#gonna try drawing something for this bc its just too golden to pass up

[sneezefiction]

can I request a hc with “I told you not to fall in love with me.” for akaashi? I enjoyed the sleepover writing so much!!! also,, can you turn it into an angst to fluff bc,,I cry easily and maybe a timeskip with the relationship? thank u 👁👅👁

Akaashi x reader - scenario

prompt: “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

a/n: i legit retyped this whole thing 3 times with different story lines each time lmao. no idea why i couldn’t decide on something ahh. i’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you were anticipating (couldn’t turn it into a hc, had to do a scenario,) but this is how i interpreted it! thank you so much for reading and requesting!! <3333 kind of an angst to fluff situation

warnings: suggests nsfw in the beginning

wc: 1710

---

A mistake.

It was a huge, thoughtless mistake.

I mean, what did you think would happen?

That one night with Akaashi would be easy to forget? That, after liking him for months, you would just stop caring? That your touch starved body would immediately go back to normal after having his hands all over you?

You still feel the ghost of his fingertips trailing over your skin… and you shiver.

“Don’t go falling in love with me.” He’d murmured, jokingly, his words followed by a light chuckle. 

You just joined him with a short, breathy laugh in response, splayed out on his bed, exhausted.

Oh, the irony.

---

It’s morning after, and a golden glow stirs you out of your sleep. The soreness in your legs and the unfamiliar scent of someone else’s home overwhelms your senses. You’re still in his bed, your body still intertwined with Akaashi’s. His eyebrows are furrowed, his breathing is steady. He’s still in a deep sleep.

So pretty… you think as you study his features.

It’s what you’ve wanted… just not under the right circumstance. Even though you know it’s probably a bad idea, you decide to not leave right away.

Instead, you resolve to fix breakfast for the two of you. Under the best of circumstances, you’ll chat. Maybe laugh a little?

Slipping out of his sheets, you carefully pull on a white tee shirt and shorts, making your way out of the room, try not to knock into anything.

The kitchen, now visible in the early morning daylight, is neat and tidy, nothing out of place. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s efficient and it’s just so… him.

As you’re making pancakes and bacon (you found ingredients in the pantry and bacon in the fridge,) you hear soft footsteps.

“What... are you doing here?” He questions sleepily. The confusion is apparent on his face… he’d clearly expected you to run off right when you woke up.

“Oh, sorry… I just thought I’d make you breakfast. There’s coffee brewing right now.” You speak quietly, not wanting to reveal your embarrassment. 

Ah, that’s right… you weren’t supposed to be here. You overstepped an unspoken boundary.

He just hums, taking a seat at his kitchen table right across from where you’re cooking. He’d had his assumptions about you… he knew you had liked him in the past, but he hadn’t predicted the possibility of you staying throughout the morning. His foresight ended when last night began.

A mistake, now, on his part.

And he grew steadily more uncomfortable.

It’s not that he doesn’t want you around… but he hadn’t planned on you knowing him. He had boundaries for a reason. Standards and space to keep people away from him.

A habit he’d developed subconsciously throughout the years to protect himself.

Yet, you were still here. In his kitchen, at his house, with his number… making breakfast for him.

All this after a long night of exploration. Body-to-body contact. Physical interaction with someone, admittedly very beautiful, that he hasn’t had in a long time.

It’s too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure we’re on the same page right now…” He starts.

You turn around, realizing the conversation you’re about to have… isn’t going to be very fun.

“Y/n, I told you I’m not used to these things. Don’t get me wrong… you’re kind for making me breakfast and I genuinely enjoyed last night… but I didn’t sign up for a relationship.” He states bluntly, trying to combat the creeping feeling of guilt in his stomach.

There’s something else there too, but he can’t quite figure out what the emotion is.

Your eyes are getting a little teary, but you manage to hold back any tears of embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry… I just, I don’t know, I thought maybe you would see me differently? I, uhm… I really like you. A lot.” You try to compose yourself, but your hands become shaky so you grab onto the countertop. 

“I told you not to fall in love with me.” He reminds you of his playful words from last night, but it sounds far more serious this time. “I don’t know what you were expecting from me, but I’m not interested in this continuing.” He tries to reason, noticing the redness appearing slowly on your face.

“I hate to break it to you, Akaashi, but that’s not exactly how emotions work. For most people at least.” You crack a small smile, but it won’t fool Akaashi… and it’s definitely not fooling you.

And a tear betrays you, slipping down your cheek to the tip of your chin, onto the floor below.

Once one leaves your eye, the others decide to follow. Your dove-white shirt now wet and covered in tear stains. 

How humiliating. Thinking that something as stupid as sleeping with Akaashi would produce some semblance of feelings in him. That somehow you would be adequate enough for him in one night that he could see some relationship with you in the future.

Yes, it was a huge mistake.

On both sides.

So you head home, leaving him in the wake of your emotions and him stuck in his thoughts, processing why he’d allowed this to happen.

The room feels empty without you in it.

Why is that? And why does he feel so bad about it? He didn’t do anything wrong. Or did he?

Why does he want to call you right now? Why does he suddenly need to explain himself? He has no reason to. You never asked him to…

He buries his head in his hands for a few minutes then decides on a shower. That should wash away whatever pit he’s feeling in his stomach right now.

But the feeling lingers.

And it chooses to nag at him for months, with no end in sight.

---

Time passed and college is more or less overtaking your life. The end of the semester leaves you overwhelmed and burnt out. So yeah, you’re contemplating, once again, why you went to college in the first place. 

However, without the distraction of school, you probably would still be ruminating on last semester’s heartbreaker of an issue.

The workload allowed you to let go of any hope for Akaashi returning feeling or reaching out.

Numbing something isn’t always the best way to get rid of your feelings, but you can’t help but think they wouldn’t have gone away without some mental diversion.

Your expectations were too high and it was best for you to burn that bridge. Or whatever was left to burn anyway.

But fate likes to play cruel tricks and you seem to be its target for the day.

As you leave your dorm, a wave of familiarity washes over you.

That smell… that cologne. It’s a sharp slap to the face.

You finally make it out of the thick, painful realization that Akaashi isn’t going to be a part of your life anymore… and your mind draws you right back in.

But it isn’t just the cologne. No.

The familiar features, physical and vocal, decided to rejoin you as well.

The universe had the audacity to place him on the walkway up to your dorm room.

You attempt to slink past him, turning your face hoping that he hadn’t already seen you, but you simply aren’t fast enough.

“It’s been a while, y/n.” He states.

Your heart drops and you slowly turn around, body stiff.

“Why are you here?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question. Oops.

“Well, maybe it’s because we go to the same school?” He chuckles, but straightens himself up.

“Yeah… well I’ve gotta run. I’m late for, um, things.” You reply, trying to get yourself out of an increasingly awkward situation.

Akaashi takes a step forward and gently, but firmly, grasps your jacket’s sleeve.

“Hold on.” He orders, then softens the command with a, “Please.”

“I actually came here to- ehem, apologize.” He looks you straight in the eye.

He seems genuine, his hurt translating through his eyes.

“You didn’t deserve what I did to you.” He admits, “I knew you’d liked me… and I- I was selfish.”

He reads your face, noting the look of exhausted grief in your expression.

In a way, he had used you. He knew you felt something for him… and inadvertently took advantage of it. Not wanting strings attached, not caring (in the moment) that it might hurt you, and not communicating his intentions.

“A friend of yours finally told me where you lived, so I ran over here to let you know that I am, truly, so sorry.”

Your eyes are misty again… why am I like this.

You give a gentle smile, trying to ease the tension in the air.

“Akaashi, it’s okay. It was a mistake. Things like this happen all the time.” You do your best to console the boy, the one who’s still gripping your jacket. Even though it’s really you who needs a hug right now.

“I’m gonna head-on, but I hope you feel better, okay? Don’t go overthinking things.” You tease, gently. It’s the best you can do.

But he doesn’t let go.

“I want to talk with you.” He states, this time with a tone of interest, not pleading. Asking.

“What do you mean?” You ask, genuinely confused. You feel yourself getting warm and it’s not the layers you’re wearing.

His unoccupied hand makes its way to the back of his head. “Like… on a date. Or just out somewhere.”

The directness shocks you. Why now? Why not then? Should you even trus-

“I understand if you don’t trust me. You’re right… that night was a mistake. But you aren’t.”

He’s flushed, but it’s crystal clear that he’s being honest. He let’s go of your jacket.

“I think I can trust you, y/n. I want to make it up to you… get to know you better. For the right reasons.”

You contemplate it, making him wait for a moment, allowing several, long seconds to pass.

Yes, he caused pain.

But there are two pieces to any problem. Person A and person B.

You’ve been given second chances all your life… from jobs, to relational mistakes, to breakups. Forgiveness is one of the most powerful forces. 

And you figure person B could use a second chance. 

“Then let’s start slow.” You decide and reach out a hand with a mischievous glint in your eyes, letting your humor shine through for a moment.

“Hi, I’m y/n.”

He reaches his own hand out to yours, but instead of shaking it, intertwines his fingers with yours, in a sense, sealing the deal.

“Hi, y/n, I’m Akaashi.” He reintroduces himself with a small, but glowing smile.

#haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #akaashi keiji #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi scenarios #akaashi oneshot #akaashi x reader #akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi angst #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #hq #hq scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #sneezefiction

[freebooter4ever]

i’ve seen the discussion going back and forth on boundaries and sexual objectification, and i don’t have much to add to the conversation other than to say everyone is allowed to determine their OWN ‘lines’ and just because we don’t vocalize them doesn’t make them any less valid. but here’s the limits i set for my blog if anyone feels it is important for them to know (<3):

personally I consider ‘characters’ fair game for anything goes, with ‘public personas’ a little more iffy. ‘RPF’ isn’t new - it just takes on a new more accessible/visible form nowadays. i remember reading my first fic about a ‘real person’ back in my LOTR fandom days - it was a story in first person perspective about the main character meeting orlando bloom on a plane before he was ‘famous’. like a lot of these types of stories, it wasnt so much about the person as it was about the meet cute. the actor was just a convenient placeholder with a handsome face and some personality quirks thrown in to make the romance/dialogue more specific. i personally dont read much xReader fic nowadays, but mostly only cause i’m an old fart who can’t relate to the ‘you’ format. i miss the good old days when people actually created OC’s and then inserted them into things LOL. but also LOL if you think i’ve gone an entire year of quarantine without some imagined personal fantasies of joe mazzello (or steve aoki in the years before)(ramilicious can attest to this. she can also attest to most of these fantasies ending in friendship rather than anything explicit cause that’s just how i roll these days lol). the line i draw is i would never post these types of fics in a place where the subject could accidentally find them - you have to go looking for this stuff on tumblr, most fics are given explicit ratings and under read-mores. with the blacklist tags it’s pretty easy to filter things out. its even easier to add filters to ao3 searches. i am NOT going to do something like message steve aoki and say ‘yeah i watched that movie Ibiza like five times, here is my 1k fic where you’re the dj and i’m the one night stand’. but obviously people still enjoy imagining scenarios like these otherwise movies like Ibiza wouldn’t exist?

for art, i consider anything already on display up for grabs, we all know a certain person’s ass is all over the place...all you have to do is google ‘need for speed’ and rami’s name. HOWEVER, in the case of actors i personally would not draw anything more explicit than what’s already there. i’m not gonna draw full frontal nudity for rami (unless he gifts us with it in a movie, i suppose) or anyone. this is 100% a personal choice for me. 

i was a sophomore or junior in college when i volunteered as a figure drawing monitor where i’d time the nude model’s poses and help them set up the stage and lighting and such. there was this one guy in his mid forties probably, a regular who came every week, and i always thought of him fondly till one day (the day after i ran into my Hot Programming TA during dinner and later sent him an email begging him to go on a date with me because i was desperate for kissing experience)(and Hot Programming TA emailed me back within minutes saying yes) this artist guy who i saw all the time and thought i knew fairly well, decided to draw me instead of the model. which would have been fine except he drew me naked. i was NOT naked at the time, i was wearing a shirt, and a bra, and a full prairie skirt with alternating calico and floral patterns. he drew what he imagined was underneath all that. he came up to me after the figure drawing session and showed me his drawings and told me i had been ‘glowing’ and my response was to laugh it off awkwardly and get the hell out of there as soon as i gave the model their pay check. but inwardly i was thinking a) i was NOT glowing for this creepy man twice my age and b) i did NOT give him consent to sexualize my body under my clothes and then SHOW me that objectification. i never said anything to him or anything else, i continued to be the monitor, and i continued to field off creepy advances from him including multiple job offers, but when i finally realized i could just...stop..and i passed the student volunteer monitor job on to my friend naeem, i also realized that what that older male artist did was NOT ok in my book. and it was probably not something he would do while naeem was monitoring.

nowadays im working in an industry that regularly objectifies female bodies. in the past year alone i have had to deal with requests to make breasts bigger, i have been given character rigs that in addition to the usual elbow, knee, and spine joints also have ‘nipple’ joints but ONLY for the women (to make them jiggle for animation), every time i send out a female pose i get it back with notes that push it further into the sexy type of body language reserved for women (twist the spine more! sway the back more! give it ‘energy!’), i have been told to erase wrinkles and fat and pores but ONLY for the women (men you ADD pores bc realism! and manliness!) and this is all me working for a company that is actually fairly progressive in terms of sexism compared to OTHER studios.

like it or not, sexual objectification is a huge part of specifically women’s lives and how we react to that is our business. for me, turning the tables and putting men on display feels like fair’s fair. i cant stop the men from doing it, so if i want to enjoy sexualizing male bodies, damn it im gonna! like dang it, boy do i want to send steve aoki a thank you note every time he posts a video of himself doing those ice baths during the sunset golden hour bc holy shit gorgeous or working out in his gym wearing VERY little clothes, but i dont because i know what its like when someone imposes their personal fantasies on the subject. or, god, there was that time i had to unfollow nicole’s insta for a while bc i had a very explicit dream about her and realized, shit, i need to take a break and get my emotions under control before i can refollow. and god some of the stuff i see dudes sending her during her live videos on mental illness/meditation is TOTALLY gross and not something they should be confronting her with. and she’s not even ‘famous’ famous. or how some fans send their idols explicit direct messages without consent. THAT feels inappropriate to me.

a part of me feels like i shouldn’t have to defend this. men don’t. they’re even encouraged in mass media to sexualize women. but i also recognize the importance of talking about consent. the importance of recognizing that a celebrity deserves to have their boundaries respected. these are my lines in fandom. other people have different lines they won’t cross, and that’s okay to me. i block or blacklist any blogs or tags i think go over the top.

heck, even in fandom-only spaces i still try to keep my own more sexual fantasies off this blog and only in private messages with my friends and mutuals, and i feel like that might come across as unintentionally prudish or judgmental sometimes. i’m not ‘horny on main’ very often. but like...every time i reblog that particular ‘washing machine’ gif of joe mazzello am i thinking about him naked and thinking about how he’s got very loooooong feet, and ‘gee i wonder if that means /other/ things are Too Big for my tastes’ but also ‘gosh wouldnt that make a pretty picture to draw’???? hell yeah.

i dont know who is gonna actually read this essay but yolo i guess :)

#journal shit

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

99, 37, 38? Ahkmenrah smut maybe? Little spice? Possible interruption?

I’ve gotten a few requests for a more dom!Ahk, so I’m gonna try that with this request—hope you like it bc I had a friggin’ blast writing it!

Warning: Lotta smut! Def NSFW!

* * * * *

“You’re just soadorable—ah!” you growled out in frustration. “I need to just … bite you,” you said as you lifted Ahkmenrah’s hand to your mouth and gently bit down on his knuckle, his eyes widening a little but his mouth pulling into a smile.

You were settled on the sofa in the break room at the museum, the TV chattering in the background while you sat, playfully perched, on your boyfriend’s thighs.

“Because your feelings overwhelm you, you must bite me?” Ahk asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.  

You laughed, kissing his knuckles before letting his hand return to its place on your hip.

“You’re just so cute, Ahk. Do you know that feeling, like when you see a kitten and you just want to hug it and squeeze it because you are so overwhelmed by its cuteness?”

“Um, I am not sure I—”

You rolled your eyes but still held your smile.

“It’s a thing, I swear. And it’s called cute aggression. Something, or in your case, someone, is so cute you just wanna squish them until you can’t squish them anymore.”

Ahkmenrah continued to puzzle through your explanation.

“So, I inspire the same feelings within you as when you see a kitten?”

“Yes!” you shouted, proud Ahk made the connection, but as you began to babble on about the cuteness of kittens, you were oblivious to the shift that overcame your boyfriend. His body began to tense as he straightened and his face smoothed out to be expressionless, his mouth drawing into a thin line.

“Y/N, I would like to go to your place,” Ahkmenrah interrupted, his tone steady and serious.

You raised your eyebrows and shrugged your shoulders. This wasn’t an uncommon request when Ahkmenrah felt stifled by the museum and wanted a change of scenery or if he wanted to spend the night having slow, lazy sex with you instead of just engaging in a quick one-off somewhere around the museum.  

“Alright. And Aliyah is out for the night if you’re feeling so inclined,” you said, giving Ahk a wink as you slid off his lap while silently thanking your roommate for being such an extrovert that she was hardly ever around on the weekends.

“Let me go grab your change of clothes—"

“That will not be necessary,” Ahk cut you off as he stood and started for the exit. “Come.”

“Uhh, Ahk, are you sure you—”

But he was already gone, the door that led to the backstreet behind the museum banging shut, leaving you curious as to what caused his sudden shift in behavior.

Once you caught up with him, you tried to ask him if something was wrong, but he shrugged you off until you just stopped asking.

Even though you didn’t live far from the museum, the distance you travelled was enough for the two of you to get a fair share of chuckles and snaps of pictures, but this was New York City after all. Someone dressed in something unconventional wasn’t exactly newsworthy.

You let Ahk into your apartment and when you turned around, his body was in something you could only describe as a power stance. His legs were spread to match the width of his shoulders, his arms were crossed, and his face was an unreadable mask.

It was unbearably sexy to see him looking so … regal. The energy radiating from him made it seem as if the word were his for the taking, as if this tiny New York City apartment could barely contain him.

When he spoke, you jumped, startled from your thoughts.

“Approach me.”

The deep, powerful tone of Ahkmenrah’s command shot straight between your thighs.

You were familiar with ancient Egyptian life, having done your research once you and Ahk grew close, and it occurred to you that perhaps for the first time, you were seeing the man once revered as a god before you. Right now, thisman was not your soft and kitteny sweetheart. This was the man who was once the king of the greatest civilization in the world.

“Kneel,” Ahkmenrah commanded once you were nearly toe-to-toe.

You dropped to your knees and you became aware of your increased heartbeat as you were now face to face with Ahk’s pelvis, and at the thought of what was beneath his shendyt, your breaths became shallow and your cheeks colored with a flush of desire.

“Remove my belt.”

Your fingers acted of their own accord, unclasping the ornamental buckle and gathering the fabric as it slid from his hips.

“Untie my shendyt.”

You willed your hands to remain steady as you reached up to undo the knot. It felt like you were about to see his cock for the first time and you almost chuckled at your own nervousness.

As Ahkmenrah’s shendyt fell to the floor, you looked first at his soft cock, then up and into his eyes. His face was still an unreadable mask, but you shivered when his lips spoke the next command.

“Take me in your mouth.”

You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and another rush of warm arousal flooded you as you took his soft cock in your mouth. There was something about pressing your face into the coarse hair at the base of him, something about fitting all of him in your mouth as you sucked and swirled your tongue around his cock that made you feel powerful, desirable.

You felt Ahkmenrah tap the side of your cheek and you looked up.

“Open. I want to watch myself harden on your tongue.”

Another wave of arousal crashed over you as the image of you on your knees while Ahk’s cock swelled in your mouth flashed through your mind at his command.

You continued to bob your head, your mouth open as you slid his cock between your lips until it soon became too much for you to take his entire length as he swelled against your tongue.

When he was hard, you began to suck his cock in earnest, teasing him with your tongue, hollowing your cheeks, and bringing your hand up to grip his base. Ahkmenrah made no noise, the salty trail of precum leaking from his tip was your only indication of his continued pleasure.

Before either of you could register the noise of the key in the lock, Aliyah flung open the door and stood stock still in the doorway as she took in the sight before her.

Ahkmenrah closed his cape over the both of you, stuttering, “Th-This is not what it looks like.”

Aliyah laughed as she stepped in from the hallway and crossed to the little end table by the couch, scooping up her charger.

“I’m pretty fucking sure this is … exactly what it looks like. Nice outfit, by the way.”

“Well, this is awkward,” you mumbled from under Ahkmenrah’s golden cape.

Aliyah laughed again as she headed out the door, turning back to say, “I’ll stay at Nikko’s tonight. Carry on, lovers!”

This time, you heard the door latch and the turn of Aliyah’s key as she locked the deadbolt. Ahkmenrah opened his cape and looked down at you. Even though his cheeks were still tinged with a flush of embarrassment or maybe it was just from the surprise, his gaze still radiated the same powerful, determined energy as prior to your interruption.

You were just about to return your mouth to his cock when he gathered up a handful of your hair and tugged you back.

“Go to the bedroom. Undress. Wait for me.”

“Yes, my king,” you said, looking up at him as you tested out the submissive phrase.

Ahkmenrah’s cock had softened a little after Aliyah’s interruption, but at your words, he hardened again.

You slowly stood, careful not to touch him, and you shot him a searing look before you stepped around him and walked to the bedroom.

As you undressed, you thought about what could have brought out this side of Ahkmenrah. You certainly were not complaining, but it was gnawing at your curiosity. And then, the realization hit you so suddenly you had to suppress a giggle. You had called him cute! Or maybe it was that comparison to a kitten?

You laid down on the bed, settling against some pillows as you decided you would test your theory when Ahk eventually came back to the bedroom. Speaking of which, it felt like an eternity passed before a naked Ahkmenrah finally appeared in your doorway.

Ahk looked you over, head to toe, and you felt a blush creep up under his predatory gaze. He leaned against the doorway and slowly pumped his cock, his own thumb sliding over the bit of precum that had gathered.

All illusions of the control you thought you gained back by figuring out his trigger vanished as you watched his hand and thumb work. He kept his eyes on you, clearly letting you know you were the cause of his lust, but he still didn’t move into the room.

Your eyes unabashedly raked over his body, taking in his messy curls, tousled from removing his crown, and traveling across his beautiful face that housed a jawline erotic enough to make a conservative clutch their pearls. You reveled in the tone of his brown skin and the way it darkened around his nipples.

Your eyes travelled to the line of dark hair that began just a little below his belly button and you took in his flat abdomen and the taught little muscles that shifted as he continued to lazily work his cock.

Your gaze continued to travel over his lean legs, the dark hair on them the same color as that little trail below his belly button, all the way down to the perfect slant of his Egyptian toes.

“You are so sexy,” you breathed, your own hand finding its way between your legs as you continued to gaze at Ahkmenrah.  

He narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin, finally pushing off the frame of the door and walking toward you. He grabbed the wrist of your hand that had made its way to your wet sex and brought the fingers of that hand to his lips.

You actually stopped breathing as he spread your fingers and dipped each one into his mouth, sucking off any wetness that he found.

“What was that?” he asked. “I am not sure I heard you.”

“S-s-sexy,” you stuttered. “You are so fucking sexy, Ahk.”

“What happened to, ‘my king’?” Ahkmenrah asked with a wicked gleam in his eye as he moved his hand between your legs, lazily spreading your folds and sliding his fingers up and down your soaked center.

You were damn near delirious with the need to come when Ahk began to press into your clit, his thumb moving in a subtle circle.

“I asked you a question,” he said, that same steady strength from earlier still in his voice.

You opened your mouth to answer but a moan escaped your throat instead. You shook your head and tried again, your hips pressing upward into Ahk’s hand.

“My king,” you groaned, your eyes shut, your hands fisted into the sheets, as you felt your orgasm building, fit to erupt with only a little bit more pressure. “Please, please, my king. Let me come.”

“You are so damn cutelike this,” Ahkmenrah said as he pulled his hand away.

You blinked your eyes open, shocked and panting, your pussy clenched in anticipation of the orgasm that was just ready to wash over it.

Ahkmenrah laughed at the expression on your face, and he grabbed your hips and pulled you to the edge of the bed, lining your entrance up with his cock.

“I will never … call you cute … again,” you said slowly, your voice weak and hesitant.

Ahkmenrah shook his head no, indicating that it wasn’t calling him cute that bothered him.

“I must be certain my queen does not think me to be meek, kittenish, if you will,” he said, his eyes flickering from your face to the tip of his poised cock.

“I can assure you, I think you are the boldest, sexiest man I have ever met.”

“Then be sure to scream my name when I make you come,” he breathed as he entered you in one hard thrust.

And scream his name, over and over again, you did.

#Ahkmenrah #ahk #ahkmenrah x reader

[anne-intrepid-hero]

night yorb, nod & hilda hilda for the d20 ask!!

night yorb: Tell us about an outlandish theory you had while watching a season.

God I don’t remember. Like literally I’m not sure I could tell you. I don’t tend to wild mass guess while binging because when you’re doing 2 to 4 hrs a night your brain is pretty fried and its enough to predict based on the plot hooks that people are putting down let alone some crazy off the wall stuff. I think I called them having to murder the American Dream the moment Nod explained what the golden door actually was. I called that Amethar was gonna end up Emperor just not how they were gonna do it. I tend to think more in AUs than fan theories if that makes sense. Its more like if given this situations what would happen. And less what’s the weirdest thing that I think is gonna be canon. Like I thought Liam was gonna get the dragon because Brennan fucked up on the foreshadowing and we didn’t get enough Saccharina backstory in time. Idk, I’m pretty content to wait for canon before speculating wildly.

nod: What was the moment that d20 hooked you?

The holy shit I need to see what happens moment was obviously the end of the second episode of fantasy high. You can’t not make it to that moment without getting hooked. But each season has had a moment where I went ‘oh yeah I’m binging this.’ Bloodkeep was when I realized sometime in the middle of the first episode that they weren’t just drawing inspiration from Tolkien-esque fantasy but were straight up ripping off lord of the rings. That was around when Zal-Nash died but I also love when they decided that they weren’t gonna use the complicated high fantasy name for the volcano and instead they were gonna call it the scary volcano. That’s when I was like oh yeah this will be fun. I think unsleeping city grabbed me after Pete’s bad trip that ended up with him in Nod during the first episode. He was the first character we met and it was so crazy that I had to see what was going on. I can’t remember with Tiny Heist. It’s my least favorite season and I watched it disjointed bc my first episodes of d20 were tiny heist ep1 & 2 and then I didn’t want to wait for ep3 so I started fantasy high and the rest was history. I think I came for the McElroys and stayed for the shenanigans. Idk. And of course crown of candy motherfucking vibe checked me with the shit with Ruby at the end of the first episode and like by then I knew that d20 owned my ass and I was here to stay, but that’s when I knew that this season was gonna hurt. And hey I was right.

hilda hilda: You lock all of the characters played by one cast member in a room. What happens?

I went through a couple players trying to think of what would happen if you locked their characters in a room together and the mental image that my brain latched onto and wouldn’t let go of was Cumulous crying while looking at the questing blade and the gravity axe. I don’t know how they got locked in this room. I don’t know why they can’t get out. But I do know that after trying and failing to escape, Cumulous would eventually notice that everyone had a magic weapon and once he asked to look at them then the tears would start. Ricky would try to act as emotional support but there’s a very good chance that he would start crying too. Ricky would say something very soft jock about not running from your feelings and its okay to cry which Gorgug would echo. I feel like Gorgug would be on his crystal trying to get a SOS text out to the bad kids groupchat but after a while he’d start talking about his axe and his adventures and they’d start swapping battle stories. And also in the corner while all of this is going on is Lapin who makes the occasional snarky comment but otherwise is questioning all of his life choices that led to him being trapped in a room with three muscleheads who treat int as a dump stat. Just Cumulous crying over the magic weapons of Zac’s other characters is too good a mental image to pass up.

Lighthearted D20 Asks

#asks answered #the first question stumped me bc most of my speculation is based on what i know from canon #so its hard to get really outlandish unless I'm jumping on someone else's crazy fan theory bandwagon #which like I was really hoping that Emily's backup character was amanda mailard bc that would have been fun #I'm still hoping that's murph's backup character even though I don't think he'd want to play a character with different pronouns #Ally is the only one who's played a character who's gender identity is not the same their own #theinfaethable

[roses-of-rutherglen]

Uniquely Normal- chapter 2

-Seamus-

Seamus had been waiting for his Hogwarts letter ever since he accidentally set the cats tail on fire when he was two and a half. So when it arrived upon on his eleventh birthday there was much celebration in the Finnegan household.

The trip to Diagon Alley was planned over a weekend as they would have to travel from Portarlington to London. Seamus couldn't sleep for excitement in the nights leading up to the trip, this would also be the first time his dad had been to Diagon Alley despite knowing about his wife being a witch for the last fifteen years of their marriage. The sun rose bright and early as the family of three hopped in the car bound for London with their suitcases, prepared for a long weekend of shopping and learning about the world that two of them were entering that year.

Seamus was almost bored to death after the innumerably long trip, finally stepping stiffly out of the car and trying to work some feeling back into his legs. They could have flooed but his mother was insistent on travelling as non magical people do and making sure they stay in touch with both the Muggle and Wizarding sides to their lives.

They walked through the streets of London's shopping district before coming to a shabby looking pub with the peeling sign reading 'The Leaky Caldron'. Funnily the rest of the population seemed to scan right over the pub looking from the record store on the right to the coffee store on the left.

"Come along you two" his mam beckoned "it may not seem like much but ye'll be surprised." Both males shook their heads and followed the over enthusiastic Irish witch into the dingy pub.

"Hey mam, why'd we stop comin' here again? Cause I distinctly remember comin' here when I was a wee one" his mother chuckled.

"You and I stopped coming when you started having random outbursts of setting things on fire and nearly burnt down Magical Menagerie when you got too excited about the "wee cute mousies" she put air quotes around the last few words and Seamus groaned burying his head in his hands.

"Ah yes, I do seem to remember your particular flair for pyrotechnics that Ye haven't quite grown out of" smiled his dad "good for St Pats but not much for every day." Seamus looked away pretending not to know who his parents were before being dragged along to a wall at the back of the building.

His mam took out her wand and tapped the first brick to the left above the dustbins. Watching with awe as the bricks shifted and reformed revealing a street that seemed filled with magic and life. Store displays danced and the street was filled with light, chatter, and children around his age and older coming in and out of the many stores along the street. Everything was painted in bright colours catching his attention and drawing him away from his parents to stare at moving displays or glittering advertisements. People filled the street and several times he nearly got lost, dragged away in the current of people.

"Come on Seamus, keep up" called his dad as they started walking up the street towards the huge white building that looked like it should be a royal palace. Painted pearly white with all the decoration you could think of. He quickly hurried to catch up to his parents. They passed the security goblins before entering a huge hall.

The floor was marble and the clerk's desks made of rich coloured wood. The Finnegan family headed for a free clerk that was next to a boy with dark skin and his mother who looked to be exchanging muggle money for Galleons, sickles and knuts.

"Alright mate?” Seamus greeted the boy, he nodded looking bashful before Seamus continued, "me names Seamus" the boy smiled and replied

"My names Dean" the two shook hands

"first year at Hogwarts I'm guessing?" Seamus queried Dean smiled

"yeah, big shock to my parents honestly I think they wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer" they both chuckled and Seamus was for once grateful for his half muggle upbringing. Dean looked like he was about to say something else but Seamus' mother called out for him to follow her "One second Ma," he called back at her "what were Ye gonna say mate?" Dean shook his head

"doesn't matter, see you on the first" they waved their goodbyes and the two headed off leaving the boy to the back of his mind as he and his parents walked out of the bank and down the street.

"Alright I'll go and get your books," said his mam "and you two head on down to Olivander's then we'll get everything else we need." She hugged both of them and was off before they could say a word. Seamus looked around a little nervously before his Dad called out and they walked down the street.

"I know I'm not the best with this Seamus, but I hope Ye know I'm trying me best" his Dad stuttered nearly running into a witch with long purple hair and robes that people kept tripping over. Seamus smiled

"I know ye're doin' your best and I definitely appreciate that. We'be both been thrown pretty much into the deep end here." They both chuckled and looked up to find themselves in front of one of the shabbier shops within the street. The peeling gold letters over the door read 'Ollivander's makers of fine wands since 382 BC.' A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion on the window and the door made a slight tingling noise as they entered. A man who looked as old and shabby as his shop appeared behind the counter.

"Ah, hello there how are you both doing today?" Asked the man in a voice that sounded way too young for his years.

"Okay thanks, a wee bit nervous but getting more comfortable, how're ye going today sir," Seamus answered and the man smiled.

"An Irish man eh? Don't get many here they tend to go to Varitas' in Dublin but I'm glad to meet you. What might your name be?" The man called wandering off into the stacks of shelves lined with narrow rectangular boxes

"Er, Seamus Finnegan sir." Seamus called back watching as the man returned with several boxes under his arms.

"Ah yes, I remember when your mother first came in for her wand, wonderful woman with a sweetheart and strong beliefs."

"I think we can easily say stubborn." Interjected Seamus' father, gaining a chuckle from Seamus and a knowing grin from the older man.

"Try this one why don't you" Ollivander suggested taking the cover off the box closest to Seamus. He took the box lifting out the jet black wand inside it. "Yew, 10 inches and a core of unicorn hair slightly springy, good for charms." Seamus picked the wand up unsure of what to do next. " Well go on give it a flick" Olivander prompted Seamus did so and the chair that his Dad had just been about to sit in flew out from his grasp and into the wall losing one of its legs.

“Nope" stated Ollivander handing him the next wand, "13 inches, cherry wood and a dragon heart strung core, give it a swirl." Seamus did so and a painfully high pitched ringing emitted from the wand. "Drop it, no again a slightly tricky customer" Ollivander smiled. Seamus was confused how in any way that could be a good thing but before he could ask Olivander was back.

“I think this will be the one," he said handing it over. It was a light coloured wand with a black line spiraling down the handle section. "Oak and ebony 12 inches and a Phoenix feather core, definitely one of our more unusual combinations but let's try it." Seamus lifted the wand and gently swished it, golden sparks appeared from the end and a warm sensation ran up his arm he smiled.

Olivander did too "well, we found one this is one of the first wands I ever made and it has never been able to find a person, these two kinds of wood mix strength and flexibility into one while the Phoenix feather core shows you are pure of heart and will to do the best for everyone. This is a wonderful match and as I'm sure you saw, the wand chooses the wizard."

He held his hand out and Seamus shook it before paying the thirteen galleons for the wand and walking out with it in the box. They met his Mam outside the ice cream parlor and started walking down the street.

"Since you took so long in there I got yer books, potion ingredients and robes. All we gotta do now is go to Magical Menagerie without you setting something on fire and get you a pet." She smiled talking a million miles an hour, the two boys smiled at each other before following her down towards the brightly painted shop.

They ended up getting a jet black fluffy kitten with eyes like a galaxy, named him Ebony and headed back towards the wall that had formed their entrance, which from this side looked like an old wooden door and headed back through the streets of London towards the car park.

But as they drove back to the hotel and he thought back on his day, the boy from Gringotts, Dean, popped back into his mind and he regretted not talking to the obviously muggle-born boy more. Maybe he could have helped him find his way or even offered to save him a seat on the train, but what was done was done and he just had to hope he could find him again when school started.

All of a sudden he felt very alone, being the only child in the neighbourhood with magic was tough. Whilst he had plenty of friends he had no one he could really talk to about magic apart from his mother who was at work a lot and though his father tried he really couldn't relate. He couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts, and to see Dean again.

<- chapter 1 here!!! Chapter 3 here!!->

#writeblr #my writing #writing #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #deamus fic #deamus #fanfic #fanfiction

[purecamp]

Hi, I have a question about your mamma mia au! Is Pat dead on Here I Go Again? Because I was thinking that if she passed away before higa, Sharon and Willam would attend the funeral right? Wouldn't Sharon bring Trixie too? Wouldn't Willam go talk to her and get suspicious about Trixie? Is this me subtly asking you to write an oneshot about it just because I'm not ready to let go of this universe and also wanting you to write more Shillam? 😂

ahaha anon this tickled me tbh. first of all thanks for the love (!!!), so i’ll try to answer in parts

-unfortunately she has passed before higa because she would be 113, which is possible but... unlikely ahaha -ive been debating this since waaaay before u asked me bc its something i thought about a lot, like would sharon bring trixie or not? would she even go? lots 2 think about, decisions decisions -i would write oneshots for you in a second. plz feel free to request them at any time omg

anyway, i guess i’m gonna give it a go here! 

She was a good age, Sharon knew that. Spritely in nature right up until her last moments, Patricia Belli passed away in her retirement home at the age of ninety six.

Her letter had arrived in the post; a short and not-so-sweet note letting Sharon know that if she received this letter, then she had died, and the nursing home staff had actually honoured her request of them to send it to her. Somewhat of a doting grandma - owing to the fact that Sharon had no idea what Pat would be to Trixie if she even was related - she had attached some plastic-wrapped sweets and lollipops.

God, this was going to be difficult. On top of having to close the hotel, at least for a day whilst she attended the funeral, Sharon was going to have to explain the concept of dying to her three-year-old girl, who thought the world was nothing but sparkles and sunshine.

And that was without slotting in time for her own grief. In four years, Pat had transformed Sharon’s life, and she owed her everything.

Times like these were when Sharon wished she had a little bit of help. She needed to cry and sniff and weep into somebody, to wallow in the horrible feeling of finally being alone in the world with herself as the only adult to rely on. She needed to continue working in order to stay alive, and keep her home paid for and her daughter fed. She needed to sit down and explain to Trixie than Nana Pat was gone, and she wouldn’t be coming back. She needed someone else to bundle her up for once and tell her it was all going to be okay.

“You alright?” Maria broke her out of her thoughts, tapping her as she went past behind the bar to fetch a few more bottles of ale.

Sharon grabbed a rag and continued drying up the glasses - Maria had offered to extend the hotel into her bar, meaning Sharon now managed a hotel and taverna in one. “Yeah, just... Can’t believe she’s gone, you know? I always felt like Pat was gonna live forever.”

Maria nodded. “It will be strange, we miss her around here. She was regular for many years at this taverna. Party held here after the service, in her honour.”

“She’d like that. Everyone getting drunk for her.” She sighed, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want to have to tell Trix. She’s only young, after all.”

Shrugging, Maria offered a kindly smile. “Brave and strong, like her mother. Even if teeny tiny.”

Despite her heavy heart, Sharon laughed.

---

“Mama! You’re here!”

The same cheerful greeting that Sharon was met with every afternoon came at her once again, lifting her low mood a little. A flurry of pink shot towards her, Sharon noting a smudge of blue paint on her face and some scuffs on her shoes from a day of playing before she was tackled in a huge hug.

“I’m here, little pumpkin. Did you have a good day?”

“The best!” Trixie trilled. “We did painting, and running, and I played dolls with Kimmy and Pearl showed me how to draw hearts!”

Ever-suffering, her preschool teacher was stood by the door to the classroom, her gaze tired but still warm as her last student clung to her mom. It wasn’t too often that Sharon was last to pick up her little girl, but it happened enough that she knew to just sit Trixie down with some colouring and leave her to it. Today, the grief had slowed Sharon down, and she was behind on most of her maintenance.

“Sounds fun! Now, are we walking out of here or is mama carrying you all the way home?”

Trixie took a moment to think about it, before smushing her face into Sharon’s neck. “Mama carries me home.”

Sharon sighed, figuring that she needed to keep Trixie happy if she was going to deliver such bad news. “Okay, just this once. Say bye bye, now!”

“Bye bye, Miss Coulée!”

Just Sharon’s luck, the walk was roughly long enough for them to discuss the subject. She was careful not to let her own emotions influence Trixie’s too much, knowing that a sobbing little girl would be much harder to console when she herself wanted nothing more than to break down in someone’s arms. Curious and a little confused, she asked a few questions which Sharon tried her best to answer, all while avoiding the term “Heaven”. It felt like she’d done an okay job, all things considered, but the fact that she had to do it alone meant she was more than nervous. This wasn’t going to traumatise her into therapy as an adult... she hoped.

“Will she miss me?”

Fuck, this kid was tugging at every single one of Sharon’s heartstrings. It didn’t seem possible that she had been the one to give life to something so goddamn cute.

“Nana Pat? I’m sure she will miss you, baby. And we’ll miss her, too.” Sharon took a deep breath. “But she’s still with us, isn’t she? Because we remember her, and we always have our memories.”

Trixie nodded thoughtfully. She had begged and begged to sit on Sharon’s shoulders, so now she idly played with loose strands of her hair, the messy bun practically ruined from the day’s work anyway.

“But she won’t come back because she’s too old.”

The child-like ability to make the most innocent and heartbreaking of things funny was one that Sharon hoped Trixie held onto forever. Even with her own heavy sadness, she giggled slightly.

“That’s right, bubba.”

A pause. “Are you sad, mama?”

Sharon nodded infinitesimally, trying not to trigger her tears. “Lots of people will be sad. When we go to the funeral on Saturday, there will be lots of sad people wearing black who all love Nana Pat very much. Will you promise me to be a really good girl and just sit quietly with me? We don’t want to disturb anyone.”

Trixie leaned forwards, pressing her lips to the top of Sharon’s head in an awkward, well-meaning kiss. “I’ll be good.”

---

She was golden. Sharon had done all her crying in the morning, before Trixie scrambled into her bed, and she was relieved at how easily her toddler had gone along with everything. Getting herself dressed had been a breeze; she even tried brushing her own hair, which was unsuccessful but nevertheless touching. Trixie then scampered off to play whilst Sharon got ready, giving her a few more moments alone.

Smoothing down her skirt, she examined herself in the mirror. An uncomfortable possibility had dawned on her that night, as she tried to sleep, and it made her unbelievably nervous. After all, he was her great-nephew...

She didn’t look that different than the day they met, surely? But yet, staring at herself, Sharon started realizing how little she resembled that girl already. Only four years had passed, near enough, and at twenty one and a mom, there was almost nothing to anchor this version of herself to the similarly-burdened yet unrealistically carefree seventeen-year-old that Willam had known.

Her hips were wider now, one of the few permanent modifications that Trixie had given her, and for all her low income meant a reduced diet, there was still the remains of a post-baby pouch that stubbornly remained. Black dresses were slimming, Sharon reminded herself, not that the rest of her needed it, but she hoped it was enough that if Willam did see her, he wouldn’t notice anything different.

That being said, he was a man. The little things didn’t matter. The living, squirming three-year-old, however...

Sharon sighed and relaxed, not bothering to try and suck in her stomach like she had before. Willam definitely wouldn’t notice it, he’d be too busy staring at Trixie. The human that he might’ve helped her create. That she had opted not to tell him about. Even though she had an easy way to do so via his now deceased great-aunt.

Fuck.

They made their way up to the little old chapel on the island in good time. Pat knew and loved her home more than anything, so relatives had been flocking from around the world to a tiny chapel on a tiny island out in Greece. It was a difficult walk, and with every step Sharon had to face that she really was in this alone now.

Not wanting to intrude in spite of her invite, Sharon slipped into a pew at the back and bowed her head, clutching Trixie in her lap as more of a comfort than anything else. Thankfully, as more and more people filed in, Trixie seemed to sense that her mama was upset, and quietly played with her flamingo teddy.

He was one of the last to walk in, of course - he would have to make an entrance. Swaggering in, his expression mostly calm, and his sheer confidence was highly inappropriate for a funeral and god if Sharon didn’t sound like her fucking mother. He was young and hot and the swagger seemed to be a Belli thing, because no one paid him any attention. Somewhere, whether in heaven or in her coffin, Sharon knew Pat was cackling with laughter.

And, of course, he just had to speak too. Sharon lifted her head a tiny bit to watch him, trying to ensure his gaze didn’t flicker onto her.

“So many kind things have been said about my dear great aunt today, and whilst it has warmed my heart I’m here to undo it all.” Willam started, filling the room with soft laughter. “Rest in peace, Granny Pat. You were old as fuck, but we’ll miss your rottenness. She had an ego bigger than mine and a liver bigger than Dad’s, and she was the life of the party. We love you, Pat.”

Everything about him was so familiar. Sharon tried not to think about it, but her mind was flooded with him. He didn’t look different at all, but she supposed LA had treated him well. Tanned and charming as ever, he seemed to woo his family as easily as he had seduced her into bed with him... or at least, that was how Sharon chose to remember it.

This was going to be a long day.

---

In all honesty, Sharon didn’t go out much anymore. It came with the territory of being a full-time parent and hotel owner-manager-chef-bartender-maid, but she was tired almost all the time. When Raja and Jinkx came over she made exceptions, but on a day-to-day basis, once Trixie was in bed, Sharon was exhausted from exerting herself to make sure she could even be finished and home��in time for Trixie’s bedtime story. So, being out in the taverna in the late evening?

Unbearable.

As soon as everyone came in, Maria offered to take Trixie and keep her entertained behind the bar - which probably wasn’t the most responsible choice Sharon had made as a mom, but she knew Maria would take good care of her as she always did, and insisted she needed to mingle.

Mingling was the last thing on her mind, but she reluctantly grabbed a drink and tried to remain casual in a room full of strangers. After all, none of them knew who she was. None of them knew what Pat meant to her, and everything the daft old woman had done for her. None of them knew that without Pat, it was likely that her beloved daughter would’ve been given up for adoption and Sharon would’ve had to return home to her mother with her tail between her legs. Pat had made it possible for her to live, and as rough as it was, it was nice to be self-sufficient at twenty one.

“Hey! I thought it was you! Hi blondie!”

Sharon clutched her glass a little tighter and turned around slowly. “Forgot my name already?”

There he was, right next to her, having made his way across the room with bright eyes and a shiny grin. LA really had treated him well.

“You’re unforgettable, Sharon, don’t play me like that.” Willam teased. “Good to see you again. I knew goodbye wouldn’t last forever.”

Sharon scowled, but it didn’t last. “Hence why I said we wouldn’t have one.”

“Good point.” He gestured to her glass. “Vodka?”

She shook her head. “Just coke.”

“Pffft. Boring. Pat would want you to have some vodka. Or gin. Or both.”

Rolling her eyes, Sharon took a sip from her decidedly non-alcoholic drink. “I have responsibilities to take care of, I can’t just get drunk.”

As she spoke, her gaze went searching through the throng of people, praying Trixie wasn’t about to run over and squeeze her legs in a damning cuddle. To her relief, she was that she was balanced on Maria’s hip, happily giggling away with her out of Willam’s eyeline.

“We’re twenty one, Shar, and you haven’t seen me forever. Live a little!” Willam encouraged. “Seriously though, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know if you would still be here or if you still saw Pat around. It’s nice to see a face that I know she’d be happy to see, too. She hated most of the people here.”

God, the past tense. Sharon tried not to well up.

“You’re the only face here I know.” She admitted, her voice thick. “I feel a bit lost, honestly. If I didn’t have work, I’d be doing shots to loosen up.”

Willam laughed at that. “Right! I’m glad you know my face, at least. Familiar face, familiar arms, familiar chest, familiar d-”

“Stop!” Sharon shrieked, giggling in spite of herself. “Your great aunt has just died and you’re talking about our teenage sex? You’re disgusting.”

He shrugged. “I’m a Belli, it runs in the family. All this nonsense about her living to a ripe old age... please. She wasn’t ripe, she was rotten. It’s why we love her so.”

Sharon chuckled appreciatively. “I’m gonna miss her.”

“Me too. She’d be glad to see us brought back together, though.”

“Yeah. Although I’m not gonna sleep with you again.”

Willam’s laugh was a little too loud, attracting some disgruntled murmurs from surrounding family members. “Welp, there goes my weekend plans.”

It was surprisingly nice, talking to Willam. As much as Sharon had been terrified that the first topic of conversation would be them, and it would inevitably lead to a confession, they fell into a fleeting friendship as easily as they had four years ago. Determined to keep things light, Sharon steered away from her work or home life as they talked, but it was still nice to catch up.

That being said, she also kinda never wanted to see him again. Nothing personal, just... for Trixie’s sake, she had closed that chapter of her life and under no circumstances would she be reopening it. Not now, not in twenty years, not ever.

“I assume you’re breaking into stardom in Hollywood, right? I’ll be seeing you on movie posters?” 

He laughed. “A star is born, baby. Keep your eyes open. And you, are you taking to the stage now you’re away from your bitch of a mom?”

Sharon shook her head. “Nah. I don’t... I don’t have time anymore. And with the girls gone, too...”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t need them. And we should sing together again sometime, too.”

At that, Sharon sighed. “There’s nothing keeping you here, Willam, not now she’s gone. We had fun, but... there’s no point holding onto that. I got over my exes, I have to keep living and so do you.”

Willam nodded. “A goodbye without a goodbye. I get it. It’s difficult, but we have to let go.”

Yeah, Sharon told herself. In more ways than one.

“It’s not a personal thing, you know I care about you as a friend-”

“I know.” Willam told her. “I care about you too. But I get it.”

He pulled her into a hug. “Needles, take care of yourself. You’re skinny, take advantage of the free food. Fall in love. Make music. Do things to make you happy. You deserve that.”

Speechless, Sharon could only nod as he held her. “I can tell you’re ready to leave, so I’ll say goodbye now. You’re a one of a kind, okay? Keep going, angel thighs.”

Pfft. The old parody nickname - trust Willam to remember that.

“Thank you, Willam.”

---

Trixie was fast asleep in Sharon’s arms. Her warm weight had settled comfortably into her as she walked home, and Sharon relished in the way her sweet daughter could fill her aching heart so perfectly. Her blonde curls were messy, just like her own were as a child, and she was completely tuckered out.

Her adorable girl had little outfits, a bedroom of her own and a roof over her head all thanks to the love and kindness of one foul-mouthed, gin-loving lady. As the sun started setting, Sharon realized she owed another Belli a lifetime of gratitude.

“Thank you, Pat.”

#uh maybe this got too long oops #higa #asks #shillam #this shouldve had a read more but they dont work #i tried