritation, attempting to distract herself from the drama that had just unfolded.

“It’s okay Sofía. Brunito’s prophecies always come true. I’m sure he’ll come around eventually”, Alma’s eyes met the other woman’s finally. They exchanged a silent thank you to one another; Sofia’s being a thank you for extending such an offer to her daughter and their family, Alma’s being a thank you for someone other than her familia standing up for Bruno for once. “Give him time, Chica”. The younger mother nodded, and with that, the two went their separate ways.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

I can’t go back to the way it was

You didn’t know me, After I bumped into you

I become craving you more,

Uncontrollably

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

It had been three days.

Three days since that fiasco with the Ruiz family.

The Madrigals had noticed a few murmurs and whispers throughout the Encanto of a possible engagement involving the youngest of the triplets. Nothing scandalous, nothing more than ripples in their calm ocean. Yet they all still hoped that those ripples didn’t grow into waves, or anything worse.

Bruno had reverted back to his usual self, that flicker of hope that he was so desperately clinging onto, the flicker of hope that Julieta and the rest of the family wanted to see ignite into something more, was now burning out. For the past two days he hadn’t left his room other than to eat. He had two visitors the other day, asking for visions. One left after noticing the number of stairs leading to where the male resided, and the other left more confused than when they had entered. That had been the only communication Bruno had had with the outside world since the incident.

“I can’t say I’m surprised”, Pepa lamented as she sipped her espresso, a small grey cloud forming over her head. The two couples of the family were sat outside enjoying the sunshine while they had the chance. “I just knew Santino wouldn’t give him a chance”, she muttered into her cup.

“I thought you didn’t want him to pursue the Ruiz, yet you’re sounding a little disappointed Pepa”, Agustín pointed out with a teasing grin, pushing his glasses up his nose to prevent them from slipping of his face and into his own drink.

“Because I knew this would happen”, she corrected him, taking another sip of her drink. “This is the last thing Bruno needs right now”.

“Chico’s been even quieter than usual” Félix joined the conversation, a scowl settling across his brows, which looked out of place on his usually happy features. “I tried talking to him about it all, but he insisted he was okay and to not worry”. Félix shook his head. Despite not being a blood relative and finding the younger man a little unsettling at times with some of his visions, he saw Bruno as a younger brother. All he wanted was the best for him, like the rest of the family.

Pepa let out a groan of frustration and massaged her temples, eyes closed as she tried to focus on not creating a thunderstorm. “He may have ruined my wedding- and believe me, I will not let that go, but he is my brother. I still want him to be happy and the Ruiz family is not what will bring him happiness”. Julieta bit her lip in thought as she listened to her sister. Perhapse she was right? Maybe instead of encouraging this vision they should try to stomp it out. Brush it under the rug and pretend it never happened. But any time she thought of telling Bruno to ignore the vision and try to change fate, her heart clenched. The memories of how optimistic he had looks and how he had smiled when looking at the vision, as though he were already in love with the woman in the vison.

Agustín noticed his wife’s distress and gently too her hand in his own under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She looked over to him, noticing the love in his gaze that still gave her butterflies. “Bruno’s visions have never been wrong before. Perhaps we just need to give this one some time”, Agustín reassured the group. He always knew what to say to put Julieta’s nerves to rest.

“Let’s discuss something else”, Pepa waved her hand, signalling the group to move onto another topic. She was the one to usually determine how the conversations progressed out of fear of possibly flooding the Encanto with a down pour of rain or a sudden hurricane making its way through the village due to a bad conversation topic. “So, have the two of you thought about children yet?”, she asked, glancing between her sister and Agustín as she leant forward on the table, eager to hear their response. “You know how I’ve always wanted to be Tía Pepa”.

The couple exchanged glances, unsure on how to respond. They hadn’t given it much thought. For now, they were just enjoying being in love, being married. They were just enjoying their lives. Obviously, they had thought about children, and how could they not when Alma was so desperate to become an abuela. Yet, they were in no rush to have children. “Well, we’ve… thought about it”, Agustín chuckled awkwardly, feeling a little put on the spot with Pepa’s question. “Perhaps two or three would be nice”.

“We’ve also thought about three, maybe four”, Félix winked Pepa’s way, causing her to flush and the sun to shine brighter. Julieta couldn’t help but giggle at her sisters reaction to Félix’s goofy antics. Pepa was fanning herself in order to cool her flustered state when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye, and her jaw dropped.

It took a moment for the others to follow the woman’s line of sight, but before long their eyes also settled on what was causing the sister to stare slack jawed into the distance.

It was her. The woman from Bruno’s vision.

She herself was a vision and no one could deny that.

She wore a burgundy long skirt that was embroidered with red carnations with jade green stems, leaves and vines which fluttered elegantly in the breeze as she approached the casita. Her white shirt had matching green trimming with sleeves that came down to her elbows and she wore simple pearl drop earrings. She was prettier in person than in the vision.

“Is that-…”, Félix began, wanting to make sure he was seeing who he thought it was, and that he and the rest of the family weren’t having some sort of strange fever dreaming.

“That’s her”, Julieta stood up out of her seat, buzzing with excitement. What was she doing here? Was she here to see Bruno? She must be here to see Bruno! What else would she be here for?

The young woman’s attention turned from the castita to the family sitting on the patio, a little stunned to notice everyone staring at her.

So that’s why she had felt she was being watched.

It almost felt as though she were a main performer at a carnival. She cautiously made her way over to where the family sat at their table, fiddling with her fingers nervously as she grew closer and closer. “Hola, mucho gusto”, she greeted with a nervous smile. She could already feel her palms growing sweaty and her mouth going dry, and she couldn’t help but mentally curse for pushing herself into this situation. She noted the wide eyes and silence in response to her greeting, knowing she was probably the last person the Madrigals expected to see after hearing of her father’s outburst in the market. “I’m here to see Bruno, and possibly speak with your mother, Señora Alma Madrigal?”.

“A-Ah! Yes! Of course!”, Julieta stuttered out springing into action, quickly followed by the others who did the same, Agustín almost knocking over the table in the process. “Please, have a seat! We’ll fetch Bruno. Would you like anything to eat? Perhaps a drink?”, the eldest triplet offered as casita pulled out a chair for the lady. Before the Ruiz could respond, Julieta was already heading to the kitchen to retrieve some coffee for her.

Meanwhile, the others had sprinted into the home, looking as if they had all gone mad. “I’ll find Mamá. You two get Bruno. Vamos!”, Pepa ordered before the trio charged up their stairs and split off in separate directions; Agustín and Félix heading straight for Bruno’s tower.

The pair burst through the door, sending a loud bang echoing through the cave, causing the man they were searching for to practically jump out of his skin. “Bruno!”, they both yelled out, scrambling for the multiple flights of stone stairs. “Bruno!”, they continued to call, already panting heavily as they tried their best to make it up as many of the steps as they could, Félix falling behind slightly while Agustín charged full steam ahead. Finally, Bruno appeared at the top of the stairs, looking sick with worry, expecting the worst of news due to the state they were both in.

“Que esta pasando?”, he asked as he began to descend the stairs, being able to take multiple steps at a time due to making the same trip day in and day out. His body and muscle memory taking over on instinct to prevent him from slipping.

“She’s here! She’s here!- To see you!”, they panted heavily.

“Wait-wait-wait! Who’s here?”.

That was when he heard her name once again and he felt every one of his hairs stand on end, like an electric current was sent through his entire being.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

As if I have dreamed in a dream

I’m lost looking for you

You are the dream I live in, the dream I can never awake from

Every day and night I’m gon’ chase you

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

From there, it felt like the three men were kicked into overdrive.

They all practically threw themselves down the stairs, eventually making it safely to the bottom. They threw open the door to Bruno’s room, getting temporarily stuck as they all attempted to squeeze through the doorframe at once in their over excited state. They hurried along the hall and down the stairs before Félix without warning grabbed Bruno by the hood of his ruana, causing him to choke slightly and to fall to the floor at the sudden halt of movement. “You can’t let her see you like that! You’ve got to look more presentable!”, he scolded and began to wrack his fingers through the others loose ringlets, causing the younger male to wince and yelp in pain, batting the other’s hand away.

“And what about those bags under your eyes?”, Agustín added, stroking his chin in thought, before trying to press his fingers into the skin under his eyes and massage the dark circles away. “Maybe this will help”, the thought out loud.

“You two aren’t helping”, Bruno grumbled, finally breaking free from his two brothers grasps.

“What are you three doing?”, Alma’s voice made their spines straighten, each of them turning to her and standing to attention like soldiers. “Brunito, you don’t want to keep her waiting”, she brushed a few curls out of his face before her hand rested on her son’s cheek before using a pout to point in the direction leading outside to where she sat with his sisters. Bruno smoothed out his clothes, having been practically tackled by his cuñados, before taking a deep breath and heading to where he could hear the group’s voices coming from.

Hers stood out to him instantly, like a glistening emerald pendant. He couldn’t even see her, yet he already found her perfect. Perhaps he was getting a little carried away. He needed to calm down. He took another deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hands in hopes to distract himself from his growing nerves. This only added to his nerves when he noticed how sweaty his hands had become. Why was he so sweaty? What if she wanted to hold his hand?!

As he made his way outside, he first noticed his sisters; Pepa leaning back in her chair, her eyes narrowed and her gaze intense as she stared down her nose at the other. She usually did this when talking to someone she disliked, yet she seemed to be giving her a chance, which Bruno would take as a positive any day of the week. Julieta on the other hand was chatting away, giggling and laughing, making small talk in order to make the newcomer feel welcome. She was always good at making others feel welcome- feel wanted, which was one of the many reasons why Bruno loved his sister.

And then he saw her. In the flesh. She was real.

Her eyes flited up and met his and he could feel his throat tighten, for a moment, he was breathless. The sun kissed her skin, highlighting all her features, every pore, every minor detail, and everything about her was beautiful. Everything felt surreal. It was like a dream. He didn’t expect to ever be face-to-face with the girl of his vision, his dream partner, or at least, this is who she was supposed to be.

The two stood in silence, both a little stunned finally being in each other’s presence, mouths slightly agape in shock as if one were about to say something but thought better of it.

This caused the family to smile; Julieta giggling softly as she looked over to her sister and mother in excitement, whereas Agustín nudged Félix, both of them laughing silently together as the fact that they had never seen their brother-in-law act this way around a woman. The Ruiz noticed the other’s reactions at the fact that they had just been gawking at each other in front of everyone, and quickly averted her gaze with a crimson blush spreading across her cheeks. Noticing her flustered state though only made Bruno’s heart race.

“Ay dios, eres tan hermosa”, he foolishly forgot himself and muttered under his breath, only for it to be his turn to flush a deep red as he realised, he had said that out loud. Thankfully, it seemed to be quiet enough for no one else to hear.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, dear”, Alma took the lead in the conversation since it currently seemed as though her son couldn’t string a sentence together in his dazed state. Each member took a seat at the table, purposely leaving the seat next to the Ruiz open for Bruno. He quickly sat himself down upon noticing the rest of the family doing so, glancing to his side to catch a glimpse of her. He didn’t want to be rude or stare, but he couldn’t help but want to look at her. “I’m assuming you’re hear about the engagement!”, Alma urged on the conversation.

Bruno swallowed thickly, his Adams apple bobbing with the motion, and he tried to breathe as evenly as he could. He didn’t want to appear nervous, but right now he couldn’t stop the subtle bouncing of his leg that was giving him away. He was glad this was hidden beneath the table, out of sight. Though he didn’t seem to be the only anxious one at the table. Glancing over to his side, he noticed the Ruiz’s hands clutching and fiddling with her skirt. It was just out of sight of everyone else, but knowing she felt the same was somewhat comforting. He knew he was not alone.

“Ah, yes. The engagement”, she began softly, with a small smile. “First of all, I would like to apologize for my father’s behaviour”. Upon hearing this, Pepa’s eyebrows shot up to the point the family thought they would end up in her hairline. “What he said was unkind to say the least and I want you to know that it was unacceptable and I’m sorry for him acting in such a way”.

“A Ruiz apologising… I never thought I’d see the day”, Pepa mumbled to herself causing Félix to laugh and nudge her shoulder playfully, earning a gentle eyeroll and a small smirk in return. It was a silent ‘I may have been too quick to judge’.

“Ah, well, we appreciate and accept your apology”, Alma beamed, briefly looking to the rest of the family before turning her attention back to the woman next to her son. “And since you’re here, I’m assuming your father has agreed to your marriage?”, she asked, guesturing between the two.

“Well, not exactly…he’s still considering”, she confessed, looking down at the tablecloth, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone at the table. “But my mother has given her blessing”. Alma nodded her head, showing her understanding of the situation, the rest of the family just staring on in shock. “I guess today I’m hear because I would like to get to know Bruno a little better before we make any final decisions”, she stated clearly before finally turning to address the man next to her for the first time; “If that’s okay with you of course, Bruno”.

The way she said his name put him in a trance. He didn’t know his name could sound so sweet. His hazel eyes stared at her for a moment, forgetting that it was him who she was addressing, before blinking a few times to ground himself back into reality. “Oh! Me? - I mean- Of course!”, he stammered, offering a smile which his sisters picked up on. It wasn’t his usual sad or pained smile that they would often see while he tried to save face with the village people or the few times he was witnessing other’s good fortune in the visions they had asked for. This smile was like a breath of fresh air. It was shy. It was somewhat vulnerable. It was genuine.

Their guest couldn’t help the corners of her lips curling up to match Bruno’s expression, averting her gaze as she could feel her cheeks growing warm again.

Alma couldn’t say she was too pleased at the news of the two wanting to get to know each other before agreeing to their marriage. She was growing impatient as Bruno was nearing thirty and was still unmarried, as well as her still did not having a single grandchild weighing on her mind. But she would allow it. This vision showed the two being happily married together, so she was sure they would happily accept the marriage offer soon. “I don’t see why not. It will be good to spend some time together, to lessen the nerves before the engagement”, Alma agreed.

Upon hearing this, Bruno noticed Ruiz’s muscles relax, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly as she let out a breath she seemed to be holding for who knows how long. It was sweet. Somewhat endearing. He liked the fact that she wanted to actually know who he was, instead of making assumptions about him through the rumours and lies the Encanto told about him. It made him feel like she wanted to marry him for more than just the magic their children would inherit. Like she wanted to marry him for who he was. “So, tell me, what is it that you do in the Encanto? I’m aware your father builds houses for a living. I must say, your family’s home is very impressive”, Alma then interjected, steering the conversation back to how their marriage would benefit each other and the community.

“Well, from time to time I help design the layouts of the houses and help with the interior, but my true passion is the arts”, the young woman confessed, a little embarrassed as she knew her strengths weren’t necessarily seen as useful. Although Bruno’s ears perked up at the mention of this. “I love to paint murals for people in the community, I also like to write stories in my free time. During festivals I enjoy singing and dancing”, she began to ramble on, her very being practically glowing with love for her hobbies, before she caught herself, shrinking back a little as she worried that she was leaving a bad impression. “Ah, but they are just what I do when I’m not helping the family business”

“That sounds wonderful! You’re like a social butterfly with how you engage with the community”, Julieta complimented their guest, Alma nodding along in approval as she thought this possible newcomer to the family may help to bring Bruno out of his shell a little more. He had always been such a shy boy and with his gift and how the people of the Encanto spoke about him, it had only made him recede more into himself.

The Ruiz flashed a tight smile in response. “Muchas gracias. Although I do enjoy time to myself too. I believe it’s important to find a healthy balance between the two”.

“Such wise words. And how old are you?”, Alma continued with her questions, wanting to gain as much information on her son’s possible future bride. She wanted to guarantee that this vision Bruno had wasn’t false and that this engagement wasn’t going to be a waste of time. She wanted to know that this woman would be the perfect match for her son.

“I’m twenty-two”. Her response caused Bruno’s breath to catch in his throat for a moment. There was a six-year age gap. He didn’t mind so much. It could have been worse. But he couldn’t help his mind jumping ahead of time and thinking of how he would soon start to age. His hair would begin to grey, his skin would start to wrinkle, not to mention he already had bags under his eyes from multiple sleepless nights. He didn’t want to have to burden a beautiful woman like her with being with an older man. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind? She seemed interested in the engagement.  “I’m surprised you haven’t married yet. Bruno, aren’t you surprised that a man hasn’t asked for her hand in marriage?”, his mother’s words brought him crashing back down to earth.

The table was watching him, eagerly awaiting his response. It was clear that his mother had noticed his lack of confidence and how he had barely said anything to the woman since she got here. The woman to his side’s cheeks began burning a deep shade of red. Which his own then seemed to match as he floundered to compliment her and make conversation.

“O-Of course I’m surprised”, the seer agreed with his mother, trying his best to look the woman in the eyes as he spoke. “I mean, you’re very beautiful. Any man would be lucky to call you his wife”, he mumbled, his heart pounding against his ribs as he dragged his fingers through his curls.

‘Pull yourself together Bruno! You’re a mess!’

His heart stopped for a second as he heard a soft, “And any woman would be lucky to call you her husband”, and then his heart practically melted.  

‘Dios mio, ella es perfecto’

His mother and relatives smiled proudly at the simple interaction; Felix squeezed Pepa’s hand and gave her a nod of approval, signalling that he approved of the union, and Julieta looked to Agustín with a giddy grin of excitement. They were so excited, practically bursting with pride for Bruno. Upon noticing this though, Bruno could feel a knot forming in his stomach.

‘Don’t mess this up, Bruno’

Simple conversations continued to flow into the late afternoon. Questions on how the Ruiz planned to further help the community if she were to marry into the Madrigal family, how long did she think it would be until she could get the approval of her father, when the wedding should take place if the engagement were accepted, etc. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits as a warm sunset washed over the Encanto.

“Brunito, it’s getting late. Why don’t you walk our guest home to make sure she returns safely”, Alma suggested to which her son nodded in response with a tight smile, slightly nervous at the idea of being alone with the Ruiz daughter, but also relieved he would be able to speak to her without the pressure of his family watching. He was sure they could both do with five minutes away from everyone, where they weren’t on edge thinking every other question to come out of their mouth would be about how many children they wanted or his mother possibly commenting on how they should abstain from sex until marriage.

Alma stood up from her seat and made her way over to the two. She took the young woman by the hands and gently held them in her own. “You seem like such a sweet girl. I’m sure you would make my Brunito proud to call you his wife.  I’m sure if your parents are to accept the engagement offer, you and my son with live a life full of blessings and prosperity”.

“Gracias Señora. Thank you all for being such generous hosts”, the Ruiz thanked the Madrigals before Bruno cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?”.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

I’m in love

I’m dreaming in a dream every night

I’m in love

I’m dreaming in a dream every night

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

The walk through the village was a little awkward to begin, both parties not knowing how to strike up a conversation with the other. They knew little to nothing about each other yet had this prophecy of their engagement looming over them. It was daunting to say the least.

As they walked through the streets, the Madrigal couldn’t help but notice the curious eyes that watched them from a distance. Whispers of surprise flitted in and out of earshot, talking about how they were surprised to see the two together, which only caused the seer to grow more tense… until a thought hit him.

He remembered Agustín mentioning that the woman liked the arts, as well as recalling what she had said at the table.

“So, you like the arts?”, he finally broke the lingering silence, which instantly captured her attention.

“Yes, I do”, she giggled a little awkwardly, feeling silly for talking about her passions but yet she was happy that one of them had finally decided to speak up, easing the tension that hung in the air. “Do you?”.

At this question, Bruno’s spirits began to rise. “Yes, I do. I love to write when I get the chance”, he explained with that genuine smile that seemed to grace his features a lot more frequently. “I enjoy singing and music too, although I am not the best. I’m not so good with dancing though. Perhaps I could be better with some practice”, he mumbled the last part. His sisters were beautiful dancers. Every festival, every party, they were dancing up a storm. Yet he seemed to be a little clumsier with his movements and often stuck to the side-lines. That or the moves just didn’t look right when he tried it.

“Perhaps I could help you with the dancing?”, she offered, which caught Bruno by surprise. “I’d also love to exchange stories with you and see how you write. I enjoy dramas, romances, horror and comedy”.

“That’s an interesting mixture”, Bruno noted with a small chuckle which she then seemed to mirror with one of her own. “And yeah… that sounds quite nice actually”.

Before long, the pair had reached the Ruiz house on the edge of the village.

“Well, here we are! La casa de Ruiz!”, he announced in a somewhat goofy tone, causing the other to laugh a little, and oh how her laugh was music to his ears.

“Thank you for walking me home, Bruno. I’m excited to learn more about you”, she revealed, playing with her hands nervously as she spoke, which Bruno then noticed he was mirroring her movements with his own hands, stopping once he noticed.

“I’m excited to learn more about you too…”, he trailed off, leaving them both standing in silence, not knowing what to say but desperately wanting to continue the conversation.

She began to turn towards the door to her home. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go-“.

“Would you like to see me tomorrow? I-I mean, would you like me to- I would very much like to see you again-“, Bruno cringed at his rambling. His mouth had begun moving before he could even truly think of what he wanted to say. He took a breath and tried to arrange his thoughts and think logically, but that was near impossibly when she was around. “Would you like to meet me tomorrow afternoon?”.

Bruno’s eyes met with her own once again and he felt- for a lack of better words- helpless. He wanted this to work, with every fibre of his being. He wanted to try for her. There was just something about her that made him want to try. She was so beautiful and gave off such a kind-hearted aura. He didn’t want to miss this opportunity.

He noticed how she bit her lip in thought for a brief moment before a smile graced her features once more. The sight of her smile gave him butterflies and he cursed himself, wondering if a man should fall for a woman so quickly.

“Yes, I’d actually really like that. Shall we meet buy the church just past mid-day?’, she offered with such a sweet tone to her voice, like honey, that Bruno felt as though he could completely fall in love with her at any second.

His heart began to hammer with excitement.

“Yes!”, he agreed a little too quickly. “I-I mean, that sounds great”, he added in a calmer tone, smoothing out his ruana as a distraction for his eagerness. The couple stared at each other for a moment, cheeks aglow and their nerves mixed with excitement struggling to be hidden.

“Perfecto! It’s a date!”.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Tag list: @simpingfortheratman @danny-devitowo

#bruno madrigal #bruno x reader #bruno madrigal x reader #encanto bruno #Encanto #Encanto x reader #disney encanto #encanto disney

[crimefightingspiderguy]

holding out for a hero

Summary: Shaun (Shang-Chi) offers you go out for drinks and who are you to refuse?

Warnings: Drinking. Talk of sex (none actually happens). No spoilers for Shang-Chi and the Legend of the the Ten Rings (but I do give away what his job is in the movie if you didn't know that pre-movie).

Pairings: Shang-Chi x reader

Word count: 2,492

A/N: I did make the female reader bisexual in this piece, but if that's not how you identify, it's only briefly mentioned in a sentence or two and you can just swap out the pronouns, or skip over it really quick, without affecting the plot :) Also, please do not think I'm using the name Shaun because I didn't want to use Shang-Chi or am being disrespectful to his true name. I'm basing this timeline wise, before he reveals his past to anyone close to him.

“Hey guys!” You waved to Shaun and Katy as you walked into the hotel to clock in. You were taking over Katy’s shift. She needed to go home early to go to the doctors, but Shaun was still there for another 3 hours with you. You were very willing to take over her shift when she asked. You loved working with both of them and any chance you got to, you gladly took it. I mean, who wouldn’t want to get paid to hang out with your best friends?

“You’re welcome.” You heard Katy say to Shaun as she was walking inside to clock out, passing you by with a cheeky wink, as you took your spot next to him.

“Well, she’s in an awful good mood for having to go to the doctors. I thought she had a fear of the doctors.” You gasped, “Is she drunk?”

He chuckled, “No. She’s not actually going to the doctors. She just wanted an excuse to leave work early to go to some concert in LA.”

“Oh, that wench! I gave up going on a date to come in for her. I thought she was dying or something.” You pouted, not actually mad at her, but you were still sad you told your date no.

“You had a date? Who’s the lucky one.” Shaun asked.

“Well, she is a lucky gal who I paid to go to dinner without me.” You huffed.

“You paid her to go out to dinner? By herself?”

“Well, we already had reservations, but I told her something came up with work and I had to go in. But she could take the reservation if she wanted, my treat. I’m sure she probably took someone else since it was a reservation for two.”

“So let me get this straight.” Shaun started to laugh, “You paid some random girl to go on your date with someone else?” He was doubled over in laughter by the end of his sentence.

You kicked his shin, “Hey, I was trying to do something nice for someone I stood up… but yeah it does seem like I probably just sent her on a date with someone else.” You started to laugh with him.

“You’re too nice for your own good sometimes.” He patted you on the shoulder. “How about this, after our shift, I’ll take you out for drinks and karaoke, my treat.”

“Well, that would make me feel better.” You grinned at him, leaving his side to help the new guest pulling up.

After the shift, the two of you took a bus to his apartment so he could change out of his uniform. You were going to stop at your house, which was between his apartment and the bar but when you got into his room, a deep blue sweater hanging in his closet pulled your attention to it. You walked into his closet and shut the mirror door over it. Pulling the sweater off the hanger, it was softer than you could ever imagine. You stripped of your uniform top and threw on the sweater. It was so comfortable and after a deep inhale, smelt exactly like Shaun. It was heavenly.

“(Y/N)?” Shaun called out to you, coming out of the bathroom after getting dressed himself. You stepped out of the closet, “Why are you wearing my sweater?” He laughed at your guilty expression as you slowly walked up to him.

“Well, it was just sitting there looking so comfy, I just wanted to try it on, but now that it’s on I’m afraid I’m never going to take it off. It’s too comfy.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, snuggling into the sweater even more.

“It looks good on you.” He smiled.

“It can be our sweater, how’s that sound?” You batted your eyelashes up at him as he threw his head back in laughter.

“Let’s go short stuff before I end up staying here and cuddling. Our sweater isvery cozy, so it’s very tempting.” Him saying he would rather stay home and cuddle with you, and him holding your hand as he pulled you out of his apartment caused you to blush. He let go of your hand to lock his door, turning to you, “Are you blushing?” He chuckled, grazing his fingers over your burning cheeks.

“No, it’s just getting a little warm in this sweater.” You rolled the sleeves up, letting your arms breathe, “There, that’s better.” You lied and turned away to the exit with determination. He just shook his head and chuckled.

You were a few shots deep into your bar night when you couldn’t help but stare at Shaun. ‘Has he always been this pretty?’ you thought to yourself.

“What are you staring at?” He laughed as he set your next drink down. You said nothing but answered him by putting your hand in his hair, “Your hair is so soft. Oh my gosh it’s softer than this sweater.”

“How many drinks have you had?” He burst out laughing, pulling your hand out of his hair and holding it on the table in his own.

“I haven’t had anything to drink.” You slurred as you take a sip of the fruity drink, he put in front of you.

“Mhmmm, and how many fingers am I holding up?” He held up 3 fingers on the hand not holding yours.

“3, now how many am I holding up.” You stuck up your middle finger and stuck your tongue out as he pretended to be hurt and gasped. “I have to pee.” You got up and stumbled your way to the bathroom. It was a pretty simple trip there and back, but when you got out you couldn’t remember where your table with Shaun was. So instead of going to the table you headed up to the stage and picked the first song that stood out to you, “Holding out for a Hero” by Bonnie Tyler. As the intro music was building up you spoke into the microphone, “This one goes out to that beautiful boy right there.” You pointed vaguely in Shaun’s direction and then burst out into song.

He laughed as he made his way up to the edge of the stage. He was mostly concerned that you’d fall off the stage and land right on your face, but he was really enjoying the performance that you’d likely forget tomorrow. When you finished your song, you held your hand out to meet Shaun’s stretched out one to help you off the stage.

“Oh my gosh, thanks for helping me down. That was like a 20-foot drop. You’re the hero I was holding out for!” You exclaimed as you threw your arms around his neck.

“It’s a stage maybe 3 inches off the ground, but I’ll take the credit I guess.” He pulled back from the hug and grabbed your hand, pulling you back to your seats.

“Oh no, I’m empty.” You pouted when you found nothing in your cup at the table.

“I’ll get us refills. Stay here.” He made his way up to the bar.

You pulled out your phone and opened your texts with Katy,

“OMG KATY THIS REALLY HOT GUY IS GETTING ME A DRINK AT THE BAR. I THINK I MIGHT GET LAID 2NIGHT! 🤪”

“I thought you were at the bar with Shaun?”

“Who’s Shaun?”

Shaun came back to your table and set down your glass.

“Well, hello handsome.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, “Do you come here often?” You leaned your head on your hand, elbow on the table. You were as Katy would describe it to you, “heart-eyeing” him.

“Okay, I’m glad I grabbed you a water.” Shaun chuckled as he took his seat across from you.

His phone lit up with Katy’s contact picture. He answered it, plugging the opposite ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, are you still with (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Who else are you guys with?”

“No one, why?” his question was met with silence, then a loud laugh from Katy.

“HA! No way, she totally texted me that a hot guy was getting her a drink and she was definitely getting laid tonight. When I asked her if she was still with you she said ‘Who’s Shaun’ and proceeded to stop texting me. She thinks your hot and that you guys are hooking up, this is going better than I thought it would when I called in.”

“Shut up, you’re messing with me.”

“Well, what is she doing right now?”

“She’s staring at me and sighing contently… OH MY GOD SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHO I AM!?” Shaun whisper-yelled into the phone.

“Well of course I know who you are silly! You’re the handsome man who’s sitting across from me and I’m the lucky gal who gets to look at you.” You giggled as you continued to stare at him with a sweet, but glazed over, look.

“Oh my god she’s so far gone.” Katy laughed on the other end.

“What do I do? Have you ever seen her this drunk?” Shaun was beginning to worry that you’d had way past your limit and you were about to get really sick.

“Oh yeah, definitely. All you have to do is bring her home and put her to bed. She’ll be fine, I’ve seen her drunker than this and not get sick.”

“Okay, should I make her coffee or something?”

“She’s allergic to coffee genius.” Katy rolled her eyes.

“Right, right. I knew that. Thanks Katy.” He hung up the phone and got up to grab your stuff.

“Hey where are you going?” You pouted as he walked up to the bar to pay the bill

“I’ll be right back, just wait here for me.” You nodded your head and waited patiently for him to come back.

“We’re going to go home now, alright?” Shaun pulled you out of your seat carefully helping you land on your feet. You nodded your head and yawned, stretching your arms over your head.

“Shaun, I’m too tired to walk.”

“Oh, now you remember who I am?” He chuckled, and you gave him a questioning look,

“Of course, I remember you, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well about 5 minutes ago you didn’t, I brought you a water and I guess it cleared your head enough. Come here.” He bent over enough for you to hop onto his back so he could give you a piggyback ride.

“My hero.” You mumbled into his back, closing your eyes as he started walking out of the building.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Shaun shook his shoulders to wake you up.

“Mhmm?” You moaned.

“Where are your keys?”

You sighed and climbed off his back, reaching into your purse, you handed the keys to him. He grabbed your hand and led you up to your porch, unlocking the front door and bringing you inside. He locked the door behind him and picked you up bridal style. Your head lolled into his chest as he carried you to your bedroom. He put you down on the bed, pulling the covers up and over you.

“Shaun…” You let your hand reach up to pull his arm back to you.

“What’s up?” He looked at you with concern.

“Can you help me take my pants off?” You laughed, and he blushed.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” Once he pulled back the covers, he realized why you asked. He hadn’t realized you were still in your dress pants from work. He went to unhook the buttons and slowly pulled them down your legs, tossing them into your hamper across the room. He pulled the covers back up to your chin and laughed as you happily took them and snuggled farther into the bed. He went to leave again but you stopped him yet again, “Shaun…”

“Yes?”

“Will you stay with me?”

“I was going to crash on the couch. I’ll be right outside, holler if you need something okay?”

“No… will you stay in here with me?” You opened your eyes for the first time since you got into your house. You gave him a puppy dog pout that made him melt.

“I can set up some couch cushions on the floor I guess…” he began looking around the floor to find a big enough space for him.

“No… Shaun… just come here.” You pulled him onto the bed and scooted over, pulling the covers over him. He hesitated for a second, body freezing, but when you snuggled your body into his side, he quickly melted under your touch. Not strong enough to fight off sleep any longer.

Shaun sighed as he woke up, he forgot to set his alarm last night. He probably was going to be late for work. He opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar bedding surrounding him. It then hit him that he was not alone. He was holding onto someone. Looking down, he saw your peaceful face resting into his chest. Your breath fanning over him, tickling him. ‘When did I take my shirt off?’ He thought as he quickly realized why it tickled. He looked under the covers slowly, trying not to wake you, ‘When did I take my pants off?!’ He questioned himself in alarm as he realized he was snuggled up to you in just underwear. He slowly leaned up on his elbow to look around them. Your pants and bra were thrown haphazardly towards your hamper and his shirt, pants, and socks laid at the end of the bed. He laid back on his side and looked down at his current position with you. He had his hand resting on your back underneath his sweater. Your legs tangled with his, and your hands cupping under your face that was cuddled up into his chest still. He couldn’t help the giant grin that plastered his face. He’s wanted to be with you like this for years. He’s wanted to be able to hold you close when he wakes up, to be able to kiss your forehead as you wake up, smiling up at him. He’s wanted to feel how soft your skin is, how gentle your lips rest against his skin. He’s got goose bumps all over his body as he realizes just how warm you are. He started rubbing circles on your back, trying to wake you up.

“Mhmm. That feels nice.” You smiled into his skin. You slowly opened your eyes and looked up at him, “See, isn’t this so much better than sleeping on the couch?”

“This is way better.” He kissed your hairline.

“I hope you know when I said this is our sweater, I meant I’m never giving it back.”

“You look better in it anyway.” He shrugged, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, getting a good look at you, ‘Oh yeah, way better in it.’ He thought to himself as he blushed thinking about beautiful you were and how lucky he is right now in this moment.

Find more of my work here.

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Thank you, xx.

#xu shang chi #shang chi and katy #shang chi and legend of 10 rings #shang chi fanfic #shang chi x reader #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings #shang chi #shang chi imagine #shang chi x you #shang chi fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu x reader #simu liu #i'm a simp for shang chi it's true #bisexual reader

[gendercensus]

On fae/faer pronouns and cultural appropriation

HOW IT STARTED

I had a handful, a very small handful but more than two, responses in the Gender Census feedback box telling me that fae/faer pronouns are appropriative. The reasons didn’t always agree, and the culture that was being appropriated wasn’t always the same, but here’s a selection of quotes:

“Fae pronouns are cultural appropriation and are harmful to use“ - UK, age 11-15

“I’m not a person who practices pagan holidays but, my understanding is that pronouns like fae/faeself are harmful because the fae are real to pagans and is like using Jesus/jesuself as pronouns“ - UK, age 11-15

“I know you've probably heard this a million times, so has everyone on the internet, but the ''mere existence''of the fae pronoun feels really uncomfortable for some of us. I'm personally not against neopronouns like xe/xim, er/em and the like, I am a pagan but apart from the, imo most important, reasoning of that pronoun being immensely disrespectful, I worry as an nb about people who banalize the usage of pronouns ''for fun'', and I'm quoting what some people have told me.“ - Spain, 16-20

“I don't agree with fae/deity pronouns just from a pagan perspective it's very disrespectful to the cultures they come from. Like Fae are a legit thing in many cultures and they hate with a fiery passion mortal humans calling themselves Fae to the point of harming/cursing the people who do it“ - USA, age 16-20

“only celtic people can use far/ faers otherwise it’s cultural appropriation, many celts have said this and told me this“ - USA, age 16-20

So that’s:

❓ Someone who doesn’t say whether they’re pagan or Celtic.

❌ Someone who definitely isn’t pagan.

✅ Someone who is pagan.

❓ Someone who doesn’t say whether they’re pagan or Celtic.

❓ Someone who doesn’t say whether they’re pagan or Celtic.

So, just to disclose some bias up-front, I am English so I’m not Celtic, but I do live in Wales so I am surrounded by Celts. The bit of Wales that I live in is so beautiful in such a way that when my French friend came to visit me she described it as féerique - like an enchanting, magical land, literally “fairylike” or thereabouts. Coincidentally I have also considered myself mostly pagan for over half of my life, and I can’t definitively claim whether or not the Fae are “part of paganism” because paganism is so diverse and pick’n’mix that it just doesn’t work that way.

To me the idea that fae/faer pronouns would be offensive or culturally appropriative sounds absurd. But also, I am powered by curiosity, and have been wrong enough times in my life that I wanted to approach this in a neutral way with an open mind. Perhaps what I find out can be helpful to some people.

So since we only have information from one person who is definitely directly affected by any cultural appropriation that may be happening, the first thing I wanted to do was get some information from ideally a large number of people who are in the cultures being appropriated, and see what they think.

~

WHAT I DID

First of all I put some polls up on Twitter and Mastodon. [Edit: Note that this post has been updated with results from closed polls.]

I specified that I wanted to hear from nonbinary Celts and pagans, just so that the voters would be familiar with fae/faer pronouns. I asked the questions in a neutral way, i.e. “How do you feel about...” with “good/neutral/bad” answer options, instead of something more leading like “Is this a load of rubbish?” or “are you super offended?” with “yes/no” options. I provided a “see results” option, so that the poll results wouldn’t be skewed as much by random people clicking any old answer to see the results. And I invited voters to express their opinions in replies.

Question #1: Nonbinary people of Celtic descent (Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Cornwall, the Isle of Man, and Brittany), how do you feel about non-Celtic people using the neopronoun set fae/faer? [ It's good / No strong feelings/other / It's bad ]

Question #2: Nonbinary pagans, how do you feel about non-pagans using the neopronoun set fae/faer? [ It's good / No strong feelings/other / It's bad ]

The Twitter polls got over 1,100 responses each, and the Mastodon polls got over 140 responses each. With a little bit of spreadsheetery I removed the “N/A” responses to reverse engineer the number of people voting for each option, combined those numbers, and recalculated percentages.

Obviously this approach is not in the least scientific, but thankfully the results were unambiguous enough and the samples were big enough that I feel comfortable drawing conclusions.

Celts on fae/faer pronouns being used by non-Celts (561 voters):

It's good - 42.5%

No strong feelings/other - 44.0%

It's bad - 13.5%

Pagans on fae/faer pronouns being used by non-pagans (468 voters):

It's good - 47.2%

No strong feelings/other - 39.5%

It's bad - 13.3%

Here’s how that looks as a graph:

The limitations of polls on these platforms means that we have no way to distinguish between people who have more complicated views (”other”) and people who have “no strong feelings”, so we can’t really draw conclusions there. If we stick to just the pure positive and pure negative:

Celts were over three times as likely to feel positive about non-Celts using fae/faer pronouns than they were to feel negative.

Pagans were over three and a half times as likely to feel positive about non-pagans using fae/faer pronouns than they were to feel negative.

So Celts and pagans are way more likely to feel actively good about someone’s fae/faer pronouns, even when that person is not a Celt/pagan. That’s some strong evidence against the idea that fae/faer pronouns are appropriative, right there.

~

CORRECTIONS

To be clear, I haven’t done any research about the roots of fae/faer or the origins of the Fae and related beings, but my goal here was to get a sense of what Celts and pagans think and feel, rather than what an historian or anthropologist would say.

On the anti side, here were the replies that suggested fae/faer either is or might be inappropriate:

“I only worry that not everyone understands the origin of the word outside of modernized ideas of fairies.“ - pagan

“As a vaguely spiritual Whatever (Ireland), I think a mortal using "fae" as a pronoun/to refer to themselves is asking for a malicious and inventive fairy curse (on them, their families and possibly anyone in their vicinity, going by the traditions). I have not heard of this term before, so this is an immediate reaction from no background bar my cultural knowledge of sidhe/fae/term as culturally appropriate. My general approach is people can identify themselves as they want.“ - Celtic

So we’ve got a pagan who’s wary that people who use fae/faer (and people in general) might not have a fully fleshed out idea of the Fae. And we’ve got a Celt who doesn’t mind people using fae/faer personally, but based on what they know of the Fae they wouldn’t be surprised if the Fae got mad about it. No outright opposition, but a little concern.

There were not a lot of replies on the pro side, but not because people weren’t into it, judging by the votes. There were a lot of “it’s more complicated than that” replies, many of which repeated others, so quotes won’t really work. Here’s a summary of the Celtic bits:

“Fae” is not a Celtic word, and Celts don’t use it. It is French, or Anglo-French.

“Fae” can refer to any number of stories/legends from a wide variety of cultures in Europe, not one cohesive concept.

There are many legends about fairy-like beings in Celtic mythologies, and there are many, many different names for them.

The Celts are not a monolith, they’re a broad selection of cultures with various languages and various mythologies.

And the pagan bits:

Paganism is not closed or exclusive in any way. It might actually be more open than anything else, as “pagan” is a sort of umbrella term for non-mainstream religions in some contexts. A closed culture would be a prerequisite for something to be considered “appropriated” from paganism.

From my own experience, pagans may or may not believe in the Fae, and within that group believers may or may not consider the Fae to be sacred and/or worthy of great respect. (I’ve certainly never met a pagan who worshipped the Fae, though I don’t doubt that some do.)

And then we get into the accusations. 🍿

“this issue wasn’t started by Celtic groups or by people who know much about Celtic fae. It was started primarily by anti-neopronoun exclusionist pagans on TikTok.“

“[I’m] literally Scottish [...] and it’s not appropriative in the least and honestly to suggest as such is massively invalidating towards actual acts of cultural appropriation and is therefore racist. Feel like if this was actually brought up it was either by some people who seriously got their wires crossed or people who are just concern trolling and trying to make fun of both neo-pronouns and of the concept of cultural appropriation and stir the pot in the process.“

“It wouldn't be the first time bigots falsly claim “it's appropriative from X marginalized group" to harass people they don't like, like they did with aspec people when they claimed "aspec" was stolen from autistic language (which was false, as many autistics said)“

“It's been a discussion in pagan circles recently ... People were very quick to use the discussion as an excuse to shit on nonbinary people.“

“I think it would be apropos to note that the word "faerie/fairy" has been a synonym for various queer identities for decades, too. The Radical Faeries are a good example.“ (So if anyone has the right to [re]claim it...)

A little healthy skepticism is often wise in online LGBTQ+ “discourse”, and some of these people are making some very strong claims, for which I’d love to see some evidence/sources/context. Some of it certainly sounds plausible.

~

HOW DID IT START?

I had a look on Twitter and the earliest claim I can find that fae/faer pronouns are cultural appropriation is from 18th February 2020, almost exactly one year ago today. Again, tweets are not the best medium for this, there was very little in the way of nuance or context. If anyone can find an older claim from Twitter or Tumblr or anywhere else online, please do send it my way.

I have no idea how to navigate TikTok because I’m a nonbinosaur. (I’m 34.) I did find some videos of teens and young adults apparently earnestly asserting that they were Celtic or pagan and the use of fae/faer pronouns was offensive, but the videos were very brief and provided nothing in the way of nuance or context. For example:

This one from October 2020 with 29k ❤️s, by someone who I assume is USian based on the word “mom”?

This one from December 2020, that says “I am pagan and i find it rather disrespectful. It’s like using god/godr or jesus/jesusr.” That’s probably what inspired the feedback box comment above that refers to hypothetical jesus/jesusr pronouns.

If anyone is able to find a particularly old or influential TikTok video about fae/faer pronouns being appropriative I’d really appreciate it, especially if it’s from a different age group or from not-the-USA, to give us a feel for how universal this is.

For context, fae pronouns were mentioned in the very first Gender Census back in May 2013, though you’ll have to take my word for it as the individual responses are not currently public. The word “fae” was mentioned in the pronoun question’s “other” textbox, and no other forms in the set were entered so we have no way of knowing for sure what that person’s full pronoun set actually is. This means the set may have been around for longer. The Nonbinary Wiki says that the pronoun set was created in October 2013, as “fae/vaer”, later than the first entry in the Gender Census, so I’ll be editing that wiki page later! If anyone has any examples of fae/faer pronouns in use before 2013 I would also be very interested to see that.

~

IN SUMMARY

Obviously I can’t speak for everyone, as the Twitter polls are not super scientific and they only surveyed a selection of Celts and pagans within a few degrees of separation of the Gender Census Twitter and Mastodon accounts, but I can certainly report on what I found.

For a more conclusive result, we’d need to take into account various demographics such as age, culture, location, religion, race/heritage, etc.

As far as I can tell based on fairly small samples of over 400 people per group, a minority of about 13% of Celtic and/or pagan people felt that use of fae/faer pronouns is appropriative.

A much higher number of people per group felt positive about people who are not Celts or pagans using fae/faer pronouns. The predominant view was:

It can’t be cultural appropriation from Celtic cultures because fairy-like beings are not unique to Celtic cultures and Celtic cultures don’t call them Fae.

It can’t be cultural appropriation from pagan cultures because paganism is not “closed” or exclusive in any way, it’s too broad and open.

~

If your experience of your gender(s) or lack thereof isn’t described or encompassed by the gender binary of “male OR female”, please do click here to take the Gender Census 2021 - it’s international and it closes no earlier than 10th March 2021!

#fae/faer #pronouns #neopronouns #cultural appropriation

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself. 

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win. 

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!” 

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them. 

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points. 

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders. 

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed. 

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough. 

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once. 

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed. 

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation. 

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out. 

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history. 

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test. 

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test. 

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them. 

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain. 

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match. 

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump. 

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down. 

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did. 

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly. 

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them. 

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home. 

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out. 

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot. 

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!” 

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually. 

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp. 

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered 

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders. 

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations. 

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all. 

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better. 

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you. 

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest. 

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears. 

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.” 

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient. 

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back. 

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway. 

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #sibling reader #sister reader #platonic #reader is a lesbian #toxic friends #volleyball #mcyt #mcyt x reader #high school AU #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #tw: swearing #tw: toxic friendship #tw: panic attack #tw: injury #tw: anxiety #tw: bullying

[imaginemcyt]

sisterinnit!

cc!wilbur soot x tommy’s older sister

tw: language

note: this one uses specifically she/her pronouns, however, you can replace them with your pronouns. it won’t change the story at all. sorry that this is kinda shit but tumblr deleted my draft and i had to completely rewrite it so this is what i’ve got. hope you enjoy! <3

“y/n this is wilbur, wilbur this is y/n.” tommy gave the basic introductions with a bored look on his face.

“y/n simons, pleasure to meet you.”

“wilbur soot, the pleasure is all mine.”

as he shook your hand, you stared into each other’s eyes. he wore a small smile, that was almost a smirk. was it just you, or was there electricity when your hands touched? that had to be in your head, right? your gaze lingered on the other for perhaps a little too long before you let go of each other’s hands.

“now get out, y/n.” tommy pushed you towards the door.

•••

“y/n can you see wilbur out? i’m busy!”

wilbur looked at you with a smile, causing you to blush. you nodded and yelled back at your brother, “yeah!”

you led wilbur to the front door, opening it and stepping to the side. you looked at him to find he was already looking at you. he grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

“it was nice meeting you, y/n.”

as you stuttered out a reply, he gave you that same almost-smirk and turned away, walking down your driveway.

•••

“what are you doing up?”

you jumped, not expecting to see someone in your kitchen at two am. then you remembered tommy had invited friends over.

“oh, it’s you. i… i can’t sleep. what are you still doing awake?”

you filled a glass up with water and began to drink it, putting it in the sink when you were done.

“tommy snores really loud.”

you both let out a light laugh at your younger brother’s expense.

“well, since we’re both awake, do you want to do something? we could watch friends? that’s all i was doing anyway.”

“that sounds great.”

you both made your way up the stairs and into your room. you sat on the bed and set up the laptop with the episode you were currently on. eventually you were laying down together watching joey do lunges in all of chandler’s clothes.

(like this ^^^)

you were about halfway through a second episode when tommy interrupted.

“what the hell are you guys doing?”

you both looked up at the tired gremlin child.

“watching friends.” wilbur gave him a cheeky smile.

•••

“hello?”

“oh! uh, hello…?”

“oh it’s you, wilbur!” you spoke over your brother’s headset while he was in the bathroom.

“y/n? hi! what are you doing?”

“well tommy’s in the toilet so i wanted to see who he was talking to. turns out it’s you!”

wilbur let out a chuckle. “it’s me!”

“GET OUT OF MY BEDROOM!”

“uh oh, gotta go!” you threw down the headset before running for your life.

•••

“y/n, hang out with us!”

you stopped at the doorway, looking back at the group of boys all sitting on the floor. jack manifold, tubbo, and wilbur all stared up at you.

“no, y/n, get out of my room.” tommy spoke from his spot on the bed.

“aww, why can’t she stay?”

“yeah, tommy, don’t be a dick, man.”

“y/n, stay!”

“no, y/n, leave.”

you looked nervous, being pulled in two different directions, before ultimately deciding that you had other things to do.

“sorry guys, i should probably go.”

a chorus of disappointed groans and “aww”s left the group before you waved and closed the door behind you.

you went back to your room, deciding to give your brother his space despite your loneliness and boredom. you knew you’d want the same from him.

you decided to mess around with your ukulele to pass the time. you played your favorite song, singing along quietly. it wasn’t long before a knock on the door made you stop.

“come in.”

the door opened and none other than wilbur soot popped his head in.

“hey.”

“hey. tommy asked me to tell you to shut up, but i think you sound lovely.”

you turned slightly pink. “oh, uh, thanks. tell tommy i’m sorry and i’ll keep it down.”

“no need, he’s a prick anyway.” he made his way to where you sat on the bed, taking a seat next to you.

“what are you playing?”

you smiled and told him about how it was your favorite song by your favorite artist and you loved how fun it was. he requested you play a little bit for him, so you did. when you were done, you started to talk about it a little more.

at least until you realized he wasn’t listening. he was staring at your lips, leaning in. you followed suit.

the door burst open, causing you two to spring apart.

“wilbur, what the hell is taking so long? and what are you two doing in here with the door closed?”

wilbur smiled at tommy. “playing music, of course.”

tommy gave a skeptical look, dragging wilbur out of the room with a “keep it down, y/n!”

wilbur stopped at the doorway. “by the way, i quite like hanging out with you, y/n.”

•••

“your hands are so tiny!”

“they are not,” you gasped. “your hands are just huge, probably because you’re a giant of a man.”

wilbur laughed. “put your hand up,” he instructed. he touched his to yours gently, showing off the size difference.

you both giggled before stopping and looking into each other’s eyes. he gave you a gentle smile and slipped his fingers in between yours, interlocking them and holding your hand in his larger one.

you looked back at him and smiled.

•••

you knocked on the door three times, and he answered not long after.

“y/n? what are you doing here?”

“tommy thinks he left his sweater here and asked if i could drop by and pick it up on my way home.”

“oh yeah, one second.”

he disappeared for a moment before returning, holding your brother’s red hoodie. “here you go,” he said with a smile.

“thank you. sorry to bother you.”

“it’s no trouble. can i walk you home?”

you felt yourself heating up and smiled. “if you’d like.”

he nodded and grabbed his jacket. then you both started off toward the simons residence. you almost made it before it started raining.

it was light rain at first, so you carried on. however, it got heavier by the second, and pretty soon it was pouring on you two.

wilbur took off his jacket and held it above your heads. “we’re almost there, run!”

the two of you ran the rest of the way, only stopping once you got to your porch. you looked at each other for a moment, catching your breath. then you started laughing. you were both soaked and standing there like idiots, laughing at yourselves.

your laughter soon died down, and then you were just smiling at each other. he reached over to you and brushed a wet piece of hair behind your ear, getting it out of your face.

you weren’t stupid. you knew the look he was giving you was a lovestruck gaze, but you decided to play dumb.

“what?”

then finally it happened. after months of flirting and mutual pining, he closed the gap and kissed you. with his right hand on your face he crashed his lips to yours (a/n: that sounds violent but it’s not meant to be lol), pulling you closer with his left. you wrapped your arms around him, hands tangling in his hair.

passion mingled with desperation and you kissed long after you were breathless. you didn’t part until you heard a loud yell of disgust.

you instantly sprang apart with swollen lips and red faces.

“are you fucking kidding me? that’s my sister, man!” tommy yelled, glaring at wilbur.

he then looked to you. “and you, kissing my best mate?!”

you stood there shocked for a moment before coming to your senses.

“uhhh, I wasn’t kissing, were you kissing?” you said, turning to wilbur and praying to god he caught on to your obvious lie.

“no, i wasn’t kissing.” he shook his head.

“neither was i! see, no kissing here.”

“i’m not stupid,” said tommy, voice low and angry as opposed to the shock and disgust from before. “i saw everything.”

he then turned and walked away from the door, leaving you two alone again.

a moment of awkward silence passed. “i should probably… you know.” you said, pointing to the house.

“oh yeah, no, definitely.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“and look, i’m sorry if i ruined your friendship with tommy. i know you guys are close, and i hope he forgives you.”

he gave you a sad smile. “same here, love.” he then kissed your cheek and took off into the rain once more.

you went inside and tried fixing things with tommy, who refused to speak to you. after sitting outside his bedroom door for nearly an hour, you finally gave up and headed back into your room. you opened discord.

[your username]: tommy’s ignoring me. i’ve just sat outside his room for an hour and he refuses to talk to me.

WilburSoot: i’ll give it a go.

he did not speak to wilbur. tommy left him on read every time.

•••

tommy avoided you entirely for two weeks. he left the room if you walked in, and he wouldn’t speak to you at the dinner table. your mother was curious what was going on between you two, but neither of you would say anything about it.

finally, you’d had enough.

you asked your mother to call tommy out of his room, since he wouldn’t answer if you were to try. she did, just wanting you two to speak again. once he arrived in the living room, you jumped him. you grabbed him around the middle and threw him on the couch, planting yourself on top of him so he couldn’t run away. your mum left the room.

“hey, you asshole, get off of me!”

“no, tommy! enough is enough! you’re not leaving until you hear me out!”

“no, i don’t want to talk to you!”

“too bad because i’m not moving until you hear what i have to say! i don’t want us to keep avoiding each other like this.”

he went silent and thought about it for a moment, an angry and skeptical look on his face. “…fine. get it over with.”

you took a deep breath.

“tommy, you’re my little brother, and i love you. i’ll always love you, even when you hate me. just know that i never meant to hurt you or make you angry. however… you can’t tell me how to live my life, or who i can be with. i want to be with wilbur. i can’t help it, tommy, i love him. you can be happy for me or not, that’s your choice. but what isn’t your choice, is who i love.”

by the end of your speech, your voice was shaking and your eyes were watery. you got off of tommy and helped him sit up.

his face softened. “you… you love him?”

your tears ran down your cheeks. you nodded. “i do.”

tommy sighed before pulling you into a hug. it was rare for him to show affection, especially to you, but after everything that happened between the two of you, he felt it was important.

“i love you, y/n. you’re my sister, i could never hate you. i’m happy for you. but just know, best mate or not, i’ll castrate him if he makes you sad.”

you laughed, wiping away your tears.

“i should… probably speak with wilbur, yeah?”

you nodded. tommy stood and went back to his room. you followed not long after, and even though you knew it was frowned upon, you stopped to listen at his door.

“tommy, thank god you’re speaking to me. listen, man, i–”

“do you love her, wilbur?”

“what?”

“my sister. do you love her?”

“i– yeah. yeah, i do.”

“good. listen, all i want is for y/n to be happy. meaning if you make her cry, i’ll murder you.”

wilbur chuckled on the other line, making you smile.

“you won’t have to worry about that. i promise you i’ll take care of her.”

“just don’t make my sister cry and don’t be gross in front of me, alright big man?”

“you’ve got yourself a deal, tommyinnit.”

you smiled again before heading off in the direction of your room.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur mcyt #wilbur dsmp #wilbur dream smp #tommyinnit #tommyinnit x sibling reader #sisterinnit #dsmp x reader #x reader #dream smp #tommy dream smp #tommy dsmp

[natsfirecat]

First Kiss of the Year, and of Life

summary: it’s new year’s eve and r hasn’t kissed anyone

pairing: Thor Odinson x reader (no gendered pronouns used, but written with fem reader in mind)

word count: 803

warnings: none, lmk if i need to add any!

A/N: my first thor fic fdhfhjfds i probably should’ve written this for natasha since that’s the only x reader romantic pairing i’ve ever written on here but it’s fine i liked imagining thor specifically for one part of this lol it’s fine (pls dont let this attract straight people)

As the snow kept falling harder, you stood by the window, taking it all in.

"Wow..." you muttered.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Came a voice from behind you.

You jumped, finally noticing Thor's presence. You chuckled, nodding as you diverted your attention back to the falling snow.

"Are you looking forward to the new year?" He asked.

"Yeah," you replied. "My first year with the Avengers has been amazing, and I'm more than ready for my second,"

He smiled, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"I'm glad,"

You then looked up at him, smiling as you realized he was focusing on the snow like you had just been.

"Are you planning on participating in the Midgardian tradition of a new year's kiss?"

You felt your cheeks heat up as you gave a forced smile. You almost giggled from the feeling, refusing to meet his eye,

"I doubt it," you told him. "I've never been kissed before,"

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you in confusion. Everyone seemed to love you, and he certainly thought you gorgeous; why hadn't you had your first kiss yet?

He didn't want to press it, so he simply stared back out the window again as the snow kept falling.

You were about to say something else to him, when you heard Tony's voice calling you both over.

"We need everyone in here to start Monopoly," he said.

You nodded, sitting down on the couch with the others.

"Playing Monopoly with a billionaire, how ironic," Wanda mumbled under her breath.

You and the others laughed, while Tony simply rolled his eyes.

He was getting the pieces set up as everyone chose their markers. Thor of course, was the first to grab the dice. But instead of rolling them himself, he handed them to you so you could go.

"Thanks," you said, feeling your cheeks heat up once again.

He simply beamed, giving you an encouraging nod.

You rolled the dice, getting two fours. So, you rolled again, this time getting a three and a five.

"You gonna buy?" Steve asked, noticing the property you landed on.

You made eye contact with Thor, feeling a smile creeping onto your face.

"Yeah,"

-

An hour and a half into Monopoly, and Tony was winning and already put you, Steve, and Bruce in debt. Wanda accused him of cheating, but he denied all charges. Although, he did seem to be sweating at an unusual rate when her eyes turned red.

Nonetheless, since you had no money left, you decided to get up and take a break. You made your way to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water.

"It looks like it's slowing down a bit," came Thor's voice from behind you.

You chuckled, realizing that he was once again looking out at the snow.

"Yeah, it looks like it."

He took a step closer to you, and you could've sworn your heart started pounding.

"What do you think will happen in the new year?" He asked.

"I'm not sure," you replied. "But as long as I'm still here with everyone, I'll be okay with whatever,"

"Me as well,"

You couldn't stop yourself from grinning as you turned to face him.

"What do you want to happen in the new year?" You asked him.

"I was always fond of love stories, but there's someone who makes me feel more like I'm in an adventure story than a love story. However, I like that better,"

"Really?"

"Indeed,"

You heard noises coming from the other room as you realized the countdown had begun. Everyone was chanting along with the numbers as they counted down from 60.

"I think an adventure story would be amazing," you told him.

The countdown had reached 30 now, and they were still chanting.

He said nothing, but brought his hand up to your face. He ran his thumb along your face, looking down into your eyes.

15 seconds.

You stepped forward so you could be even closer to him, feeling your smile growing wider and wider as the numbers got lower.

"5..." he began leaning in. "4..." you wrapped your arms around his neck. "3..." your foreheads were pressed together. "2..." you could feel his breath against you. "1..." his lips were on yours.

You could hardly believe what was happening as you closed your eyes. You had never felt this before, but it felt... right.

He moved his lips so gently as he brought his hands back to your waist. Carefully keeping his lips on yours, he gripped your hips as he lifted you into the air.

You felt like you were flying as he spun you around. You smiled against his lips, feeling him pull you closer.

When he finally set you down, you pulled apart. You stared at him, smiling wider than ever before.

"Happy new year."

#thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #thor odinson x you #thor odinson x yn #thor odinson x fem reader #thor odinson x fem!reader #thor odinson x female reader #thor x reader #thor odinson fluff #thor odinson imagine #thor odinson imagines #thor fluff #thor x fem reader #thor x fem!reader #thor x you #thor x female reader #thor x yn #thor imagine #thor imagines #thor son of odin

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way. 

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

2.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

3.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.  

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your  body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth  as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

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